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cherryclxud · 7 months ago

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Catch me if you can Lord Holmes pt2

(ENOLA HOLMES)!Sherlock x BRIDGERTON! reader

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Description: a writer by the name of Marcus Bradford has taken the Ton by storm with his weekly edition chapter of a crime story, Sherlock is tasked with finding Marcus Bradford and solving the case of the abominable bride. but what if meeting a certain Bridgerton girl distracts him from the case?

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: none

Taglist <3 : @frost-queen @siannaplmn @annesunlight @jolixtreesunn @probabydeadbynow @chloepluto1306 @gayandfairycore @queenfairyfangirl @viylikescats @hipsternerd9 @delusional-4-fake-people

read below for credits.

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SLEEPING AT 221B BAKER STREET USUALLY came easy to Enola. Seeing as there was quite literally very little for her to do, however, for the past 2 nights it has become increasingly difficult for her not to get out of bed and shout at her brother to put the violin down.

Sherlock was stuck, and Enola could tell by his incessant playing of the violin, the notes he was playing were all gloomy grey. With a sigh, she put her head under the pillow and slammed her hand over it to cover her ears in the hope of respite from the sound. Of course, for the first 4 hours he was playing Enola felt sympathy, but when his playing started to get in the way of her sleep that's when her sympathy towards Sherlock turned to contempt towards the violin.

She had reached the point where she imagined scenarios of her grabbing scissors and cutting the strings, or of her taking the violin and throwing it out the window.

Somehow the music playing seemed to penetrate through the pillow, making the girl move the pillow, turn to her back and glare at the ceiling. She got up and stomped the the drawing room where her brother sat there playing the insipid instrument.

“SHERLOCK” she shouted over the music causing her brother to play a wrong note before stopping and turning to her. “Enola? Shouldn't you be asleep by now?” he looked out the window and saw the moon still high in the sky.

Enola crossed her arms while rolling her eyes, “geez Sherlock that's a great idea, i was getting quite tired and had no idea how to remedy it, you have truly opened my eyes” Her voice was full of sarcasm yet Sherlock paid no mind to it as he was distracted.

“Hmm yes well I suppose you should get to it”.

Enola scoffed as she saw her brother pick up the violin about to resume his playing once more “Sherlock! I can't if you insist on playing at this time.” she pointed to the instrument as the older Holmes looked down at it with a sigh.

“Ah, I see, my apologies sister I seemed to have gotten carried away” he places the instrument on its stand before slamming it down on the settee with a sigh and closes his eyes as he continues to think.

Enola turns around, happy that the peace and quiet has finally infiltrated the home, she goes on her way to her room and just as she was about to go in she stops. She turns to look to her brother, she really felt pity for him at this point, losing sleep over looking for this man who could quite literally be anywhere in England.

“Sherlock, what's wrong?”

Sherlock opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at his sister. “Nothing Enola you should go to bed, I promise I won't play anymore”

He watches as his sister walks across the room only stopping at the coffee table to pick up his tobacco pipe and hold it in between her lips in thought. “Oh look at me I'm Sherlock and I must find out everything about everyone yet never let anyone find out anything about me” she spoke in a mock deep voice as she sat next to him.

HE leaned forward and snatched the pipe from her mouth before wiping the mouthpiece with his shirt. Enola watched as he lit the pipe with a match and smoked in silence, a frown etched on his face. She decided to change the subject hoping it would get her brother to open up more about what was bothering him.

“Y/n and i have been writing to each other”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow “y/n Bridgerton? The viscount's sister?” Enola nodded

“Yes we have been speaking since we met Nonestop, she is actually quite amusing.” Enola smiled recounting the letters they both shared. Sherlock rolled his eyes but deep inside was happy that his sister had found someone to be friends with. He was worried that his taking care of her had caused his disinterest in forging real connections with people had spread to her. He didn't want her to lean on him and not connect with anyone else.

He found himself grateful for y/n's sudden but effective presence in his sister's life.

“She's quite like you, you know?” Enola spoke looking nowhere in particular. This caught Sherlock's attention as he looked back to his sister, “How so?”

“Well for starters she's smart…well not as smart as you, no one as smart as you” Enola rolled her eyes before grabbing a small rubber ball she found lying on the floor and bounced it up and down a few times, “She reads a lot, she told me when her brother would return from oxford for the summer she would take the books he'd read and read and study his essays and annotations”

Sherlock, who was staring at the floor where the ball was bouncing, chuckled quietly remembering one year at Oxford when Anthony had returned from his stay with his family missing the book he was meant to be studying for the semester and sheets of essays he had worked on during the time off, and how frazzled he was trying to rewrite what he could from memory, only to have it delivered to him with a letter of apology from his sister later that night.

“You know she even read that boring book you wrote on like the two hundred and forty types of tobacco” she offhandedly spoke not noticing her brother's smile dropped “Two hundred and forty-three”

“I believe that that was the only copy sold brother mine,” she smirked

“I'll have you know I sold three copies” he grumbled looking away.

Enola laughed “That's because Mycroft and I each bought a copy in support of you”

Sherlock scoffed and stood up walking to the window and looked outside pretending to be angry at his sister.

“Oh don't sulk brother you know that doesn't work on me, the print shop refused to print any more copies of your books in advance, that's how bad it did.” She leaned back in her seat with a smirk, “She invited me to breakfast at Bridgerton house tomorrow, can you take me there?”

Sherlock turned with a nod “I can drop you off and th-” he stopped mid-sentence as an idea struck him, “what did you just say?”

Enola looked at her brother worried that he was too busy to take her “She invited me for breakfast tomorrow and I wish for you to take me there. If you are busy I can take a carriage so no worri-”

“No no before that”

Enola tried to replay the conversation “I told you not to sulk, then that the book you wrote won't get printed in advance any longer”

Sherlock then turned to face away and walked to his desk that was placed in the drawing room and picked up one of the many newspapers that were turned to page 4, turned to the back of the paper and read down the page till he reached what he was looking for.

‘Tibalt's Printing Press

5th Northumberland street

London’

Sherlock smiled looking down at the paper, “Of course, Minnie always ends up in the kitchen when she's hungry.”

Enolas eyes turn the the left as she racks her brain trying to think what in the world her brother is going on about, “pardon?”

She watched as her brother scribbled some writing on a piece of paper before marching to his pin board on the wall and sticking a pin through the newspaper set on the last page. He stepped back with a smile, Enola stood up from her seat and walked to her brother's side.

“Sherlock, is everything alright?”

The brother looked at her and nodded “It's perfect, all back on track thanks to your friend,” Enola raised an eyebrow.

“Y/n? How did she help? Wait where are you going this late?” She watched as her brother picked up his coat and the paper he scribbled on. He walked up to her and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

“Don't worry dear sister, assuming all goes to plan I'll be back in time to take you to break your fast with the Bridgertons, sleep well!” And with that, he walked out of the flat door closing it behind him leaving Enola alone in the drawing room.

With a sigh she blew out the remaining candle that illuminated the room, her eyes stopped at the violin that stood defenceless in the room. A smirk found its way on her face as she looked back at the door making sure her brother wouldn't be back.

………….

THE CANDLE BURNED LIGHTING ONE corner of y/n's bed-chamber, her eyes fled over words on the page of the book she was reading, a new author writing under the title ‘A Lady’ had written a book named ‘Pride and Prejudice’, y/n was completely infatuated with the idea that the author had so boldly revealed that whoever she was, she was a woman.

Unlike Lady Whistledown, this writer resorted to writing harmless fiction that was incredible to read, and unlike y/n she was courageous enough to reveal she was a female, and yet it was a complete shame in y/n's eyes to see that the books didn't do as well as she thought it deserved.

She pulled her knees to her chest as she relaxed against the window, sitting on the window seat to be able to look outside easily. It had become her routine to sit at the window every night, therefore to anyone else seeing her wouldn't warrant any suspicion, but y/n wouldn't sleep until something in the scenery outside her window changed.

She just about turns to a new page when from the corner of her eye she sees a light flickering outside her window facing the garden, turning to look outside, she sees the figure of the personal valet of Anthony walking in the garden with a candlelit lantern, stopping mid-walk he turns to her window direction and then blows out his candle.

Y/n gave a smile and blew out her own candle, drowning out the last shred of light in her room, and stood up from her seat, shutting the book and placed it on her dresser. And with that, the valet walked back into the house leaving the girl to go to sleep peacefully.

…….

THE CARRIAGE WHEELS STOPPED IN FRONT OF THE printing shop letting Sherlock step out before paying the driver. The windows were illuminated by the candles inside the print shop, he watched as two men worked on the printing of the weekly newspaper.

Sherlock walked over to the door of the print shop and tried to push it open only to find it was locked closed, however, the attempt to open it had gained him the attention of the two men who looked at each other before turning to Sherlock.

The older one of the two motioned to the younger man to go deal with him as he went back to work. The younger man rolled his eye as he walked to the door and unlocked it before stepping out to stand face to face with the detective, “You know we don't get many people coming here that don't know how to read, this being a print shop and all”

Sherlock stared blankly, the man then pointed at the sign hanging in the window “It says closed, there I read it for you, come back in the morning” he then walked back inside but as he went to shut the door Sherlock stopped it with his foot causing the man to turn back to him.

“I'm here to find out about Marcus Bradford!”

The man tried to push Sherlock back “If you're a fan then you have no luck here, we only print what we get given.” managing to push Sherlock's foot out he went to slam the door only to once again get stopped but this time by his hand. Once the door was open again then holmes pulled his hand back in pain, shaking it to relieve the soreness.

“I'm a detective, I just have a few questions regarding Mr Bradford and I'll be on my way.”

The printshop employee scratched his chin before motioning for Holmes to follow him inside, he took him to the older man who had previously sent him to deal with the problem.

“Theo? I thought I told you to deal with it” the old man spoke, Theo, however, sighed “yeah well he's a detective, won't leave”

The old man's hands stopped working on the press as he turned to meet Sherlock Holmes’ eye, “Aye, yes I recognise you, you're that Holmes guy, to what do I owe the honour?”

Theo spoke up before Sherlock could “he says he's looking for Bradford, Mr Tibalt.”

“You a fan Mr. Holmes?” Tibalt spoke, prompting Sherlock to glare in his direction.

“I assure you quite the contrary, I have been just tasked with looking into him and his background” Sherlock made sure to walk up to the elder man and stand about a foot away from him, standing taller than him he was trying to add an intimidation factor “I would appreciate your cooperation”

Tibalt stood staring at Sherlock for a good 10 seconds before speaking “I'm not sure if I can actually be of help, I haven't met the man, and neither has Theo, he doesn't deliver the stories himself”

“Then who does?”

“It really depends.”

“On?”

“4 men rotate in delivering the story every week, each one wears a mask so I don't see their faces. They don't say a word, all I get is the story and a letter with instructions on what to do along with the payment.”

Dead end.

“And when was the last time one of the men?” Sherlock asked.

“About an hour before you graced us with your own presence. He'd be long gone. All I can tell you is I have never met mr Bradford or had any personal contact with him.”

Sherlock nodded in thought, his only chance of unveiling Mr. Bradford had quite literally beat him to the chase. Tibalt turned and faced away from Sherlock grabbing a freshly printed newspaper copy, “I can't help you much about Bradford but I can tell you this” he handed Sherlock the new concept that was due for release in the morning, “Something has changed, he's introducing new characters in the midst of the story, and it's clear that this chapter has shifted it all to focus on this character. I assumed it would interest you seeing as for the past couple of copies he had been facing what I assume is a dry spell of ideas”

Sherlock looked at Tibalt before opening the paper to page 4, his eyes skimmed over the paper and suddenly stopped in his tracks, “Detective Sherrinford?” He looked up to the print shopkeeper who shrugged his shoulders and turned to get back to printing the rest of the papers.

Understanding that he most likely wouldn't be able to get more information, he left his address and told them to let him know if there were any updates, then thanked them and left to go home.

……..

LONDON WAS BUSTLING THAT MORNING, the weekly paper distribution brought by an onslaught of arguments and opinions about the new chapter in the story. The introduction of the character Detective Sherrinford had brought about mixed feelings.

Some believed that Bradford was losing his touch and was doing what he could to keep the story going, others believed that this was just a long-winded way of Marcus telling them that the real story was about to begin, especially with the way he ended off this week's chapter.

“The game is afoot?” Enola put down the newspaper against her lap, she looked towards Sherlock who sat across from her in the carriage on the way to the Bridgertons. He shrugged his shoulders as he moved the curtains to gauge how far along they were until the house, “A change I presume, seems Marcus Bradford has decided to take the story in a different direction” he replied, there was a tinge of frustration in his voice.

The carriage stopped in front of the Bridgerton house and Sherlock stepped out before helping Enola out next, the footman took them into the house where they were allowed into the drawing room where Anthony, Benedict, Eloise, Gregory and Violet sat.

Anthony being the first to see them stood up in surprise when he saw the Holmes sibling there, “Lord Holmes what a pleasant surprise this morning” he stood up and walked to them and shook their hands before inviting them further into the drawing room in the direction of his family, “this is my mother.” Violet stood from her seat with a smile, as Sherlock took her hand and placed a light kiss on it, then Anthony introduced the rest of his siblings in the room before turning to Sherlock “To what do I owe this fine visit to Holmes?”

“I invited Enola for breakfast brother” y/n who had just walked into the room spoke as she approached the group. Sherlock watched as she and Enola hugged, then as she turned to him and shook his hand, “Good morning Lord Holmes, it's very nice to see you again”

“Likewise Miss Bridgerton” he nodded to her. “I presume you have read the new chapter out today lord holmes, He added a new character what was his name” y/n put her hand the her chin as she pretended to have forgotten the name which Sherlock could of course detect however decided not to call her out on her actions and played along “detective Sherrinford i presume is the name you are trying to remember miss Bridgerton”

“Ahh yes, you are quite right lord holmes, I'm quite forgetful when it comes to these things” she lied jokingly as she spoke, making a small smile play on Sherlock's own lips.

“It's a shame seeing as the author has now added this character, who is a recluse detective who will possibly that forever to solve a case with already many plotholes, the only way the story can go is down.”

y/ns smile fell for a second but she made sure to replace it quickly enough to not be noticeable, “I don't know, I have come to take quite the liking to Detective Sherrinford, I think he will do great to solve this case, I think this story is getting better” she spoke with a smile.

As Sherlock and y/n spoke no one really paid any mind to them. Anthony and Benedict were busy talking, Enola had struck up a conversation with Eloise and Gregory was reading the story in the paper, and no one was paying them any mind…

But violet, she could see it.

Her daughter never took the time to talk to a man for this long about anything, not even about books or stories there was something there. And she was adamant about helping it grow.

“I don't know lord holmes, I would have thought you’d like the character, I think Sherrinford is exactly like you.” y/n’s words caused Enola and Eloise to look towards them in shock, “y/n! You are completely right, how could I not make that connection earlier myself “Enola spoke as she walked to the pair quickly.

“What are you two on about, the man is nothing like me”

And there stood the three arguing about why Sherrinford is or isn't like Sherlock until inevitably, a maid walked into the drawing room and called out that breakfast was ready.

“I guess this means I should take my leave not, Enola ill pick you up in 3 hours” Just as Sherlock was speaking about leaving, Violet interrupted his farewells “Lord Holmes please do join us for breakfast”

Sherlock just about shook his head and was about to decline before Violet spoke again “I had the cook prepare extra just for you” and with that, he couldn't refuse, no matter how much he wanted to.

….

The family and the Holmes siblings filtered into the dining area, Enola and y/n sat next to each other, and just about when Gregory was about to sit next to y/n on her other side, his mother motioned for him to sit elsewhere leaving Sherlock no other seat but that one, not that it really bothered him.

The families started eating and exchanging conversation, the atmosphere was delightful, and Enola was aglow, it had been a long while since she sat down for breakfast with a family seeing as usually she and Sherlock wake up at different times and end up eating anything.

“Lord Sherlock, it really is a pleasure having you and your sister here, I must say I'm surprised I havent seen you in the ton more often, no soirees nor balls” Violet spoke as she cut another piece of the omelette in her plate. Sherlock swallowed the food in his mouth before nodding to Violet “That is indeed true viscountess Bridgerton, I simply haven't found the time to integrate into society, there's too much work and research and clients. In fact it is my fault Enola has yet to debut, I had been meaning to help her this season however i got sidetracked.”

Violet nodded her face full of sympathy towards the two siblings, it was a known fact around the ton that the Holmes family had lost not one but both parents in the same year, their father had been taken ill for months before suffering through an unfortunately painful exit and their mother had been so in love with him and followed him mere months after due to a broken heart.

Since then little has been known about the Holmes family, they had become reclusive and barely interacted with the rest of the ton. Sherlock and Enola, who were 9 and 2 at the time, were put under the care and sanction of their older brother Viscount Mycroft who himself was 15. It was like the Holmeses ceased to exist any longer, that was until a few years ago when Viscount Mycroft got married and Sherlock moved out to a flat in Central London, it was widely believed that Sherlock found the Viscount Holmes’ new wife to be unappealing to share a mansion with, sooner or later in a visit back home he decided he would take his younger sister to live with him.

“Well better late than never I say” Violet spoke softly with a smile targeted at Sherlock. Her eyes flicker to y/n who was eating her food quietly while listening to the conversation then back to Sherlock. “you know, there is a soiree tomorrow night at the Dunphrees,”

Anthony stared at his mother in shock understanding what she was doing “Mother!”

Violet of course ignored him knowing Anthony really is only good for ruining her plans. “We shall be attending, I say you should come”

Enola looked up from her plate excited “Oh can we brother, it sounds like so much fun” y/n snorted quickly while holding back a laugh. Sherlock glanced at her before looking to his sister whose eyes was practically begging him, “ Enola you don't had a dress for the occasion and I doubt one can be made in time”

Y/n smirked as she looked at him, “That is no worry at all lord holmes i have 4 daughters surely I have a couple of dresses to spare that will be her size.” Violet interjected. y/n and Enola looked at each other excitedly, Sherlock's lips pressed together in a semi-frustrated smile before looking at his sister and y/n. Enola looked very excited as she shared a hug with y/n, and for a moment his eyes lingered on the Bridgerton girl, he was thankful for her existence in his sister's life, she was in fact a very interesting person to talk to, and maybe having her around would make him feel less guilty over not always being there for his sister. The said Bridgerton girl turned to face Sherlock awaiting his decision, only to be met with his own eyes looking at her, he quickly looked away while clearing his throat embarrassed at having been caught staring at her, but this action did not elude Violet’s eyee, she smiled softly at the bashfulness of sherlock.

With a sigh, he nodded albeit quite a bit reluctantly but part of him knew that Enola needed this, and in fact he needed a break, so maybe he needed this too. “I don't see why not, God knows we require a chance for respite.” Enola gleamed at the thought of attending her first soiree tomorrow.

The families continued their breakfast and their endless conversations, many topics including the breach of secrecy of Anthony and Sherlock Oxford days, they even told stories of the Duke of Hastings from their days living together. Enola revealed quite a bit of her childhood activities, and the two siblings shared their distaste for their sister in law, hyacinth chatted about how their elder sister Daphne would have almost been married to the prince of Prussia had it not been for her love for the duke, this conversation managed to segway into Eloise talking about Lady Whistledown and who she may be.

“Speaking of hidden writers,” y/n spoke as she turned to look at Sherlock “How has your hunt for Mr Bradford lord homles, someone of your calibre must have reached some conclusion.”

Sherlock nearly choked on the tea he was drinking, everyone at the table went quiet actually quite curious about his findings. “Lord Sherlock you found Mr. Marcus Bradford?” Gregory exclaimed, having been quite a fan of the writer's weekly updates.

Wiping his mouth with a handkerchief the detective shook his head “I'm afraid I'm still looking, he has proven to be quite a difficult man to find. I went to the printing shop that prints and distributes the weekly paper, unfortunately, they have no clue who he is either, seems he doesn't deliver the chapters himself for all I know he is on the other side of England.”

y/n’s eyes moved to the side in thought as everyone sighed in frustration expressing their disappointment in the possibility of not knowing the writer behind the book.

“Well that would make no sense” y/n spoke up causing all eyes to move to her.

“It makes perfect sense miss Bridgerton, there are other places in England a man can live other than Mayfair” Sherlock spoke sarcastically, confused as to why y/n would find such a simple ordeal strange, his words caused both Anthony and Benedict to chuckle.

y/n glared at her brothers then directed her glare to Sherlock “Laugh all you want men, I have a point to make. Tell me Lord Holmes why would a man on the other side of England write a story only for it to be published in Mayfair only? Surely he wants to see the fruits of his labour in person, even if he doesn't take the credit for it.”

“What makes you so sure that the man only has it published in Mayfair and not all over England?” Sherlock spoke, now completely serious, of course, he was quite upset that a point like this could have fled his mind. He had been too busy looking for the man himself when the actual paper held most of the clues he would need anyway. He thought it would be best to listen to y/n seeing as it was her words that triggered him to find the first clue in the first place.

Something told him that she knew much more than she let on about this case.

“Simple. We receive two different newspapers per week, one is the English paper, and the other is the Mayfair weekly paper, and yet the story only appears in the Mayfair weekly. That means your elusive writer is either an idiot-” Violet scolded her daughter for her use of an insult, however y/n brushed it off with an apologetic look aimed at her, before facing Sherlock again “-and is sending a copy of his writing to every separate town and city in England rather than just placing it in the English paper that goes all over England, or he is walking among us here in Mayfair”

The two stared eye to eye for a good 10 seconds in silence that even Colin had to clear his throat to almost ease the tension. Sherlock was the first to speak, “Well deduced Miss Bridgerton, you seemed to have caught on to a point I seemed to have missed” he smirked, “This is the second time, one more time and I may just have to engage you.” y/n’s smile dropped at his words and her face heated up as violet and Enola let out a quiet gasp. Sherlock cleared up his throat and quickly went to fix his wording.

“Engage you in other cases i mean, sometimes I could use an outsider's eye on the matter” he spoke while avoiding y/n’s eyes, his fingers tracing the rim of the teacup in his hands. y/n was in a similar situation but had a small smile that danced on her lips.

“Holmes doesn't jest” y/ns smiled as her eyes shot up to look at Anthony who had made a habit of ruining the moment “Y/n is a young lady and shouldn’t really be exposed to some of the cases you deal with, don't you agree” she glared at him. “And what of it brother? What does my being a lady have to do with a case? It’s not like crime stops when I walk in the room just because I'm a lady.” she spoke while rolling her eyes, she knew her brother meant well but sometimes he was overbearing.

“y/n-”

“Actually viscount Bridgerton, I completely understand your argument” Sherlock's words caused y/n to look at him disappointed “However as Miss Bridgerton has worded it wonderfully, crime doesn't stop because the fairer sex exists. I truly believe there is no such thing as protecting them from the truth, only hiding the truth. I think Miss Bridgerton would benefit from being challenged by a few questions, no need to see a crime scene herself. I do this with Enola all the time, and she doesn't seem to mind at all.”

Enola quickly nodded at her brother's words in agreement “It's true Lord Bridgerton, it’s quite fun, like solving puzzles, it keeps me occupied and gives me the ability to spend time with Sherlock.”

Violet interjected before Anthony could speak again,” These are quite bold ideas you share lord holmes, not many men would agree with you.”

“And not many women too” Eloise muttered with an eye roll.

But Sherlock kept his resolve and looked to y/n and his sister before looking back to Violet, “Well viscountess Bridgeton, I am quite a fanatic of what many may call strange ideals. I believe that a day will come, when a war will break out,” the whole table gasped in shock at his words, “one half of the human race against the other, the invisible army always standing by the men's shoulder, there has to come a day where us men stand back and view women as equals who deserve respect and demand to be heard”

“I think it's a wonderful idea lord holmes, you letting y/n help out in your cases that is.” Violet broke the silence as she clasped her two hands together, she met eyes with y/n who smiled at her, she smiled back and gave her daughter a wink.

If he were to be the man her daughter would love, then she would rather back her up than be against her and cause her daughter to abstain from the thought of love or marriage in general.

Gregory sat up excitedly “Lord Holmes! When you do find Mr. Bradford do you think you can get him to sign a copy of his books for me?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow with a smile at the excitement in his voice “Thats IF, but I don't see why not”

“No, it’s WHEN, Lord Holmes, I’m sure you are much closer to the man than you think” y/n spoke while motioning to Anthony valet to fetch her more tea with a smile. Sherlock looked at the teacup in y/n’s hands in confusion “I’m not sure im any closer to finding him, no one in the ton knows him”

The valet held the teacup as he poured tea for y/n as she spoke “Who says Marcus Bradford is the writer's real name?” it was like clockwork, Sherlock looked at y/n as she spoke, and the teacup slipped out of the valet's hands dropping some of the contents of the cup straight into y/ns lap. Sherlock quickly grabbed a tablecloth from in front of him and started dabbing the tea on her lap, them action caused her eyes to widen and for her to stand up quickly and move away, Anthony and Benedict stood up, both rushing to their sister, countless apologies were spewed from the valet's mouth. It was actually quite chaotic.

“It’s fine, I'm fine” y/n spoke with a nervous smile. “ one of the downsides of being a girl is wearing many layers, though I suppose in this case it is an upside” she let out a giggle while looking at everyone, her eyes moved to the valet who was still apologising “no harm no foul Hudson, I'm fine”

“I may have to get changed though, Enola,” she turned to face her friend, “Why don't you join me, we can look for a dress for you to wear for tomorrow's soiree”

The younger Holmes got up with a smile and joined her as the two rushed off to y/n’s room.

Everyone returned to their seats and slowly continued on with their conversation, however, Sherlock felt uneasy now in his seat, looking up in front of him his eyes met with Anthony’s eyes, who almost seemed to be glaring back at him. The eldest Bridgerton brother hadn't missed how Sherlock reacted to the tea dropped on his sister, he wanted to diminish any feelings that may be growing from y/n towards Holmes as fast as possible, to him Sherlock wasn't right for his sister.

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AN: First of all I am absolutely blown away by the number of likes and requests for tags I have gotten, I love you all, literally thought this story was going to flop. I'm sorry it took a while for the second chapter to come out hopefully next chapter won't take as long. TRULY LIKE WOW.

This chapter has so many easter eggs feel free to let me know which ones you found out through my ask box or comments, and if there is smth you would like me to add in any upcoming chapters let me know too<3

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I do not own Bridgerton

I do not own Sherlock or Enola Holmes

and I most certainly don't own the abominable bride story

I do not own Sherrinford

they belong to their rightful owners

I only own the fic idea.

#bridgerton #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #enola holmes #enola and sherlock #bridgerton reader #bridgerton x reader #sherlock holmes fanfiction #crossover #fanfic #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock #imagine #bridgerton x enola holmes #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader

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nanamiscocksleeve · 2 months ago

Text

The Office Pet Part 4

warnings: MDNI, pet play, name-calling, exhibitionism, oral (fem receiving), women on women This fic does not mean I think Kusakabe would be bad in bed, but there aren't many other men left. NOT PROOFREAD. I may have stolen some concepts from @anonimusunnoaniswriting

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

“Kusakabe, why are you taking so long?” Kento gives the brunette man a withering look as he sees your unsatisfied state.

“He’s eating me wrong!” You complain, and Gojo snickers. You had been happy and warm, snuggled with Gojo and Higuruma’s pets when a sudden phone call had all the men gathering in the same room.

“Were you aware he was coming today?”

“No, it was a completely unprompted visit. He said something about a welfare check.”

“On the pets?”

“Yes. I mean it’s a relatively new allowance. Makes sense that he’d want to see if it’s being implemented well.”

Amidst all the chatter, Kento had gently patted your head, trying to rouse you. “My sweet little pet. Can I ask you for a favor?” He pushes back locks of your pretty hair, his heart melting as your eyes turn from the fuzzy haze of sleep into alertness. “I’m sorry to wake you, but our CEO is arriving shortly. He’s bringing his pet as well. We’re worried about Kusakabe. He hasn’t eaten pussy in a long time and if he fails to satisfy the CEO’s pet they might take away the office pet allowance altogether.”

He scoops you up, the flimsy miniskirt of the lingerie you’re wearing draping over Kento’s forearm. “Do you mind letting him practice on you? You smell so delightful little pet.” Kento pressed a kiss to your forehead and you glowed at his affection. Kento had placed you gently on Gojo’s cleared desk and slipped off the lacy panties, exposing your pussy to Kusakabe, who stood looking nervous.

“Geez Atsuya, it doesn’t have teeth,” Higuruma goaded him, and the room erupted into laughter, both men and pets. “Seriously he keeps looking at it like it’s going to bite him. It’s soft, squishy. Now stop acting like we’re throwing you to the wolves. It’s a harmless little pussy, and if you fail in this, the CEO is going to come down hard on you. His pet isn’t something you can leave unfinished.

Atsuya had shakily approached you, and you glance up at Kento who’s hovering by your head, gently massaging your breasts to get your blood humming. Atsuya’s fingers are clumsy as he parts your folds. His warm tongue darts out, but it didn't take long for you to realize he had no idea what he was doing. He kept missing your clit, even though it was right there, peeking out from between your folds, and he failed to listen to your cues, the little happy chirps falling deaf on his ears as he tongue swirled haphazardly over random areas of your core.

Kento picks up on your discomfort immediately. “Atsuya I swear to God if you ruin this for all of us just because you don’t know how to eat pussy-”

“Show me how!” Kusakabe blurts in panic. Gojo and Higuruma sigh and approach the table. Kento spreads your folds and points to the swollen tissue at the top of your mound. “See that? That’s her clit. Maybe try licking that instead of shoving your tongue everywhere else.”

Kento spits on his fingers and brings them to your clit, massaging the nub, drawing an immediate mewl of happiness from you. “See? Her face makes it obvious. You have about 5 minutes to prove you can eat her out correctly or else you’ll have to go home for the day. We’ll make up an excuse to tell the CEO.”

“I don’t know how he missed that,” Gojo says, peeking at your folds. “Her clit is right there.”

“And this is her pussy.” Hiromi gently prods your hole and Kusakabe’s face blushes red.

“I know!”

“Do you?”

“Ok enough! Let him try. We have a very short window to decide if Kusakabe is here or goes home for the day.”

“A little too late for that I’d say.”

Startled, all 4 men look at the door and see their CEO smiling smugly at them, his pet obediently next to him on the floor, wearing a long overcoat to hide the fact that she was only wearing lingerie underneath it. She had wide eyes and her hair was tied back into a ponytail. She was watching the scene with a keen observance, her smirk mirroring her master’s as she looked at Kusakabe.

Suguru removes the leash from her collar and gives her ass a friendly pat. “Go play sweetheart.” She immediately moves forward to the cuddle pile where Gojo and Higuruma’s pets are seated. They waste no time in welcoming her, removing the trenchcoat and revealing lingerie that looked like shibari ropes, with barely any fabric covering her crotch or nipples. She playfully wriggles her ass and the two other pets take the cue, one of them gently spanking her while the other starts to touch her clit. Her noises of pleasure were punctuated with little yelps as she was spanked.

Suguru rolls up the leash and puts it in his coat pocket before entering the office. He appraises you, laid on your back looking flushed and irritable, your pussy on display to the whole room. Kusakabe immediately steps away so that he can get a better look. Suguru’s long hair tickles your abdomen as he leans over to check the little badge on your collar. He hmms as he reads the name and his eyes fixate on Nanami.

“May I?” he asks, but it’s not really a request for permission. Nanami nods.

Suguru’s hot breath ghosts your thighs and you go perfectly still as his thumbs part your folds. Kusakabe’s spit still lingered and the raven-haired man tsks at the sight. “Most of the wetness here isn’t yours, is it pet?” He looks at you, and you hesitate. He cups your face. “I assure you no one will get in trouble.” You shake your head no.

Suguru puts his nose between your folds and inhales deeply. “So sweet. I’d heard rumors about one of the pets smelling like candy down there. I didn’t think it was so accurate.” His tongue swirls around your clit and you let out a moan. He knew exactly what he was doing. Your eyes look up to glance at Kento’s face and he nods encouragingly, stroking your hair. The tip of his tongue gently nudges the little nub, going at it in patient circles, until you feel your core starting to drip again.

Your hand involuntarily tangles into his beautiful hair and he chuckles, the noise muffled against your puffy sex. It might have been out of line, a pet reaching for a master’s hair without permission but Suguru was in a good mood today, so he allowed it. Your reaction to his mouth was all he needed to allow you that indulgence. You whimper, hips arching as his lips seal around your clit and suck, the pressure pushing you to the edge. You cum with a cry, your clit pulsing hotly inside his mouth while your core spasms in tandem.

Suguru pulls away and wipes his mouth. “I hope that suffices as a decent demonstration.” His purple eyes fix on Kusakabe who shrinks. You lie on the table panting and Kento picks you up and places you with your playmates. Suguru’s pet lazily opens her eyes to glance at you, her pussy being serviced attentively by Higuruma’s pet. You’re entranced by the dreamy quality in her gaze and go over for a kiss, which she accepts with a delighted purr.

“Are the pets serving their purpose?” Suguru occupies Gojo’s chair and looks at the men expectantly.

“Indeed sir. They’re the joy of the office.” Satoru is the first to speak.

“I see that their conditions in your office are a little…lackluster though.” Suguru’s eyes take in the plushy futons that have been laid out, not uncomfortable by any means but lacking the finesse he’d been expecting. “Perhaps I can fix that. I’ll give each of you a pet expenditure card for their needs. Start by upgrading their office quarters, but you can also use it for other things; hair, nails, makeup, lingerie, toys. I didn’t push so hard for office pets to have them living in basic conditions.”

The statement was rather mindboggling considering the futons were covered in sheets that had an impossible threadcount, and all the pets wore collars made from either gold or platinum, and had at least one jewel embedded in it that exceeded 10 carats. How much luxury was Suguru’s pet living in that he considered their lives to be basic?

“That’s so kind of you Geto-sama.” Nanami bows. “Truly unexpected.”

Suguru’s eyes fall on his pet who was close to a soft orgasm, her moans muffled by your mouth on hers. She cums with a mewl, her back arching as the pleasure exploded in her, then opens her eyes. Suguru pats his lap and she eagerly crawls over to him, snuggling and allowing him to securely hold on to her using the shibari style lingerie wrapping around her.

“Did you enjoy that?” Suguru pets the woman affectionately under the chin and she melts into his touch. “Do you want something else?” She nods as though she already knew what he had in store for her. “Take it then.”

Suguru continues talk to the men as his pet starts to undo his zipper, pulling out his long cock and turning on her kness so that she’s facing the crowd while he talks. “Office pets are our best resource to prevent burnout and stress.” His voice hitches for a brief second as his pet slowly sinks onto him, then starts to ride him, her tits bouncing.

Kusakabe lets out a muffled cough, trying not to ogle the sight. The 3 other men look unruffled and continue to listen. Suguru’s large hand grabs onto a bunch of the ropes at the back of the woman’s lingerie, allowing her to move at angles that weren’t possible when seated on another’s lap on your knees.

“They provide us with companionship and endless joy and pleasure. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the improvement in the numbers since the office pet allowance was enabled. That speaks volumes.” He glances at his pet who flushed and clearly enjoying herself as she fucks him. “Slow down.” He grips the ropes tighter, controlling how fast she was moving. “You don’t want to overstimulate yourself.”

“But I think they deserve the best of everything. Their devotion is endless after all.” He squeezes one of his pet’s nipples causing her rhythm to falter. Geto lifts her off his cock slightly by the fabric ropes, steadying her, then loosens his hold so that she can push back down.

“I’m also concerned that our newest hire seems to lack the knowledge needed to keep a pet satisfied.” His eyes rove over Kusakabe and the other men turn to glare at him. “Has he really never eaten pussy before?”

“Of course I have!” Kusakabe splutters suddenly. “Sir.” He adds hastily.

“Clearly not with any skill. Nanami’s pet was half dry by the time I got to her.” Silence fills the room, except for the sound of Geto’s pet moaning, her round ass slapping against his thighs each time she moved. “My advice to you Atsuya, is to take your time and learn the material. Do you have a girlfriend?”

He shakes his head no. “No wonder. But I suppose that means we won’t have to worry about the office pet allowance being applicable to you yet.” Geto grunts as his pet slams down on him, and before he could get in another word, she lowers herself completely, eyes closed in ecstasy as she takes Suguru’s load into her.

“Well done sweetheart.”Geto pants and strokes her back. He helps her off his lap and sets her down on the floor and she wanders off to rejoin the other women. He quickly produces a handkerchief and wipes himself clean before continuing.

“The rest of you though, I assume you’re keeping your pets satisfied? Giving them high quality meals? Ensuring they get enough water? Regular massages? They use their bodies to please us so the least you can do is make sure they don’t have any aches and pain.”

“Of course Geto-sama,” Higuruma reassures him. “All this is being done.”

“Excellent.” He looks at the pets. His was being cleaned by Gojo’s pet while you had her head in your lap, leisurely stroking her cheeks and pressing kisses to her forehead. Geto observes the smitten way his pet looks at you.

“Come gentlemen. Let’s have lunch.” He tucks his spent cock back into his pants. “I’ll make sure something is sent up for the pets to eat.”

As they walk, Geto lingers behind and catches hold of Nanami. “How do you feel about setting up a private playdate? My pet and yours?”

Kento’s hazel eyes look intrigued. “I would have to ask her, but sure. Any reason, Geto-sama?”

“My pet seems to have taken a liking to her. And whatever my pet wants, she gets.”

@aether-seawolf @makingtimemine @snwvie @facelessfionna @sweetskozume @theimmortalbuns @supernaturalbaesduh @marusatonanhin @pwd54gr54 @brekkersgf

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year ago

Text

The Menu | Part 2

“like an angel to me”

A/N: so I think this is the fastest I have ever written something in awhile! Every time I think there’s no possible way for me to want Joel even more, I surprise myself with something like this 🥴

~word count : 5.3k~

Pairing | dark! Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: after showing up to Joel’s apartment late one night, he gives you exactly what you’re seeking.

Warnings: dubcon/teetering on noncon (the lines are pretty blurred but I just want to be safe) coercion, manipulation, mind games, degradation, a sprinkle of misogyny, possession, ownership, dominance, humiliation, reader goes from being a dom to a sub real quick, brat tamer, praise kink, size kink, blood kink??, spitting kink, unprotected PIV, rough sex, breeding kink, creampie, light spanking, oral (male receiving) little to no foreplay, some aftercare??, Joel is an asshole, delulu! Joel, cockslut, whore, bitch, are all used. Age gap, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in late 20’s, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is Angel, this story might not be for everyone, and that’s okay! Please heed the warnings! If I have missed any, PLEASE let me know. +18 minors dni!

The last thing Joel Miller expected you to do was laugh. Not just giggle, or a snicker, no. It was a full on wheezing laugh.

“Oh my fuckin’ god. You’re not actually serious, are you? Wow, is this supposed to make my panties wet or something? Cus’ it’s sure doin’ the complete opposite!”

His face turned beet red all the way to the tips of his ears. The glass that was clenched firmly in his fist was on the verge of shattering. Guess he couldn’t handle his fragile ego being busted open, huh?

“Y’think you’re so funny, huh?” His confidence was wavering on thin ice as he reached for the bottle instead.

“Oh, yeah. I think I am absolutely fucking hysterical. What? You don’t get your dick wet enough around here as it is? Oh, shit! Is it because your dick is small? It’s alright, Joel. Most women don’t care about size anyway.” You were smirking through your teeth as you sipped away at what was left in your glass.

The glowering man sitting across from you took one harsh swig from the bottle before he cracked his neck to the side. “I get my dick wet around here plenty. Thank you for showin’ some concern though. Ain’t you just a real peach? Why even mention my dick size, huh? Ask any woman around here and they’ll all tell you that I am well endowed.” He nearly growled as he slammed the bottle down along the coffee table.

“Geez, don’t go and get your panties all in a twist, Miller. I have no interest in knowing anything that has to do with you dick, I assure you. God, I swear all men, even after the world has gone to shit, are the same. Y’can’t handle someone busting your ego? Well, aren’t you just some delicate fuckin’ china.” You scoffed and placed your glass down on the coffee table like a dignified person.

Oh, you didn’t just bust his ego, you shattered it right down to the core. He could handle some bruising, sure. But god, if he didn’t want to tear you into two right now—

“Maybe I shoulda let those men in the alley fuckin’ tear you apart, since you think this is so fuckin’ funny. D’ya have any fuckin’ manners at all?! I risked MY fuckin’ skin to save your own and this is how you’re gonna act?!” His voice boomed through the thin apartment walls. He expected you to cower. To profusely apologize for poking the angry bear. Instead, you stood your ground.

“Maybe you should have! You could have just minded your own and let them fuck me up, but instead you what? Wanted to be the hero?! I never asked you to come and rescue me, Joel! Y’want me to say thank you? Fine. Thank you oh so much for saving me, Joel Miller! How can I ever repay you?” You mockingly batted your lashes, followed by an eye roll as you rose to your feet.

“Yeah, well, next time I ain’t gonna be there to save your skin! So, why don’t you jus’ go on back out into the streets, and see what happens!” He shook his head tightly as his jaw clenched like a fist.

“Great! That’s the best news ever because like I just said, I never asked you to rescue me!” You yelled exasperatedly as you made your way over to the door. Your head still throbbed, and your nose felt like a million tiny shards were digging into the flesh, but you’d much rather spend a night in lock up than another minute with this man.

“Great! Jus’ be on your way then, girlie!” He grumbled through his teeth.

“Oh, and Joel? For the sake of all the women in the QZ, why don’t you just keep your dick in your fuckin’ pants.” You gave him the middle finger before yanking his apartment door open. “Do not fuckin’ follow me home.” Was the last thing you said before you slammed the door behind you on the way out.

“Oh, don’t you worry! I ain’t gonna follow your bratty, disrespectful, no good—” he was cut off by the apartment door swinging shut so hard, it nearly fell off the hinges.

For good measure, the brooding bear got up from where he was sitting and locked the apartment door just in case you thought about coming back. Not that you were going to as you were already halfway across the QZ street heading home.

Joel Miller did not see you again for what felt like months (not really. He’s just a bit dramatic is all) when all in all reality, it had been two weeks to the date. He thought maybe you had died, or worse; He thought that maybe there was a chance that you got infected. Good riddance.

But then Tess told him that you were in fact alive, but avoiding him.

Joel knew why of course. He was quite the dickhead during your last interaction. Tess couldn’t really blame you for wanting absolutely nothing to do with Joel Miller ever again.

Business carried on like usual on their end even without your addictive charm in the mix.

You fucked a FEDRA soldier for extra ration cards just out of spite, and to get Joel Miller’s stupid face eliminated from your brain permanently. If you ever ran into that man again, you wanted to be smelling of another man’s cum just to rile him up all over again.

You wanted to crawl right up into his skin. Cover him in welts and hives to drive him mad. Hell, you wanted to poison him and leave him without the antidote. Fuckin’ Joel Miller and his stupid Texas twang and those piercing brown eyes and massive hands.

Perhaps that’s how you found yourself outside his apartment door late one night searching for a vice to be filled again.

You knocked once, then paused and knocked twice.

This is fucking stupid. What the hell am I doing?

When you heard no immediate answer from the other side of the door, you assumed that he wasn’t home and proceeded to turn on your heel to walk away—

The door squeaked open as Joel Miller's head appeared from the doorway.

“Fancy seein’ you here tonight, Angel.” He rasped deeply. You couldn’t even see his face yet, and you just knew he had a shit eating grin plastered on it.

“Miller.” You acknowledged him with a tight nod when you finally turned to face him.

He was leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed and brow raised curiously.

“And what is it exactly that you're showin’ up here for?” He knows, of course. He’s known for awhile, but he wants to hear you say it first.

“Somethin’ that I heard you have to personally ask for. Somethin’ that isn’t advertised on your little menu here, Joel.”

his lips curve upwards in a wolfish grin. He cocks his chin to the side as his broad arm comes to rest along the chipped wood on the doorframe.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d finally give in, Angel.” He rasps. Thick and deep. His words hang heavy in the sultry air.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at his response as you crossed your arms against your chest. “Okay, well, you don’t need to be all mysterious about it. Now, can I come in, please?”

“I see you're still at it with being a disrespectful brat, huh?” He pushed himself off the side of the doorframe so that you could make your way inside. The door was pulled shut behind you with a soft woosh of air.

“Yep, and I all I could think about these past few weeks of you fuckin’ the disrespectful brat right out of me, Joel.”

I fuckin’ knew it.

“Oh, I see. So, that’s what you’ve been up to all these weeks is thinkin’ about me?” He awaited your answer with a bated breath.

“No.” You deadpanned with a faux sigh. “Was too busy fucking a FEDRA officer for some ration cards. Didn’t have enough space in my brain to think about you setting me straight.” You teased with a smirk playing on your lips.

His fists clenched at his sides as his jaw tightened. The thought of you fucking another man, let alone a FEDRA officer?

“Hmm. Is that so? Well, I think you’re lyin’ through your teeth right now, Angel.” He wasn’t about to let you get under his skin that easily.

“Me? A liar? Oh, I’m truly wounded. C’mere, Joel. I bet you can still smell him on me.” You purred softly.

His eye twitched as he imagined you screaming another man’s name as you rode his cock—

He took a few steps towards you and backed you right up against the countertop. He dipped his head down towards your face as his hands came to rest along either side of the cool countertop. His nostrils flared as he inhaled your scent with his nose pressed deeply into the clavicle of your throat. “Did ya fuck him before you showed up here? Answer me, Angel. And y’better tell the truth.” His voice dropped an octave that shamelessly sent a pool of arousal dripping through your panties.

“Mhm. I fucked him before I showed up here. His cum is still inside of me, Joel. Y’gonna fill me up too?”

His teeth grazed the spot where your neck met your collarbone as he dragged his hot tongue across your skin. “S’that what Y’want?”

“Sure.” You shrugged almost disinterested.

“That ain’t how this works. Y’tell me exactly what it is that you want from me, and I deliver. Y’got that?” He asked you sternly as the bridge of his nose dragged upwards across your throat.

“Ah. So the women you fuck tell you what they want, and that’s all you do to them? Well, where’s the fun in that? Seems kinda boring to me, Joel.”

“Y’don’t like my rules, then y’can fuckin’ leave. That’s how things work around here, baby. So, I’ll ask y’again, what do you want from me?”

“Hold on. Hold on, cowboy. Pump the breaks. What if the thing they’re requesting is something you’re not interested in? You still do it? What about the things that you want? Ain’t that important in all this?”

“God, you’re annoyin’, y’know that? Can you just answer the goddamn question? I ain’t have all night.” He grumbled impatiently.

Then you did something that neither of you expected. You reached your hand up between your nearly touching bodies and grabbed ahold of his jaw tightly between your fingers and forced him to look directly into your eyes. “No. Fuck that. The world has gone to shit and you’re not thinkin’ of your own desires? Man, don’t you wanna be in charge for once? You think I’m so annoying and nothin’ but a disrespectful brat? Then show me what you do to women like me. Put me in my place, Joel.” You challenged him.

It was as if something inside of him had snapped. Maybe you were right. Maybe he oughta put you in your place after all. Why only be half in charge of how things played out, when he could take the whole cake himself?

“Alright. We’ll play the game my way then.” He chuckled darkly as his knuckles turned stark white from how hard he was gripping either side of the countertop.

As soon as you went to open your mouth, one of his hands clamped down instantly as he leaned in close. “Startin’ with shuttin’ this smart fuckin’ mouth of yours up. Yeah, ain’t so tough now, are ya Angel? Didn’t think so. Now, I’m only gonna ask you once, alright? Get. On. Your. Fuckin.’ Knees. Now.” He commanded you.

You dropped to your knees like an obedient dog on a leash waiting to be rewarded with a treat.

“Wow, would ya look at that. Guess the bitch can be obedient after all.” He chuckled.

Your eyes narrowed slightly at his new demeanor. You weren’t one for teasing, and right now Joel Miller was testing your patience.

“Don’t go lookin’ at me like that. You’re the one who showed up at my door, remember? This ain’t goin’ fast enough for you? Well, we’ll just see about that.” He tsked under his breath as his hand moved from your mouth to resting along your jaw.

“Open.” He commanded you as he applied a bit of pressure to either side of your cheeks. When you obediently opened your mouth, he praised you. “Good girl.” Followed by a light loving slap to your cheek. “Now, the way I see it is that you have three holes for me to fuck.”

His grin intensified when your eyes widened at his suggestion. It wasn’t that..you were afraid but if he wanted to fuck you in the ass at some point, you’d need to be ready for him.

“Oh ho ho. I see. You ain’t ever done that before? Hmm. I’m surprised that a mouthy bratty whore such as yourself hasn’t had a cock in her ass before. Well, maybe we’ll save that for another time.” He leaned down so he was closer to your face as the blunt ends of his fingernails dug into the skin on your cheeks. His lip curled up into a snarl as his pupils darkened. “But then again, I am supposed to be puttin’ you in your place. Ain’t I, Angel?”

Tears began to spring along your waterline from how hard he was gripping your face. Maybe you were biting off more than you could chew. “You’re hurting me, Joel.” You gritted out as a few tears leaked down your cheekbones.

“Good.” “Now I have your full attention. That’s very good, Angel. Look at you bein’ a good girl with your listenin’ ears. Now, if I do remember from our prior interaction, you assumed that my dick was small. Ain’t that right?”

You nodded meekly.

“Ah ah ah. Words, Angel. Use ‘em. I ain’t into silence. You speak when spoken to. Y’got that?” He squeezed your cheeks tightly as tears continued to roll down them.

“Yes sir.” You squeaked out.

He loosened his grip on your face, which in turn allowed you to relax your jaw. “Where were we? Ah! Right. The part where you assumed that my cock was small. Right before you called me some delicate fuckin’ china. So, how about you see for yourself.” He gestured to the growing tent in his jeans. “Don’t be shy now. Go’on and see if the women in the QZ are jus’ sayin’ horse shit about my size.”

You swallowed the lump growing in your throat as you felt his eyes burning holes in your skull from how harshly he was staring you down. Your hands quivered under his gaze as you reached for his belt to undo it.

“Don’t act so nervous, Angel. It’s just a cock. It ain’t gonna bite ya.” He teased with a chuckle. You could visibly see his hardened cock twitch under the confines.

You undid his belt before looping your fingers through the faded fabric and tugged them down swiftly over his ass and thighs.

You saw the sheer size and the girth of him through the tight fabric of his briefs as his own hand reached down to palm himself through the fabric.

“Holy shit.” You whispered in awe as your jaw fell open.

How in the hell is that supposed to fit?

He seemed to be reading your mind as his hand that was palming himself reached for your own and placed it under his. “We’ll make it fit, baby. Don’tcha worry your pretty little head about that. Although, maybe now is a good time to take back that little comment you made, hmm?”

Your own fingers dragged across the stiff outline of his cock as your eyes flitted upwards to meet his gaze. “I take it back.”

“Take back what?” He pressed.

“Sayin’ that you probably have a small dick.” You spoke quietly through the thick rising tension between you.

“Atta girl. See, that wasn’t so hard, huh? Still need’ya to take it out for me, Angel. Gettin’ awfully painful for me.” He hissed between his teeth when your hands finally grasped the waistband of his briefs and tugged them down. His cock sprang up freely against his taut stomach. The tip was gleaming with a bead of precum that was weeping from the slit.

“Well, it ain’t gonna suck itself, girlie. Get to it” he gruffly requested as he placed one hand along the back of your head and nudged you forward towards his cock.

For a brief moment you thought about just biting his dick off right then and there. Sorry, the voices. You just didn’t want to seem too excited. The FEDRA officer you recently fucked had nothing on Joel Miller’s cock. That was for damn sure.

Your glassy eyes stayed locked on his darkened ones as you stuck your tongue out and gave the tip of his cock a light kitten lick. He must have not been too pleased with it because his grip around your head tightened as he yanked your head upwards.

“Suck now, Or you ain’t gettin’ shit in return. We clear?” He asked you sternly with his eyes narrowed into slits.

“Crystal.” You mumbled in response before wrapping your palm around the base of his length and gave it a few slow tugs. When you finally obeyed, and he felt the wet heat of your mouth engulfing his weeping tip, his shoulders slumped as he inhaled a shaky breath.

“Shit—yeah. There ya go. See, that ain’t so hard? Fuck—that’s good, Angel.” He praised you from above as his hand loosened its grip around your head for a millisecond.

You relaxed your jaw on instinct to slowly inch your mouth further around him. The girth of his cock was stretching your mouth further than it had ever been stretched. Drool mixed with precum dribbled down your chin as fresh tears sprung to your eyes. You truly weren’t sure how you were supposed to fit all of him.

Joel didn’t want to admit it outloud, but seeing you sitting so pretty on your knees, mouth stuffed with his cock, and little tears leaking from your watery eyes, he never thought you looked so beautiful.

“That’s it, Angel. Relax a little more. Convince me that you’re actually enjoyin’ this. C’mon. Ain’t you a bit of an actress after all?” He chuckled.

Your hands found purchase around his bare muscular thighs as you tried to push yourself back for a gulping of air. Joel didn’t allow you the pleasure however as his hand was still firmly holding your head in place. You let out a sound that was nothing short of frustration before the tip of his cock pressed against the back of your throat, igniting your gag reflex to kick in.

Joel loved it.

His eyes rolled back when your throat clenched around him like a fist. His nails scraped lightly at your scalp as he threw his head back. He had received many blowjobs in his lifetime, but most women couldn’t take him all in. But once again, you proved Joel Miller wrong.

Feeling rather pleased with your work on him, Joel finally allowed you that breath of air that you so desperately needed as he removed his hand from your head. You immediately pushed yourself back off his thighs as his cock slipped out of your mouth with a light pop. You coughed a few times, gasping as a string of saliva hung from the tip of his cock all the way to your lips.

Before you could fully recover, his warm calloused palms were wrapped around your forearms and yanking you up from the faded tile floor hastily. He proceeded to wipe away your tears as his cock, still very much hard, twitched between you.

“Remember, Angel. You’re the one that showed up to my apartment like the cheap, bratty, beggin’ whore that you are. You asked for this. Y’wanna leave? Doors right there. I won’t stop you.” His thumb brushed the spot just below your eye.

You shook your head immediately. If it wasn’t for the constant tingle that simmered between your thighs, you probably would have hightailed out of there.

His smirk was nothing short of proud as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Very good, Angel. Very good. I’m testin’ you, and you’re passing with flying colors. Got your listenin’ ears on and everythin.’ Y’know what happens when you’re a good girl? Y’get rewarded. And I’m feelin’ mighty generous..so in the next five seconds you’re gonna take your pretty ass on over to the couch, you’re gonna strip down and bend over the side of it. Y’got that?”

You nodded as your hands already dropped to the hem of your shirt, fingers playing with the frayed ends. “Yes, sir.”

He patted your cheek affectionately before he stalked off to his room. You could hear him counting down from five as you scrambled to discard your shirt and tug your jeans down over your thighs. Your pulse quickened as you made your way over to the couch and bent over the side of it. You shouldn’t have felt this excited, but Joel Miller truly did bring the inner whore in you out to play.

His footsteps were heavy and audible just as you were reaching for the waistband of your faded panties to drag them down your legs.

“Ah. I’m sorry, Angel. Was five seconds not enough for ya?” He tuts softly under his breath. His footsteps hold a slight swagger as you feel the heat of his body simmering on your bare skin. His hand rests along the back of your thighs before slowly dragging upwards. He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh as your covered pussy clenches around air. “Didn’t give ya enough time to take these off, hmm?” He hummed under his breath as he dragged his thumb across your covered core, applying the tiniest of pressure.

“Joel,” you whimper with a sharp breath when you the pad of his thumb pressing against you. “I’m—sorry, sir.”

“Sorry?” He sounds slightly confused at your apology. You can’t see his face, but you imagine his head cocking to the side as he gazes down at you like a starved man salivating at the wet patch that pools in the fabric of your thin panties. “Honey, this ain’t nothin’ you gotta be sorry for.” He reassures you as his head dips down.

You can feel his wiry, coarse beard scraping gently at the base of your spine. His lips on your searing skin are wet, hot, and inviting as he begins to leave open mouth kisses all the way up to the spot between your shoulder blades. You feel both of his massive hands prying your cheeks apart, followed by the slick length of his cock sliding through your covered folds.

He grunts directly into your ear as the sheer mass of his body conceals you like a cloak. He’s so fucking big. It's suffocating, almost. Being enveloped by a man such as him. Your thighs rubbed together to relieve the ache between them.

Can he just get on with it already?

“Now, Angel. I’m gonna fuck this pretty little cunt of yours till your legs shake. Till that stupid FEDRA officers come doesn’t even fuckin’ exist anymore. You’re gonna scream my name, and you’re gonna let every single one of my goddamn neighbors in this shit hole apartment know jus’ who’s fuckin’ you so well. Hell, maybe even that FEDRA fuck will be able to hear you from outside. You’re gonna scream and cum, like the dirty, obedient, little cockslut that you are.” He growled before bringing his palm down against your ass with a harsh, stinging slap that sent your back arching.

“And maybe, if you do as your told, and you milk my cock fuckin’ dry, I’ll treat you like a princess. Food. Shelter. A cock to keep you warm at night? Soft touches. Kisses. The comfort that I know you so desperately fuckin’ seek. All of that, and more can be yours, Angel. You jus’ have to be good and do as your told.” His teeth scraped the outer shell of your ear before he bit down on the thin skin harshly between his teeth. His thumbs looped between the waistband of your panties before he yanked them down to your ankles swiftly.

“Joel, that’s not what—” you tried to speak and get a few words in. But this was his show, not yours.

“That’s not what, Angel? That’s not what you want? Oh, please. Let’s not start this off by lyin’ to me. You showed up here tonight because you were seekin’ somethin’ I offered. I know how that brain of yours works, little girl. Y’sure can run that mouth of yours, but you and I both know that you’re fuckin’ helpless. Those men in the alley would have killed you if it weren’t for me. They would have torn you to shreds had I not stepped in. Say it, Angel. Say that I saved you.” He snarled unkindly as his freehand slipped around to your mouth. He pressed a kiss to your throat, right where he could feel your pulse quicken. “Spit.” He commanded you.

You shamelessly spit of glob of saliva right into the palm of his hand just like you were told.

His annoyance was prevalent when you didn't bother to answer his demand for you to admit that he saved you. Your blood was pumping in your veins and your heart was beating because of him.

You felt an unpleasant chill roll down every vertebrae in your spine when he didn’t praise you for spitting into his hand like a good girl. You tried to turn your head to the side to see what exactly it was that he was doing, but he didn’t give you that satisfaction. Oh, no. He wasn’t going to give that to you.

You went to open your mouth, to tell him just what he wanted to hear, but your words were muffled as he shoved your face right into the couch cushion. His hand encaged your head while the other slipped back between your nearly connected bodies. He used your saliva as lubricant as he fisted the heavy weight of his cock a few times.

Your body lurched forward when you felt the head of his cock pressing into your glistening hole. He was barely notched inside your cunt, and you were already trying to crawl away. He was too much.

He tuts with a disappointed sigh, shaking his head tightly. “Y’wanted this, remember?” He almost sounds pitiful. Almost. “Can’t exactly fuck this tight little hole if you ain’t holdin’ still, Angel.”

“Joel—it’s too. Fuck. It’s too much.” You whine pathetically as your nails dig into the worn fabric on the couch cushions.

“Too much for a fuckin’ cockslut like you? Shut the fuck up and take it.” He hissed between his teeth. “Just fuckin’ relax and quit bein’ so stiff. I’m tryin’ to make this an enjoyable experience for the both of us!” He snapped cruelly. He dropped his hand from around your head and opted to wrap his arm around your middle, yanking you back against his hips as he sank further into your heat.

“Actin’ like your pussy doesn’t want this, baby? She’s huggin’ me so fuckin’ tight already. She’s pullin’ me right on in. S’like she’s takin’ my cock fuckin’ home.” He groaned deeply as he bottomed out. Filling you to the fucking brim. His cock felt like it was splitting you in two, right down the middle. His chest was firmly pressed down against your back as he rolled his hips forward.

A strangled moan crawled up your throat as you found yourself fucking yourself around his cock. Showing him that you could in fact play the role. Be the actress. Milk him dry just as he requested.

“Joeeel.” You moaned wantonly with your cheek pressed firmly against the scratchy fabric of the cushions. Your tears had long since dried in a salty cavern along your cheekbones.

“That’s it, Angel. That’s a good fuckin’ girl. See, I told you I can fuckin’ treat you well.” He grunted praisingly as his lips found their way to your neck once more. He sucked, licked, kissed on your sweat-slicked skin as he pulled his hips back before jutting them forward once more. He set a deliciously deep and urgent pace as he fucked into you. “Don’t think for a second that I’m—-fuckin’ lettin’ you off the hook so easily, Angel. Y’still gotta tell me who saved you. Who saved your fuckin’ life!” His teeth grazed the thin, breakable skin along the column of your throat. He bit down harshly, drawing blood to the surface as he sucked on the entry wound that he created. A marking of dominance. Possession. The carnal need to own you.

The coil in your stomach tightened and pulled as your orgasm quickly approached. You liked it. You liked being fucked like the cockslut that you truly were. With each harsh thrust of his hips, the weight of his balls slapping against your skin, you cried out his name in a cock-drunk stupor.

Joel. Joel. Joel.

“Not the FEDRA officer fuck, right? Did he fuckin’ save your skin?! Huh?! No, Angel. He didn’t. Bet he woulda taken the opportunity to kill you, Angel. I bet they all fuckin’ would! Every last goddamn rotten, son-of-a-bitch sick fuck left in this shithole would jump at the opportunity to spill your blood on the streets below, Angel. Not me! Not Joel. Why do you think that, Angel? Why do you think I’d never let anyone hurt you?”

Your pussy clenched down around his cock as your strangled cries fell freely through your parted lips. Your back arched to meet his relentless thrusts.

“Because—because you own me, Joel!”

Maybe it was the endorphins coursing through your veins. Maybe it was the way Joel Miller’s cock continued to hit the spongy spot inside of you with every heavy thrust of his hips. Maybe it was the way he spoke to you. Or the way his body shielded yours with sheer strength. Maybe it was everything combined. In your cockdrunk haze, you wanted to be owned by this man.

“Yes, Angel. That’s right. I do fuckin’ own you. I own your body. This pussy. That smart mouth of yours. I own the come that drips between your thighs. I own your screams. I own your thoughts. Your feelings. Your likes and dislikes. I own every fuckin’ part of your being.” He growled possessively as his thighs and yours began to quiver. As his cock began to twitch, and your tight cunt began to pulse like a heartbeat.

“You own me, and I own you.”

He didn’t disagree. He didn’t argue as the cries of his name falling from your tongue mixed with his own heavy grunts.

Angel. Angel. Angel.

As he shot hot ropes of his seed into your fucked out hole, you milked him of every last drop, and as he slipped out, you could feel a mixture of his and your come dripping down between your thighs.

You could feel his heartbeat against your back as his breaths came out as hot puffs across your clammy skin. His cock softened against his thigh. Glistening in yours and his come. Your eyes fluttered shut as the post orgasm haze swept over you.

You felt two strong arms gently pulling you up as your head fell back against his strong shoulder. He held you securely against him. All you could hear was his heart beat and your intermingle breaths.

“Did you really go and fuck that FEDRA officer before you showed up here, Angel?” He asked softly while the pads of his thumbs rubbed soothing circles against your hips.

“No.” You admitted. “I didn’t.”

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flurry-of-stars · 8 months ago

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𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝐻𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓈-𝕴𝓥

⋆｡°✩𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓵𝔂⋆｡°✩ 𝕺𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖜 - 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕴𝕴𝕴

⋆｡°✩𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕴𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖝 ⋆｡°✩ Fluff, light angst. 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 8k 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: So sorry for the delay! Thank you all for your patience! (ಥ﹏ಥ) I would've had this out on Monday, but I just wanted to spend some extra time editing it. I hope you all enjoy ✧ദ്ദി( ˶^ᗜ^˶ )

The warmth caresses the side of your face, stirring you from your slumber. Tossing and turning in the comfortable confines of the bed you’re in, you murmur sleepily. It’s so soft, so warm.

You’re almost tempted to go back to sleep, if it didn’t feel like someone was watching you right now with tiny daggers in their eyes. Suddenly, something soft slaps your cheek, causing you to gasp as your eyes snap open in surprise. "Ah-!" You turn to the other side and are astonished to find the old tabby cat sitting on the bed, his paw raised as if ready to slap you again.

"Tolstoy..! Ah… what was that for?" you ask, while touching your cheek where his furry paw made contact.

You wonder what you did to offend the feline when he huffs at you, his whiskers twitching, preparing to hit you on the cheek again. You sit up quickly, satisfying the old cat. His meow is low as he goes about grooming his paw as if he didn’t just slap you with it. You groan at him, rubbing your cheek a little, grumbling, “Geez…just when I thought we were becoming friends…” You blink a few times as realisation hits you, “Wait…Tolstoy? What are you doing at my apartment?” The cat gives you an audacious side eye, his tongue rasping over his paw as you slowly look around, eyes darting about like a hummingbird. It’s a small room. Cozy though. Old mahogany desk. Blackout curtains. Smells of old books. An actually comfortable bed that doesn’t leave you with an aching back. A grumpy old cat.

Wait a minute..is this…? ‘Fyodor’s room?’ Your mind races, trying to put together why you’re here. It takes you a few moments to remember yesterday, the excursion out to the forest and the nap Fyodor had taken on your shoulder. The way you’d watched over the beautiful pink flora before feeling quite exhausted yourself, your head drifting onto his shoulder–

Your skin burns with embarrassment.

Fyodor must’ve woken up and brought you here. That was the only conclusion you could come to. You don’t remember him doing so but you were probably too tired to realize at the time. You stretch, listening to a few of your bones pop before you rise out of bed. Now that you’re up, you watch the brown tabby saunter into your place, yawning and curling up.

“Old man. You just wanted the bed,” you grumble, fixing your clothes from the previous day. You watch the feline settle into the warm spot you left on the bed before turning your attention to the mahogany desk.

You know you shouldn’t snoop around. This is Fyodor’s private space. He trusted you enough to let you sleep in here. You shouldn’t go through his things.

But there’s no harm in looking at his desk, right?

Your eyes roam the desk, noting just how messy it is. There’s a few books scattered about, creating messy piles on his desk, some thicker than others. Some whose covers catch your eye quicker. You’re tempted to reach out and grab one to inspect it closer, but you stop yourself, hand pausing midway across the desk.

‘Let’s just look,” you remind yourself to not betray the trust Fyodor has shown you by allowing you into his room as your gaze continues it’s search. There’s a melted candle on one side of the desk. Looks like he forgot to place it on a holder. But as your gaze drifts beyond the candle, you notice a vintage photo frame hidden under some books.

You frown as you attempt to get a better look at it, hidden in the darkness provided by the book covering it from above. Humming in thought, your hand slides into your pocket, grabbing your phone.

It was almost dead and you had a few missed calls and texts from Trixie but you ignore them for now.

Turning on the flash, you guide the light towards the frame, uncovering the old photo. The frame is corroded and the glass is shattered, splintering outwards from one corner like a glass spiderweb. And yet despite having some minor sun damage, the photo inside is almost in perfect condition.

It seems to be a group photo taken at a restaurant of some kind. You recognize Fyodor almost immediately. Though it’s surprising to see him without those heavy black lines under his eyes. His expression is one you know well; calm, reserved. Mysterious. But the presence of his smile indicates that he isn’t uncomfortable with his current situation.

To his left is a man with hair as white as fresh snow, a grey and white scarf around his neck and a white overcoat over his shoulders. His smile is wide with an arm wrapped around Fyodor’s shoulders, tugging him in close, his free hand putting up a peace sign over his scarred left eye.

Next to the white-haired man sat a calmer man. Under his hands was a book, the title reading as ‘The Precipice’ when you translated it. His eyes were closed, despite the pleased look that was on his face. On Fyodor’s right was a slightly bulkier man with messy blonde hair and a cigarette in his mouth. He was smirking at the camera like a cat who’d gotten the cream, holding up a glass of some kind of alcohol as if giving cheers to the camera. The final man was the one who seemed to be trying to fit into the frame, despite being the cameraman. You couldn’t get a good look at him, but you could see his big glasses and dishevelled light brown hair. Judging from his face- or what you could see of it- you assumed he was the youngest of the group. You look over each man in the photo, smiling softly. These had to be the acquaintances Fyodor mentioned yesterday. It was rather nice to see Fyodor surrounded by people who appeared to be enjoying his company and him, theirs.

As you tuck your phone away, you wonder how long ago the photo was taken. They seemed to be celebrating something, but it didn’t strike you as being for a birthday or marriage announcement or anything like that. Were they celebrating something related to their careers maybe?

You hum, gently resting your elbow on your wrist to softly press your knuckles against your lips. Maybe one of them had signed a contract? Perhaps finished a manuscript they’d been working on for years? Maybe it was for– “Ah, you are awake.” You almost squeal in surprise as you hear Fyodor’s voice, your thoughts shattering instantly.

You spin around, staring in absolute surprise at an amused Fyodor as he chuckles softly at your expression, “My apologies Огонёк. I thought Tolstoy had allowed you to sleep in.” His eyes wander towards his bed where the old cat is curled up, nuzzling into the warm sheets. “Good morning, Mr. Dostoyevsky,” you reply, feeling a faint warmth forming in your cheeks, your skin tingling with embarrassment for a second time this morning. You run a hand through your hair as you look towards Tolstoy, mumbling, “Yeah, you didn’t tell me your cat was pushy like that. He almost managed to get two slaps in.” Soft chuckles further escape Fyodor as he approaches you. His hand cups your cheek, a small sound escaping you as his slender finger touches your cheek.

His hands are surprisingly soft but quite cold. The tips of his fingers, however, are a tad rough. It also feels like there are a few small abrasions on his fingertips, closer to his nails. He hums, his fingertip caressing both of your cheeks before he nods, a teasing edge to his voice, “No scratches or bites. I think you’ll survive.” A soft huff escapes you as he pulls his hands back, a small chuckle on his lips as he turns away, motioning for you to come with him, “Come. Breakfast is waiting for you. You have a lot of work to do today, so you best not waste any time.” Lifting a hand, you touch your cheek slightly. His touch felt oddly nice. You don’t dwell on it for too long before you hurry after Fyodor, the scent of a freshly made meal hitting you the moment you step out of his bedroom.

Eyes wandering towards the table, you’re surprised to see a full spread for breakfast. A variety of smells flood your senses. The pleasant aroma of camomile tea. The rich smell of eggs, fried in butter. The whispering, sweet smell of blini... For a heartbeat, you wonder if you’re still in the land of dreams. Just for a moment, until you see the mountain of white paper, with more sprawled across half the dining table. Your eyes widen; Fyodor has never handed you off that many pages before. You stand there, frozen in disbelief, “M-Mr. Dostoyevsky…what is that?” Your voice falters slightly, betraying your utter astonishment at the sight before you. Taking his place at the table, a calm smirk lifts onto Fyodor’s face as he fills his cup, “That, my dear Огонёк, is the next six chapters for you to translate.”

You turn your shocked gaze to him, his teacup lifting to his lips as he takes a sip before adding, “I decided to make up for lost time yesterday. I was quite inspired after our little walk.” Six chapters. That was double what Fyodor usually gave you. Not to mention, because of your little forest walk yesterday, you still had two and a half chapters to translate meaning–

“Eight whole chapters…” you mumble quietly, shaking your head slowly as you approach the stack with caution. It was as though the pile of new chapters was like a taunting monster, teasing you of all the long hours ahead. Your wrist already ached just touching the first page for chapter ten. It looks like you were going to have to break out the old brace sooner than you expected.

Taking your seat at the table, you decide to focus on breakfast for the moment before you would inevitably be stuck sitting at this table working for the next ten hours with only a break for lunch. Just as you begin to reach over to grasp at the teapot’s handle, Fyodor speaks up. His voice is soft, though you can hear the tiredness in his voice, “Thank you for your company yesterday, Огонёк. I was…” He pauses, seeming to be thinking over his next words carefully, “In desperate need of that small moment of respite.” “You let me sleep over last night,” you reply, filling your cup with chamomile tea. You smile warmly at Fyodor, shrugging a little, “You sacrificed your bed for me. You can consider us even, Mr. Dostoyevsky. Oh and thank you for that by the way.”

Placing the teapot down with a gentle thud, you move on to filling your plate with eggs, some cold cuts and some blini, which you promptly smother with honey. “It is quite alright,” he replies, his eyes watching you carefully while you serve yourself breakfast. Once you’ve settled in and begun eating, he looks away, raising his cup to his lips and taking a sip.

A pleasant silence falls over you both as you work your way through breakfast and Fyodor seems to alternate between savouring each sip and jotting down more notes. It was nice. You wouldn’t mind sharing more mornings like this with the novelist. Something about it just feels right.

As you swallow the last bite of egg, you speak up, “I’ll cook breakfast tomorrow.” His violet eyes turn up, one of his brows raising in mild surprise. You return it with a smile, “It’s the least I can do after you spent all morning on this spread for us.” “Hmm..” He hums softly, tapping his pen against the table for a few seconds. As his pen stills, he nods, “If that is what you wish to do, then go ahead. But I will still watch over you while you cook. I do not need my assistant to lose a finger chopping up fruits for breakfast.” “Hey, I’m more careful now!” “That’s debatable.” “Wha–!” You scoff at Fyodor, glaring at him. He flashes you an amused smirk, tapping your half-full plate. “Come now, Огонёк. You shouldn’t let Olya’s cooking go to waste.” You pause. Then– “You didn’t even make breakfast?” “Did I ever insinuate otherwise?” “I was going to cook tomorrow because you cooked today!” “And I said if you wanted to cook, you could. I never once confirmed that I made this meal.” You pause again, thinking back over your conversation. You watch as Fyodor’s smirk grows, becoming more playful to your eye. You huff again, picking up your fork to stab at a blini, “Fine. Then you’re cooking with me tomorrow.” He gives you one last smirk as he raises his teacup to his lips, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Tenderly, you rub your aching wrist, eyes scanning over the translations you’ve done so far, assuring everything is correct and concise. You feel like your pen is practically dropping out of your hand as you reread one paragraph multiple times over. Your eyes droop a few times, causing you to shake your head, trying to regain your focus. You felt like you made next to no progress this week and the chapters keep piling up. After giving you those extra six chapters to translate, Fyodor added an additional four chapters throughout the week alone. You’d been confident when finishing translations for the second half of chapter seven, along with finishing chapters eight and nine, but once you moved on to the new chapters, Fyodor’s writing became more intense, more intricate, challenging you and pushing you to your limits. Even a more skilled translator would struggle. So far, through chapters one to nine, his longest chapter was forty-two pages long before you began translating.

But now the pages were multiplying like rabbits, his tenth chapter leaving you to translate almost one hundred pages. It was currently early into the night on the weekend. You’d finally finished translating it now. You had to admit, his story was becoming more interesting. You were losing yourself in the evolving narrative that had slowly grown from the story of young man, a lonely, solitary wanderer, into a budding romance. With every turn of the page, Fyodor's writing captures your imagination and intrigue.

You were hooked. As the story progresses, you've noticed the male lead's unusual ways of dealing with his feelings of friendship and now, love. Rather than expressing those feelings, he was finding odd ways to win her companionship and affection. It was peculiar, but that was what made it so fascinating to read. It was strange. Especially when the male lead had spent the past five chapters believing that the female lead understood his habit of always making her a cup of tea when she visited came from a deeper place than just accommodating a guest. But the leads have such wonderful chemistry. Great, One down. Another nine to go. ‘I have to get all these done before the writer’s convention.’ You sigh heavily, gripping your pen as your wrist throbs in pain, making your finger flinch faintly. You curse under your breath as you hold your wrist, frustration bubbling up inside of you.

You'd been unable to locate your wrist brace yet, and with another paycheck spent on ensuring both you and Fyodor had enough for meals for the fortnight, you had no money to spare on ibuprofen or a new brace, the remainder being tied up in bus fares and rent.

Settling your black and gold pen to the side, your tired, weary fingers massage your aching wrist. The pain pulses, pounding like a heartbeat.

A bitter hiss escapes your lips, "Damn it." Even from a distance, the shadow of your past still clings to you, your pounding wrist a vivid reminder of memories you've long tried to forget. A shiver runs down your spine as you reflect on the reason for your current condition. A part of you can't help but wonder if your condition is something that isn't just physical. A knock at your apartment door rouses you from your thoughts. You jolt, looking up from your spot in the darkened apartment, the only light source coming from the small television in the small open-plan dining area, propped up on a buffet table.

You groan as you stand, stretching as you call out, “One second!” You listen to your bones pop before you leave the table, moving towards your apartment door. Your apartment is a small, run down space that bears heavy traces of the previous tenants. The walls are yellowing, the air heavy with the thick scent of old cigarette smoke that was caked into the peeling wallpaper. The unmistakable musty scent of mould hangs in the air, along with the suffocating acidic tang of the vinegar you'd used to try and treat it. You were surprised mushrooms hadn't started sprouting through the floorboards. The apartment door opens into the cramped open-plan kitchen and dining room, one single lightbulb hanging over the dining room table. To your right, a small narrow hallway leads to your room and the bathroom, both hidden away in this secret, dark corner of the apartment.

Living in this apartment caused you so many struggles on the daily. Sometimes you didn’t even have enough hot water for a full shower, which was agonizing during harsh Winters.

And only one of your stove burners worked. And you couldn't use your wardrobe due to the fact it was overrun with mould. It was far from ideal. But beggars can't be choosers. This apartment had it's list of problems, but it's all you could afford. And besides, you'd lived in apartments in worse conditions that this one. Lifting your non-dominant hand, you prepare to move the small chain out of the way before twisting the door lock to the unlocked position. After all, you already had an inkling about who would be visiting you. Sure enough– “Hey! We were supposed to have a movie night tonight, remember?” Trixie stands before you, a warm smile lighting up her face. Chestnut curls cascade over her shoulders, framing her gentle face.

Dressed in a ruffled blouse and a teal-colored skirt, she manages to combine fashionable and casual, exuding a cute, chic charm with a matching ribbon tied delicately around her neck. In her left hand, she holds two boxes of pizzas, the smell of melted cheese and tantalizing toppings causing your mouth to water instantly. In her other, she carries a small plastic bag containing a bottle of your favorite wine and likely dessert to complete the meal. Her smile falters the moment she takes in your appearance, “Are you okay, bookworm? You aren’t looking too good…” You smile tiredly, stepping aside to let Trixie in. She walks in, heading to the dining room to place everything down. That’s when she comes face to face with your workspace. “Dear goodness. Is this–” “Mr. Dostoyevsky’s latest chapters,” you answer as you follow her, yawning softly. You move past her, heading to grab the only two wine glasses you own, “I’ve been up since…maybe three working on them?” “In the afternoon? Well, I’m glad you took the morning to rest.” “Ah…no…three in the morning…” The wine glasses clink gently as you slide them out of the cabinet you keep them stored in. Trixie sighs heavily, concern laced in her voice, “Darling–” “It’s not a big deal,” you insist, moving back into the dining room. You place the two glasses down before you go about packing away the accumulated pages covering the entire dining table, “I have to get all these chapters done in two weeks. Well…I guess one and a half weeks now. Mr Dostoyevsky’s agent wants us to go to the writer’s convention together.” You can hear the sadness in Trixie’s voice as she replies, “You mean the one that…? Oh, darling…” “No, no, no! I’m thrilled!” Excitement bubbles inside you as you scoop up the large stack of papers, grunting a little before flashing her a beaming smile. Her light blue eyes gaze back at you, reflecting sympathy and grief. You slip the papers onto the counter, pushing aside her melancholy, her eyes trained solely on your dream, "You know it’s always been a dream of mine to go.” “But are you sure you’re ready?” Your smile widens at the mere thought of the convention, “I’ve been ready to go since I was a child. Though do you think it would be weird if I asked Mr. Dostoyevsky if I could show off one of my dad’s books to the other authors? I could even just show it off to his friends- though he called them acquaintances, I saw the photo on his–” “Bookworm.” Trixie’s slightly stern voice catches you off guard. You snap out of your excited ramblings as she sighs. She moves closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, flashing you a sympathetic smile, “Dear…I think you may be jumping the gun a little. You're accompanying Dostoyevsky to the convention for work, yes?” You nod but before you can speak, she gently shushes you, “Bookworm, you’re going there for work. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to mix something personal with something work-related.” She tries to offer a kind smile, noticing as you bow your head a little, “You…could always still ask but remember, you’re going to this convention for your boss. Not for yourself.”

You frown deeply. You suppose you did lose sight of the real reason why you were attending this convention. But even still– You look up, your frown quirking back up into a confident smile, “I know, I know. But I want to at least ask. If he says no, I swear I’ll accept it.” Trixie’s eyes scan yours for a few more seconds before she relents. With a sigh, her smile becomes a little more genuine, her hand moving off your shoulder, “Alright…if you say so.”

Pulling back, she takes a deep breath before she speaks once more, “Now how about we enjoy our evening? I didn’t bring all this food for you to sit around and translate the night away. What movie are we watching?” Feeling a bit lighter, you sit down at the dining table, grabbing your remote and switching off the classical cello music you'd had playing on mute for the past hour. Trixie joins you, her presence adding warmth to the room as she cracks open the bottle of wine and fills the two glasses, “Well I thought we could watch–” “Twin Peaks? Again? You know that movie weirds me out!” Trixie groans, passing you a glass of wine. You giggle, sipping your wine as you flick through the other movies you had in mind. “Then how about–” “Jacob’s Ladder?? You know what?” She playfully snatches the remote from you, causing you to giggle playfully. She mischievously grins at you, flicking through the movies until she finds one to settle on. You whine playfully, making a half-hearted attempt to snatch the remote back. Though in truth, you were more than content to let her choose the movie. You were happy just enjoying your best friend's company. The movie plays as you and Trixie share your dinner, dessert and plenty of wine. You end up drinking more than she does, the wine adding to the cozy atmosphere of the evening.

As the movie nears the end, you lean your head against her shoulder, finding comfort in her presence despite the dining room chairs not exactly providing the most comfortable watching experience. Your exhaustion finally catches up with you, your eyes fluttering closed towards the end of the movie. You might have fallen asleep, were you and Trixie not left to squirm in your seats for the last twenty minutes of the film. Eventually, however, Trixie seems to get fed up. She flicks the movie off, leaving the television on to use it as a light. She groans, helping you up, your eyes fluttering open, “Alright…come darling. It’s time for bed.” “Nooo…” You whine, slowly standing up. You felt a little tipsy, your feet a tad unstable under you. Trixie’s arm snakes around your waist, helping guide you towards the bedroom as you groan and whine. “I have all my translations to do. I can’t sleep…” “I don’t want to hear it, Miss ‘Up since 3 am.’” Using her hip, she bumps open your bedroom door, carefully walking you towards the bed, “You’re going to bed and sleeping in until lunchtime. I’m sure Mr Grumpy–” A small smile tugs at her lips as she hears you giggling, “--won’t mind if the translations aren’t done before the convention.” “But he will.” You drag your words out, whining as Trixie finally gets you onto your bed. As she goes about pulling the blanket back for you and organising your pillows, you flop back onto your bed, groaning, “He’s gonna get mad at me again and scold me in Russian…” As your whines grow, you grunt as the blanket is tossed over your body, making you squirm a little. As you wiggle your way out from under the blanket, Trixie giggles at you, “You’re still not over that? That was, what, almost a month ago at this point?” “He’s gonna do it again!” You insist, continuing to whine. Trixie keeps laughing at you. In your exhausted, tipsy mind, you didn’t seem to comprehend how childish you were behaving. It was a big reason why you usually didn’t drink more than a glass at social gatherings. “Is he?” As you give a loud ‘mhm!’ in return, she shakes her head, moving over to your bedside table to pick up your phone. You sit up, sleepily rubbing your eyes as she speaks to you in a teasing, yet confident tone, “Well then I’m going to call him and give him a piece of my mind!” You snort. There was no way Trixie would actually call your boss, but it was amusing to watch as she unlocks your phone, pretending to actually be phoning Fyodor.

She giggles deviously as she holds the phone up, showing the caller ID; ‘Mr. Dostoy’ for short is what you have him saved under, along with a photo of Tolstoy curled up on some of your translations. You’re half giggling, half huffing out laughs at this point as she presses the phone to her face, sauntering around your room as she huffs into the phone, even taking fake pauses here and there to add to her performance, “Hello, Mr. Grumpy? This is Trixie and I’m the best friend of the best translator you’ve ever met this side of the globe!” You snort, laughing in amusement as she sways her hips, walking about quite dramatically as she adds, “I’m calling to tell you she isn’t going to finish translating that Mount Everest-sized pile of chapters before the writer’s convention next week and that you better just give her more time!” “My darling is over here, waking up at three in the morning, exhausting her poor tired body just to translate the chapters of your book, and I think you and I can both agree that she needs a rest!” She holds up the phone to you, covering her mouth with her hand as she speaks in what you assume to be her best attempt at a Russian accent. Unfortunately, her attempt at adopting a Russian accent sounds more like a mishmash of various accents, which just makes you laugh harder, “Why yes! Of course my…my…” She looks at you, a wide, amused grin on her face as she asks, “Psst, what’s he always calling you?”

You struggle to speak. You hold onto your sides as you laugh and wheeze, “I-I can’t–” “‘I can’t?’ That’s not a very good nickname.” She hums playfully, seeming to shrug as she sits on the edge of the bed, stopping you from rolling off in your laughter fit. “My assistant can sleep for the whole week! I want her wrapped in her favourite blanket in five minutes or I’m firing her!” “H-he would never say that–!” The image alone sends you into another eruption of giggles. “He just did though!” She grins at you, standing to put your phone back before she guides you, laughter hushing into giggles into your bed. You sigh, taking a deep breath to relax after all that laughter as she covers you with your blanket. “But you do seriously need to get some sleep, bookworm.” “Mm..” You yawn softly, watching Trixie as she moves from your side, coming to lay beside you. You roll onto your side, gazing up into the familiar light blue of her eyes, a soft hum escaping you, “Maybe I will ask him.” Trixie huffs softly, a small smile appearing on her face as she runs a hand through your hair soothingly. You close your eyes, relaxing under her touch, “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to…but are you really sure about this?” You give a soft hum of approval as you teeter between that fine line of awake and asleep. “I have to do it, Trix…his books meant the world to him.” Your heart clenches tightly in your chest. As though she can feel it, Trixie wraps an arm around you, pulling you in for a hug. “I…I have to do it…” She doesn’t give a reply. Instead, her fingers continue to run soothingly through your hair as you drift to sleep, your hands reaching up to clutch gently at her ruffled blouse. Amidst the myriad of intense smells, her expensive perfume permeates the air, its scent enveloping you in familiarity and warmth. ︵‿︵‿୨✩୧‿︵‿︵

A shudder ripples down Fyodor's spine, encouraging him to tug his cloak tighter around his body. His eyes drift towards the leaden sky, taking notice of the eerie silence surrounding them. He hadn't anticipated sitting outside today, but you had been very insistent.

The usual symphony of sparrows chirping and fluttering around the area was suspiciously absent, replaced with a sense of stillness that had his nerves on edge.

Even Tolstoy, usually eager to explore and hunt despite his old age, had refused to leave the cottage this morning. Fyodor's grip on his cloak tightens, his keen violet eyes continuing to scan the area as a chilling breeze gusts past you both. “It’s quite cold today, huh?” You remark, suddenly shattering the silence. Fyodor snaps his attention towards you, his gaze lingering on the subtle changes to your attire- a light brown scarf wrapped warmly around your neck, black fingerless gloves adorning your delicate hands. His eyes narrow thoughtfully as they settle on the brace hidden under your sleeve, wrapped tight around your wrist. He'd thought you were taking more frequent breaks compared to usual as well. “Hmm,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet laced with concern. Meeting your gaze, he holds it for a few heartbeats. With a nod, he raises his teacup to his lips, “Winter is upon us it seems.” He mumbles cryptically, his expression unreadable as he takes a sip. Today’s tea of choice was vanilla bean. It was part of the selection you had given him. What a shame the tea had gone cold. He can tell from the way you’re hesitating with your pen that something is wrong. Judging by the brace around your wrist, your carpel tunnel must be giving you some grief. With how many pages you’d translated and likely thanks to the colder weather, it was no surprise. You had even started taking chapters home to work on, so he doubted you were really giving yourself a proper break. With a sigh, he reaches over, hand gently placing over your dominant hand. He watches your eyes flutter up to meet his own as he speaks in a soft voice, “That’s enough for today, Огонёк.” You blink up at him and he watches as a mixture of shock and what almost seems to be worry crosses your features. He notices the glimmer of stubbornness in your eyes and in your tone as you reply, “But it’s early morning. There’s still another three hours until lunch.” He gives a soft shake of his head, “It doesn’t matter. You need to rest your wrist, Огонёк.” He frowns, concern etching into his features. He moves his hand, gripping the pen in yours. He can feel the tightness in your grip. Despite your pain, you don’t want to stop. “Остановись," his voice is laced with concern. He doesn’t let go of the pen as he feels your grip tightening, "Я высоко ценю твоё стремление и преданность, но это не повод становиться мученицей. Твоё здоровье для меня гораздо важнее. Не работай в ущерб себе — это не принесёт пользы ни тебе, ни мне.” He feels your grip tightening further, the pen trembling in his grip. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself to be a little more stern with you.

But then, you let the pen go. He flashes you a grateful smile, putting the pen aside to touch your jacket sleeve, over where the brace is. “I apologize, but you need to rest,” he says, voice soft and laced with care for you. “I’m sure you understand what could happen if you keep pushing your wrist like this.” “I do know,” you mumble, your eyes glued to his hand as his fingertips caress the sleeve of your coat. “But…I…” He watches you purse your lips, silencing yourself. Fyodor frowns. “Yes?” He encourages, his hand stilling over your wrist. You inhale deeply, eyes flickering between your own teacup and his hand for a moment before your eyes lift, meeting his once more. “I wanted to get all these chapters translated before the convention next week.” Fyodor blinks a few times. Slowly, a heavy sigh escapes him, “Я советую тебе притормозить. Не хочу тебя огорчать, но качество твоей работы снизилось.” He reaches across the table, picking up the latest page you’re working on, “ Для такого профессионала, как ты, это должно быть достаточным поводом осознать серьёзность последствий.” His brow furrows, his eyes reread the page a few times over. He gives a sigh, eyes turning back up to you, “Я нанял тебя, чтобы ты точно передала мою душу словами, что неродные моим устам . Так не дай моей душе потеряться в беспощадной гонке со временем.” “Like here, Огонёк. I merely described this lady as being dressed provocatively, not…well…” He grimaces a little, shaking his head in displeasure. He passes the paper back to you, noticing the faint pink hue on your cheeks.

He adds, his voice slightly more teasing now, “I’m sure a lot of readers would be displeased if I referred to her like that.” Observing your furrowed brow and anxious demeanour, Fyodor sighs inwardly, realizing quickly that his words didn't have the intended effect. With a gentle yet firm touch, his hand reaches across the table, finding yours once more as he offers a reassuring smile. “Do you understand now? I value precision over haste in your translations," he explains, his voice tender yet resolute. His fingers brush against your pained wrist, a silent reminder of the importance of your well-being.

He keeps his voice gentle, but stern, his hand gently grasping at your aching wrist. “You’ll be unable to achieve either if you need surgery for your wrist.” "Neither speed nor quality can be achieved if you jeopardize your health in the process." He watches as your eyes turn downcast towards his hand. He sees your chest expand as you take a deep, almost defeated breath, a cool breeze teasing the locks of your hair and the tassels of your scarf, “I know, I know–” “Something is troubling you,” he notes softly, eyes scanning you closely. You look up, steadily meeting his eyes.

He hums thoughtfully as he leans forward, staring perhaps a little too deeply into your eyes, judging by how you pull back a little. His hand moves, now lying over yours as he gives it a tender squeeze, “What’s weighing on your heart?” You huff softly, looking up at him. He watches your lips quirk into a soft smile, a tint of amusement around the edges, “You read the other translations I wrote on that page too, huh?” He flashes you a small smile, confirming your theory. He listens to your soft giggle for a moment before you grow more serious.

“Can I ask you something, Mr. Dostoyevsky?” He gives a little nod, encouraging you to continue. He can hear the slightly strained tone of your voice. Your drumming fingers of your free hand against the outdoor table. The way your brow is furrowing. The way you take a few soft, deep breaths before finally speaking once more. “The writer’s convention is next week. And I…” You roll your head, eyes scanning upwards before darting to your left. You’re struggling to get the words out.

“Look, I understand completely that this is for your work as an author. Vivian wants us to go on business. It’s like your first big step as a no longer anonymous author, or…something!” He huffs softly, slightly amused by how you’re phrasing it right now. You continue, eyes darting towards the lake now as you tilt your head in that direction as well, “But this writer’s convention…well..it could be my last chance to…well…” When you finally meet his eyes once more, he feels his heart skip a beat, his eyes widening slightly. It’s the first time he’s seen your eyes gleam like this. He’s seen the stubborn hardness to them before. The gentle amusement. The twinkle of pure excitement. Even the whisper of worry. There’s a burning in your eyes. Yet, this isn't merely a flame; it's an inferno—a fervent forest fire blazing deep within the recesses of your being. It crackles with an unyielding ache, an insatiable burning desire, visible in the fervour that blazes forth from your eyes, igniting the world around you with its intensity. Fyodor feels breathless simply gazing into your fire, his mind reeling back to the venture into the hidden grotto just last week. The way your voice shook with genuine raw emotion.

The bitter anger that bit at the edges of your words, the simmering resentment towards those few who had denied someone their dream, crushing it as though it meant as little as the dirt beneath their feet. ‘They mean everything to me.’ “You want to bring one of your father’s storybooks,” Fyodor deduces, his voice breathless as he stares at you, your passionate fire almost engulfing him. It falters for a moment as you blink in surprise. It looks like you’d underestimated just how attentive Fyodor could be. He watches your gaze turn away, that fire engulfed in waves of sudden bashfulness that make him want to chuckle.

But he holds his tongue, listening to your soft tone, “Yes…I know, I know, the convention is for work reasons–” You’re starting to ramble again. Fyodor felt his lips tugging upwards. You were cute when you were like this. “--But I just want to bring the last book he wrote. I just….it feels like…” You groan, lifting your hand from his, running both of your hands through your hair as you struggle to fully express yourself.

A soft hiss escapes you, the pain of your carpel tunnel pausing your motions. “Easy, Огонёк, easy…” He reaches up, gently grasping your sore wrist in the palm of his hand, using his other to rub soothing circles around the brace. He sighs, gazing understandingly at you, “Sometimes the heart screams words of such fierce passion, your mind cannot find a way to convey them through speech properly. It is alright…” He keeps rubbing soothing circles on your wrist, humming softly before he continues, “I understand. It would mean a great deal to you if you could present one of his stories to the authors that will be present…”

He frowns a little, his eyes lingering on your brace, his fingers gently caressing it. “However, we will be attending with other authors. Well-known names around these parts and good…” He pauses for a heartbeat. “Acquaintances of mine. Vivian will be expecting us to stay with them for the duration of the event.”

He frowns a little as you look down, reminding him of a sad puppy before he adds. “But–” His heart sparks as you lift your gaze, eyes full of hopefulness as he speaks, “--I will ask Vivian if it will be alright for you to pitch it to a few authors at the end of the convention.”

A small smile graces his lips as he sees the joy lighting up your face, "I don’t think it would be appropriate to show it to my acquaintances. It could create a conflict of interest. But there will be many other fantastic authors you can pitch it to." A surprised sound escapes Fyodor as he feels your hand slipping from his. He watches in astonishment as you spring up from your seat, moving fast as you bound over to him like a rabbit. Your arms envelop him in a tight hug, catching him off-guard. For a moment, Fyodor freezes, his eyes widening as he inhales the soft floral scent of your perfume. He feels the warmth of your gratitude radiating from your embrace, a sense that goes beyond just physical warmth. As your arms tighten slightly, he feels that familiar spark igniting in him, a flicker of something unfamiliar yet undeniable. It stirs the waves of emotion in his heart, leaving him momentarily breathless. “Thank you, Mr. Dostoyevsky.” You whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. “Thank you so, so much…” He swallows hard around the lump forming in his throat as he struggles to find the right words. His hand trembles faintly as he reaches out, giving you a few soft pats on the shoulder.

Sensing his desire for space, you pull back to smile rather awkwardly at him. He notices the tears glistening in your eyes, a silent testament to the depth of your gratitude before you swipe them away. “It is fine,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he takes a moment to collect himself. His throat feels constricted as he tries to swallow down that heavy lump wedged inside.

The ember of warmth in his heart burns with renewed intensity, threatening to ignite into a powerful flame. With shaky breaths, he attempts to quell the rising flames, to extinguish that familiar warmth before it consumes his heart. Closing his eyes, he focuses on each breath he takes, willing the flames to subside. “Mr. Dostoyevsky? Are you–?” He lifts a hand, halting your inquiry. Silently, he battles the storm of emotions raging within him; gradually, the ember dwindles, leaving behind only a faint flicker nestled deep in his heart. Opening his eyes, he offers you a small, apologetic smile. You’re looking at him with those worried eyes once more, just as he expected. “I apologize for causing you concern, Огонёк,” he says, his voice steady despite the lingering turmoil within. “I simply needed a moment to compose myself. I am well now." “Are you certain?” You move closer towards him, reaching out to touch his shoulder. In response, he rises abruptly, stepping away from your touch. His cloak billows in the breeze, creating a physical barrier between you. “Yes. Although I think it is time we moved our work inside. I believe it's about to–” “--Snow.” Your awed tone catches Fyodor’s attention; his violet eyes turn towards you swiftly, then it darts towards the sky, eyes wide as his heart clenches tightly, noticing the delicate flakes as they gracefully descend. You watch the first flakes drift quietly to the ground, reaching out a hand to catch one. It lands daintily on your glove, instantly melting into the soft cotton, disappearing as if it hadn’t existed to start with. You’re about to reach for another when you hear quick footfalls behind you.

You spin around, your eyes falling on Fyodor as he hurries towards the garden table, “Come,” he says to you, his voice quiet and calm. He begins gathering the chapter you’re translating and the finished pages, scooping them close to his chest. He turns, hurrying towards his cottage with fast steps. “H-hey, Mr. Dostoyevsky–!” You watch as he disappears inside, a frown forming on your lips as flakes of pure white fall around you. They cascade down, twirling like tiny dancers as they make their journey to the earth but you barely notice them. Carefully picking up the teapot with your good hand, along with the teacups, you quickly scurry after Fyodor, heading into the cottage. You squeak, Fyodor almost running into you as he quickly heads out of the living area towards the kitchen. You follow him, listening to the sound of curtains being yanked shut. As you step into the kitchen, you set down the teapot and cups with a gentle clink. The murmurs of Fyodor reach your ears, his words too faint to understand. Your gaze lifts, noticing the way he shakes and shifts the curtain, making sure it’s completely obscuring the window. This was unusual behavior for Fyodor. While he always closes the curtains when it is overcast, he's never displayed such agitation about it before. His muttering and meticulous attention to the curtain's exact placement is a new, unsettling trait. “Mr. Dostoyevsky?” You carefully break the silence, your voice tinged with concern. At the sound of your voice, his muttering subsides. With care, you approach him, gently cradling your braced wrist. “Are you alright? You seem a little…stressed.” He doesn’t turn to face you immediately, his shoulders rigid with tension. His breath comes in shallow, uneven intervals, causing his chest to rise and fall in a staccato rhythm. Slowly, he turns to face you, violet irises lingering on your face for a few seconds too long before he finally speaks. “Yes, everything is fine.” His voice is strained as he moves towards the table, picking up the teapot, his facade of calmness already faltering. As he does so, you glance at his hands, noticing that they’re trembling slightly. You catch a glimpse of his face, noticing that he's clenching his jaw tightly as well.

He moves towards the kettle, preparing to reheat the tea still inside the pot. He lifts the lid, the sweet aroma wafting through the kitchen. “You’re shaking…” You point out, taking a small step towards him as the window rattles behind the closed curtain as the wind begins to whistle, its mournful tone sneakily creeping inside through cracks in the window frame. It looks like the wind is picking up, “If something is bothering you, you can talk to me.” You reach out to him as the kettle bubbles softly, steam rising from the white jug. Your hand lightly rests on his shoulder, “I’m here to listen.” Suddenly, Fyodor jolts away from your touch, his dark eyes staring down at you. Your stomach twists in knots as he gives you a stern look, the coldness in his eyes rivalling that of the falling snowflakes outside, “I said I am fine. You are needlessly worrying over nothing.” Your throat tightens faintly as you draw your hand back. You frown, watching quietly as he refills the teapot before turning his eyes to you once more. His tone is less stern now, “Go and sit in the living room. I’ll light the fireplace shortly.” With a heavy heart, you obey Fyodor's command, retreating to the living room. Each step feels heavier than the last, the weight of the unspoken tension hanging in the air. You settle into the window seat, wrapping your orange coat tighter around your body, its warmth failing to dispel the lingering chill in your heart, leaving you to ponder what had gotten into Fyodor. The silence between you echoes louder than any words that could be spoken, leaving a lingering sense of uncertainty in your heart. Fyodor sighs, lifting a hand to rub his temple a few times. Great. Just great.

𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝕽𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 ♡ © 𝐹𝓁𝓊𝓇𝓇𝓎𝑜𝒻𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈-𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦

𝓣𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓼𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 1. Stop. I appreciate your drive and dedication, but that is not a reason to become a martyr. Your health is much more important to me. Don't work to your detriment - it won't benefit either you or me. 2. I advise you to slow down. I don't want to upset you, but the quality of your work has decreased. For a professional like you, this should be enough reason to realize the seriousness of the consequences. I hired you to accurately convey my soul with words that are not native to my lips. So don't let my soul get lost in a merciless race against time. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@tecchoussuperlady @hearts4heidi @lovestruckbook @wixxlemuff @twinkaesop @livelaughyo @yonseibananamilk @honeyangelsblog @soggyoreoinmilk @verminthorr @cherridove Dividers by @/Saradika

#bungou stray dogs #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #Flurry-of-writing

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tomasweetheart · 1 year ago

Text

UNKNOWN / NTH — o. tōru x m!reader

sypnosis: self-proclaimed loverboy oikawa tōru always goes out of his way to see you.

warnings: oikawa snuck out, reader & oikawa are in 3rd year of hs here, the term boyfriend used is used in reference to reader but no formal pronouns mentioned, oikawa calls reader sweet angel, baby, babe, and just plain angel, fluff (sickeningly sweet), OIKAWA WITH HIS GLASSES 💘

notes: idc if he's a teenage boy, oikawa smells nice i know it.

At three a.m. exactly, you can hear the loud ricochet of pebbles off your window. You try to ignore it, you really do, but the noises get more aggressive with each passing second. It seems whoever is trying to get your attention isn't letting up.

With a small groan, you sit up and get out of bed. Trudging to your window, you don't even bother to look out of it as you open it. You open your eyes and scan, until it lands on a small brown patch of hair.

Oikawa is staring up at you with a boyish grin. His cheeks are flushed a light pink from the harsh October air and his glasses are slowly slipping down his nose.

"Hi sweetheart," he calls in a hoarse voice, shoving his hands in the pockets of his light blue hoodie, "mind letting me in?"

You can't help the small smile that breaks out on your face as you shut the window. You quickly make your way downstairs and open the door.

When Oikawa comes in, he tries to give you a kiss, but you stop him and point towards the stairs. He only looks at you and nods as you two tiptoe up the steps to your room, holding back shared mischievous giggles.

After you shut the door to your room, Oikawa wraps an arm around you and kisses you sweetly, your own arms loosely wrapping around his neck.

He tastes sweet, like amaretto coffee creamer, something you didn't find yourself enjoying until you met him.

"How is my sweet angel doing, huh?" he whispers against your lips, resting his forehead against his, "Miss me?"

"Tōru, I saw you earlier today," you respond in a giggle, "why are you here so late, huh? Don't you know I'm not supposed to have boys over?"

"What, a guy can't miss his boyfriend? That's blasphemous, babe," he replied with a smirk, letting his arm fall from your chest as he sits on your bed, "...I couldn't sleep." he admitted honestly.

You give him a soft look, turning off the light in your room and laying down on the bed. You open your arms and gesture to him.

He gives you another smile, taking off his glasses and shoes as he makes himself comfortable in your arms. His head resting under your chin while you hold him close.

You buried your face into his hair as you inhaled his scent, finding comfort in the way he smelt like freshly made cinnamon rolls on a cold day.

"I love you," Oikawa whispered against your skin, his eyes shutting whilst you ran your fingers through his hair, letting out a deep content sigh, "I'll never love anyone more than you...you're it for me."

A small giggle escaped past your lips as you put your chin on his head once again, "You're so sappy, Tōru."

"No, no I mean it," he said with conviction, pulling away from your neck and looking you in the eyes, "I love you more than life itself, I don't know what I'd do without you...you're it for me."

"Tōru, don't...don't say that," you replied softly, "love me and life equally...because life can be cruel, but life gave me you, and that's more than I could have ever wanted."

His cheeks flushed crimson as he looked at you, before he let out a laugh, "Geez, and I'm the sappy one...?" he asked, once he calmed down, the serious tone in hiw voice returned, "I just...I don't want to lose you, angel."

"You won't, Kawa," you replied, sticking out your pinkie, "I pinkie promise."

Oikawa looked down at your pinkie and then back up at your face, letting out a small giggle and interlocking his pinkie with yours, "Okay," he proclaimed, "okay, neither of us is going anywhere."

He lifted your interlocked pinkies and placed a gentle kiss on them, and then laid his face in the crook of your neck, giving you one last kiss on your collarbone.

"I love you baby." he whispered, his voice slurring slightly as his eyes becoming heavy with sleep.

"I love you too, 'ru," you whispered back with a small smile, hearing quiet snores in return, "sleep well."

#𖦹 love letters from leo #𖦹 my dearest haikyuu #oikawa x reader #oikawa x male reader #oikawa fluff #hq x reader #hq x male reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu fluff #oikawa x m!reader #hq x m!reader #haikyuu x m!reader

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raven-dor · 5 months ago

Text

there he goes

In which conrad fisher makes up with his best friend, and she realizes that she has feelings for him

PAIRING: conrad fisher x reader, jeremiah fisher x PLATONIC!reader, isabel conklin x PLATONIC!reader, steven conklin x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: allusions to a past argument, heartbreaking fluff, angst, one-sided crush, underage drinking, loneliness

WORD COUNT: 1,832

AN: this is an excerpt from a WIP on wattpad!! just wanted to get a feel and see if anyone would be interested in this even being published<3

Laurel laughed at the spread on the kitchen counter. "I thought we were keeping dinner simple."

"It's Belly's sweet 16. Is Connie done shucking the corn?"

Y/N shrugged, filling up the vases for the flowers. "I don't think so."

Susannah sighed. "Can you go check for me?"

She nodded. "Sure." She pushed open the kitchen door and walked slowly down the steps to the landing. Conrad looked up, smiling lightly.

"Your mom sent me down here to see if you're almost done shucking the corn." She looked behind him, noticing that there were only three left. "I'll let her know." She turned back around, walking back up the steps.

Conrad called out. "Y/N/N..."

She stopped but didn't turn around. "Yeah?"

"I- I'm sorry." She took another step up the stairs, a hand wrapping around her wrist. Her breath hitched, and he slowly turned her around. She tried to look anywhere but his eyes. He had always made her break when she looked into his eyes. "Y/N/N, look at me, please."

"I can't." She shook her head. "You know I can't."

"Y/N/N..."

She shook her head, turning back around. "We can talk later, Conrad."

"I'm sorry, Y/N/N. For everything." He stood at the bottom of the steps, watching as she turned around. "I'm sorry for everything."

She sighed. "Why are you being so mean?"

He shook his head. "I'm not being mean-"

She walked down, meeting him at the bottom. "I don't mean right now. I meant in general. Trust me, I get it. You're dealing with a lot." She looked up at him delicately. "But why did you do that?"

He reached his hand out, grabbing hers, studying the way her fingers looked. "I just- I didn't want to hurt you more. Because I was-"

"That's what I'm here for." She smiled. "Not for you to hurt, of course-"

He nodded. "I got it. I'll never hurt you again."

She laughed, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "Don't make promises that you can't keep."

A voice coughed, and she jumped, pulling out of Conrad's reach. "I- I'm going back inside." She rushed up the stairs, through the kitchen, and onto her bed.

She grabbed her pillow, screaming into it. "What is happening to me?"

Y/N settled into her seat, grabbing a lobster and some salad. Since Cam was now sitting in her normal spot, she was placed in between Susannah and Conrad, not that she minded. Conrad's leg nudged hers, laughing at her flower crown.

"You look-"

"So Cam!" Jeremiah interrupted the comforting chaos that had erupted, the table quieting. "You mind if I call you Cam Cameron?"

Cam laughed. "Yeah, man. Feel free, that's funny."

Susannah smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Cameron. I know your mom, Denise, from the club."

"Thank you so much for having me, Susannah! My mom says hi."

Laurel walked in, handing out her homemade miyeok-guk.

"Cam, have you ever had miyeok-guk before? It's a Korean birthday tradition."

He shook his head, grabbing the bowl from her. "No, it looks so good, though. Thank you."

"Belly told me you're vegetarian, so I didn't put any meat in it."

Cam smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Laurel, geez."

Jeremiah interrupted again. "Why don't you eat meat, Cam Cameron?"

"Uh, the meat industry is like the number one contributor to global warming. And I just like animals."

Jeremiah tilted his head. "Hm."

Taylor grinned, looking down the table. "Just don't come for my leather jacket."

Steven muttered. "I'm pretty sure you mean pleather."

Jeremiah laughed. "Ooh!"

Taylor flipped him off, the boys laughing at her actions.

"You know, Belly eats meat. So, you let her kiss you with those lips?"

She groaned, shaking her head. "Guys..."

Cameron shook his head. "No, I don't judge people for eating meat. It's just a personal choice. I don't care."

"So you don't mind if her lips touch a dead animal, and then those dead animal lips touch your lips, right?"

Belly smiled tightly, kicking Jeremiah under the table. He winced.

"I don't mind at all. Um, in fact..." He leaned over, kissing Belly lightly. Y/N smiled. It was nice to see he wasn't giving in to the bullying. Or teasing, as Jeremiah and Steven called it.

The boys started gagging, and Y/N glared at them. "Can you not? I'm trying to eat. I don't need gagging noises in the background."

Jeremiah smiled guiltily. Steven spoke up this time. "I'm sorry, I just don't understand why anybody would want to kiss somebody who once fully shat in a bathtub."

Y/N sat down her fork, glaring at the younger boy. "Really, Steven? We're trying to eat here." Conrad laughed.

Belly glared at her brother. "I was like two years old."

Steven's face contorted. "Two, more like six."

Laurel stared at her son, signaling him to stop. "Shut up, Steven."

Taylor sat forward. "I remember when I visited last summer, and you and you," She pointed at the Fisher boys. "Dared him to pee in the fireplace, and you stunk up the entire house for days. Do you remember that?"

Y/N laughed, holding her stomach. "God, that was horrible."

Steven sighed. "We were drunk. We were drunk."

Belly rolled her eyes. "On like half a White Claw." She laughed, looking over at Taylor. "You know, I'm thinking maybe we should go to Nicole's party."

Conrad looked down at his plate, playing with his food. Y/N cleared her throat. "You okay, Connie?"

He nodded, but she could tell that he didn't love the idea of everyone being there. Or maybe it was the idea of Belly and Nicole being in the same room.

Either way, her stomach was twisting, too. Just for different reasons.

Y/N tried to contain her laughter as Steven and Jeremiah screamed the lyrics to "We Are Never Getting Back Together." They had quite literally only been in the car for five minutes before Steven snatched the phone from Jeremiah's hands and put on Taylor Swift.

They pulled up to the house, parking on the side of the driveway. Steven whipped around, glaring playfully at the two in the back. "Do not ever tell Belly I did that."

"Sure, Steven." She grinned, holding up her crossed fingers. "Promise."

Conrad laughed, shutting the car door. "No promises, man."

Y/N laughed alongside him, humming. "Wonder if Belly's here yet."

Conrad shrugged, pulling her towards the kitchen. "I need a drink."

Y/N sighed, following silently. His shoulders were tense, and he was constantly looking over his shoulder. She just hoped that-

"Conrad!"

And there was Nicole. She looked gorgeous and Y/N... well she felt underdressed now. Nicole turned towards the girl, smiling just as wide. "Hey Y/N, cute top."

She was so nice. Y/N took a quick sip of her beer, smiling. "Thank you. Pacsun."

Nicole nodded, looking engaged, but Y/N knew she wanted time with Conrad. She smiled again and walked backward. "I'm gonna go find Jere."

Conrad tilted his head. "We just got here. Give me two seconds, and then I'll come with you."

"No! I mean..." She laughed awkwardly. "It's fine. I have to talk to him about something anyway. I'll see you in a bit."

She stumbled through the crowd, almost smiling at who she ran into. "Taylor, hey!"

Taylor smiled blankly, glaring at her drink. "I met Nicole."

She laughed, looking out at the crowd of drunk teenagers. "Not a fan?"

"I—" she huffed. I know we aren't that close, Y/N, but can I tell you something?"

She nodded quickly.

"I feel like I'm losing her. Belly."

She sighed, facing Taylor. "You're not going to lose her. You're best friends. She'll always need you. Besides, Nicole is just doing her 'big sister' duties. She's not going to steal her. I don't think anyone could do that." She stared back at the crowd. "Trust me."

Taylor hummed, and they stood in silence for what seemed like forever. Y/N huffed, looking over at the younger girl. "I'm going to go find Belly. You want to come with?"

Taylor shook her head, and Y/N walked away towards the foyer. "So Nicole, you and Conrad a thing or what?"

She stopped, listening in on their conversation. "I think or what."

"Wait, you live with him. You should know what he's up to. Has he been hanging out with other girls this summer?"

"Just Y/N, but you know them. Two peas in a pod."

Her heart dropped. God, she really didn't want people even thinking that she and- She stormed through the foyer and dodged past Conrad, who was talking to some other locals from Cousins. His voice definitely called her name, but she ignored him and grabbed a bottle of vodka.

There had to be an empty room with access to the roof somewhere.

It felt like it had been hours since she had found this spot, sitting securely on a spot on the roof that had a perfect view of the moon.

She used to look at the moon with her dad. She used to look at the moon with-

"Y/N/N?" She almost scoffed, not even bothering to look towards the window. "What are you doing up here? We've been looking-"

"No, you haven't."

"What do you mean no we haven't?"

"I mean, no, you haven't. I've been up here for like two hours, Conrad."

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't- I'm sorry. I just need to be alone, okay?" She lay down, staring at the stars once more. "Just leave me alone."

Silence followed, and she assumed that he had left, but when she heard the window close and his steps grew closer, she fought the smile that was forming on her face. He lay next to her. "We haven't done this in a while."

"Connie..."

"Y/N..."

"You don't need to lay next to me just to make me feel better."

"Can't I just lay next to my best friend?"

Her stomach twisted, and she told herself it was from the copious amounts of alcohol that she had ingested. "How's Nicole?"

His voice sounded careful. "She's fine."

"Just fine?" She turned her head, looking at his side profile. He was- "She was talking about you."

"Yeah?"

She hummed, still staring at him. "She likes you a lot."

"That's good."

"Yeah." She turned back to the stars. "You ever think we're too close?"

He laughed, like actually laughed. "No, I don't. Do you?"

"Sometimes."

His smile fell, and it was his turn to look at her. "Why's that?"

"I don't think your girlfriends appreciate it very much. Me being your best friend."

"Nicole's not my girlfriend, and even if she were, she'd have to get used to you." He nudged her and scooted closer. "You're my best friend."

"I know." She closed her eyes, her heart shattering into a million pieces. "I know I'm your best friend, Connie. You're mine too."

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #x reader #fanfiction #tsitp fanfiction #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #literature #🪩! fics

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siremasterlawrence · 2 months ago

Text

The Glorious Reintroduction Of Santa Clause

My plan is pretty sound as I lay out milk and cookies for the fool like if I am a damn kid but I do what I must to trap good old saintNick and well he fell of hook like and sinker as the trap goes off.He snuck through my home with a useful like sweat to him as he takes a step at a time he creeps to my tree as the signal goes off to let me know as the alarm blares loudly to set the trap.The floor is triggered as the planned blast in array of colors as the lights are turn on automatically they are thrown at him landing on his feet he steps on to it as if secretly wraps on to his feet yanking the cord. He trips instinctively on to the freshly cleaned carpet as it tightens around his body and the carpet rolls up covering him up in place and he is locked in place prep for me.

I shed the bed covers off of my body in the midst of freezing December weather but I did not care in excitement, I grab my robe before descending down the staircase to see it for my eyes.The moron is all snuggled into a perfect ass Christmas present for me as I step off of the last one walking to my poor little merry kind of prisoner and well way say I have plans on plans. Struggling to as he manages to land back on his feet he stares me down as I tower over him while my hands cup under his chin and lift him upward to face as me as his anger rages. I smirk a bit lifting my hand up slapping my hand on his as the tears I can see him raging with roar red rouge covering his face and I enjoy all of my power.

“You need to let me go, I have a job to finish in twelve hours.”

“You will never be let go until I say so”

“What do you want kid?”

“I am full grown man!”

“Yeah! I explain very soon”

“You loved those concoctions I left for you “

“It is absolutely delicious! I can’t stop thinking about.”

“You are fixated “

“Stop it ! STOP!”

“Oh Santa baby”

“I hate that song! What are you planning?”

“This delightful concoctions are mind altering products.”

“You little shit “

“Uhh! You don’t want to be on the naughty list. Right nick?”

“You arrogant…ugh…what can I do for you?”

“Old Saint Nick! Santa Clause! Mrs Clause!”

“Quit that! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I am about to assume control.”

“Reindeer, North Pole, Sled, Red”

“You cannot possible keep my captured like this forever.”

“Why is that ?”

“You have to set me free”

“Oh poor baby!”

“ You asshole!”

“Diagnosis the vessel “

“Oh fuck! I can’t function”

“Shut down immediately “

“Vessel is a open book”

“Perfection! What happen to his jolly old fat ass?”

“It’s his first run”

“Geez! A newbie “

“At least he is in shape “

“Commence the Santa project”

“Processing begins “

“The Christmas lights begin to blink”

“Blinking upward and downward “

“Blinding you on impact “

“You are easily ensnared “

“Nnnnoooooo”

“You can’t fight it, surrender to my will and be mine.”

“You can feel it deep in to your soul”

“Your life flies by your eyes “

“You belong to me”

“You are a man in charge with a heart gold no longer”

“In fact you are the total opposite a hardcore submissive.”

“You love me, live for me, and submit to me.”

“I am your man, your heart, and your bro “

“Your everything and you swear to me”

“Now be a good boi as the lights glow everywhere”

“Yes Master”

“Dear Santa Clause”

“What is your wish my love ?”

“The downfall of the North Pole?”

“As you command so be it”

“Your powers”

“All you have to do is fuck me”

“Then what ?”

“My powers are yours anyway “

“Oh I see!”

“What Master Lawrence?”

“You are desire me to fuck you period “

“Yes Master”

“It’s a win win”

“I love you Master”

“Strip off your clothes for me”

“Stare in to my eyes “

“Learn your place”

“Sir Yes Master Lawrence Sir”

“Kneel for me “

“Make out with me”

“All you have to do is make a wish Master”

“I wish to have all of your powers”

“Close your eyes and take a deep breath “

“Our souls are connected now”

“We share everything “

“However! I am at your disposal “

“Under your thrall “

“Instructed by your voice”

“Living by your whims “

“What do you see ?”

“A wondrous place beyond my imagination “

“It’s the Santa Verse”

“Every Santa is here “

“We are your slaves now “

“No going back now “

“Kiss me and you will have it all “

“With pleasure “

“Mmmmmm”

“Fuck! You own me”

“Do I?”

“Bro!”

“Go on”

“I can’t even think”

“My brain…is…hahahaha “

“Fried?”

“Yeah! I guess “

“Dummy Clause”

“Hot!”

“You would think so?”

“Babe come on “

“I know “

“Yeah bro”

“What so tonight anyway?”

“Christmas”

“Oh shit! Help me bro! I am so stupid “

“Obviously bro! Don’t worry”

“Oh! I fucked up”

“Hell yeah! I’ll fix it for you “

The end

#luke macfarlane #santa claus #magic #hypno house #hypnosis #mind control #reprogramming #hypno slave #hypno submission #magical dust #magical fantasy #Christmas #christmas eve

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memoirsofasim · 30 days ago

Text

Ep 4: A favour

It was out in the world now. Rosalie published her second book, The Last Night in Windenburg, to a publisher. Finally she will get a moderate amount of royalties instead of the pennies she received from self publishing her first book.

On her way back to her apartment Rosalie saw Lily sitting at the chess table and decided to join her.

'I need to ask a favour,' Lily said in a quiet and shy voice. 'I need you to teach me how to play the guitar.'

Rosalie raised one eyebrow. 'But I don't know how to play. What's this for?' she asked.

Lily sighed. 'I need to gain at least two skill points so I can get my next promotion.'

'Uh-huh, so there is a catch!' Rosalie said. 'What else?'

'Nothing else, I swear,' Lily replied.

'Why don't you just ask Clyde?' Rosalie suggested.

Lily threw her hands up in the air and sighed again. 'Well, um... he sort of walked in on me while I was in his bath.'

'He what?! And you were what?!' Rosalie said shocked.

Suddenly Rosalie began to laugh. 'Oh my gosh, that is the funniest thing I have ever heard! What on simearth were you... actually never mind.' She looked at Lily who was not amused.

While at work that morning, Ozzy realized he forgot to water his beloved plants. So as soon as he returned from his shift that was the first thing he did. He noticed Rosalie and Lily talking over by the chess table, he was glad to see the tenants getting along.

Since she didn't have any luck with Rosalie, Lily decided she needed to get out of the apartment block for a while. She grabbed her helmet and her bike and rode off down the pavement.

Rosalie was still so amused by Lily's bathtub confession. With no work today she changed into her swimwear and sat by the pool reading for the rest of the afternoon.

Lily rode through the small neighbourhood of Hopewell Hills. It was a safe area with lots of families. She thought about Clyde and the kiss he gave her at the party.

She rode past the pond admiring how pretty it was and then laughed passing a townie wearing a paper bag. She never understood the We Wear Bags action plan.

Rosalie felt something or someone blocking her sun. She opened here eyes briefly and saw Lily standing over her.

'Aren't those floaties uncomfortable?' Lily asked. 'You're going to get tan lines from them.'

'I'm not actually sunbaking, just relaxing,' Rosalie replied.

'So are you going to ask Clyde?' Rosalie said.

Lily was silent for a moment. 'I guess I have no choice.'

'Good luck then,' Rosalie said. 'Let me know how it all goes.'

The next morning Clyde knocked on Lily's apartment door. She thought he looked irritated. 'I was just about to cook some breakfast, want some eggs on toast?' She said.

Clyde nodded and continued on frowning.

While Lily was preparing breakfast, Rosalie walked in. 'Hey, so did you ask him yet?' she said in a low voice.

'Not yet, geez Louise! Hey you want some eggs?' Lily said flipping the eggs in the pan.

'No, I'm good. Well, I guess I'll speak to you later then.' Rosalie began walking out of the kitchen. 'Bye Clyde,' she said with a big smile.

'Hey, these are some good eggs - thanks!' Clyde said. 'So how are the jokes coming along?'

'I'm getting there. It can be mentally draining sometimes.' Lily said. 'Almost feel like I need another hobby.'

'Yeah, I totally get that. It's the same with playing the guitar or piano,' Clyde said scooping some eggs onto his fork.

'I wanted to ask you a favour... well I was wondering... if t's not too much trouble, um would you teach how to play the guitar?' Lily said.

'Sure thing. Why the sudden urge to learn?' Clyde asked.

'It's for my next promotion, I need two skill points,' Lily replied.

'Why don't you come over after we've finished eating.' Clyde's fork clanged loudly as he placed it onto the empty plate.

'Really?! That would be amazing!' Lily didn't feel like finishing the rest of her eggs so she began gathering up the dishes. 'I'll just get changed out of my PJ's and I'll be right over!'

A few minutes later and Clyde was teaching Lily how to play the guitar. She cringed at hitting the wrong strings but Clyde reassured her that she was doing just fine.

After gaining one skill point Lily felt like she was getting the hang of it. Clyde walked over to his keyboard and began playing along with her. Lily thought it was the coolest thing, both of them playing together.

Once she had gained her second skill point she put the guitar down and watched Clyde play solo. His fingers glided across the keys and she cheered him on. This just made her fall more in love with him. He was the coolest cutest and nicest guy who had ever paid attention to her.

#The Sims 4 #Sims 4 #TS4 #Hopewell Hills Saga

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abilouwrites · 1 year ago

Text

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL

Mat Barzal x fem!oc

Series Masterlist

ONE

I only like the bookstore during the night, when it’s slow and nobody’s around. The lights are flickering and the town suddenly goes quiet in contrast with the bustle of the busy mornings and heavy traffic of the day.

I only work here on the weekends for the closing shifts or the opening ones. Something to make a little more money to fall back on besides my adult corporate job. My parents are proud, more my father than my mother that I’ve begun my climb up the corporate ladder.

I don’t hate my job, far from it. Simply the long hours and bossy bosses that make me pull at my fingers and tug at my hair. Especially with my youth and admitted naivety, those at my job can be wary about me either in the break room or being hesitant to invite me out for drinks.

I’ve been told by my therapist that I rushed my childhood, skipping grades and taking collage classes while also taking highschool classes at the same time. I want to fight her on it, claim that I did have a childhood and had dreams but I know that I’m defending something I never had.

Two parents who were always fighting; hated eachother but swore to stay together because of their vows, “Hey Bella” I smile at the older lady standing at the counter as I tuck behind into the back room and set my purse onto the table and wrapping my apron around my body, “slow day?” I ask as I switch from heels to converse.

“Yeah, it’s the middle of the school season so all the kidlets are probably studying” she sighs out rubbing her tired eyes, “ok, I’m off. Be safe. Please” she reminds me as she pats my shoulder, “I’ll need you to come in a bit earlier tomorrow for the opening shift, we’re getting a new shipment of books for the month”

“Uhh, yeah yeah I can do that, so 5:30 instead of six?” I clarify, as I clock myself in on the timetable next to the register.

“Yes, thank you Emma. You’re a doll” She smiles and blows me a kiss exiting the building as the cold wind brushes against her; gently pulling at the greying blonde hair that’s always been tucked into a a little bun.

I turn on some music to keep my mind from straying as I walk around the store. Gently brushing my fingers against the creased spines and occasional leather covered book. Those nice collectors editions are always Romeo and Juliet, or Hamlet.

Personally I’ve thought Romeo and Juliet a bit childish and immature, but I’ve always been told I’m looking at it from a modern perspective. I believe that Romeo and Juliet is the way to not fall in love.

But then again, that’s coming from the girl who watched her parents try and fix an already broken marriage by having an abundance of kids and forcing themselves to stay together even though, everyone’s known they’d be better apart. Even their own kids.

I tidy up the reading corner, setting the old book. Princess and the pea back onto the shelf and searching for the one tomorrow.

My my fingers pull and push against the covers of the kids books, looking for something different. I don’t pay attention when the bell jingles and jangles while I hear a heavy step quickly become softer. I hear them physically relax as they walk the isles.

I eventually decide on a book with a unicorn and a blonde girl. Something I fondly remember of my own childhood.

I stretch up a little and let my hair down from its clip, it falls unevenly against my shoulders but I don’t mind or even care that much. This bookstore is my happy place; where I am safe and content within my own body. Here I will never care what I look like.

I view the man searching in the fiction section, something specific I can tell by his body language. If he needs help I’ll allow him to ask; yet I’m wary of going up to a man and guiding him to the book.

When he finally notices me watching him he turns around and asks, “do you know where I can find ‘The road’ it’s uh. Geez by I think by Cormac McCarthy?” He stumbles out; slowly dragging a hand across his face and brushing his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes.

His face is soft but sharp; his eyes evoke a warm bubbly feeling inside me. Eyes that make me feel comfortable being alone with him, “yes, I believe we only have a few left” I tell him, walking off to a different section of the store, “I know, our shop is set up weird” I explain.

“And why’s that?” He inquires, his pace isnt rushed or faster than mine. But relaxed and nonchalant. As if he has all the time in the world.

“The original owners, she has a special section called ‘Meine Leibe’ which I think translates to ‘My loves’ or ‘my life’ once she passed her daughter kept it the same so this little section would always be here for her. I find it endearing” I know I ramble on a bit but I’ve suddenly grown afraid of having a silence against the two of us

“It is, it’s just a little place with all her favorite books?” He keeps asking, as I turn into the cozy little corner. I thumb through the alphabetical order.

“Yeah, her favorite chair, pillows. Shannon was such a kind lady” I reminisce, “here is The Road, is there anything else I can help you with? Or will that be all for today?”

“Uhh, ha unless you have ‘The deal’ by Elle Kennedy then I’ll take that too” I think he’s being sarcastic but I can’t really tell.

“I think we do, are you a hockey fan?” I ask walking to the romance section.

“I guess you could say that, do you watch?” He asks, “do you need a hand?”

“I watch a bit, just the New Jersey Devils with my dad. Yeah it’s just above there” I point, even on my tip toes the store has ceiling high bookshelves. And because it’s night the ladders been locked up. I move to the side as he grabs the book.

“Are you from Jersey?”

“Yeah, I lived there before I came to New York for a work deal”

“I’m going to assume it’s not this job.. right?” As he makes his way to the register and I slink behind the counter

“Yeah, my uh big girl job as my mom likes to address it as” I hear the roll in my eyes as I scan the bar codes and ring him up, “will that be with cash or card?”

“Card” He pulls his wallet out of the front pocket of his jacket, “thank you”, he checks for my name eyes staring just above but also at my chest.

I poke my eyebrows up at him praying to god this man isn’t looking at my tits directly; not even with the slightest bit of discretion.

“I’m uh looking for your name to thank you— I swear I’m not looking at your uh. You know boobs” he almost whispers out the last bit before continuing, “not that they aren’t nice or anything but uh” the tips of his ears turn pink and his cheeks suddenly become flushed, “I will just pay now” he groans out softly; handing me his card and rubbing his eyes with his hands.

I ring him up and he puts his pin in, “thank you again, you never told me your name” he questions for that piece of information

“Emma”

“Thank you Emma, have a good evening” he purses his lips and grabs his books. Hands shaking as he smiles and starts to leave.

“You too, wait” I lean over the bar slightly, “you never told me your name?”

“Mat”

“Alright then, have a good evening Mat. Come back soon”

The door jingles as he leaves and I watch him through the window, I see him sigh and smack his books against his head. Though I don’t exactly hear what he says; noises muffled through the glass and the music.

“Huh. What a strange guy”

#hockey #nhl #mat barzal my beloved #mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mathew barzal #mat barzal smut #mat barzal x oc #new york #new york islanders #New York hockey #New York islanders hockey #islander hockey #mb13 #mathew barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #louiseabilenewrites

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farshootergotme · 4 months ago

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Oh you and your friend make some interesting points about why Bruce adopting Dick so late in his life was a problem. It’s something writers clearly didn’t take into account when the trying to make this scene work while also not letting go of the not being adopted thing plot line while also trying to have their cake too by having Dick and Bruce makeup and finally having Dick be adopted by Bruce.

I know the writer writing Protugal wanted it to be a touching moment between the two of them. But the problem is it isn’t about what Dick wants and it written in a way where Bruce while has good intention offering him the adoption papers, he doesn’t own up to the fact he caused this issue in the first place if I am remembering correctly although I will have double check and reread that scene so take my statement with a grain of salt. Poor communication is truly the worst emery of them all and cough comic book writers loving to hammer in unnecessary drama and conflict even if makes no bloody sense at times or take into account how it effect the characters going forward.

The thing about what is a good Batman writer is not necessarily if they nail Bruce Wayne and Batman as a whole but rather if they care about Robin as a concept or even like characters Dick Grayson in general. Same goes to Nightwing writers as well you can absolutely love Dick Grayson but do you actually understand Bruce Wayne as a character and are you willing to explore that aspect of their relationship Ie father/son. (Then again some of Nightwing writers do him so bloody dirty it’s honestly mind boggling to me.)

Another thing to think about is how most modern day writers and even some of older best writers from back in day of Batman is that they refuse to let him be wrong or admit he has messed up. Like my god, I like Bruce as character I really do but it’s so frustrating to see how he is treated in modern books like my god just stop the drama already with his family, I’m tired of Batman being regressed to his younger less mature self mentality and acts like he has learned nothing. Why is it so hard to just let him be a flawed but well meaning dad who yes messes up sometimes but is willing to get better and grow as a person because at the end of the day he truly cares about his children.

My problem with Richard getting adopted as an adult is well mainly with how it was handled. It never about what Dick wants if it was the writers would have made Bruce apologise for his failing as a father to him and make it so it’s up to Richard if he decides to forgive him or not because let’s be honest Bruce hurt his eldest son by his selfish actions but Bruce should also just be honest with him about he has always seen him as a son maybe not at first but it grew into that overtime and that he was wrong for assuming how Dick felt about being adopted and should have done sooner in fact he should have done around the same time as Jason. Again he should have done the minute or at least offered it when he and Dick had a heart to heart in the Marv wolf man run at Donna wedding but I don’t know. You know what amusing about his run is before this story was made he refer to Dick as Bruce adopted child early in his run which is an interesting thing to think about or maybe I misremember and it was a different writer altogether. OvO’)

Or maybe we can just skip all the stupid drama of adopting or no adopting bs and just have Bruce adopt Richard as a young teen which gives Dick enough time to think about it and probably change his mind. It also gives them time to bond as father and son, now I am not asking for Bruce to be a perfect father figure mistakes will happen as he learns what it means to be a father figure to Dick. Like come on give me fun and compassionate Batman please I miss him like geez why are the writers afraid to just let Bruce grow and move on from his past to some extent.

Another to get off my chest with DC is well isn’t time to just retire the whole ward thing because it not really used anymore and might as well change to Dick being a foster child because that is what he is. Like the 2004 cartoon The Batman made this change to just that. Like I get Ward is historically important to Richard but I don’t know. Another thing I wish for is just to let Dick be adopted earlier at this point because the drama of not being adopted is just hurting both Dick and Bruce as characters at this point.

When you could instead be focusing on why Dick wanting space and independence from Bruce like how his parenting style can be quite old fashioned the strict yet overprotective father figure and how he shows his love through his actions rather then his words. You could also explore how Bruce being a dad with a mental health issue aka ptsd, being kind of a control freak and suffer from self loathing issues and how he thinks he never be a good enough parent to his adopted soon. Effects Dick development and how Dick felt like over-coddled and suppressed by Bruce being overprotective and at times being super critical of his decisions as a young teen and young adult.

Honestly what frustrating about Tom Tyler run of Nightwing is that the scene with Dick and Bruce in the bat cave is so good but the problem is it is not earned because Tom Tyler hasn’t really taken the time to explore Dick’s and Bruce’s relationship as father and son or having the balls to actually explore the nuances of it and gasp let Dick call Bruce out on where he has hurt him and that Bruce needing to take responsibility for his actions as father.

This is why I hate when people say they aren’t father and son or god damn family because one it makes it out Bruce actions aren’t as bad because they’re just “coworkers/partners” which just gross to me and also takes away Richard agency and why he repels so heavily against Bruce and why he is so upset about not being adopted you can’t just sit there and tell me they’re not family because it’s simply not true because this effects Richard heavily because in his mind he thought he wasn’t good enough to be Bruce’s son and felt replaced. Literally Eldest feeling replaced by the new baby sibling coded right there.

Another thing, I feel people will have come and accept about superhero comics mostly by Marvel and DC is well they’re kinda like fairy tales in a way, writers giving their own spin and takes on the world and the characters that function within it. They only things that keep them connected is how characters themselves and if they develop and grows carries over or sticks within that part of the lore. I also feel that writers are afraid to take big risks like changing how Dick Grayson became Nightwing even though they’re already one or two versions where it doesn’t lead to him fighting with Bruce and getting fired.

Now I am not saying ignore canon completely but I feel you’re at the mercy of the writers or eras of comic book runs and I think people should pick the writers they like rather try to stitch all these different takes and continuities together. Then again, I guess it doesn’t help that most media has Batman alone and completely disregard the concept of Robin or his found family in general and that honestly such a shame because Robin aka Dick Grayson is the reason Batman comics stayed alive for so alive for so long, hell he was created even before blooming Alfred.

Which leads to final point this whole thing about Dick Grayson not being adopted, has made so that is all is ever talked about. Who Dick Grayson the character like what are his goals who he is like yes he relationship with his father figure is important as it what lead him to this pathway and wether he likes or not he can quite similar to Bruce in terms of his beliefs and parts of his personality but also what about his friends the titans or his journey into adulthood and he finds himself that’s more interesting to me. Modern writers what are you doing with Richard he has so much potential and yet it feels like they have no idea on what they want to do with. No more Tony Zuuco no more changing to his backstory leave it alone please it’s fine how it is there is no reason to make it more complicated and by doing that you take away how the parallel between Bruce and Dick backstories 👏👏👏Hot take I know.

Also, there is nothing wrong with wanting to write Dick and Bruce patching up their relationship as father and son, I love Bruce being a good dad that is trying to best despite being mentally ill himself. But keep in mind how you go about writing Bruce and make sure he faces consequences for his decisions and actions as a parental figure to Dick Grayson and his other children.

Oh wow sorry for making another kinda essay in your ask box again. 😅 (Hmm, I could talk about how Dick parents and his lifestyle at the circus effect his personality and how his flaws were already there before Bruce took him in but that probably for another time ha ha.

Anyway, that is enough of my rambles and inner never ending thought of this complicated father and son duo.

Hey, thanks for sharing your thoughts! I personally can agree with a lot that you're saying.

The problem when it comes to writing Dick and Bruce is that their characters are so old that many of the things from the earliest comics would be very different if one wants to write them in a more modern era. But many writers seem to choose to keep things (despite also changing things that are actually alright and should be left alone, but, oh, well...)

I mean, I don't think the drama of Bruce not being able to adopt is all that bad. For example, in one of the origins, there was woman, Sister Mary, who took care of Dick during his time at the orphanage. She mentions doubting Bruce's capabilities as a father because of his reputation as a womanizer, but that she was convinced she'd be good for Dick after talking with him in private.

They could still use this conflict in modern era and how his image as the playboy billionaire could influence the jury's decision to only give him custody of Dick as his new guardian rather than his adoptive father. Plus (I don't remember if it was in the same origin or not) Dick at the beginning wasn't fully ready to have a 'replacement' for his dad, so Bruce would respect that and accept the responsibility as his guardian.

However, here's where I'd say that they screw up; they let the years pass, no mention of adoption whatsoever (despite both clearly growing to see each other as father and son, respectively) and they just leave it at that until, check this out! Jason is adopted! I would assume now the jury is okay with letting him adopt a child because he's proven himself by taking care of Dick all these years. But, yeah, actually, back to Dick, what about him, then?

I don't believe for a second nobody would bring up the adoption issues. Like, if not Bruce or Dick (maybe because they're both afraid of being rejected by the other if they bring it up) why not Alfred? He's not shy about voicing his thoughts to Bruce, and I'm sure he could convince him to have a chat with Dick about a possible adoption because Dick is only getting older and one day it'll be too late to ask.

(Except not apparently because DC wrote Bruce asking a Dick in his early twenty's if he can adopt him which is definitely not late at all! Not to mention they had the first real conversation about adoption years ago, but Bruce just ignored Dick clears desires to be adopted and only brought it up when he thought it was the right time because why make a father that cares also about his son's emotions, am I right?

It just feels like a cheap compensation for all the years they (specially Dick) waited to become an official family. So what if the bond is more important? Maybe Dick wanted the reassurance that no matter what he would still be Bruce's family without meaning the end of their relationship everytime he left the manor to make a life for himself, is that so wrong?)

And it just makes Bruce look so bad when someone comes up with the excuse that "Dick didn't want to be adopted so Bruce was only respecting his wishes". Well, of fucking course he didn't want to get a new father a few weeks after he saw his dad's bloody corpse laying on the floor of the circus! But years later? When he's already learnt to deal with the grief and has found a new family in these two older men that chose to take care of him? What excuse does Bruce have then to not have ever brought it up again? The only 'excuse' I could think of is that he was insecure that he wouldn't be a good father to Dick (or as good as Jhon Grayson) or, as I mentioned before, afraid of being rejected. But this isn't just about him!! And as the adult in the situation he needs to save those feelings for later and communicate with Dick first without coming to any assumptions. What will change from the current relationship, anyway? Other than the security that Bruce can't just get rid of Dick whenever he wants since he's just his guardian and he can pass the responsibility to anyone else which sounds a lot more like a plus to me than a negative change.

And Bruce himself said "it doesn't really change anything" when he gave Dick the papers, so it really was a non-issue since the beginning.

I get he can have doubts and insecurities, but when it's between putting your feelings first or the ones of the child you're raising, I think the decision should come pretty easily. (Not to Bruce, apparently)

So, yeah, if DC really wanted, they could just change the early years again (we know they can, they've done it enough times already) and make Dick Bruce's officially adopted son during his Robin years and fix the whole issue very easily.

Now, I wanted to address the part about Bruce's parenting and DC not letting him develop and grow as both a character and a father, but I don't want to make this too long and you already said enough about the topic, so I'll leave it at that.

(also, would definitely love to hear about your thoughts on Dick's upbringing at the circus and how his issues began from his early childhood and not everything was for Bruce's influence. I have my own thoughts about that and it'd be great to discuss them with you)

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #alfred pennyworth #adoption #dc comics #dc #long post

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thekinkyleopard · 10 days ago

Text

Hell of a Night

A Vaelyn and Kalypso SickFic

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Toxic Relationship, Contagion M, Smut, SickFic

Description: In typical fashion, Kalyspo goes to see Vaelyn preform, however, she arrives a little under the weather, which makes things much more tense.

Author’s Notes: Oh hey it’s your favorite procrastinator! 🤭 Me and @aller-geez birthed a new trope and boy am I feral for it 😭 Prepare for a couple more of these two toxic fuckers in the next coming month. My life has been so batshit insane but I’m coming back out of my writer’s shell to hopefully release a lot more fics this year. I hope you all enjoy this one! Geez owns Vee and did the cover art. 💚

With each step, Kalypso stumbled through the crowded venue, her nose throbbing and raw from the virus slowly taking her hostage. She fought the urge to rub it against her wrist, knowing that the jewelry adorning it would only aggravate her already sensitive state and accrue a noticeable wetness she’d have to attend to clearing. The booming music reverberated through the small space, causing her head to pound in time with the beat. She swayed slightly, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. In a moment of desperation, she slapped herself across the face as if trying to snap out of a trance.

"I need a drink…" she muttered to herself, determined to numb the illness she was desperately trying to conceal from her own consciousness. Pushing through the crowd, she made her way to the bar and slammed her hand against the counter. "Three shots of your strongest, bartender," she demanded brusquely, flashing him a wry grin. Yet, from the looks of her disheveled appearance and flushed cheeks, the bartender hesitated a moment before reluctantly filling her order. As she downed each shot in quick succession, she could feel the warmth spreading through her body, momentarily numbing her senses and easing her more outward symptoms. For now, at least. “That’s better…” she sighed with a sense of relief before ordering a few more. At this point in her affliction, it would take several shots to get her into a comfortable state of inebriation, but that was beside her. Often, the woman would spend hundreds at a bar just to get where she needed to be.

Kalypso allowed herself to get lost in the indulgence long enough until the reason she was even there in the first place, finally took center stage. Toad Biscuit, and more importantly, the object of her obsessions, Vee. “There he is….” she slurred to herself, a half grin pulling upon her face. Slapping her payment in cash against the bar, overpaying by a few tens, she peeled herself away from the station in order to push past the many bodies it took to get to the very front.

Vee stood at the edge of the stage ripping into the first song of the set on his guitar, his eyes scanning the room with a casual confidence that drew admiring glances from those around him. His movements were fluid and purposeful, his presence commanding attention without him needing to utter a word.

As Kalypso weaved her way through the crowd, her eyes fixed on Vee, she felt a rush of adrenaline course through her veins. She was close now, so close she could almost reach out and touch him. Her heart raced in anticipation, her mind clouded by the haze of alcohol and sickness that was slowly overwhelming her body.

Abruptly, Vee's languid gaze flickered in Kalypso's direction, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met. In that brief exchange, a spark of recognition passed between them, igniting a tingling sensation in Kalypso's chest. A sly grin curled across Vee's lips as he unabashedly gave her a knowing look and sent a playful wink her way. Kaly couldn't help but feel a mix of annoyance and amusement at the sight of him. The fire in his piercing blue eyes hinted at secrets and mischief, making her pulse quicken with curiosity. “Smug bastard...” she thought to herself. Vee, on the other hand, unsurprised to see her standing in the crowd, but still a tad bit grateful. Despite their inherently rocky, and odd relationship, it brought a sense of comfort knowing how dedicated she was to appear at their shows.

Kalypso could feel her heart pounding in her chest as Vee’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to the performance, losing himself in the music once more. The stage lights bathed him in a golden glow, casting shadows that danced along his chiseled features. The crowd swayed to the rhythm of the music, their voices blending into a cacophony of cheers and applause.

As the next song began to play, Kalypso found herself entranced by Vee's presence on stage. His fingers moved deftly across the strings of his guitar, producing melodies that resonated deep within her soul. Each note reverberated through the room, filling the air with an electrifying energy that seemed to pulse in time with her erratic heartbeat. She could almost feel a modicum of normalcy as she allowed herself full indulgence, swaying her hips and nodding her head along as she lip synced to their lyrics.

It was just as Kalypso was on the precipice of starting to lose herself in the music, the stage lights started to flicker and dim before flashing erratically into blinding strobes. The abrupt change in setting caused a surge of panic to shoot through Kaly's veins, her hands instinctively flying up to shield her eye from the blinding lights. But it was too late, and her nose began to twitch, her one good emerald orb squinting and watering as the inevitable, yet familiar, tickle in her nostrils intensified. Kalypso's body tensed, her face contorting in a desperate display as she fought to stave off the impending outbursts. Her chest heaved, her throat hicked with suppression as she fought it, but as quickly as the feeling overtook her, it spilled out of her in a half, blocked and unsatisfying manner.

“H’GGKT! Ng’KXT! H-H’gNXT! K’NgxT! h-H-H!!” she tried to get them out, but her nose refused to cooperate and tears began to streak down the one side of her face, leaving a trail of black makeup in their wake. Her deformed nasal passage made it difficult for her to fully expel the sneezes, leaving her gasping for breath in between stifled attempts. “G’XnKT! H’EpKXT! KH’PXT!” The sensation was agonizing, a sharp pain stabbing at her sinuses, her chest left feeling like a large rock had been sitting a top it with each unsuccessful sneeze, the squeaky sounds that erupted lost amongst the melodies that filled the room.

Vee, who had noticed Kalypso's discomfort from his vantage point on stage, felt a pang of concern tug at his heart. However, not really in the manner of caring about her, but more so the wellbeing of the people around her. The last thing the band needed was a story of an outbreak that occurred during one of their shows. He could see the strain etched on her face, the way she clenched her jaw in an effort to stop herself, but watching as she fell apart anyway. Unable to do anything from his position he just shook his head and continued getting through the rest of his set, trying his best to avoid looking in her direction to save himself the anxiety. Kalypso, almost grateful to not be perceived any more than she currently was, continued her best to fight through, but the lights that continued to flash down at her only made her efforts more or less useless.

As Kaly's futile attempts of going to bat against the virus that had her in a chokehold, her sneezes persisted, the audience around her began to cast curious glances her way. Their chatter hushing as they witnessed her struggle. Some onlookers exchanged puzzled looks, while others whispered among themselves, their gazes flickering between Kalypso and Vee on stage. Lypsy just doing her best to ignore the ongoing stares and whispers to avoid a full crash out and getting into a fight while she gasped and strained. “H’PTCH! K’GNX! ah-H’T…” she spewed into the crook of her elbow, eyes clenched shut while she tried her best to push them out.

The erratic flashing lights added a surreal quality to the scene, intensifying the tension that hung in the air. Her head throbbed and pounded like a heavy slamming door against the alcohol that she had hoped would keep these symptoms at bay, but with the intense pressure from her blocked releases, it almost rendered the alcohol useless. It also made her balance that much worse as she stumbled and swayed into the different bodies in close proximity. “H’GXNT! K’XPT! Hu’PXT! HeH—TCH!” this was not how this night was supposed to go. She brought her sleeved arm up to her nose trying to contain the germs and spittle flying from her mouth to avoid drawing any further attention, not like the whole front row wasn’t slowly side stepping away from the sickly woman anyway despite it.

Kalypso's eye squeezed shut, tears now fully streaming freely down her cheek as she fights against the relentless burning static traveling up the bridge of her nose. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her body shuddering with the effort to suppress it all. In a final act of defiance, she tilted her head back and sucked in a deep breath, pinching her nose, determined to hold off the sneezes for just a little longer. Much to her luck at the same moment, the lights switched to a solid dark red, making it much easier on her sensitivities. Vaelyn, finally mustering the nerve to take another glance over at the woman who’s reddened, and puffy face seemed almost back to normal under the changed lighting, giving him a false sense of relief that he could finish the set off without worrying she would scare off the crowd. Lypsy, however was just relieved at the now much darker room giving her a means to escape the onslaught.

The black and green haired woman takes the moment to finally release the large gulp of air she had inhaled, but slowly out her glistening lips. Her one emerald eye was half lidded, bloodshot, her breaths still shaky and her nose still scrunching to adjust, but the sneezing fit had subsided for now. With a heavy sigh of relief, she wiped at her tear-streaked cheek, trying to compose herself as best she could in the midst of the bouncing crowd and blaring music. Everyone’s attention had returned to the stage, where Vee and the band were reaching the climax of their performance.

Kalypso took a moment to steady herself, her heart still racing from the ordeal, sinuses still aching from the previous attack. She couldn't help but feel a prickling sense of annoyance at the spectacle she had unwittingly made of herself. Gathering what dignity she had left, she pushed through the crowd, making her way to the back hallway as the band began to close out. The security immediately stopped her. “Band members only,” she rolled her eye then glared him down.

“I’m actively fucking one of them, move aside,” she hissed through a tensely clenched jaw. The large man folded his arms over and stared the 5’2 woman down, an unwavering force in front of her. Kaly clenched her fist, the highly unstable mentality of her alcohol and virus rotted brain starting to get the best of her before Vaelyn popped out of the corner and set his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“It’s fine bro, she can come back,” unclenching her fist the woman smirked. Victoriously, she pushed passed him, but not before checking him with her shoulder yet not managing to make the large man even stumble. Didn’t matter. She got what she wanted. Vee turned around and began walking back to the dressing room where Kalypso followed closely behind, stumbling her way into the space. It was just the two of them back there and the woman decided to take advantage of the opportunity. Swiftly, she grabbed him by the hand and turned him to face her, stepping in a few inches from his body. She looked up with a mischievous glint in her bloodshot, green eye. “You looked so hot on stage tonight…SnddFf..” Interrupted by the pressing need to clear her nostrils as she sniffled inward, a gargled and wet sound. “Care for a rendezvous in the bathroom?” she bit her lower lip.

Vaelyn looked down at the woman, her state of being unwell, and drunk off her gourd clear as day under the harsh backroom lights. “You look like dog shit,” he chuckled shaking his head. “You should lay the fuck down,” his tone almost cold as he pulled away from her. Kalypso glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re such a fuckin’ dick, no, I don’t need to lay down, unless you’re on top of me,” she hissed stomping her heavy clad boot wearing foot in protest.

Vee let out a deep sigh, clearly exasperated by Kalypso's behavior. He knew all too well what she was like when she had too much to drink. Ignoring her advances, he walked over to the small couch in the dressing room and motioned for her to sit down.

"Come on, Kals, come lay down, I’ll play with your hair, and you can catch some much-needed rest,” trying his best to be gentle though his tone clearly had an under carriage of sheer annoyance. Kalypso didn’t move, she stood ten toes down and shook her head.

“What’d I just fuckin’ say? I’m not….SndDF…” she snuffled loudly, a congested and concentrated noise before finishing her thought. “Laying down, I’m fine,” rolling her eye, which in turn caused Vaelyn to give out an even more exaggerated and irritated sigh.

“I’m not fuckin’ doing this with you,” standing up now he crossed back over and closed the space between them before picking the woman up by her waist and tossing her clear over his shoulder. “I’ll let you rest in my bunk on the bus but there’s no way in shit I’m giving in to your stupidity,” the woman started kicking and she wiggled under his strength, but it was of no use as he already started his way out the back door.

“Put me down youincomprehensibletwat! I’m not…SnDdfF! sICK! I’m fine!” her words came out in a sloshed manner, almost mumbled together as she tried to get them out. Vaelyn ignored Kalypso's protests as he carried her out of the dressing room and toward the tour bus. He couldn't help but shake his head at her antics, a mix of frustration and exhaustion clouding his features. As they reached the bus, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, maneuvering through the narrow aisle to one of the bunks.

With a practiced ease, he deposited Kalypso onto the narrow mattress, situating her in with firm hands before standing back and regarding her for a moment. She lay there, pouting, nose reddened and slightly damp as she mumbled incoherently under her breath about being fine, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. “You never fuckin’ listen to me and you’re just making shit worse, I’m not going to sleep,” she looked over at him with that familiar rage he knew so well behind her gaze. Her nostrils twitched, the familiar itch was coming back, the stress of not simply getting what she wanted in the first place almost consuming her and starting up that familiar and unwanted burn at the back of her throat.

Vaelyn let out a weary sigh and shook his head once more. "You need meds, you lunatic," but, despite the warning signs that were already plaguing her, the black and green haired woman erupted at his words, her face contorting in anger.

"Don't you dare call me a lunatic, you arrogant prick! I don't need your damn-…H’GNXT!… medication," she spat out with a stifled escape, her voice rising to a crescendo that made Vee raise a curious brow. She wiped her mouth, cheeks flushed with slight embarrassment. Vee, ignoring her outburst, rummaged through the cabinets of the bus until he found what he was looking for—some fever reducers and a bottle of water. He turned back to the sniffling woman, holding out the pills and water towards her. "Take these, It'll help with your headache and fever," he said, his voice soft but firm. She snuffled with a wet, sloshing sound, her sinuses tingling with every breath in, her pierced nostrils scrunched and shifted.

With a narrow of her watering eye she glared at the medication in Vee's hand. "I said I don't want it..K’GXNT! H’PTXK! H’KX!" she snapped, interrupted by an accursed release of blocked and painful outbursts, swatting his hand away. Yet still, Vee was persistent. He gently took her hand and placed the pills in her palm before closing her fingers around them.

“What’d I fuckin’ say? Take the fucking meds or I’ll force them down your god damn throat,” finally snapping the last thread of his own patience with her bratty demeanor.

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try, asshole,” she narrowed her gaze at him, challenging his threat before he reached down, grabbed her by the neck and pulled her face up to his.

“You think I’m playing games here, don’t you? You really forget who fuckin’ owns you?” he almost smirked, knowing full well she could act out and be as defiant as she wanted, but he was the one in charge. She swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his grip on her neck, the unspoken power dynamic between them crackling in the air, her legs shifted, crossed even as a flood of arousal shot down her body.

For a moment, she considered pushing back, rebelling against his authority as she had done countless times before. But something in Vee's icy blue gaze stopped her in her tracks. There was a raw intensity there, a primal urge that seemed to awaken something deep within her. As their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, Kalypso felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over her. Anger, desire, defiance—it all swirled together in a heady mix that left her speechless.

Using his other hand, he snatched the medications back out from her palm and then with a solid motion, his fingers crept up her jaw and forcibly opened her mouth. “Have it your way then, brat,” shoveling the pills down her throat, almost so aggressively she would have gagged had she not been practiced. Her cheeks flushed a deeper color of red as he did this, their gazes never breaking. Once the pills had been stuffed to the back end of her mouth, just on the brink of where her tongue met her throat he closed her jaw. “Swallow,” he commanded her with a dark and dangerous tone.

Kalypso's eyes blazed with a mixture of fury and something else she couldn't quite place. Her swirling, pounding and foggy head unable to make sense of the rest of her emotions. The intensity of the moment hung heavy in the air between them, each breathing the same heated breaths, Kalypso’s a bit shallower and more strangled as she hicked. With a defiant glare, she finally forced herself to swallow the pills, her throat working against the intrusion.

Vaelyn released her, stepping back slightly as if to give her space. But his eyes never left hers, a silent challenge still lingering in the depths of his gaze. Kalypso's chest heaved with a mixture of anger, illness and something that felt dangerously close to desire. She couldn't understand this pull he had over her, this need to rebel and submit all at once. “Good girl, now go the fuck to sleep, you crazy bitch,” rolling his own tired blues in her direction.

As the tension crackled in the small space of the tour bus, Kalypso finally broke eye contact and looked away. Her jaw clenched tightly as she tried to regain some semblance of control over herself. It was frustrating how easily Vee could unravel her, how effortlessly he could push her buttons. “No…SndDF..” she muttered with a soft and gentle sniffle, her sinuses tingling and burning, still stubbornly trying to win this battle against him.

“No?” Vaelyn raised a thin brow, looking her over with an almost surprised expression written across his face. Would she ever just make things easy? He sighed, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine, you know what…how about this…” he started, catching her attention she slowly turned her head to look at him from a side eye. “If I eat your pussy, will you go the fuck to sleep?” The woman then fully looked at him, blinking her eye curiously almost like she hadn’t even really registered what he had just said, but once it finally clicked, she shrugged.

“Might help,” she smirked. Vaelyn couldn't help himself but to chuckle at her nonchalant response. He knew she was trying to rattle him, but he wouldn't let it get to him.

"Alright then, lay the fuck back down," he said, already moving in to squish himself into the bunk between her legs. Kalypso moved against him, making room and quickly reaching under her dress to remove her black thong from her body, tossing it aside to the floor. He stared her down with a low growl. "You think I don't know you, Kalypso? You're as predictable as they come," He pushed apart her legs, the fabric of her dress falling behind to her stomach, exposing her already glistening parts.

“Shut the fuck up and do your job then,” she growled, her eyes not leaving his as he lowered between her legs. His eyes followed the trail of her arousal, his mouth watering for a taste. He lowered his head, inhaling her scent.

"Hmmm, how do you always smell so good even when you’ve been out in a sweaty crowd all night?" he murmured against her skin, before licking a stripe from her entrance to her clit. Kalypso's back arched off the bed, her fingers clutching the fabric of the bunk sheets as she tried to keep herself grounded.

"F-fuck…don’t tease me, bastard" she begged and gasped, unable to control herself any longer. As she started to slowly relax her body and give in, no longer holding in what she had been trying so desperately to keep locked down, she felt a tickle travel down the center of her nose. Vaelyn chuckled, the sound vibrating through her core as he continued to lick and suck at her most sensitive little bud. His fingers teased her entrance, probing gently before thrusting deep inside her. Kalypso cried out, her body convulsing under his touch. “V-Va-H’TXK…H’PGXT! H’GXNT!” her chest pushing forward and her body convulsing after the flood gates were ripped open between the pleasure and struggling force of her cold making itself known. A small bead of sweat began to trickle down the side of her temple, bangs falling apart to expose her warm and glistening forehead.

Vaelyn snickered behind his motions, darkly at her pleas and fit, his fingers working faster now, plunging in and out of her shivering sex. He could feel her heels digging into his back, her sharp nails ripping at the fabric of the sheets below her. Lypsy’s body arched and twisted beneath him, her moans growing louder and more desperate with every passing moment but followed closely were here blocked up, forceful stifles that her body could just not fully get out. They caused a deep pressure in the pit of her chest, almost like her ribs could barely contain her struggling lungs. “K’GXNT! H’PTK! G’KXNT! H-H…Haah~” Body lurching and jolting at the war between pleasure and discomfort that raged from within her.

Despite the erratic and stuck sneezes escaping past her moaning lips, he wanted to make her scream his name, wanted to hear her admit that he owned her, possessed her in a way no one else ever could. He wanted to see the look of pure ecstasy on her face as she came undone for him, for him alone. And he knew that he could make it happen. His motions got more aggressive, one of his hands reaching over to grip her thigh in a vice tight hold, his fingers digging into her flesh, sure to bruise later.

The intensity of the moment became almost unbearable as Kalypso's body shook and trembled in Vaelyn's grip. Her moans and stifled sneezes filled the small space of the tour bus, her cries for Vee's name mixing with her desperate attempts to release the trapped sneezes. “V-ee!!…H’PKXT! H’ITK!” Her breaths became shallower, shorter, and more urgent as she neared the edge of ecstasy.

Vaelyn smirked, relishing in the control he had over her body and mind. He could feel her muscles tighten around his fingers, her walls pulsing in time with her uncalculated movements. It was a sight to behold - the way she flung her hands from the sheets and clawed at his back, the way her lips parted to rip out his name, begging for release as her watering eye rolled back and glazed over with a mix of pleasure and pain.

"Va-VAELYN…H’IT…” she couldn’t take it anymore, she brought a hand up to her nose, gently, being cautious of her sharp stiletto nail and pulled her nostril outward. The heat within her core rising as she could feel the familiar tingle of her oncoming orgasm. “I’m..m g-gonn-a…Uh…” she stuttered, whimpered and moaned as her hips began to rock into Vee’s working face.

The man moaned as he lost himself between her wet folds, the taste and scent of her intoxicating him. He pressed his nose against her pubic bone, inhaling deeply as her sneeze was well timed with her release. “Vae!!—HI’TSHH’IEW!” It exploded from her in a loud burst, a mistral of spittle falling in between them within the confines of the small bunk space, filling the bus with force and causing her eye to trickle a wet trail of tears down her cheek and head to jerk back. But it was a welcomed sensation, the release she needed but couldn't achieve before. Vaelyn lapped at her sex hungrily, feeling her body shake and tremble beneath him as she pressed her hand against him forcefully, urging him to stop.

"Kalypso…hmmm��" Vaelyn murmured against her skin, his lips brushing against the now sensitive flesh of her core. "That better? Hm? Finally get it all out?"

Her body jerked underneath him as the electric waves of her left-over climax riddled her, sharp nails digging into his back as she whimpered out a response, "Y-yes…god I needed that..” her words came out in a breathless whisper.

Vaelyn chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Good girl," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. He licked her sex one last time, savoring the taste of her arousal before slowly pulling away and wiping his mouth, licking his fingers clean of her wetness. Kalypso whimpered softly, followed by a sinus clearing sniffle, her body still trembling slightly from the intensity of her release. "Now, lay back and go to sleep," Vaelyn continued, his eyes locked on hers as he moved out of the bunk, only to be stopped by her hand swiftly coming to grip his wrist.

“Could-…” she paused…avoiding his gaze, her cheeks flushed.

“Yes?” he raised a thin brow in confusion.

“Stay…’til I crash? Maybe..” she bit her lower lip, her words struggling to come out fully as she fought between the desire to be strong and also give in to the feeling of being comforted. “I dunno…rub my back…er-…something,” shrugging her shoulders loosely which caused Vaelyn to almost be taken aback. Kalypso was the last person on earth he ever thought he’d need to comfort while sick, so when she asked, he felt like he’d been dropped into a parallel universe.

“Uh…sure…yeah, I can uh, do that,” he cleared his own throat as they both awkwardly squished together into the small space, though he knew he probably shouldn’t. Being this close to her, he knew he was probably at a high risk of catching whatever gross disease she had. However, the soft spot he carried for her, outweighed the hesitation. Wrapping his arms around her, as she curled into his side he slowly rubbed her back with the flattened surface of his palm. Kalypso exhaled a shaky breath, her body finally starting to relax now that the meds were kicking in and his warmth enveloped her.

“Thanks…” she muttered, a tired emerald eye fluttering closed. Vaelyn nodded, running his fingers through her hair as they both drifted off to sleep. He hoped that the warmth of his body and the gentle rhythm of his breathing would help to calm her as she fought off the illness that plagued her. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this close to her, this vulnerable. He wondered what it was about her that drew him in, that made him want to protect her even when she made it so entirely difficult to do so. It was evident though, they were both insanely broken, and for whatever reason the universe had, it connected them together. In a sick, twisted way, neither of them would ever be able to truly deny the feelings they carried for each other or fight against the pull those feelings held.

The End

Author’s Notes: Sorry if I’m a bit rusty guys, it’s never easy getting back into the swing of things but I really enjoyed this piece 🤤 these two together are so much fun to work with. Such angst and sass! 🤌🏻 Til next time 😘

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whatdudtheysay · 2 years ago

Text

Maid cafes ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

Toji fushiguro x F!reader (Black female reader)

Context - Toji finally goes along with Gojo to a maid café he's been bugging him about.

Cw - smut , use of strong language (not proofread so sorry for errors)

Part 2

Toji regretted it as soon as they entered. Why? Well the welcome was enough for him to want to go home.

A pink haired girl in a maid dress, fluffy cat ears adorned her cosplay. Toji thought she was cute, sure but the whole place wasn't his style. He stuck out like a sore thumb in his black button up shirt and grey paid pants whilst Gojo wore lighter attire.

"Welcome to the sweet treats café!" The pink haired maid greeted the pair, bowing out of respect. "Oh, master Gojo, would you like for me to get your usual table?"

Gojo shook his head.

"No thanks Diane, a table for two on the balcony should be good."

The maid toji now knew as Diane nodded with a smile, leading them upstairs and into the balcony area which was less crowded.

"I'll get a server with you guys as soon as possible." Diane informed once they were seated, giving them one last sweet smile before heading back downstairs.

Toji sighed deeply, already regretting coming here. This was where the next hour and a half of his break would be spent. An overly pink decorated cafe with plushies and pink cats decorated.

"She's a cute one right?" Gojo hummed, flicking through the menu.

Toji just shrugged, taking his own menu and looking through the different cakes and sweets that were available.

"You fucked her yet?" Toji asked, focusing on some of the more basic options. I mean, how the fuck was he supposed to know what a strawberry matcha delight was?

Gojo almost choked on his saliva, looking around to make sure there weren't any kids.

"geez. You really have no filter." He rolled his eyes.

Toji raised a brow.

"And that isn't your business."

He got his answer.

He was about to complain more but the sound of heels clacking made him pause, both him and Gojo looking towards the stairs.

As told, a maid showed. But Toji didn't expect the so-called 'maid' to look like that. He practically froze. You were dressed in the light pink maid costume but the skirt looked a lot shorter, pink lace thigh highs hugging your legs, hands hosting pink and white lacy cuffs whilst your head held pink cat ears, long light brown french curls with some streaks being pink coming down to your back, tied back in a high pony tail.

For once in his life, toji was speechless, watching silently as you walked over.

"Ah, master Gojo!" You greeted, bowing slightly. Fuck your voice was the cherry on the cake.

"it's so lovely to see you again. And you are.."

Toji realised you were talking to him and that he'd been staring longer than he wanted.

"Oh." Gojo interrupted. "This is my co-worker, Toji."

You smiled wholeheartedly. "It's nice to meet you master Toji." You bowed slightly.

He cleared his throat, beads of sweat starting to build at his forehead.

"Feelings mutual."

"So," you started, bringing out your notepad. "What can I get for you both?"

"I'll have the tiramisu with a white chocolate glaze and a black coffee."

You jotted Gojo's order down quickly, your attention moving to toji after.

"And for you, sir?"

Toji's mind was going wild and he finally realised he hadn't even chosen.

Gojo just sighed and flipped toji's menu so it was closed, placing it on top of his.

"He'll get the chocolate and vanilla cake and the same drink."

You smiled and jotted that down before taking both menus from Gojo.

"Alright, thanks. I'll be up here soon with that."

When you were finally gone Gojo turned to toji with a shit eating grin.

"That whipped by a girl you just met? You're sweating"

Toji swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

"Shut up." Toji brushed off, using his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his forehead, Gojo laughing in return.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't though. You were too pretty for your own good. And even though he had just met you, he already wanted you.

After minutes of painful teasing from Gojo, you finally returned, tray in hand, your face focused on balancing it all, a giveaway that you weren't the most dexterous waitress here.

You placed the tray down gently, a proud look on your face.

"Phew.." you whispered, "Enjoy your meal!"

You then skipped off. Toji was slightly distracted though. Looking at the stairs every time he heard heels or shuffling of feet, hoping to see you, only to be disappointed by other maids or guests. Luckily for him though, the balcony area soon began to become more crowded, meaning he got to see you a couple of times, talking to different people and interacting with kids that ran by every so often. Distracted by your presence so much that he wasn't even sure as to what Gojo was babbling about.

"And then I said, Sarah, you can't just steal food from the work fridge all the time and- toji? Toji!"

"Hm?" Toji hummed, still looking at you taking orders from a nearby table.

"Dude. You're being creepy." Gojo pointed out, finally making toji look down at his plate again. "If you're that interested in her then get her number. We gotta get back to the office in 15 minutes."

Usually that would be easy for Toji but there was something about you that was different. For one, you weren't just one of the girls he'd sleep with when he went to different clubs or parties.

Gojo practically deadpanned toji at his reluctance before calling you over, toji's heart dropping to his ass.

You quickly wrapped up the table you were attending before skipping over to their table.

"Can I do anything else for you guys?"

"Well, we're ready to wrap up here, could we get the check?"

You nodded before clearing the table, taking the messy tray back downstairs. Once you were gone, Gojo faced Toji with a mischievous look.

"Get her number. Put it on my card." Gojo quickly said before placing his card down and leaving the table before Toji could even react.

Toji mentally cursed himself, the only option was for him to wait for you to come back up. He waited and waited. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes felt like hours. Why was he acting like this?

Eventually, you finally came back up again, an apologetic smile on your lips.

"So sorry for the holdup! Did master Gojo leave already?"

Toji felt his head blur before he snapped back into it.

"Yeah. Shit....uh, can you put it on this card?"

You nodded, taking the card from Toji, your fingers slightly brushing against his gave Toji a weird surge of electricity, watching as you tapped it against the card reader, waiting before a confirmation sound came from the reader, giving toji the card back.

"Please, let me walk you out." You offered. And you were too fucking cute to say no to so toji ended up agreeing, walking down the stairs with you to see that the place had become a lot more crowded. He guessed this was rush hour.

Just as you got to the doors toji bit his tongue before deciding to go for it.

"Hey..." Toji mentally slapped himself. He hadn't even gotten your name off of Gojo and you didn't have a tag. "Uh...can I get your number."

You stared at him silently, just blinking before snapping back to reality.

"Oh- of course, sure-" you stammered.

Toji offered you his phone, watching as you typed your digits into his mobile before handing it back to him.

Toji took his phone, staring at the contact, expecting to see your name but just saw the words "maid café girl".

He was about to ask but by the time he looked back up you were a few steps away.

"I'll see you, please come again soon-"

Toji just nodded, walking out and taking in a deep breath of air, tension finally being let off of his chest.

Guess he had something to thank Gojo for anyway.

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

"Shit-" toji cursed, his hand moving faster over his erection, brows knitted together as he gripped the sheets.

He'd made a big mess of his aftermath on both him and his bed, some leaking onto the floor. He'd been up since he got home and now it was 1am in the morning and here he was, rubbing his hard cock with only you in his mind.

At first, his thoughts about you became a lot more lewd, leading to him getting an erection that wouldn't be ignored, instead giving him an uncomfortable ache. And once he started he couldn't stop, thoughts of you flooding his mind.

He wanted to fuck you from behind in your uniform and listen to how you struggled to take him. Or even better, fuck you on the counter of the maid café and watch as your pretty eyes rolled back as he sunk into your wet pussy.

Toji whined pathetically as he felt another orgasm coming up, grunts coming from deep into his throat.

Or maybe he'd make you choke on his dick, watching as your tiny hands tried to stroke what you couldn't fit in your mouth, your pretty eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

That was enough for Toji. He groaned loudly as his cum spurted out in thick ropes, making a mess on the floor. He finally sighed in relief, watching as his erection finally began to calm down. He laid flat against his bed, the cool sheets giving him comfort.

Once Toji finally got himself and his room cleaned, he laid in bed, staring at his phone before finally deciding to text you.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

#smut #toji x black y/n #toji x y/n #jjk imagines #jjk toji #jjk smut #daddy toji #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader

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mysticallystilinski · 2 years ago

Note

camping with stiles slow burn smut ?

sparks | s. stilinski x fem!reader | smut

summary: playing with fire is guaranteed to get you burnt, but in this situation you wouldn’t mind getting a little spicy.

warnings: swearing, slight angst, y/n being super sensitive and tons of smut

a/n: { first smut i’m posting on here, and it obvi has to be about stiles! hope you enjoy love <3 }

“NO NO NO HELL NO.” you exclaim while spotting the spider on the lower half of your sleeping bag. “there is absolutely no fucking way i’m going to sleep here tonight.” you yelled once again. “y/n, can you ever just shut the fuck up?” stiles exclaims. how about you shut the fuck up you fuck face. having the spend the night with stiles wasn’t ideal, but you thought you could work it out. seems to be that your idea was wrong, and you are going to curse yourself for the next 12 hours of your life.

“now who’s quiet?” stiles says with a sly smirk on his face. 11 hours 38 minutes. that is the amount of time until you are back in your nice and cozy bed in beacon hills. for now you are stuck up in the woods, with no cell service, and absolutely no way to get out of this seem to be bonding moment with stiles; set up by the pack in efforts to make you two get along. kira and scott have been planning it since the day you two met. that day was the beginning of the bickering of your ‘enemyship’ as lydia says.

“maybe i wouldn’t be so quiet, if it wasn’t for you always being so obnoxious.” you spit out. his face contorts into a seemingly frown until the brunette starts to wheeze. “you really thought you did something y/n.” he says without failure of his laugh. his laughter echoed the quiet woods and god did you want to kill him. 11 hours and 20 minutes. “please just leave me alone the rest of the trip, that’s something that would really help.” you say.

without effort, stiles made you upset once again. you don’t know if it was the intention or just a joke but damn did it really hurt. without saying anything else you head into your camping bag and shut the zipper as quick as you possibly can. it was embarrassing enough being on this trip with him, but for him to see you cry because of his words was a whole other thing. you sit in your camping bag and it seemed to be dead silent. finally, no stiles, and only 11 hours and 15 minutes left of this stupid fucking trip. being caught in your own thoughts didn’t help you realize that the camper has been opened once again and a seemingly apologetic stiles was on the other side.

“hey, i’m sorry for before, i didn’t mean to make you upset.” he said apologetically. that was really sweet; oh shut up it probably was one of his other jokes. “no it’s seriously fine, don’t worry about it.” you say with snide in your voice. “geez y/n, i didn’t mean anything by it, maybe you should stop being so sensitive by everything” while he whispers the last part. “oh my fucking god.. it’s not my fault i have to be stuck in here with you” you say as you stand up from your place on the hard ground. “you seriously always seem to be a dick around me, and i never did anything to you.” your voice starts to raise as his eyes lower upon onto you.

“it’s not my fault you’re like obsessed with me or something” he laughs. “jesus stiles. are you really that full of yourself?” you laugh back. your hands start the clench as the anger inside you builds up second by second. steam seems to be flowing out of you being his eyes start to widen as your voice heightens. “SERIOUSLY PLEASE STILES GET A FUCKING LIFE.” you retort. all that goes through your head is how much you hate ruin and wish you would have never agreed to this.

his mind was filled with other things, things like what positions he could take you in or how hot you seemed to be when you were mad. he wanted to just let you keep talking forever at that rate because of how much it turns him on. “can i show you how much i hate you?” you say trying to walk off. you were quickly shown that he didn’t want you to leave because you felt a heavy tug on your hand from his.

stiles pulled you into him and placed his soft lips onto yours. he kissed you with passion and lust, adoringly with poison. he just wanted to touch you, so that’s what he did. he placed his hands upon your ass, but you didn’t seem to mind as you kissed him back with as much lust as he did. it was inevitable, you two getting together. the pack spotted the tension from day one of meeting you; even if that tension was anger at first.

you pulled back, out of breath in attempt to say something, anything. you were about to scold stiles and ask what the hell he was doing but he pulled you right back in again. with no hesitation he pulled back and sat on the floor waiting for you to join him. he pulled off his dark red flannel and his undershirt in a slight struggle. you watched his attempt and chuckled, wow stiles still clumsy while trying to fuck me. you took the bottom of his shirt and lifted it above his head easily. he looked back up at you with lust and him being slightly out of breath from that action.

in attempts to keep the mood you slowly took of your tank top; just leaving you in nothing but a lace bra and your skirt. his breath staggered at the sight of you, so he took your hand and pulled you down onto his lap. he immediately looked into your eyes then pulled you in to kiss you. his hands daringly caressed your body in attempts to feel your every curve and crevice. don’t get it wrong, you loved making out with stiles but something just felt off. maybe it was the clothes still on you.

you stopped kissing him and lead his hands to the band of your skirt. you waited for him to pull it down but he didn’t get the cue; so you had to manually put his hands and pull down your skirt. he did it with ease, skillfully. “nice moves stilinski.” you huff out. he gradually stops pulling down your skirt to say “do you wanna do it yourself?”. “maybe i will.” you say. you place your hands onto the floor to get up but he pulls you back in and starts to finish what he was doing before.

this time your skirt comes off quickly with ease and no hesitation from the one doing it. you were left in just panties and your lacy bra. he threw your skirt on the other side of the camping bag and it left a thump in the quiet of night. you couldn’t help but feel so bare when he only has his shirt off so you had an idea. “stand up”, you say. he quickly gets up off the floor and stands on the hard ground. you slightly crawl over to him in attempts to get closer to his dirty jeans.

you take one hand and grip onto his belt and the other to undo it. you heard him breathe in sharply and quickly exhale as his belt buckle soon becomes undone. you see out of the corner of your eye, his hand running through his soft hair. you unbutton his pants and quickly pull them down to the bases of his ankles. you pull back away from him, signaling for him to finish the rest. he steps out of his pants and heads back to the ground in only his boxers.

you were quick to get back on top of him and start to kiss him. your mouth lands farther and farther from his mouth to his neck. you slightly suck on his pale neck in attempts to make love bites. stiles exhales in and out, trying to be quiet but you want him to show you how much he wants you. you unlatch from his skin, “show me how much you want me stiles.” he pushes you slightly off of him and turns you onto your back. his body presses against yours and you can feel his hard bulge through the thin layers of underwear.

his breath gets caught in his throat as he places his lips onto yours. he forces his body down yours as his lips get closer, and closer to your pussy. once he arrives, he pushes your body up in attempt to get your underwear off your body, and it works. he slides your panties off with ease. stiles discards them to the other side of the tent, and sets his eyes back onto you. his eyes begin the pulsate as he lowers his head towards your soaking wet cunt. in a quick second, with no hesitation he latched his rough lips onto your pussy. you gasped in a sharp breath out of shock as he dives his tongue around your throbbing clit. your thighs sucked his head in deeper as your begging moans made it clear he should continue.

“stiles please, oh my god,” you say in a quick breath. he hums to your cunt and you can feel the chuckle pulsate throughout your delicious body. his mind was focused on pleasing you, while yours was set on finishing. he made it clear, he wasn’t going to stop until you came on his face. your moans became louder as the slim boy devoured his way through your soaking wet folds and all around your pussy. he gripped on your ass for support as he began to go deeper and deeper. you felt as though this couldn’t get any better, and your high was approaching.

stiles unlatched from your pussy, “what the fuck stilinski?”, you yell; clearly out of breath from this devilish act. as soon as you were gonna retort again, he stuck a finger into you. you huffed out a loud sigh in release. he slowly pumped his long finger in and out of you. you could see his devilishly hot smirk on his face as he began to pump it faster. he soon added a second finger into the mix and went down on you once again. “stiles, please oh my god go deeper,” you moan out. stiles starts to go deeper with the two fingers, while his mouth works on your throbbing clit.

you feel your high begin to almost release as the fingers and tongue are enough to make you start to shake. “stil- stiles,” you say while being out of breath. your legs start to clench around his body as he continues to go at a fast pace. it drive you absolutely wild, at how good he was at this. your high was close to hitting, so when he stuck a third finger in you near close to screamt. you were a moaning mess, and very messy. stiles unlatched his mouth from your cunt and you say gleaming cum all over his face. “jesus y/n, you did so good,” he said while being out of breath.

he was such a sight, messy hair, and puppy dog eyes. “now it’s my turn for me to please you”, and without hesitation you pushed stiles onto his back and hovered against his boxers. you grabbed the waistband and started to pull them down to his ankles. you took his cock into your hand and started to slowly pump it. you took one finger and slid it across the tip. stiles huffed out in pleasure as you aligned the tip with your cunt and slowly lowered yourself down onto it. you felt him instantly fill you up. he soon was deep inside you, and it felt magical. you didn’t mind the slow thrust of stiles going deep inside you.

“oh my god y/n, you feel so good,” stiles has to exclaim. your cheeks began to be rosy by overstimulation, and the fact that he’s praising you. you began to force yourself to go deeper. he felt so good inside you. he wanted more, he began to thirst his hips deeper to gain the maximum amount in you. “stiles, i love how this feels,” you groan out. you felt his cock start to twitch inside, so you started to grind upon him. his moans began to be louder as you clenched yourself around his base. “y/n please, i’m about to cum,” and as soon as he said it you felt him unleash his load into you. at the very same time you began to convulse and feel your orgasm approach you once again. “stiles- oh my god,” you say. stiles felt the same amount of bliss you did in that very moment, and maybe even more. as soon as you approached your finish, you slowly got off of him and fell against the bottom of the floor.

“you good?”, he says calmly. “yes i’m so good”, you say slyly. 10 hours and 20 min. “so are we good y/l/n?”, he smirks. “very good,” you laugh. you seem to feel calm and safe around him suddenly. his smirk was just too cute and too hard not to kiss. you reached in again and placed your lips onto his. he smiled into the kiss and raveled his fingers into your hair. why do i have to feel this way about him. you pulled back from this kiss just to see his pretty smirk, and you did.

10 hours, maybe i should just go camping once again with stiles. i wouldn’t mind. even if he is a dick, i’d like to suck his for once.

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litrumi · 6 months ago

Text

“Just a Hangout Sesh” (DayNap Unannounced AU Short Story)

*This little short story IS based on an AU I literally have somewhat planned but am not yet ready to release out into the wild. It’s a work in progress so all things are subject to change anyway. Regardless…

The only details you need FOR NOW: Dogday and Catnap are in their early 20s. They live in a big city. Dogday’s working at a bakery. Catnap is a gang leader. Dogday is about 5’6” (167 cm), Catnap is 6’4” (193 cm).

This short story’s being told from Catnap’s perspective, but the main AU story is most likely gonna be told through Dogday’s. If I ever get around to this.

Enjoy!

Related music/track for reading: Danganronpa V3 - Becoming Friends

Another slow day, another reason to see him.

I think to myself as I walk down the pavement. The sounds of the running engines of cars and buses, driving on by, fills the streets. It’s morning, after all. People have places to be.

I look up to the sky for a moment in all of its smoggy, city glory. Smells like urban life alright…

Step after step, I find myself in front of a quaint but clean shop. Its colors are so vibrant and pink that it almost looks like it’s lit up and bright, but that’s just because it’s surrounded by other drab apartment buildings and the like.

I blink at the sign up top, reading “Pick-A-Treat”. A local bakery that’s been here for a couple years by now. I never really paid attention to it until recently. But I suppose that’s how it goes when someone you’re interested in suddenly starts working there.

A small thought crosses my mind, but I quickly dismiss it after remembering how he yelled at me for even bringing in a cigarette to the shop. I hadn’t even lit it yet and he still got on my case the second he realized I was holding one. That aggressive and yet non-threatening, scolding tone… I can’t help but chuckle to myself when I think back on it.

I brush the moment aside and open the door, stepping in. I’m immediately affronted by a warm atmosphere and aromatically relaxed by the scent of fresh baked goods.

“Welcome!” I hear the familiar voice say as the door closes and rings the bell atop it that signals a new visitor entering the premises.

I look in the direction of the counter and see him. That shorty. The busy pup, with a pink apron over the front of his light pink work shirt and sporting a small, pink chef’s hat on his head, is fixing up the display shelves and making sure everything is in its proper place. Geez, so much pink with this place… At least he has dark black pants.

Finally, he turns to me, and his bright, welcoming smile… changes to that of a quick realization and an expression that wants to sigh with disappointment. “Oh, it’s just you…” He looks at me with a tinge of annoyance.

“Thanks for the warm welcome,” I reply with a smile of my own. I walk over to the small seating area they have against the wall for customers who either are waiting for their order or may want to enjoy their little treat here in the meantime.

“Do you really have to sit? I just cleaned those seats before we opened for the day,” he tells me, unamused.

“I get tired just like anyone else, Shortbread,” I smirk. “I could use a break from walking over here. Besides, I’m not dirty. I showered just this morning,” I say as I fix up the collar of my black, leather jacket and rest my hands in my black jeans pockets.

Completely ignoring what I said, and only focusing on the nickname I used, he gets angry. “Don’t call me that,” the dog pouts in reference to the jab I took at him. “Also stop referring to my height! I’ve still got time to grow! And if I grow an extra foot, I’ll be taller than you!”

Yeah, by two inches… I think to myself.

“Forget about that, I’m older than you!” He retorts.

By a month… I think again.

“Anyway, what do you want, thug?” He scoffs.

“I’m here to see you,” I smile. “Isn’t that obvious?”

He blinks at me, not swayed by my flirting. “Well, hello. You can see me,” he waves. “Now can you leave? What if a patron comes by and gets intimidated by your… edginess,” he motions to me.

“I won’t be a bother to anyone,” I answer confidently. “I’ll sit here quietly and mind my own business.”

“Really?” He asks, unsure. “You won’t bother anyone?”

“Anyone but you, Biscuits,” I wink.

He glares with his hands on his hips. “…I’m two steps away from the sharp and blunt kitchen utensils. Watch yourself, Mugshot.”

I put my hands up in the air, with a smug grin. “Guilty as charged. I surrender,” I laugh. What a cute nickname he’s picked out for me. After teasing him for the millionth time, I look around the shop and notice something. He’s the only one working right now, huh? “Hey, Dogday, where’s your boss and shy co-worker?”

“Huh? Oh,” he realizes that I’ve noticed him working all alone. “They’re running some emergency errands,” he says while kneading some dough. “Picky’s got a lot of other things she needs to take care of today, and Crafty, well…” Dogday rubs the back of his head. “She could use the day off.” He’s immediately thinking about the fact that the poor unicorn is having trouble with finishing up other things in her life that require her to speak up for herself. There’s always the chance she’s caught herself up in a whirlwind of things she can’t say no to, as well. “Anyway, it is what it is,” the pup says.

“You’re really going to handle the shop today, all by yourself?” I wonder.

“Heh,” he just chuckles. He tightens his apron and feels challenged. “What? You think I don’t have what it takes? Oh, Catnap…” he clicks his tongue and wags his finger. “I could run this place with my eyes closed!” He announces proudly.

I eye him, up and down. “Bold statement, coming from you,” I remark. Three, two, one…

He sees how I glanced at him and his face heats up. “I- I’ll show you, you good for nothing delinquent! Just sit back and watch this canine run the whole show! Flawlessly!” He gets fired up.

There we go. Much better. I didn’t even have to convince him to let me stay.

Sooner rather than later, customers do come in eventually. Dogday’s demeanor switches up instantaneously to a cheery and enthusiastic worker with a principle for customer satisfaction. That part of him seems very effortless and easy to do. Maybe he just takes all work given to him seriously… I begin to wonder.

With me, he’d certainly rather shout at me or ignore me. But he’s pretty professional and upbeat when he’s not talking to me. I like that about him… Not many have what it takes to yell at the leader of the number one gang in the city.

But I guess he should know by now that I wouldn’t let anyone other than him act this way around me. I relax back more into the chair and rest the back of my head against my arms, behind me. I could never be mad at him… Not after what he did. I owe him that much.

When the most recent customer leaves and we have a moment to chat again, Dogday wipes some sweat from his forehead and relaxes a bit. As soon as I see him ready to take a small break, I decide to flip the switch back to playful mode.

“So nice to every customer in here…” I sigh as if I’m sad. “Everyone but me…”

He looks at me with slight irritation. “Tell me, when was the last time you bought anything here?”

“You gave me those tasty cookies just the other day!”

“For free!” He crosses his arms. “Just so you would shut up about wanting to try some of our baked treats!”

I hum and muse on the argument. “Aww,” I tease. “You do care. I didn’t know they were free,” I grin.

“I’m ready to change my mind about that,” his eyebrow twitches.

“Sure, I can arrange some quick cash,” I comply. “Just let me go find some money for ya and I’ll be back in five minutes,” I tell him.

“No blood money!” He scolds me. “I’m not letting you pay us with your filthy, gang obtained riches! Work hard and earn it the right way!”

I let out a sigh. “Alright, fine,” I concede. “Then I’ll pay ya back in a couple of weeks or something.” A stickler for the rules…

“Thank you,” he nods, satisfied with the terms of the agreement.

“Who baked them, anyway?” I decide to ask.

But once I ask that question, his behavior changes a little bit. He looks off to the ground, then to the side, before looking back at me with a shy but trying to look tough expression. A little redness is ever so present on his cheeks. “…Someone here at the bakery, obviously…” Was all he said on the matter.

Someone, huh? I feel a little warmth in my chest.

“Anyway, you almost done? I’ve been waiting for hours now,” I inform him.

“Huh?” He looks confused. “Actually… wait a sec, you really have been here for a while. What gives? Do you need something?” He begins to tidy up some of the supplies around him.

“Duh,” I roll my eyes. “I’m waiting for your shift to be over.” I then put on a charming smile for him. “We’re going on a date when you’re done.”

The room is silent for all of three seconds.

The dog takes in the information and then suddenly it was like a steaming kettle set off. “A- A date?!” He spouts out, flabbergasted. “What date?! W- Who said anything about a date?!”

I look around and see that no one else is here. “I did, about five seconds ago,” I point to myself.

“B- But who agreed to that?!?! I certainly didn’t!” He’s super red in the face now.

I put a finger to my chin for a moment and ponder. “Hmm… Oh,” I remember. “Must’ve forgot to tell you yesterday, my bad,” I grin.

“How convenient!” He groans, sweating bullets.

I smirk, enjoying the spectacle he’s putting on.

“Seriously, a date…” the pup begins to quietly talk to himself to sort out the situation. “Of all the…” He huffs under his breath.

Why is it so much fun to mess with him?

“Well?” I shrug. “We gonna go on that date after your shift or do you wanna go on it tomorrow?”

“Why are those my only two options?!” He sighs.

He turns his back to me and seems like he’s thinking really hard about it. He’s mulling it over so much that I just look at him, feeling pleased and entertained a little. But really… I’m kind of happy that he’s genuinely thinking so hard about this.

Eventually, he turns back around, takes a deep breath, and looks at me seriously. “Ugh… Fine. We can hangout after I finish work, but that’s all! We’re just hanging out!” He tacks on that disclaimer, flustered. “And please don’t do anything that’ll draw attention to us.”

I salute to him with a stupid look on my face. “Whatever you say, Shortstack.”

Immediately, he throws an oven mitt at me. “I’ll make you part of the next recipe, Thugzilla! Don’t patronize me!”

What a feisty pup…

No wonder he’s so cute. I feel my heartbeat quicken a little.

Time goes by, and more customers come in, get their orders, and leave. All I can do is stare at the clock on the wall, listen to its ticking noises, and watch Dogday work out of the corner of my eye.

What exactly should we do? I start to consider. There’s really nowhere we can’t go. No one has enough of a lack of brain cells to say no to me. But that’s not the real issue, I guess. What… does he like? I know what I like, but I honestly don’t know that much more about him. And if we just do the things I want, there’s no way he’d enjoy it.

Running through a million different things in my head, I can’t really pick anything in particular.

I glance over to him and see that he’s not busy chatting with any customers again. “Say, what kind of things do you like?” I ask him outright.

He stops what he’s doing to look at me. “Huh? What… I like?” He rests his head in the palm of his hand and looks up at the ceiling. “Kind of a tough question, but let me think…” His eyes just wander around as they please.

As I watch him turn the wheels in his head, I try to think how someone as normal as him might feel.

“Well, I guess I don’t mind the occasional stroll in the park or… a movie or… stargazing and stuff…” He answers.

“Those are your favorite things?” I question.

“No, not my… favorite, per se,” he rubs the back of his head. “To be honest, I just don’t have a favorite anything. I’m pretty okay with whatever.” He nods.

“Whatever, huh?” I repeat. “So… you wanna go start a fight with the other local territories and get back some stuff they stole from random people?”

He gives me a deadpan expression and doesn’t bother saying a single word.

“I’m just kidding,” I chuckle. “Well, if it’s totally up to me then…” I adjust my position in the chair and face him fully. “The train station.”

“What?” He curiously asks.

“The train station. Let’s just sit at the train platform and stick around until the sun sets,” it was an easy answer for me all along.

“That’s… the big plan you have for us hanging out?” He crosses his arms.

“C’mon, it’ll be a calm and peaceful time. Just watching the train pull up and leave with people. And when the train leaves, you get to see nothing but some nice open background scenery. Pretty cool stuff, if you ask me,” I tell him.

“You’re not suggesting this because of what I think you mean, right…?” He wonders, a little sadly.

“And if I am?” I reply.

He looks at me with a little unease and worry. He then looks down at the ground for a moment. “You don’t… need to keep thinking about that moment, you know? It’s not that big of a deal, really…”

“It was and still is a big deal to me,” I state. “I hear you loud and clear. But the truth is, it’s more important than you think. So do this little thing for me, ‘kay?” I smile. “I just want to spend some time with you.”

He’s silent because he just doesn’t know how to process it all. He’s not mad or upset at anything, but I can tell he’s a little taken back by remembering that moment. Our first time meeting. Something like that was just a passing moment to him, but for me, it was so much more.

“A- Alright,” he doesn’t put up a fuss. He just agrees and holds his arm.

I can tell that he feels a little tense. The atmosphere did drop a bit there, after all. But I feel a small weight lift off my shoulders from being able to tell him that much. I’m glad you’re here, Dogday…

“Now enough mush,” I interrupt to bring back the regular mood. “Can I get some more cookies or what?”

He looks up at me and quickly gets back to his old self. “Depends,” he starts. “Where’s the payment for the last batch?”

“I’ll take an advance on the cookies and you’ll see the money in a few weeks,” I slyly reply.

“Not how it works…” The dog sighs.

The routine continues on with me teasing him and him getting annoyed at my presence. But finally, his work day begins to come to a close. He cleans up and checks that everything is as it should be. I just stay out of the way, since I know he’d appreciate that.

“Hey, I just need a few minutes when we leave,” he tells me. “I just wanna run home, change, and then we can go. Won’t take long.”

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “Do I finally get to see the inside of your apartment?” I cheekily ask.

He’s totally done with me at this point. “Absolutely not,” he says with his teeth gritted.

“Fair enough,” I laugh.

Somebody stop him. He’s too adorable.

With that, we leave the bakery as he turns off the lights and remembers to lock up the shop.

I tell him that I’ll wait right here while he goes and pampers himself up for the date. Being the good guy that he is, I can still tell he’s restraining himself from using a rude gesture as he sprints off to get ready.

Now I’m left here waiting, with just me and my thoughts.

I find myself looking up at the still smoggy skies again.

Things are turning out better than I thought…

But I know it’s not because of anything special that I’m doing.

That’s just what it’s like having someone like him by your side. Hard to believe he moved here only about a month ago, now. I can only be thankful that I ever ran into him in the first place.

In fact, it’s nothing short of a miracle…

A miracle… for us both.

I just know it.

—

I needed some practice to get out of this writing funk I’m in. Being sick for a month sure drains motivation. So honestly I definitely had to use this.

Still, I was actually thinking that this could potentially be a two parter. I did “somewhat” feel like writing the other half of this or basically the actual “hanging out” portion too, but I dunno. Just gonna be a moment of intrigue. We’ll see.

Anyway, it also was a little preview of some other AU stuff I got in the brain. That’s all!

Take careeee!

#catnap x dogday #dogday x catnap #daynap #sleepyday #smiling critters #smiling critters au #dogday #catnap #mpc au

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