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sunnami · 11 months ago

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❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.”

You blink.

“Get the fuck out of my room!”

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making.

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls.

“If you’d just let me explain, mum��!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!”

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze. Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!”

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly.

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.”

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.”

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies.

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—”

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.”

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you.

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”)

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—”

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.”

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?”

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.”

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.”

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home.

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that.

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”)

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.”

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze.

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.”

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much.

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile.

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.”

“I know.” Harry grins.

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.”

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally.

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.”

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow.

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers.

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.”

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.”

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you.

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast.

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.)

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?”

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.”

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you.

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.”

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze.

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.”

“Oi!”

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.”

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.”

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary.

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.”

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”)

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.”

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.”

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!”

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?”

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically.

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name.

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now.

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?”

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.”

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right?

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.”

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily.

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.”

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.”

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable.

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced.

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear.

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.”

Harry’s eye twitches.

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.”

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly.

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.”

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?”

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.”

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.”

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.”

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading.

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands.

“In your dreams!” You shrill.

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.”

Harry nods. “Is it time already?”

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.”

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?”

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.”

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?”

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?”

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat.

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.”

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this.

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes.

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.”

“One date, then.”

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?”

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.”

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.”

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you.

“And I want to—”

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—”

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration.

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases.

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words.

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.”

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.”

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.)

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance.

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.”

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm.

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.”

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.”

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.”

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth.

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it.

He falls in love.)

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.”

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?”

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.”

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.”

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.”

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.”

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader

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gavisuntiedboot · 4 months ago

Text

Cherry on Top

Gavi X Physiotherapist! reader (birthday special!)

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: suggestive content!

A/N: I am back once again with more self indulgent fics for my baby boo thang's birthday !!!

~~~

"Doctoraaa! When are you coming home? I'm withering away from boredom and loneliness."

You could practically hear his pout through the phone, imagining him sprawled out on the couch with his feet in the air.

"Gaviraaa I am studying so that I can graduate on time! Or do you want me to keep making a student salary forever?" You held the phone between your ear and your shoulder, still furiously typing away at your sample notes for your advisor.

"What are you even studying? You basically run our whole club's rehab program by yourself. What else do they need to test you on?"

That was actually an excellent question. It was coming up on the two year anniversary since you had become a Barca employee, and you had almost fully taken the reigns. Dr. Gonzalez had checked out, waiting for you to get your degree so that he could finally retire. Nicolas was a good assistant, but was still heavily lacking in his ability to make quick decisions, so he was stuck doing basic PT most of the time. The show was essentially yours to run.

"This last year is testing my leadership ability and teaching skills. When I graduate, I will start running the intern program at the club, and so they have to make sure I can correct staff mistakes."

Your typing was getting progressively louder as you continued angrily editing the note in front of you.

"Take this idiot Aaron. He has not written a single coherent note since he got assigned as my mentoring project. If he were an employee he would have been fired weeks ago. But since this is a "training and learning" opportunity or whatever, I have to fix all his notes and send him the edits so he can learn."

You heard shifting on the other end of the line, and then a soft thud followed by some whispered profanity.

"Pablo please don't injure yourself."

"Maybe it will bring you home faster. Oh no my other ACL!"

Despite his giggle, you went quite on the other side of the line. The day of Pablo's injury had been one of the worst of your life. He had been playing for the national team, so you had no choice but to stare at your TV through glassy eyes, utterly and completely helpless. One of your friends literally had to prevent you from collapsing (though to this day you maintain that it was dehydration, not hysteria). He had called you from the sideline, and the pain in his voice just made you break further.

"I need you."

You had been waiting at the airport to receive him, official team gear on in an attempt to distract fans from the fact that you were fully embracing him and crying into his shoulder. You had almost gone insane in the lead up to his surgery, triple checking the credentials of everyone involved. You stayed by his bed for his entire stay, spending most days and night making sure he wore his brace and didn't make any stupid decisions. It was on one of these nights, when you were once again complaining about not having your favorite undereye cream at his house, that he once again asked you his favorite question.

"Why don't you just move in?"

As usual, you brushed the comment off. Gavi had been asking you to move in weekly for over a year now, always unfortunately dead serious. There was an innocence and simplicity in the way Pablo say the world that you wished you could emulate. He liked you, he was comfortable around you, and he wanted you to live with him. Simple, right?

But it terrified you. You loved Gavi, probably more than anything else in your life. But long withstanding trauma lives up to its name of being long withstanding. That feeling that the expiration date of your perfect relationship was approaching? That never went away. It was like the more time you spent with Gavi, the more you were terrified that he was going to figure out what was wrong with you, why no one could love you until this point in time, and run for the hills. Your apartment was the one space you still had to be irate and disgusting and genuinely yourself without being afraid of scaring him. And it would make it much easier when he eventually broke up with you to date a pop star or a model or Pedri.

"I'm being serious, princesa. You're here every night. You spend more time here than at your own place. You barely sleep in your own bed because you're just obsessed with me and want to take care of me all the time."

"Pablo, we've talked about this..."

"Yes," he said, sitting up and opening his arms in a gesture for you to come cuddle with him. "We have. Back when we had only been together for only three months and we didn't know if you would be able to put up with me."

"Hey!"

"Let me finish." He hugged you closer to his chest, resting his chin on your head and rubbing slow circles into your skin. It was hard to maintain your composure when you were like this, feeling the warmth radiating off his skin and the pressure of his lips kissing your crown every so often.

"We've been together for a year and a half now. I've seen you in bad moods, heard your yelling, plucked your chin hairs-"

He restrained you from getting up, giggling at your embarrassment. He really was the most adorable little thing on the planet.

"I've seen you at your lowest points. Which, admittedly mi amor, were not that low. I saw a tiktok of this guy who had to pull out his girlfriend's tampon. This could be much worse. Hey, look at me."

You turned over, your chest pressed to Pablo's as he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. You had learned how to do this in the last year, how to steel yourself under his intense gaze. Pablo Gavi looked at you like he was in the presence of a divine being, eyes big and soft and filled to the brim with adoration. He looked at you like just your image was all he needed to keep breathing.

"I love you. So much that sometimes I don't know what to do with it. I want you to move in so I can take care of you, and so that it's easier to let you take care of me. I want to annoy you with my morning training alarm and make you coffee and maybe mess up your laundry when I try to do the washing."

"This is not a convincing argument so far, baby."

"I just want to live with you. And be around you. And hold you like a weighted teddy bear while I sleep."

"What if you get tired of me being around all the time?" You asked between smooshed cheeks, finally losing your ability to maintain his stare.

Gavi refused to even dignify the question with a verbal response, instead letting go of your face to lift the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over your head. Your cheek was practically burning up pressed against his abs, still defined and solid despite days of immobility.

"Doctora, this is how close I want you to be. At all times. I am about to sew you to my torso. So will you please move in?"

And it was then that you agreed to it. Now the house was littered with so much merch on the walls and shelves it looked like a sports store, but it was yours. A home. You spent months taking care of Gavi, from driving him to appointments to at-home physiotherapy sessions. You took every opportunity to place a gentle kiss on the scar on his knee (ya know, when you were down there ;) ) and avoided all clips that showed him in pain.

"Come on, Doctora. I'm okay."

"I know, I know... it's just not a memory I can bring myself to joke about. Not while you're still in recovery."

"I'm sorry, amor. Can you come home and scold me about it?"

You groaned again, resisting the urge to slam your head into your keyboard. The progress notes were really terrible.

"And besides, you need to finish packing."

This was true. In about 6 hours, you and Gavi would be on a plane for his birthday trip to Ibiza. He had been buzzing with excitement about his birthday trip for months now, eager to take you someplace where there would be nothing to distract the two of you. Just perfect sand and perfect sea for a perfect weekend. He had talked about going farther than Spain this year, maybe Italy or at least Portugal, but injuries have a great way of canceling travel plans.

You reluctantly agreed, telling Pablo you would be home in about 30 minutes, before you began to tidy your workspace. You sent a polite yet pointed email to Aaron (with the head of department CC'ed) explaining that the work was too terrible to be corrected, and he should clear up some time in September to train with you before the season began in earnest and you would be too busy to teach him how to spell "bradycardia".

It was always a humbling experience to pull into the driveway and park your beat up little car next to Gavi's team-sponsored beauty. You were dreading the day he upgraded to something nicer - the neighbors would start thinking that someone was there to rob him. He was already standing at the door smiling wide when you pulled in. He walked up to your door, grabbing all your bags and ushering you inside away from the heat. This had become a regular for Gavi - tracking your location to greet you the second you arrived - so there was really no need to question it anymore. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, eternally grateful for the gentleness he showed you. After a quick yet heated rant about the incompetence of some of the students in your program, you headed upstairs to continue packing.

"Pablo, you think I need to pack more than two dresses?" You asked, looking over the satins and crocheted pieces that your friend ensured you was "totally in".

"I don't think you need to pack any dresses. Or even clothes for that matter."

You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, who was leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Am I supposed to be naked for the whole trip?"

"Not the whole trip. Just pack some bikinis for during the day and some cute underwear for the night. The outfit you wear to the airport should be more than enough incase we ever need to leave." He walked over to where you stood in contemplation, arms wrapping tightly around your waist, and his head resting on your shoulder in the perfect position to kiss your neck.

"Be serious, Pablo. What if we want to go for a nice dinner for your birthday? I can't go in a thong or in my plane sweats."

He didn't stop his attack on your neck for an instant, addicted to the warmth and taste of your skin on his tongue.

"Mi amor, mi sol, mi vida - at the risk of being vulgar, I have to say that you will be the nice dinner on my birthday."

Your eyes went wide at this statement, and suddenly you were glad for his arms there to keep you upright.

"I don't even think I have more than one bikini that still fits."

At this, Gavi released you, running to the closet with your yells to slow down behind him (if you had a euro for every time you told him not to run in socks, you could pay off the club's debt). He came shuffling back out with a large black bag, which he promptly dumped out onto the comforter. There were at least ten swimwear sets in various colors and prints, ranging from polka dots to stripes to... was that cheetah print?

"I picked these out the other day. Well, actually, that's a lie. I sent your size to Aurora, and she placed the order online and I just picked up the bag at the store. Can you imagine what Instagram would do with pictures of me buying lingerie?"

"But there's no lingerie here?"

"Fuck." He scampered off once again, returning with another bag to repeat his previous actions. This time the contents were much more sultry, with dark silks and satins staring back up at you. Mainly reds and blacks littered the pale covers.

"Pablo, you shouldn't have. This is too sweet! But we are only going for three days. There's like a month worth of stuff here."

"Are you planning on never going out again after this trip? Just pick your favorites for this weekend. The rest will be waiting for you when you get back, just in case we ever go to the pool or you want to surprise your football star boyfriend by wearing these to work."

You couldn't even be mad at his words when your heart was so full from his gesture. Pablo was always buying you things - that was nothing new. But you had been worrying for days about not looking good on this trip, not having anything new to wear, and he took that burden off your shoulders.

"So I can pick any of these? They look expensive."

"Ay Doctora, don't upset me. Nothing is worth more than your happiness. I do have one request though."

"Yes, mi amor?"

"You have to wear this one on my birthday," he said while reaching past you to pick up a white bikini with red cherries printed all over.

"Why is that?"

"Because you're like the cherry on top of my birthday cake. You always look good, but I want you to look irresistible."

"Okay, let's relax that's a lot of talk for a- oh my God." Your eyes widened, and you grabbed Pablo's face with a dropped jaw.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh my God."

"You said that already."

"Pablo!"

"Yes, princesa?"

"An adult. You're going to be an adult tomorrow. As in not a teenager."

"We arrive at like 11pm so it's more like I won't be a teenager anymore tonig- are you crying?"

"I'm not going to have a teenage boyfriend anymore!" You threw your arms around him, hugging him so tightly there was a fear of his ribs cracking.

"I feel like I should be offended by this statement."

"3...2...1... Happy 20th birthday Pablito!" You said softly, a single cupcake with a lit candle on the top held before the birthday boy. It was the same as the previous year (iykyk), but this time with a red and yellow swirl to match the Spanish national team.

"Thank you, mi vida." He closed his eyes, deep in thought regarding his wish, and blew out the candle. He scooped up a dollop of frosting, placing it on your lips before kissing it gently away.

"I can't believe I get to spend another birthday with you," he whispered out, scared that anything louder would destroy the gentle atmosphere around the two of you.

After sharing more sugary kisses, you fell asleep on Pablo's chest, soothed to sleep by his slow heart beat and rhythmic breathing. You woke before him, placing a kiss on his forehead before getting up to dress, snickering quietly at his snoring. The poor boy was so exhausted. You put on the swimsuit he had picked for you, the material fitting you stunningly. You looked at yourself in the mirror and couldn't help but smile. The white and red complemented your skin, your hair framing your face still bare and slightly puffed with the remnants of sleep. Gavi's necklace dangled between your collar bones, the metal cool on your skin. Everything on your body was an expression of love.

Stepping out of the bathroom in your bikini and wrap around skirt, you found the bed suspiciously empty. There was a light breeze coming from the terrace, where you found your boyfriend leaning shirtless on the railing. As if sensing your stare, he turned over his shoulder and wave you to join him. The sun was starting to shine in earnest, the smell of the ocean filling your senses. There was no place you would rather be.

"Good morning, beautiful. I know I asked you to wear that, but I almost want you to take it off. You look too good - I'm scared I'll have to beat every other man away with a stick."

He took a seat on one of the deck chairs, and you took your rightful place on his lap, arms around his neck.

"Good thing this strip of beach is private then."

Your lips found his in a deep kiss, fingers traveling to play with the short strands at the nape of his neck. It was an intoxicating thing to kiss Pablo Gavi. His plush lips molded perfectly to yours, bringing you in impossibly closer. He was always so eager, gently nibbling on your bottom lip whenever he could catch it, soft breaths and little whines spurring you on. Neither of you could bring yourselves to stop, tongues tangled like high schoolers as you made out in the early August sun. His hands were firm on your hips, more for his benefit than yours. He was eager to drag you to the sand, but knew neither of you would leave the room if he allowed your hips to act on their own accord. He relaxed back, allowing you to take the lead, and whimpered a little louder when you bit his lip. It was your giggling that broke the kiss, and you rested your forehead against his, breathless and chest heaving.

"Big Bad Gavi likes having his lip bit. Who would've thought?"

He whined again, finding the column of your neck and to town, nipping and sucking, unwilling to not have his lips and tongue occupied by you just yet. When you started digging into his biceps, he released you, admiring his handy work.

"Pablo people are going to see." You said, pout on your lips and big eyes trained on your boyfriend. He kissed your jutting bottom lip and lifted you off him.

"Like you said - good thing this beach is private."

Pablo had so many moments with you where he thought "she could never be more beautiful than this". The first was the first night you fell asleep on his couch, face peaceful with sleep. The next was under the stadium lights, as he thrust a trophy in your hands and lifted you above his shoulders. Then it was in some French hallway, in a ballgown with no heels as he kissed you senseless, finally brave enough to take what he wanted. In coffee shops and grocery store aisles and on his mattress, he always thought there was no possibility for you to be more stunning. But as you lay stretched out on the sand, eyes closed and muscles relaxed, he had the thought again. The sun tinted your skin slightly, making you gleam like a goddess that had just emerged from the sea. The bright white against your skin had Gavi tingling, wanting to remove the pure material and access what it was protecting.

Your hair was soaked, and you laid on your stomach in the sand to gain some color and dry off after the exertion of swimming with Gavi. The sun was phenomenal on your damp skin, and you had never been more at piece. You felt a hand creep up your back, and suddenly your chest wasn't as supported as it should have been.

"Pablo! Did you just undo my top?"

"I'm just unwrapping my present."

He brought you to sit on his lap once again, your loose top fighting to remain around your neck.

"How private is this beach?"

"You think I would let you go topless if there was a chance another soul would see?"

You felt like a teenager again, embarrassed and looking around frantically for someone who would catch you in such an act with your boyfriend.

"I heard beach sex sucks and I'm not eager to get sand in my vagina."

"We're not going to have sex on the beach. I may be more grown up, but I still like seeing boobs every once in a while."

"So you just want to look at them?"

"Among other things. You want to see my checklist?"

You wrapped your arms around his neck once again, kissing him deeply as he fully removed the fabric from your chest. He brought a hand to your back, pressing you against him, your breasts flush against his chest. It was a thrilling sensation, being topless and against your boyfriend with the sun beating down against you both.

Gavi laid back on the sound with you atop him, unclipping you hair to allow it to fall down your back. In your current situation, you were still covered enough to not face public indecency charges. He played with the strands of hair, weaving his fingers into the locks as his teeth caught your bottom lip and sucked on it like his favorite hard candy.

"I'm going to have sand in my hair."

"Guess we'll just have to take a bath together so I can wash it for you."

You kissed him again, his fingers trailing up your torso and brushing the sides of your boobs, sparking electricity in their path. It was so high school: topless on a beach, making out with your boyfriend. But made you stir low in your stomach, a mix of desire and the deepest form of love. You loved Pablo Gavi. You loved his little antics, you loved the pleasure he brought to every aspect of your life.

"Enjoying your birthday so far?" You asked, reluctantly pulling away from his lips, chest heaving against his. Gavi took the opportunity to grab your breasts and squeeze lightly, playing with them like it was his favorite activity in the world.

"More than I can even express."

He brought you against him, arms around you and bodied pressed together, and laid back down.

"So you just wanted to feel me up while we make out?"

"I want to feel you against me, mi amor. I want you to feel how hard my heart beats when I'm around you. I want to do everything that comes to my mind with you. Being topless on the beach. Ordering everything on the hotel menu. Skinny dipping at midnight. Every experience in my life is better when you're in it. I want to make every memory with you, so that when we're old and hold hands in our matching wheelchairs, I can say "Hey remember when we were hot and young and topless making out in Ibiza?" I want to do everything in the world with you."

You pressed your lips to his again, a deep kiss that winded the both of you.

"I love you, Pablo. Happy birthday."

"I love you more, Doctora."

~~~

Okay here it is!! Happy birthday to the love of my life, the light of my soul, Pablo Gavi. I love this boy more than I can express, and he represents so much good in my life. I hope his 20th year is filled with every happiness in the world.

As usual, please like, comment, reblog - all the good stuff. If you like this dynamic, I have a full 10 part series of these two idiots in my masterlist. I also have an ongoing Pedri series! Check that out if it's more your speed.

Please also take a moment to check out the links on my pinned post to help families in Palestine. If you don't have the money to donate but still want to help, every comment with a watermelon emoji under my pedri posts = $1 I donate on your behalf. I think that's all I have to say. Love y'all <3

xoxo, GUB

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hobicakess · 9 months ago

Text

PLAYING DANGEROUS | (one)

summary: It's been almost three years since Jack in the box was caught, and no one could make him talk. No one knew his story, and what drove him to become the monster he was today. That is until you're assigned your first story. What makes you so lucky?

rating: 18+ (I'm not your mother you're in control of what you consume)

pairings: Journalist!Reader x Criminal!JungHoseok x CEO!Kim Namjoon x Detective!MinYoongi.

warnings: warnings: no thoroughly edited, EW Ai , character death (nothing to cry about), black/plus sized coded reader, talks of murder, talks of torture, corporate evilness, violence, Mc reads hobi to filth, yandere characters, possessive/obsessive behavior, short hair namjoon (yes that's a warning), one maknae introduction, maknae helping cause chaos, cigarettes, Yoonie is an angry kitty this chapter, bratty mc, mc is kinda a bitch (a bad one at that), unhinged serial killer hobi (joker vibes tbh) , yoongi hates his job, namjoon loves his job (he gets to piss you off everyday) SMUT— nothing too crazy , choking, sub mc , missionary, mating press , man handling (yummy)

a/n: HEYYY omg this took me so long to write and it's just a little over 2k words... LMAO I suck i know, but we're getting there I pinkie promise. I really hope you all enjoy this and constructive criticism is welcome!!

TAGLIST: @sumzysworld @bbgniecyy @paramedicnerd004 @heartsbr0ken @grltwin @superbbananananana @secfir @darkuni63 @thisladysperspective @p34rluv @secfir @sarcastic-cookie @coffeedepressionsoup @ot7nem @italiekim @cynicalbitch666 @jalexd @whenthebeatdrop-beatdrop

2 MONTHS BEFORE JACKS ESCAPE

Kim multimedia station.

The place of business was always busy and there was never not anything to be done, Endless reports and stories in need of being written, the podcast teams always chattering about the hottest topics.

KMMs was a journalist's dream — your dream.

You were a known face around the company both online and in person. A pretty foreigner who was damn good at her job and that made you favored by the late CEO Kim. You were always hand picked by him to attend press conferences in his favor. He treated you kindly, allowing you into a large world of business pulling strings to get you the best stories helping you— a once broke freshly graduated English major climbing up in the world of reporting.

It's only been three months since CEO Kim passed away and the company was changing fast. You were grateful that you weren't a part of the many that were fired and replaced by new faces and AI, and you were now noticing how low the viewers were on podcasts, social media and blogs.

KMM was dying out very slowly and that meant you might go away with it. You were dedicated to your work, and the company that helped you become the person you were today.

And you were willing to do anything to not be forgotten.

Sleeping was not on the agenda right now.

A quick double tap to a cell phone showed an awfully bright screen reading 4:40 am. You had been lying in your bed mind racing while staring at your wall for the past hour and a half.

Jack in the box.

Rolling out the tangled bedsheets and arms you pull on a large T-shirt that'd been discarded a long with the other items of clothing on the floor shuffling towards the desk in the corner of your room. Laptop already open from your previous research when you pull out a pack of cigarettes from your drawer before plunging deep into the web. Your mouse clicks every site as your pen moved furiously taking in all the information you can about said serial killer.

“On May 14th, 2018 Serial Killer Jack In The Box was finally caught after a murdering spree in Seoul. The killings of ordinary outgoing individuals taken with a quick swipe of a knife and a long torture method.”

"Before his kills Jack likes to taunt his victim. He ironically sends them a Jack in the box to let them know they're next. The next few days said victim lives in constant fear, looking over their shoulder, leading the mostly known outgoing victim to slowly isolate themselves from loved ones in fear of them being hurt, eventually this leads to insomnia and in some cases hallucinations and histera. Then Jack disappears for a while making them think they're finally okay and he's gone until he wasn't."

The scoff that left your lips echoed through the quiet room, breathing out the nicotine smoke from your Cancer stick.

So Jack was an antisocial loser and took out his lack of social skills on people who could.

"No one knows of Jack's real identity. Police have reported that the man has lived many lives and has owned many faces for the past 11 years. Reporters have tried their hardest for the past 4 years to get a one on one interview with the man but unfortunately he refuses to talk only resorting to violence."

A reporter says he went for a handshake and left with two missing fingers.

Another says he watched the man bang his head on the wall hard enough to bleed when he asked the murderer's real name.

A broken arm??

“Fuck” you huff flicking the ash at the butt of your cigarette. You stare at the mugshot photos supplied at the end of the article. Dark wide eyes, shaggy black hair falling over his forehead, the piercings sticking from the bridge of his nose eyebrow and top lip.

The look definitely screams psycho but…. he was kinda hot. It took everything in you not to go and click the endless fanfiction that you stumbled upon.

A pair of warm lips press onto your shoulder causing you to jump. Turning to look over your shoulder at the shirtless sight of Kim Namjoon.

“We have to be up in four hours, baby, come back to bed.”

You hum into his embrace with a pout stubbing out the cigarette into the pink ashtray beside your computer. “Did you know Jack went through eight lawyers? Until one day he randomly called Kim Seokjin. That high profile guy from the law firm we're partnered with? they must know each other”

Though Namjoons attention was not on the words that were leaving your mouth. Hands wander all over your body while placing kisses on your neck, and cheeks.

“He literally bit the finger of the last reporter clean off. Like do you know how much force you have to put into that? I think he reads too much gothic liter—”

Cutting you off with a quick grab of your jaw turning your head to connect his plump lips to own. Pulling away with a cheeky dimpled smirk, “I’m not sure how I feel about you talking about another man.”

“Well you shouldn't feel any type of way because you aren't MY man.”

You squeal when you're lifted up from your chair and throw over a broad shoulder. He huffs when he throws you onto the memory foam comforter, your (his) shirt lifting up your thighs exposing your bare cunt. Immediately his big body was hovering over you as he slightly pressed his body weight onto you.

“Get off you dick” pushing and smacking his tan shoulders but that did nothing for you at this moment. “Well I'm trying to put it in you.”

He bullies your legs up over his shoulders as he taps his hard piece against the wetness between your thighs. “If something happens to me during this case I swear” choking on your words as he slowly but surely presses his thick head into your cunt.

“Fuck — may the man himself strike me down.”

Hand reaching to grip your throat smashing your lips together. Luckily your mind left the thoughts of the serial killer , the only thing on your mind right now was Namjoon and his ridiculously large cockm

It wasn't weird for you to obsess over your assignments to the point where it was all you thought about. Everyone does that.

Though this one you couldn't seem to finesse your way out of. Without the help of the late Kim you'd have to pull your own strings to get what you wanted and now that Namjoon was in charge he loved making your life harder.

“Y/n.”

Your head snaps up from your laptop hand stalling from moving on your notepad face to face with gorgeously pale Detective Min Yoongi.

“Yoonie” you smile, motioning for him to sit in front of you. He looked different from when you last saw him all the months ago, more tired and cat- like you guessed it was from the heavy responsibilities that came with the position as Chief of Seouls police department

“Did you just call to look at me?”

“Sorry it's just been . . a while” you push the large Iced Americano towards him as a peace offering. He gladly accepted it with an amused raise of an eyebrow, “You know I just wait for your call.”

“The phone works both ways” you internally wince , you sounded like an estranged father talking to his child.

“What do you want?” A frown spread across your face and lips, shutting your laptop. “I can't call an old friend for a friendly coffee date.”

You waited for his answer as he took his time generously drinking from his plastic cup. With a smack of his lips he sat the cup down leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You only call me ‘Yoonie’ when you want something” eyes scanning over the scatter of papers and notes taking up your side of the table.

“This must be serious”

Hands going to clasp under your chin you sigh, cutting the bullshit. “Three years ago you were the lead investigator on the Jack in the box case which brought you from rookie detective to Chief of police.”

“I was wondering if you could help old friend out tell me what you know about-”

“No.” He cuts you off with little to no thought.

“No? Why not? This isn't our first rodeo Min”

There were plenty of times Yoongi helped you with stories without a second thought. He'd give you case files, witnesses, and anything you needed but why not now?

“Anybody but him”

You scoffed at him, irritation rising in your body. “I need this story not anyone else.”

“Well I can't help you, princess.”

“That's bullshit!” Your voice raises causing a couple people around you to turn their attention towards the two of you. He stood up, chair scraping the floor, slamming a few dollars on the table. “Call me if you need anything else.”

Turning on his heel he leaves you sitting there in your slowly growing rage. You quickly hopped from your seat chasing after him, managing to catch up with his long strides. “Yoongi slow down dammit”

He twirls around grabbing onto you by your arm, “Who gave you this story.

“Namjoon he-” you whine as his grip tightens on your arm as his eyes slit. The angry red scar on his face makes his angry stare look even more intimidating. “You don't understand how dangerous Jack is. Just because he's behind bars doesn't mean he won't have people on the outside that will whack you for being a nosy reporter.”

He softens his hold, lifting his hand to rub your cold cheek. “If something happens to you. . .” He shakes his head letting you go.

“Sit this one out Y/N I don't want to see you in our precinct mortuary.” with that he walks away disappearing into the crowd.

You sniff doing the walk of shame back to the Café sitting back in your seat with your head in your hands

Detective Min Yoongi.

“Excuse me Ma’am” the blonde barista came over holding a box of blueberry doughnuts which happened to be your favorite. “It's on the house.. everyone saw your fight with your boyfriend, manager said this might help cheer you up.”

“Oh! Thank you but he wasn't my boyfriend, just a work colleague.” You tried to defend yourself but the sympathy in his eyes only grew so you accepted the treat with another thank you. “What is your name? I've never seen you here before.”

A soft brightens his pretty face, eyes scrunching slightly adding to the prettiness of his face. “Park Jimin, Ma’am.”

MEANWHILE

The buzz of the electrically wired door opening didn't alert the man that stayed deep in the corner of his cell. “Long time no see.”

“Why now?” the visitor asks, “After all this time you choose now.”

He giggled, the haunting sound bouncing off the walls. “Did you bring what I asked for”

The visitor threw the pictures and the box of cigarettes into the cell. “Answer my question.”

“It's been three longgg years.” He finally answered, moving from his corner to pick up the photos. “Tell me is she this gorgeous in person?”

“Just for her?”

“And I need to stretch my legs” he laughs louder this time the high pitched sound echoed even through the thick steel door that kept him locked in tight.

Jack was ready to play more games

©hobicakesss , please don't repost or steal my work. don't be a loser

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strnilolover · 13 days ago

Note

matt and chris trying to get stuff done but adhd!reader is bored and keeps clinging to them, poking them and pestering them so they keep giving her things to do to keep her occupied 😭😭

Chris and Matt were deep in their respective tasks — Chris at his laptop editing a video and Matt scribbling down ideas for their next project. The room was relatively quiet, save for the occasional sound of Chris muttering about frame rates and Matt tapping his pen against the table.

You, however, were not quiet.

“Chrisss,” you whined from the couch, sprawled dramatically across it. “I’m boooored.” you drug the letters out, groaning at the end of your sentence.

“Then find something to do,” Chris said, not even looking up from his laptop to look at you — too engrossed with whatever he was editing on there.

“I am doing something.” you quipped, sliding off the couch and making your way over to him. Chris let out a groan, eyes still glued to the screen. “Do you want to edit this video? No? Then shush.” he said, moving his fingers across the pad and keys.

You poked his arm. “What if I did, though? What if I’m, like, secretly amazing at editing?” you sassed, draping your arms around his shoulders.

Chris snickered, shaking his head. “You’re not,” he finally deadpanned.

Your bottom lip stuck out, pouting. But ultimately, it was short lived. “Matt,” you pivoted, turning your attention to the other brother. “Mattieeeeee.”

“What?” Matt didn’t even glance up from his notebook, his tone already resigned. “I’m bored.” you said, now whining to him — hoping maybe he’d take pity on your boredom.

“Cool,” he muttered. “Go, uh… organize the pantry or something.” You blinked at him. “You’re seriously giving me chores to do?” you scoffed, pouting once more.

Matt finally looked up, an eyebrow raised. “Do you want something fun to do, or do you want to bother us while we work? Because if it’s the second one, I can find plenty of not-fun things.”

Your pout turned dramatic but, you wandered off toward the kitchen. After a few minutes of clinking and rustling, Chris muttered, “What did you just make her do?”

“Organize the snacks,” Matt replied without missing a beat.

“Oh, that’ll keep her busy for—” Chris was cut off by the sound of you shouting from the kitchen.

“Why do we have three open bags of chips?!”

Matt sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Five minutes. That’s all the peace we’re getting.” Sure enough, it wasn’t long before you were back, now draped over the back of Matt’s chair. “What are you writing?” you asked, peering over his shoulder.

He leaned forward to try and escape your looming presence. “Stuff for the channel.” he muttered, hand still writing against the paper. “What kind of stuff? Video ideas? Merch ideas? Secret stuff?”

Matt gave you a look. “Wanna brainstorm with me?” Your eyes widened and you nodded your head vigorously. “Yes!” You beamed, excited to finally be included in something.

“Okay,” he handed you his notebook and pen. “Go sit over there and write down all your ideas. Every single one, no matter how crazy.”

You practically skipped away, flopping onto the couch and scribbling furiously. Matt turned back to his work with a triumphant grin.

Chris smirked. “Smooth.”

“Hey, sometimes you gotta redirect the chaos,” Matt said.

For a while, the room was calm. Then you burst out laughing. “Okay, hear me out: what if we did a video where you guys try to live like squirrels for a day?”

Chris looked up, wide-eyed — his head snapping to his brother. “Matt, what the fuck have you done?”

#ᯓ★ strnilolover #ᯓ★ strnilolover adhd!reader au #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader

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shelikesorchids-archive · 1 year ago

Text

CADENCE: Part One

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Audio Erotica Reader

Summary: Matt can't wait to get home to listen to your latest audio. He's a loyal subscriber, and you get him worked up like no one else does.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY. Mutual masturbation (sort of), pillow humping, dirty talk, some light sacrilege. You know, THE GOOD GOOD. Reminder that you are responsible for what you see once you click "Read More".

Author's Note: I would like to thank the Academy (@bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms and @souliebird) for enabling this. Edited, but not beta read, we die like Ray Nadeem (RIP). ENJOY!

Divider by @saradika

Matt was sitting at his desk going over a deposition when his phone buzzed with a new notification. He had been waiting for word on something specific, so he switched his headphones from his laptop to his phone to see what it was. As soon as he heard the source of the notification, he slammed his laptop shut and started packing up his things to leave. Foggy heard the commotion from his office and came to check on Matt to make sure everything was okay.

“Hey, buddy. You okay?”

“Yeah, Fog. Just feeling a headache coming on. The seasons are changing and you know how that messes with me,” Matt replied as he stuffed his laptop in his bag.

“You want me to walk with you?”

“No, it’s okay, Fog. I can make it just fine.”

“Alright, buddy. But text me when you get home. You know I worry about you and your headaches,” Foggy called out as Matt walked out the door.

“I know, Foggy. But I’ll be okay. See you tomorrow, buddy!”

—--------------------------------------------------

Matt walked home as quickly as he could, resisting the urge to break into a full on sprint. Once he made it to his building, he dashed up the stairs two at a time, and threw off his jacket as soon as he shut his door behind him. He furiously loosened his tie as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and used the voice command to open up the notification once again. This time when he opened it, he was met with the sound of your voice.

“Hey baby, I missed you. Did you miss me?”

Your smooth and sugary voice went straight to his cock, so he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, stepping out of them on his living room floor. He palmed over the bulge in his black boxers and pulled off his tie before going to work unbuttoning his shirt as your voice continued to play through his phone.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day. I even had to excuse myself from a meeting to go touch myself in the bathroom, but I wished it was your hand. You know just what to do to make me feel good.”

Matt was so caught up in your voice that it took him a moment to realize he was now half naked in his living room, right on display in front of the window. Truthfully, he didn’t care if the neighbors saw him, but he grabbed his phone and went into his bedroom. He placed his phone on the nightstand, shed his boxers, and climbed under his silk sheets.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out as he slowly stroked his cock while you continued to talk.

“Am I turning you on, baby? I can see you’re getting awfully worked up in those dress pants. I’m getting pretty wet, myself. You’re so fucking hot. You wanna watch while I rub my clit?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Make those pretty noises for me,” he replied as if you were in the room with him.

You let out a moan as you rubbed your clit, and Matt swore he could hear how wet you were. He started stroking his cock faster and you moaned louder.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come, baby.”

“Yes, come for me, sweetheart. Fucking scream for me.”

“But I wanna come with your cock inside me, so I’ll wait for you. I want you to feel me, and I want to feel you. Let’s come together, baby.”

Suddenly his hand wasn’t good enough anymore, so he sat up in the bed and stuffed one of his pillows between his thighs to straddle it. The cool silk of the pillowcase felt like heaven against his achingly hard cock that was dripping with precum and begging for release. He started counting the Hail Mary’s he was going to have to say later for this depraved act in his head, but in the moment, he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“You’re so big, baby. Do you think you’ll fit?”

“I’ll go slow, sweetheart, I promise. We can make it fit.”

Matt rolled his hips against the pillow at the same time you let out another moan, and he grabbed onto his headboard for leverage.

“You feel so good, filling me up so perfectly. Fuck me, baby”

“You feel good too. I’ll go slow at first. I want to feel you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me, I can handle it. Just fuck me, baby. Please.”

“How can I say no when you asked so nicely?” he purred.

He quickened his pace as you continued making soft sounds of pleasure. He should be ashamed of what he’s doing: fucking his pillow while listening to audio porn and responding back to you as if you could hear him. But, he didn’t care. Once he accidentally discovered erotic audios, he couldn’t get enough, and you were his favorite creator. Your voice was like a drug to him, and he was always jonesing for another hit. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually fuck you instead of his pillow, but he would have to settle for this for now.

“Oh, fuck I’m so close. I’m gonna come baby. Are you gonna come too?”

“Fuck. Yeah, sweetheart I’m gonna come.”

“Come inside me.”

You let out a guttural, almost feral moan, and Matt screamed in tandem with you. His thrusts became more erratic, sweat was beading on his forehead, and he was white knuckling the headboard. He was getting closer with every sound you made, and he wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer.

“Oh, OH F-FUCK.”

“Yes, sweetheart. Oh yes, oh FUCK.”

His chest heaved, his breathing was ragged, and his hips stuttered into the pillow as he came hard. He collapsed backward onto the mattress, a thin sheen of sweat covering his entire body. “Shit,” he breathed out as he ran one of his hands down his face.

“Did you like that? Be sure to subscribe for more, and don’t be shy about leaving me a comment! Until next time, audiophiles…”

After a few minutes, Matt sat up and reached for his phone to close the app. He knew that pillowcase was ruined, but that could wait. He stood up on shaky legs and made his way to the bathroom to take a shower. As much as he loved your voice, and how turned on he got by it, he longed to have you in his bed so he could hold you afterwards, and maybe even join him in the shower.

When he was done washing the post-coital sweat off his body, he dried off and put on a fresh pair of boxers and sweatpants, threw the defiled pillowcase in the trash, and sat down to leave you a comment on your latest audio that he got off to. He set his phone back on his nightstand, laid down in bed, and allowed his mind to wander about how you actually felt and how your skin smelled. Maybe one day he could find someone with a voice as gorgeous as yours.

—-----------------------------------------------

The “CLOSED” sign had long since been displayed in the door of the coffee shop, and you were finally done with your closing duties for the evening. Your boss said you were free to go, so you grabbed your bag and your jacket, said your goodbyes, and headed out to your shoebox of an apartment. You loved living in New York City, but it was expensive, and just being a barista didn’t pay the bills. No one knew about your “side hustle”, and you liked it that way. It was oddly empowering to you that you were a caffeine peddler by day, but you used your voice to get people off by night. It was perfect because you could have fun living out your own fantasies, but no one knew your face.

After scarfing down the take out you picked up on your way home, you sat down to check the notifications on your latest audio post. There were always lots of comments to sift through, but there was one username in particular that commented on every single audio you posted, and you always looked forward to their comments.

As you scrolled through the comments, you finally saw the one you were looking for: “rllygdlwyr commented: So hot as always, sweetheart. I ruined a silk pillowcase with this one. May have to start buying them in bulk if you keep this up.”

You laughed and bit your lip at the comment. Normally, subscribers calling you pet names would creep you out, but this one was loyal, and they pretty much paid for your take out habit with their subscription and their tips. As much as you hated to admit it, they kind of kept you going.

Once you were done checking your account and responding to comments, you took a shower, put on some slinky lingerie, and pulled out your favorite toys to make a new audio. According to their username, they were most likely a lawyer, so tonight you decided to try a little roleplay.

“I’m afraid I’m guilty, but is there anything I can do to lessen my sentence? I heard you’re a really good lawyer.”

#mandy writes #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil fanfiction

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hyunfilms · 1 year ago

Text

connected (hhj) | one shot.

—summary: a night alone at the bar leads you to a beautiful man named hyunjin.

—pairing: hwang hyunjin x f. reader

—genre: (18+) strangers to lovers | fluff, smut

—word count: 5.6k

—content/warnings: love at first sight kinda thing? soulmates if you really squint, was kinda inspired reading yung pueblo's poem (his poem isnt available anymore rip), cussing, model/artist hyunjin, oc and hyunjin are completely enamored by each other & hyunjin got googly eyes hehe, he is very sweet and a gentleman though, alcohol consumption, intoxication, kisses/making out, protected sex, praising, oral (f. receiving), fingering, sprinkle of spit play, ass-smacking, breast play, sprinkle of choking, missionary, doggy style 🤓 woof, multiple orgasms (like 2 lol), after care and cuddles, lightly edited so i apologize if i miss anything!!, very self-indulgent and just something i needed to write out 😭

—ON ROTATION: fwm - tone stith / for us - v

Sleepless nights.

It’s another one of those sleepless nights— for him, for her, for many people, for you.

Your business trip to Paris was coming to an end tonight; an early AM flight scheduled in the morning to bring you back to your beautiful, but also mundane life in California. Although grateful for the opportunity to travel here and explore for a week and a half, you were ready to get back to the familiar. The familiar places, the familiar faces, familiar routine. You sigh at the thought, finishing up your cocktail at the bar while scrolling through social media.

“Another one, miss?” The bartender comes to you with a small smile on his face.

“Please. Thank you.” You nod and reciprocate the smile, eyes now glancing around the room as you feel the alcohol slowly running through your veins. The bar was beautifully decorated in dark, elegant decor, lights dimmed throughout the entire room. Luckily for you, your hotel room was only a few floors up— making it incredibly easy for you to enjoy yourself and let loose; something you haven’t been able to do while being bombarded with coworkers and a tight agenda.

Your eyes fall onto the couple just a table or two away. They’re enjoying their drinks, though their eyes say they’re bored and over each other with the way they can’t keep eye contact for longer than 2 seconds. Then, your eyes fall onto the lady in the far corner who is typing furiously away on her phone. Your eyes shift to the gentleman all the way down on the other end of the bar, repeatedly looking down at his watch before bringing the phone to his ear for the umpteenth time; probably waiting on a date that never showed up when they said they would.

“Whiskey on the rocks, please?” Your eyes now fall onto the tall, attractive man that slides into the empty seat next to you— setting his bag onto the surface before letting out a heavy sigh. He’s in a black sweater, slacks and black chelsea boots, and you can’t help but notice how everything sits on his figure so, so perfectly. Hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, a few bangs framing the sides of his face; freshly shaved undercut. His tongue quickly swipes the surface of his pink, plump lips before he thanks the bartender and sips on his drink— you’re sure you’ve never seen anybody so perfectly sculpted.

Was this a cruel joke?

“Your cocktail, miss.” You thank the bartender again before shyly sipping on your second glass of the night, trying to keep to your own space.

“Sorry, hope someone wasn’t sitting here already.” He suddenly says, making you turn towards him. There’s really no one else around but you two; perhaps, another individual a few seats down, and that gentleman at the end still waiting on his date.

“Oh, um. No.” You give him a toothless smile. “You’re good.”

“Cool.” Is all he says before chugging the whiskey in his glass, asking for another round. “It’s been a long night. Wanna take a shot with me?” He turns to you again, licking his lips yet again. “No pressure.” You keep your eyes on him as you think about your next move. He is an attractive man, a harmless one at that.

It’s your last night in Paris, what do you have to lose?

“Sure.” You shrug. “Why not?”

“Nice to know you’re down.” He laughs a bit before calling the bartender and asking for two shots. “What’s your poison?”

“Tequila.” He pokes his bottom lip out before nodding in agreement.

“Two shots of tequila it is, then.”

“Didn’t you just down some whiskey? That’s a little dangerous.” He laughs before turning in his seat to face you.

“Don’t worry about me sweetheart, I’m staying here.” Crazy, you think. Out of all the times to bump into someone who is also staying at this hotel. “What about you?”

“I’m here, too.” You sip on your drink some more.

“Then we’ll enjoy it.” He flashes his pearly whites when he smiles. “Hyunjin.” He holds out his hand.

“Y/N.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” He caresses the surface of your hand with his thumb just as the bartender comes back with two shot glasses filled to the brim with tequila. The bartender points to your cocktail with a smirk.

“Need a refill to wash down the tequila, or do you need something else?”

“I should be good. Thanks.” He winks before tending to the others down the line.

“So, Y/N. Where are you from?”

“California. What about you?”

“Seoul.”

“Nice. One of my friends moved there recently.” You quickly think about Lola, hoping she’s doing okay. Mental note to send her a message on Kakao later. “What brings you here?”

“Mm, probably the same reason as you.” Hyunjin smirks.

“Work?” He nods.

“See. Already have something in common.” You chuckle a bit, biting onto your bottom lip. “How long are you here for?”

“I’ve been here for close to two weeks. I’m heading back tomorrow morning.”

“Shame.” He does a slight head tilt. “We probably could have had fun exploring together.” You cock an eyebrow up before letting out a giggle.

“You think I’d be fun to explore with? A stranger?” Hyunjin grabs his shot glass while gently pushing yours over to you.

“I mean, you were down to take a shot with me. Why wouldn’t you be?” He raises his shot glass. “Cheers, Y/N.” You take your shot glass and tap it against his, the both of you taking the shot to the neck. Hyunjin makes a face [that probably mirrors yours right now] before sipping on a soda as chase. You squint your eyes as the burn lingers down your throat, immediately reaching for your cocktail to chase the rest down— which is definitely not the best choice of action here.

But, you’re enjoying the night. The last night.

With a beautiful, beautiful man next to you.

“Atta girl.” He laughs.

“Haven’t done that in awhile.”

“Feels kinda liberating in a sense, hm?” He teases. “Since I’m working with a deadline here, let’s get another round going while you tell me about yourself.”

“Another?”

“Last. Promise.” He winks.

“Hm.” You hum. “What can I tell you?” You ask, even though you mainly mean that question for yourself. What can you tell Hyunjin that is enough, and not too much?

“Why someone like you doesn’t have anyone by your side tonight?” He shrugs. “Or, anything. Everything, really. That works, too.” Hyunjin runs his finger along his bottom lip.

“Someone like me? Are you always this forward?” You tilt your head, already starting to feel the shot and cocktail. You like the way his eyes are glued on you, you like the way he says your name. You like the way he’s being forward, you like the way he looks tonight. You like him, you take interest in him.

He is exciting.

“No, but it’s the deadline.” He reminds you, making you snort.

“Well. It’s because I just don’t have anyone by my side in general.” You answer his question with a chuckle. “Just a 24 year old in tech, visiting their Paris office for another project.” You swirl the stirrer in your cocktail. “What about you? What brings you here?”

“Just a 23 year old dabbling in some art stuff. Some Fashion stuff.” He laughs, red tint coloring the surface of his cheeks just as the bartender brings another round of tequila shots. “Nothing too fancy.”

‘It sounds fancy.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” He answers with another one of his cryptic responses, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Ready for round two?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” You mock him and he laughs, passing your shot glass.

“Cute.” He taps his shot glass against yours, giving you a nod of acknowledgment before you two are repeating the process— knocking the shot back, relieving the burn with some sort of chase, giggling at how quick the alcohol is hitting you both. You are drunk, and you should’ve eaten a bit more before this. Fuck. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“If you couldn’t tell already, I think you’re really, really pretty.”

“Is that so?” He nods cutely, and it makes you laugh.

“Mhm. So I mean it when I say I wanna know all about you.”

“You don’t give up, do you?” He shakes his head.

“Nah.” He smiles, bottom lip in between his teeth as he eyes your features. “So, what is Y/N all about?” He sits back a bit while his gaze lingers on you, your eyes. The tip of your nose. Your lips. Your long, beautiful lashes.

He is paying attention to every word that slips from your lips, watching your hand gestures as you quickly explain your family dynamics and how you’ve grown up in a quiet household— always remaining quiet, shy and kept to yourself even until this day. You tell him about your friends back home, how you love to stay at home and be a homebody, how you occasionally find the energy to haul yourself out for long, but fun nights with your girls. You also [drunkenly] stumble upon the topic of exes, which you don’t normally open up about right away. But you’re a few shots in, and it doesn’t help that Hyunjin is actually showing interest in you.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you, and he doesn’t plan to.

“Yeah, we’re not really friends or anything like that anymore.” You blabber on. “He blocked me everywhere. Which, you know—” You hiccup, a bit more drunk than you were 5 minutes ago. “I kinda don’t care because he shouldn’t be asking to look through my phone every time I go out. I fucking left after that. No sir, not me. No thanks.” Hyunjin laughs, endeared by how quick you’ve opened up to him. He appreciates it, and he does enjoy the way you talk about life; even if you may view it as simple, quiet.

“You’re right for having left him.” Hyunjin leans forward a bit. “It’s not fair, especially when you’ve never given him a reason to distrust you. You deserve better than that.”

“You think so?” You chuckle.

“Mhm.”

“Sorry, I totally went off and probably told you a lot more than you should know at this point.” He shakes his head. “What about you, Hyunjin?”

“No, I like hearing you talk. You’re very cute.” He laughs. “I’m not that interesting.”

“Really? I think you are.” You rest your chin on the palm of your hand.

“Yeah?” He smirks. “I just paint. A lot. I do some photoshoots. That’s all.”

“So are you like .. an artist, or something? A model?” He shrugs.

“I’m just Hyunjin.” He smiles. “But, I guess so? You can say that. I don’t have lots of friends, people oddly find me intimidating but I don’t care much to fix that either. I do stick to a few of them, we hang out often. I haven’t dated in awhile either, wasn’t really a priority for me.”

“Why did your last relationship end?” You internally curse yourself for fixing on that one detail out of everything else he’s mentioned. But, he doesn’t seem to mind. Spoiler: he doesn’t.

“Just didn’t click well like we thought we would.”

“I’m sorry.” He smiles.

“Don’t be. I like where I’m at.”

“That’s all that matters, right?”

“Yeah. Especially right now.” You cock a brow up, head tilting to the side again.

“Right now?”

“Mhm, with you. A few shots and drinks down, pondering on life. My kinda evening. Makes me not regret a thing about coming here.”

“You’re funny.”

“And you’re pretty.” He licks his bottom lip and bites onto it. His hand is only a few inches away from yours, pinky dying to reach out and pull your hand into his— wanting to playfully lace his fingers with yours. He’s not sure what it is, but he was drawn to you from the very moment he stepped into the bar. He smiled a bit to himself when he saw you people-watching, keeping to yourself as you sipped your drink and continued to scroll through your phone. You were totally oblivious to him from the beginning, and that was okay. Hyunjin wanted to quietly slip himself into the equation and find more subtle ways to talk to you, get to know you.

And he doesn’t regret a fucking thing.

He might be drunk, but he means it. He hasn’t ever felt this comfortable with a stranger, someone he met not too long ago. And that says a lot for him; it says a lot about you, your character. Meanwhile, you don’t think you’ll ever understand how someone like Hyunjin decided to waltz in and take this seat next to you at the time that he did. You’ll never understand the timing of everything, how the universe works and why it had to be a beautiful man like Hyunjin who found you first. But, you also don’t regret a damn thing, and you’re glad you decided to head to the bar tonight— especially alone.

When you meet Hyunjin’s eyes, it’s obvious that he’s feeling something— but that’s not the problem, no. You’re dying to find out what it means for the both of you tonight, how he plans to show you. Because you know he will, and that’s where the problem lies. What happens after that? When you both go along your merry ways?

“You know.. I think I’m just gonna call it a night soon.” You want to find out, but you don’t know if it’ll be good for you.

“Yeah?” You stand but find yourself stumbling on your own feet, letting out a laugh when you try to grab your things and keep yourself together. “Woah, pretty lady.” Hyunjin laughs with you. “How about I walk you to your room?” You pause. Fuck it.

“Okay, yeah. That’d be nice.”

“Alright, let me just pay for our tab—” He gives the bartender a look and gestures to close out the tab, his card already in his hand.

“What, no! Hyunjin.” You wrestle with your own wallet. “Let me pay for my own drinks.”

“Nah, I got you. On me.” He smiles sweetly. “Please.” You let out a sigh and surrender, letting him pay for the drinks before he stands and slips his card back into his wallet.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you. For being good company.” He gives you a toothless smile. “So, where to?”

“10th floor?”

“After you.” He bids the bartender one last farewell before following you out of the bar and out into the hotel lobby. His eyes can’t help but linger down your figure; eyeing that tight, itty bitty off-the-shoulder dress and the way it hugs your curves, black over-the-knee boots hugging your legs nicely.

Ain’t no way you were just planning on sitting at the bar looking that fine.

“Hyunjin?” You call for him as you both stand in front of the elevator doors, and he’s snapped out of his thoughts. “You don’t actually have to walk me. I can make it in one piece.” You giggle.

“Leave you alone while drunk? I don’t think so.” He chuckles.

“Hm.” You hum, eyes fixed on the elevator doors in front of you. Hyunjin stands right behind you— inches away, just close enough to feel the heat radiate from his body. When the elevator dings, Hyunjin gently presses his hand against the small of your back; pushing you forward into the elevator. The touch itself brings tingles down your spine, enough where it has you struggling to keep your composure. You lean against the back railing, while Hyunjin stands next to you— hand resting on the rail as he faces your direction. Your eyes meet his, and you feel yourself get weak in the knees;

So weak that your phone slips out of your hands, making a loud thud against the floor.

“Oops, shit.” You mutter.

“I got it.” Hyunjin laughs, bending down to grab your phone. You can’t help but watch his every move closely, watching as he bends down, large hand grabbing at your phone. He’s way too close to your legs at one point, and your mind wanders to what it would be like if he were in between— “Think that belongs to you, miss.” He teases, standing tall as he hands you your phone. “You sure you’re good?”

“I am.” Except, not. Because the elevator is ten times hotter than it was earlier, and it seems to be taking its sweet ol’ time getting to your floor. The tension is unreal.

“What’s on your mind?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Mmm, I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean?” You pause as you look at him.

“I mean, has anyone ever told you how attractive you are?” You blurt out, alcohol definitely giving you that liquid courage to say anything and everything that’s currently running through your mind. “You just.. look like that.” He laughs.

“I could say the same for you, pretty. Trust me.” He leans forward towards your ear a bit, his scent lingering and trapping you in. “You wanna know something else?”

“Hm?”

“You make it very hard to not wanna kiss you.” He pulls back a bit to read your expression— almost like he’s giving you leverage to take it and run with it, or leave it. Everything in your court.

So, you choose.

And you choose by gently grabbing at his sweater, planting your lips on his for that first, initial kiss. His lips are soft and pillowy, just like you imagined. You only pull away a few inches, eyes darting from Hyunjin’s eyes, to his lips, back up to his eyes. He chases after your lips within the next minute, hand coming up to cup you by the neck; thumb caressing your cheek. At this point, you’re stuck to Hyunjin— lips seemingly not wanting to part from his. And you’re loving every bit of it so, so much.

You’re loving every bit of it so much that you don’t even care when the elevator takes a stop, doors sliding open for the man who was patiently waiting on the other side. He eyes the both of you before keeping his distance, positioning himself closer to the doors while scrolling through his phone. Hyunjin lets out a soft sigh in between kisses, completely wrapped up in your scent, your touch— you.

You’ve barely met, but right now, it feels like the world is at a stop; like it’s just you and Hyunjin at this moment in time. You’ll never understand it.

“Fuck.” He whispers against your lips before moving near your ear. “You’re driving me crazy.” He plants a soft kiss on your cheek before navigating back down to your lips. His other hand comes to your thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze before his finger teases the edge of your dress— Hyunjin keeping the kiss alive with your hands still gripping at his sweater. His hand travels around to give your ass a quick squeeze before pressing you flush against him; to be close to him, to feel him.

And god, do you feel him.

He takes this moment to tug on your bottom lip, making you let out a sigh. The man who stepped into the elevator is now a long-gone thought, no longer caring about his presence or the fact that he’s a mere couple of steps away from you two. But finally, the elevator dings again and flashes a bright ‘10’ on the screen. Hyunjin quickly pulls away to check the current floor before slipping his hand into yours and leading the way out of the elevator. As soon as the doors close, the both of you erupt in a fit of giggles while leading the way down the hallway to your room. As you fiddle with your bag and try to fish for your hotel keycard, Hyunjin plants feathery kisses along your neck, down to your shoulder— his fingers still teasing the edge of your dress.

“Finally.” You pout, making Hyunjin laugh before placing another kiss near your jaw. As soon as you step inside the room, you toss your bag aside and wrap your arms around Hyunjin’s neck, legs around his waist. He carries you deeper into the room, setting you down on the edge of the bed to continue kissing you. In between kisses, he works his way with your boots; gently sliding the zipper down before tossing one boot off to the side, then the next.

“This dress.” He gently pushes you down on the bed before peppering kisses along your thighs. “So perfect on you.” He nibbles on your inner thighs, then soothes the surface with his lips. “Can’t believe no one was trying to snatch you up.”

“Maybe it’s just meant to be, hm?” You tease with a playful tone. Hyunjin pauses and looks at you, a smile teasing at the corner of his lips before he comes down and presses another sweet kiss to your lips.

“Maybe I’m just lucky after all.” You feel his hand fiddling with the edge of your dress again, slowly dipping further. “You know, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can totally—” A kiss. “Just hang out and talk more—” Another kiss.

“Hanging out and talking more—” Kiss. “Sounds good to me.”

“Mhm.” He pulls away and looks at you, really looks at you, before brushing the hair away from your face. “I mean it. I don’t normally do things like this. I just— I don’t know.” He chuckles a bit. “I’ve been drawn to you since I walked into that bar.” It’s your turn to look at him, really look at him, and you do nothing but pull him back to your lips.

“Please keep going.” Is all you manage to say. Because you are also drawn to him, and you’ll never understand it.

But right now, you don’t want to try and understand it. You just want to take this moment for what it is, for everything that it is.

The intensity grows during the heated kiss, and Hyunjin is back to slotting himself in between your thighs, dress now pushed up.

“Can I?” He asks, and you nod— giving him full permission to remove your panties and toss them off to the side; feet propped up on the bed to give Hyunjin the best view. He doesn’t waste any time before he’s running his thumb down your slit, sliding two fingers in just to get a feel for you. He bites onto his bottom lip, reveling in the soft moans you’re letting out. “So wet for me.” He says before licking a stripe upwards, feeling your legs slightly jolt at the sensation. “Gonna take care of you.” He reassures you by running a hand up your thigh and gently squeezing it. He laps at your folds, sucking gently at the sensitive nub before repeating his motions and pumping his digits into you at a set pace.

“My god.” You whimper, hands resting on Hyunjin’s head. A gasp falls from your slips when Hyunjin removes his fingers and spits on your pussy, tongue spreading your wetness all over. You continue to grind against his mouth, picking up the pace when you feel yourself reaching your peak. The way he was taking care of you was heaven sent; incredibly heaven sent that with just another roll or two, Hyunjin manages to push you over the edge. “Oh— yes!” You blurt out as you come undone, your entire body going limp while catching stars.

Hyunjin soothes you through small pecks on your thighs, through gentle squeezes of the hips. He stands and hovers over you, giving you a taste of yourself when he leans in for a kiss— holding the kiss there momentarily. When you part, he watches as you take his hand, tongue circling around the two fingers that were just inside of you. He swears he almost loses himself at that moment, but he manages to keep himself together. Hyunjin moves you up on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable in between the tiny kisses he plants all over your body.

Chest.

Hands, fingers.

Collarbone, neck.

Lips.

He’s stripping you of your dress, just as you help him out of his sweater, his slacks. His eyes widen when he pops off your strapless bra, letting out a shaky breath before taking a nipple into his mouth— tongue working in circular motions and pulling back with a pop. You arch your back slightly and let out a moan, Hyunjin taking this opportunity to move onto the next bud and repeating the motion on it. You tease at the waistband of his boxers before he wrestles himself out of them; dick painfully hard and springing free. He lets out a moan when he feels your hand wrap around his member, pumping him a few times and watching the pre-cum leak from his tip.

“Need you.” He breathily moans. “Need you now, pretty.”

“Here.” You pause, grabbing the single condom from your bag on the nightstand. Hyunjin leans back on his ankles, laughing at the box you’ve handed over.

“So, why do you have this?” He smirks as he rips the condom open and begins to slide it down his length.

“Quit. My bestfriend shoved it in my bag as a ‘just in case.’”

“Tell them I said thank you.” You giggle.

“Shut up.” Hyunjin bites his lip before diving in for another kiss. Even as he breaks the kiss, his lips continue to graze yours as he lines himself up at your entrance— eyes glued to yours as he slips himself in slowly. He watches your eyes roll back and shut close, back arching; a silent moan leaving your lips. He continues to push, and push, until he bottoms out and lets out a shaky breath; giving himself a moment to adjust and keep his composure.

God, you feel good around him.

“Fuuuuck.” He moans. “Feels too good. So perfect.” He begins to slowly pick up the pace, hearing your slickness make those noises beneath him that drive him insane. You grip onto his chiseled biceps, pretty white polished nails digging into the surface of his skin. At this point, Hyunjin has found the perfect rhythm— sinking into you every thrust, feeling every inch, every delicate point that he can touch.

Deeply.

“Hyunjin, god. Please.” You whine and beg continuously, calling his name as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. The only sounds in the room are the sounds of skin against skin, wet kisses being exchanged in between and your names bouncing off of the walls.

“I got you.” Hyunjin feels you squeezing him, and it’s taking everything within him not to burst. He takes a hand to your neck and gives it a gentle squeeze, watching your tits bounce with every thrust he gives.

And he gives it all.

He sits back for a moment when he sees you starting to move your hips and ride against his movements. Another moan slips from his lips when he watches you roll your hips and work him from beneath, hissing when you speed it up.

“Such a good girl.” He says. Your moans become a little sharper, a little louder, Hyunjin now taking his thumb to your clit to relieve some of the tension. You begin to whimper, your nails digging a little deeper, and Hyunjin can feel your walls starting to cave. He continues his work on your clit before he's back to fucking you senselessly into the mattress.

“Right there— Hyunjin—” Your words are broken as you try to chase your high. “Close—”

“That’s it, pretty.” He says, praising you and egging you to tip over the edge. It takes a few more before Hyunjin sees your face contort in pleasure, back arching just as you tremble underneath him. “Shit, that’s it.” He repeats, feeling your walls pulse against him. He feels himself getting close to his own climax, so he quickly pulls out and has you flip over— face down, ass up. He wastes no time slipping himself back in, continuing at the pace he was just at even though you were still trying to recover from your last orgasm. Though a bit sensitive, the pleasure rebuilds quickly, and you’re back to begging Hyunjin to go harder.

Faster.

Which, he gladly does. He gives your ass a good smack, leaving his print while letting out a groan and gripping your hips. He calls your name, praising you for how good you’ve been to him tonight and how lucky he is.

“Y/N, fuck— gonna cum.” He breathes out, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he feels his coil threatening to snap. Sooner or later, a beautiful, melodic moan slips from his lips, his hands digging crescents into your hips as he falls onto you and fills up the condom. “You okay, pretty?” He presses a soft kiss on your back, your right shoulder.

“Mhm.” He removes himself from you, the both of you letting out soft sighs at the feeling. Hyunjin tosses the condom in the trash before racing off to the bathroom.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He says as he grabs for one of your wipes sitting in the bathroom, cleaning you up before himself. You shyly head to the bathroom to finish up and change into something more comfortable— slipping into the covers while Hyunjin throws on his boxers. You’re not really sure what’s next, and to be honest, you’re a little unsure of how to navigate this whole one-night-stand thing.

Because of course you’ll have to. You leave tomorrow. This is the first and last time you’ll see Hyunjin.

It makes you a bit sad, for whatever reason.

“I-I hope you know you aren’t obligated to stay, I know you must wanna go back to your room—” He laughs a bit and turns to you.

“How about I stay until you fall asleep, hm? That sound okay with you?” Yes, yes it does. You want him here, and you want to cherish every last bit of this tender, intimate moment that you’ve shared with someone you connected with hours ago.

“Okay.” He slips himself in, comfortable in his boxer briefs and nothing else. You find this to be the cherry on top; the way Hyunjin pulls you in and allows you to lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat beneath you, the way he lazily throws an arm over you but keeps you close, the way that he just lets you be.

Hyunjin is connected to you. He is drawn to you.

The combination of the alcohol and exhaustion is now pushing you to fall asleep quickly in Hyunjin’s arms. He manages to close his eyes, afraid to move you or wake you— wanting you to get the best sleep possible before your flight tomorrow. You’ll never understand this. But tonight, you won’t try to. Because you’ll take this for what it is, for everything that it is.

You are connected to Hyunjin. You are drawn to him.

Hyunjin wakes up and finds your side of the bed cold, empty. Which tugs a bit on his heart, but he knew this is what it would come to— being it was your last night, and the two of you lived on opposite ends of the world. He honestly didn’t mean to stay last night, but he couldn’t help himself after seeing how peacefully you were sleeping. He’s not sure he understands it well enough, but he still feels drawn to you; even now, as you board your plane and take your seat in business class. He finds a tiny note on the nightstand with your name and number, and he smiles to himself— making sure to keep the note safe.

Hyunjin keeps the note safe for awhile. Safe to the point where he doesn’t do much with it besides look at the number every now and then before tucking it back into his wallet. He can’t find the courage to text you, call you, because he’s not sure what is left of you two after that night. What would he do from Seoul? What would you do from California?

It’s unfortunate, and Hyunjin really hates it. He’s not sure when he’ll use this. And of course, over time, you’ve wondered what you did, or why Hyunjin didn’t make use of your number. Though, part of you understood where he was coming from. So, you eventually learn to let it be.

Maybe there wasn’t a use for it, for all of this.

Maybe it was supposed to be a one-night thing, a memorable, one-night thing. A one-night thing that you keep for the memories, a one-night thing that you keep close to your heart– Hyunjin.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Hyunjin keeps the note safe for a while. Safe to the point where he doesn’t do much with it besides look at the number every now and then before tucking it back into his wallet.

Until months later, Hyunjin finds himself thinking about your note just as he steps onto the concrete floor and takes in the fresh air—

Eyes shifting to the California sunrise ahead of him.

—perm taglist: @ppiri-bahng @jihanlovic @meloncremesoda @sweetlikecherry @asjkdk

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simp-ly-writes · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter Two: Trust

Can be read as a standalone: Personal Hell Series (pt.3)

Pairing: (Hazbin Hotel) Lucifer Morningstar x demon overlord!Reader

Summary: As the days pass-by with your stay in Hazbin Hotel, your relationships with the guests only grow. New faces beside old from histories past as you navigate the options that this new chance at living provides you.

Warnings: 5002 words, mentions of violence Nonconsensual touching and mental health, possible gore and death.

A/N: this one is action packed people, buckle your socks on and turn your crocks to athletic mode- we are moving this plot forwards!

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

When you wake up the next day and sit at the bar, half-listening to the new set Angel Dust is performing later tonight as you swirl you fresh cup of tea, dipping your biscuit ever so gently and watching the ripples that your actions create. Becoming lost in the small pattern you summon forth your blade, standing on the bar top as Husk voices his complaints while grabbing the cloth once more to clean up your mess.

Charlie comes running from underneath the stairs screaming, your blade is pointed to the direction just behind her, teeth bared as you growl in wait. “Woah, woah, woah, there hotstuff- what has you so turned on?” Angel Dust comments, stopping their vivid descriptions for the moment to observe your attacking stance.

“Everyone! My dad just called and I have a meeting with heaven-or well Adam!” Charlie announces as your shoulders fall, blade dipping and eyes going wide. You shake your head furiously annoyed at the King's decision- she was going to be torn to shreds if she went to that meeting. “Princess, what exactly did your father say?” You question, now sitting on top of the bar as your legs swing slightly back and forth.

In that next moment Charlie ignores your question and breaks out into song as Vaggie chases after her, “I can do this! This will be a happy day in hell~” “Charlie, this is only a meeting,” her girlfriend resorts but the princess is unlistening as she runs out the front of the door, dancing her heart out, twirling around lamp posts and before you know it, she is out of sight.

You place your elbows to your knees, head in your palms as you grip out the remainders of your hair. “Husk- I am going to need a glass of wine” “coming right up.”

Lucifer had locked himself away in your study once again, a remaining staff member placed a tea set in the small living room before exiting. The King sat with his back to the door, tinkering away with his latest installment of duck- this one would read out the first chapter to your history book. Tinkering with the voice box and animating the feet to walk in circles, the King rested his head against one of his hands, eyes turning closed, “Chapter One: The Fall…”

The King did not know he had fallen asleep soon afterwards, day and night mixing together as every waking moment appeared as dull as sleep. But at least when he rested, in his dreams he saw you, waiting there for him, wanting to hear about his latest inventions and revolutions. You never bowed nor kneeled for him, only sitting beside him with bright features and not a speck of stress.

Yet this latest dream world he found himself slipping into while sitting at your desk, the duck all long forgotten to the shiver that ran down his spine. Ghostly finger tips trickled lightly down his shoulders and spine, coaxing it to relax as he hummed out- stretching to receive more like a needy cat. He relished these touches, it was as if these hands knew of every vein in that area- sparking them to light as he practically buzzed with content. Yet the touches got lighter and lighter before becoming only a drifting thought, an illusion that had the King shivering cold when he awakened once again.

You did not know how this video camera had been placed in your hands but you followed every command that Vaggie ushered, from angle to the zoom, you were practically a breathing tripod as you filmed each section to the new commercial in production.

The camera shook as you did your best not to laugh at the dead-panned look that Husk was giving you down the lens, rolling his eyes as Vaggie yelled “action!” once again as you listened to the tape roll. Alastor leaned down beside you, watching the small screen with a humm, “I still think radio is better- don’t you?”

“Cut! What the fuck, Alastor. I already told you- no talking while filming!” Vaggie outbursts while crossing her arms and tapping her foot rapidly against the carpeted floors. “Ah well all the more reasons that show how useless this technology is,” the Radio Demon responds before turning around and slipping into the shadows without a trace. “Action!” is yelled to the set once more as you stand still, awaiting the princesses return.

Charlie comes back through the Hotel doors, turning around to shut it softly behind herself as tears slip silently down her cheeks in frustration. She knocks her head against the wood before groaning and turning away, jumping up slightly in shock as Vaggie pulls her into a hug. “How did it go? Did they listen?’” Vaggie questions while pulling away and grabbing her hand, walking them both over to the sitting room where the rest of the hotel's inhabitants wait.

As the Princess tries to come up with lighthearted words to convey the utter disappointment she faced during the meeting, her stumbling of words is overshadowed by Vaggies excitement as she pulls them down to a couch in front of the television. “Alastor pulled some strings and it is about to air.”

“I pulled a few limbs too” Alator teases out with a dry laugh, you stand beside his chair and pluck a hair from his head as he whips his head around, a smile growing in menacing size as your’s mirror his own. A joy fills you to the brim watching as it falls and he faces straight once more.

“You guys made a new commercial?- thats, that's amazing!” Charlie states, tears welling behind her yellow eyes as your own crinkle at the edges. But just as the commercial begins to air, the news channel flickers over top with a screeching woman yelling, “BREAKING NEWS” over the still image. “Extermination day is coming sooner than expected as the hour glass falls faster than ever-seen before, be prepared because death is coming to us all in the new year!” the announcer comments before the screen fades to black.

Everyone looks around at one another before Angel Dust lets out a singular, “Well fuck.” That leaves the whole room laughing, partially at the blunt tone and the other for the impending doom that haunts every minute that ticks by.

After some much needed sleep on the recent news, Charlie calls every down for a team meeting back in the sitting room. “Well… we are just going to have to work faster and try harder- team!” Charlie states while standing up in front of the group, clapping her hands together in order to hide the trembles knocking around her skin. She bites her lip, a small drop of gold falling and burning the run below as Vaggie wipes the rest away.

“Charlie, you are a great friend you know but all of hell is losing their complete shit after the broadcast- even my boss,” Angel Dust comments as his phone blows up. You watch as the Spiders head fluff furrowing into itself, their fingers quickly moving across the screen to reply.

“Well sinners are desperate… desperate enough to try anything just like this hotel!” Vaggie adds. “That is an amazing~ idea!” Charlie replies, now jumping on the heels of her feet as you rub your face tiredly, sipping your tea as you observe the scene playing out before you. Angel Dust pats a seat beside them, sticking up their leg as you cringe back in disgust.

But just as you are about to take that next sip, the wall behind you blows out, pieces flying around your head as your cup shatter and you swear out, “fucking Hell. Can’t even drink warm water without someone pissing in it.”

Your angelic spear appears in your hand without a second thought as Alastor teleports beside you, a sinister smile dictates the static electricity ringing through the air as every hair on your body stands at attention. You call for the Princess to retreat with Vaggie and Angel Dust as the Radio Demon rises with his coffee in hand, pissed to see the stain left on his tailored jacket.

Sir. Pretentious commands the vessel, hissing violently as he points in your direction, “Your powers have grown since last time Alastor, animating the dead I see? Well those powers are no match for me and my egg army- you’ll see!”

“Who are they?” you yell out to Alastor, snapping your fingers for a tentacle to appear from the ground, bursting through the ships window and casting forth the snake's body as they become pinned down by the point of your spear. Alastor hums out, extending his hands forth as a put emerges and engulfs the ship hole.

“No-one important, deer. Such miniscule names only take up valuable space in our minds,” Alastor states before spinning on his heel and heading back inside the Hotel, humming a tune. He only pauses as you state back in a blunt tone, “You did not answer my question, or have you forgotten who I am, Radio Demon? I need the name for records.”

“I did not know you were still working for the King, General. Thought you were dead-no?” the Overlord resorts while inspecting the cuffs of his suit. “What can I say, I live to serve just as much as I die.”

“Sir. Pretentious, is that all?”

“Yes. Thank you,” you finish the conversation with as Charlie yells for you to let the attacker go. With one small cut against the serpent's neck, you watch as he slivers down the hill and back to the city core.

To say you were surprised would be an understatement when you opened the door, mere hours later to find Sir. Pretentious waiting for entrance, his hat in his hands and a few straggling eggs in tow. You roll your eyes, not bothering for a weapon as the man holds up peace signs to make your eyes roll. Charlie allows the former attacker inside as you keep a close watch from behind, taking a place just outside the room by leaning against the main staircase, listening in.

“I didn’t come looking for a fight, when I heard that you were helping people on the picture box- I came straight away!” He hisses out while taking a seat. Charlie lights up like a holiday display as she moves right into bonding exercise while Angel Dust voices his complaints against the entire situation at hand. In doing so, you retreat slowly back to your room.

You awaken to the sounds of hurried slivers dashing down the hall and closing a door to Alastor’s study just a bit too heavily. The Radio Demon was out hunting tonight, what- you did not bother to know, only nodding as he left.

Sir. Pretentious stood with his back turned to the door, a camera he was setting up between the various books that littered the shelf had you growling out in displeasure. “And what do you think you are doing, you absolute snake?”

The door clicks open behind you once more as Angel Dust’s eyes go wide to the scene and the sight of you in night clothing as your skin only slightly peaks out, glowing in the moonlight. “You slippery little shit, working for the ‘V’s’ are you?” the Spider questions out, slamming the door closed behind himself.

Angel Dust throws a punch as you stand back, letting them fight before various footsteps can be heard approaching from down the hall. You pull the pornstar back, locking their arms in your own, “if you wanted to hold me so closely, you only had to ask baby~” Angel Dust purrs out to you as you old fast, face unmoving as Charlie analyzes the damage.

The Serpent cries out, knowing himself to be a failure as he drops the watch from his wright and slams the camera broken by the spine of a book. He sits on the floor defeated as you let go of the Spider- the room now in a still. “Make it quick,” Sir Pretentious states, tipping their head in your direction as you look to Charlie for confirmation.

She holds up her hand as you make no moves to summon forth a weapon. Vaggie and Angel Dust begin their protests as your mind begins to drift off into another memory, fading away from the current as Charlie begins to sing a song of forgiveness- it falls dead on your ears.

You find yourself in the dark void once more, the ground before you ripples, matching the patterns found in your teacup from mornings before. The dripping of water can be heard, growing in volume before becoming that of a waterfall pouring over your head. You gasp from the cold drench it covers you in, clothes sticking to your form as you shiver and grasp to conceal warmth.

You venture forth, as each step you make disturbs the pattern underneath your feet, hundreds of mini ripples how overpower the larger steady ones as a flicker of white in the corner of your eyes has you gasping and turning to meet it. But just before you can it blinks out of existence and reality comes crashing back as the waterfall catches up with you, basking you in its frigid waters once more.

“But sorry is where it begins~” the Snake and the Princess sing out together in harmony as your berings return to form. You stumble slightly, grasping the bookshelf behind you for support as Angel Dust looks over their shoulder, gun falling to their side as they cock their head- a silent asking if you were alright. You only nod once before making a wobbled stand and exit the study back to your room to take shelter underneath the covers. Under their warmth, sleep cannot find you as your eyes stare upwards, glossing over the intricate lace designs covering the canopy bed.

Time had become a blur as a week has already slipped by from that restless night that joined many others. You were fading in and out more as the days went by. Now you were found nearly asleep on the bartop as you listened to Husks baritone grumblings that soothed your ears.

Sir. Pretentious was giving a presentation on his latest invention, the lack of attacks getting on his nerves as he anxiously invented weapon after weapon in his hotel room. Vaggie spoke out against these actions as Charlie was visibly struggling to come up with a learning opportunity from this outburst. “People are being nice because they want you to feel welcomed,” the x-eyed woman states with crossed arms as the Snake hisses out in contemplation to these words.

He looks around the room to find Husk cleaning a glass beside your head as he flips the bird and Angel Dust follows suit. Nifty only mocks his lack of aggressiveness, proving her point by stabbing a nearby bug that has the reptile rears back in fear. “I have my doubts about that…” he finally answers back. Yet these would be the least of his worries when it is announced that Charlie would be taking away his weapons stashes and eggs as Alastor would find a way to house them temporarily once back from his break.

A glass being slammed against the bartop has you standing for attention before glaring at the cat-man when no danger is in sight. “Sleep in a bed, not at my bar,” he simply states before taking in the new boxes of alcohol from the door and unpacking them against the back display shelf.

As you make your way back up to your room, using the elevator as your powers flicker from the lack of rest or sustenance once more. Alastor is there to greet you with a wide, yellow smile when the door chimes open. “You arrived just on time- we are leaving for a meeting,” the overlord sign-songs to you before entering the elevator and clicking the first floor.

You stand beside one another without making any glances, “And why would I do that?” you question.

“I feel as if history is repeating itself- haha!” your eyes roll at this statement before crossing your arms, looking upwards as the numbers tick down.

“You are my new Right-Hand, are you not?” Alastor questions out with a crackle in his voice.

“When did you become royalty? Never thought you to be the type to like being-”

“A-A-Aah!” Alastor tuts out with the wave of a finger, as if mocking a child. You move to bite that finger before feigning innocence with wide eyes fluttering like nothing happens, rejoicing at the terrified shutter that makes its way down his spine.

“So… who are we meeting exactly?”

Alastor provided no further explanation as you followed beside him,a few shock gasps coursed through the street before the Radio Demon silenced the crowd with the raise of a hand. Your back arched forwards slightly, anxious off all the attention in such close proximity- it felt suffocating. A body nears behind your own as your finger curl together in a fist, turning around sharply you see Zestial tilting his head down towards you, his lips curl upwards as he offers a kiss to the back of your hand.

“How art thou, peacekeeper? Thy return could not hast came at a better time.” You smile up at the ancient overlord, your friend older than that of the King and Queen as you unravel your fist. Alastor leans on his microphone, as a light buzz appears in the air, his smile softens only the slightest bit as he leans forward to ask, “Doing well, old friend?”

Yet Zestial pays no attention to the man, attention solemnly on you and your answer. “As best as I can during times like these, you comment on how my timing is good- how so?” You fix the cuffs to your coat as you speak, flicking off small bits of flesh that have been offered to your group as you near a large modern tower.

“An answer yet to be discovered,” Zestial finishes before opening the door for you and Alastor with a small bow as you voice your thanks in return. When entering the lobby, various elevators zoom past you, carrying overlords from far and wide as your palms begin to sweat. You lean towards Alastor, harshly whispering in his ear, “Why the fuck have you brought me here, Alastor. All of these demons would gladly hand me in for favour.”

“And that is where you are wrong, deer. You see that your presence is the least of the group's concerns when extermination is on the horizon. We have souls to keep and screams to feed our ears,” Alastor speaks aloud while pointing to a chair near the top of the table for you to sit at.

Various eyes cast their way over your form, taking in your appearance with greedy eyes and cash-grabbing smiles. They know of your price dead or alive, for nobody was present at your royal funeral. But other than their looks, no actions rose out from the crowd, glued to their seats in wait. You take this as your cue to investigate the room, raking through your mind each of their atrocities throughout history and the tallied souls they keep.

These numbers you count serve as comfort in your head, leveling back on the facts you pride yourself on creating and upholding. Yet the more you find yourself dwelling in the past, the greater your heart aches to return to all its known. All those court hearings you attended way back when that happened in a similar fashion. Just this time you got forced into a seat at the table rather than standing at the judges side, whispering in his ear your opinions to be voiced.

Oh the simpler times, you think to yourself. Those starting moments before you would go on to take over those meetings in his place as Lilith’s pregnancy continued. A slam of the door has your attention swerving back as you grip the table for reassurance.

“Welcome Hell's sovereign overlords. I have invited you all here because you represent millions of souls tied to your very name. Souls that will be taken by the extermination in only a few months time rather than by our own claws,” Carmilla Carmine states, hands casting over the table to point at each individual in the room, her finger swirls overtop your head before she continues.

“We need to minimize the impact and on that matter, Alastor and… General. Welcome back,” she states in a thoughtful tone until the door slams itself open once again as you wince at the holes forming from the impact. A short, pony-tailed woman stands on top of the table, walking over to an extra seat with a phone glued to her ear. You wince at the obnoxious accent she carries, “yes I know Vox-darling, they are ALL a joke. Kisses, see you soon!”

“Nice of you to be joining us, Velvet- will your colleagues be joining us?” Carmilla asks with annoyance coating every word. Velvet rolls her eyes, throwing her phone on the table while leaning forward to cast a series of insults as you look to Alastor and question out, “I apologise for sounding like a broken record in advance, but who are they exactly?”

Alastor’s laugh is projected throughout the room as a head-grinding ring echoes in everyone's mind until the room is silent once more. But just as the deer-man is about to speak, an Angels head gets casted on the table, hopping animatedly before stopping just in front of your hands. Gold pours out from its slashed neck as you wince, going to grasp your own.

“If these holy rollers can be killed, well the game has changed,” Velvet announces, seemingly taking over the meeting as your head cat's back and forth between the two women like a tennis match.

“We not know how this perished. May it be not by a demon's hand after all. If we rush to war- they purge all of Hell,” Zestial retorts while sipping his tea loudly, he casts his eyes between you and Carmilla worriedly of your reactions just as the table erupts to their own smaller conversations on the matter at hand. But just as Velvet shoves a finger his way, Carmilla's chair scratches against the tiles, grating your ears once again as Alastor’s twitches in displeasure. “You have no respect…” Carmilla starts with before entering a lecturning display against the smaller woman's apparent arrogance to the room's guests.

You applauded Carmine’s performance as she casts you a split second smile before Alastor adds on, “That was a productive meeting, now we really must get going, who knows what Hell has spawned at the Hotels door this time-hm?” You nod once in reply, going through the room to shake hands with everyone, even Velvet who wipes her hand on her shirt afterwards, looking you up and down for a second as your eyes begin to flicker red for the faintest second until Alastor throws you both through a door back to the Hotel’s lobby.

You were not surprised in the slightest to find the Hotels events room staged with a BDSM act. Blinking twice before entering the room, a tall feline figure wrapped their tail around your waist, purring in your ear as you stood still, glaring at Angel Dust. Alastor had left you in his dust the split second after seeing into the room but you were glad to see Vaggie pulling Charlie away from a pervy succubus- hell bent on having the royals attention.

The feline’s eyes narrowed sensually in your face as they curved around your figure tighter, a claw of theirs drifted its way up your arm and towards your neck. Elbowing them in the gut, their groan of pain was the only pleasure you had found in that room before Vaggie announced another way for the Hotel to build trust in one another. You looked towards the Princess at the mention of this, catching her eye for a moment before stepping through yet another door way- this one led you to a burning battle ground.

Screams emerged from every crack and crevice as your hand twitches, readying yourself for an attack. Vaggie appeared to hold no qualms while an arrow just skimmed by her head, Charlie yelled out in horror- eyes flashing red before the demon that ceased to exist behind the group. “This is where I learned to build my trust, and I will see to it that you ALL find the same,” Vaggie announced while pointing her spear to each and every one of you.

In the next moment, hotel guests were being thrown over the wall and dispersed into the war zone below. You sat on the ledge, waiting to step in as an anxious Charlie sat beside you, swinging her feet back and forth as she winced at Angel Dust’s apparent enthusiasm to gutting a man. Vaggie was a prominent force on the field, you smiled watching someone command such strength- helping others and with these thoughts in mind, your head tilted towards the Princesses and you spoke.

“Thank you,” you start with as Charlie’s eyes meet your own, narrowing the slightest bit to show her confusion. “What are you thankful for?” She asks, her feet still kicking as she searches your eyes for an answer.

“For being the person your mom would respect and the person I wished to be if only I held more strength. Thank you, Princess…” you trail off with as tears spark in your eyes, Charlies feet still, falling against the brick wall as she looks away from you, her eyes squeeze shut as her own tears mirror your own.

“What were they like?” Charlie timidly asks, “What were they like before me? I read your journals and books, yet they never brought me any closer to understanding- they feel like such different people now…” She trails off, the wind picking up her golden strands as a few stragglers hit your face.

You lean forwards, trying to catch her eyes once more as you state, “Both your mother and father were wonders to behold- time will never change that…” your voice trails off, trying to choose the right words and describe the correct moments for a time like this. “I did not truly know them for my first century in hell but on that day when a raven that would soon become my own descended from the red skies above- ushering me forwards- I allowed them to. They were spirited even with their dreams taken away. The Queen held onto enough hope for the population of Hell as your father sculpted her every word, it was the only beautiful sight to be held in Hell and the first demons could only respect them for it. Without their leadership, their sacrifices…”

You struggle to continue as Charlie's eyes dart around, trying to come up with a new topic of conversation. “Why did you call my parents by their titles, why do you address me as such? You all were friends- were you not?” Charlie asks while playing with her hair, she is shy about this question before hurriedly speaking up once again, “It is is personal-erm, private! It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me!”

You laugh at her cuteness before holding up a hand to stop her rambles, “I was still a servant to them-'' Charlie bursts out into laughter, she grips her chest as tears form around her eyes again, “Now THAT is a lie,” she states while wagging her finger in your face as your face falls to one of confusion.

“My parents LOVED you, they just loved you- simply put. Not as a servant, not as a child or friend. They fell in love with you… and it was when you died, that love they shared died too…” Charlie takes a deep breath as you are at a loss for words, eyes wide in processing the information. “...you may not know this but my mom began to hate you, hate that even with you gone, you were somehow a consistent presence. She-she told me one day that even I made her remember you along with some other words and a week after that she left… a-and I haven’t seen her since.” Charlie cries out, falling into her lap as her breathing becomes staggered.

You rub up and down her back, humming out to soothe the girl as she grabs your white jacket, knuckles turning white. In muffled tones, she still speaks, “my dad loves you- still does I am sure of it, even when we do not speak he always shows it. You were the last topic we talked to each other before I left… the last time we hugged…”

You lean your head down, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair before pulling it out of her eyes, “I am sorry, Princess Charlie…”

“I am sorry too…” Charlie picks herself off, her smile flickering at the edges as she fixes her hair, “next time my father is around, whenever that will be… promise that you will at least look at him even if he does not notice. You deserve to see yourself loved, I am sorry for what I made you blame yourself on and sorry that you ever thought to be only admired for your work- I am ever guilty of it among many others.”

You nod your head, agreeing to her words without being able to find your own. The battle gradually slows from underneath your feet as Alastor comes to greet you all- a feast he has prepared back in the Kitchens as the group cheers, dropping their weapons and hugs emerge. Everyone chats, celebrating their victory as glasses chime in tune. You raise your own towards Charlie as she tips her to do the same.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

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samkerrworshipper · 1 year ago

Text

togetherness | pt.2

longawaited and has been sitting in my drafts for weeks now cause i wasn’t quite sure if i liked the direction it’s gone in… but highliting different issues n stuff so i hope y’all enjoy! again i’ve edited this on my phone whilst reading from my kindle lol so not going to lie i’m aware that the editing could be shocking… there’s a few more parts sitting in my drafts so lmk if y’all want more

warnings: child exploitation, themes of sexual assault of minors, just general hurt with protective n supportive tillies

“Now that we’ve settled that, is there anything, anything at all that you’d like to tell me that I could help you with?”

I gulped, there were about six things I could think of just off the top of my head. I was tentative though. I could feel tears starting to form in the back of my eyes as I tried to make the decision in my head.

“No judgement?”

Sam’s immediate nod in response was comforting and apparently enough to get me talking.

“It’s going to sound stupid and I don’t even know what you could do about it considering that I’m probably somewhere in the wrong with it as well.”

Sam looked like a mixture of intrigued and perplexed.

“Y/n, even if I can’t do anything about it, you look like you just need to get it off your chest, I can be that for you as well, just tell me what’s been bothering you so much.”

I sniffled and nodded at Sam, this situation was so abnormally vulnerable for me.

“You know that I was rough around the edges when I got here, I know you haven’t heard the whole story, to put it simply I went through a rough patch when I was 14 and 15, before I got here. I’d just had spine surgery, I thought that I was never going to walk again, let alone play football. I turned to a lot of things, drugs, alcohol, anything. I ran away when I was 14, I don’t remember much of it, just that when I returned home my parents had had enough and they sent me off to the AIS for Tony to train me. Anyways, I’m rambling. Somewhere along the road I sent some explicit videos, photos and texts to my ex boyfriend, graphic ones, there’s a lot of them. He’s been posting them on reddit and twitter and they haven’t gotten any attention yet but with all the media coverage and bad press I’ve had recently I’m worried they are going to be brought up and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Sam’s expression was one thing, completely deflated and shocked. She was typing furiously into her phone whilst she was listening to my story. It took a few minutes of silence for her to reply to me.

“First off I want to start off with telling you how grateful I am for you sharing that information with me, it can’t have been easy and you are incredibly brave for telling me. I’ve got some follow up questions that I need to ask, you don’t have to answer them, I’d just appreciate it if you could try your best, okay?”

I nodded quickly in reply to Sam.

“Okay. How old were you when you sent these videos and how old was your boyfriend at the time?”

“I was 14 or 15, he was in his mid twenties.”

“So that puts him in his late 20s or early 30s right now, if my maths is correct. Did you take these photos and videos or did someone else?”

“I took most of them but he took some.”

Sam nodded at me again.

“Okay based on that question I can tell you that this ex boyfriend of yours is legally in possession of child pornography, that’s an indictable crime. If you want this to well and truly stop then we can go up that path. I want us to talk about this with Tony, it’s ultimately your decision but I think it would be very sensible to take this up with him at the very least. Y/n, you have done absolutely nothing wrong, I need to stress to you how important it is that you understand that. No one is going to blame this on you, because it isn’t your fault, you are a victim of a crime. That isn’t something light. I promise you that I have your best interests in concern when I’m telling you this. I have to ask, have you talked to anyone else about this? Your family? A therapist? A friend? Leah?”

Leah Williamson, my arsenal team captain and my best friend/mom/girlfriend. I shook my head at Sam, I’d wanted to tell Leah, she was the only person I probably trusted enough to tell but I hadn’t seen her in weeks.

“Do you want to talk to someone about it?”

“I was going to talk to Lee about it, eventually. Just with her ACL and us being in different places it didn’t make much sense, plus this stuff is so fucking stupid I didn’t want to bother anyone with it, I’m sorry for bothering you with it, Ellie was right I’m being fucking selfish.”

Sam’s face was unreadable, it was clear she was pretty deep in thought. She sat across from me for a few minutes, in thought, before she stood up and walked around the table, sitting herself down beside me.

“Can I give you a hug?”

I nodded and relaxed a little bit as I felt Sam’s arm snake its way across my shoulders, inevitably bringing me closer to her and into her chest.

“Williamson would want you to tell her, she’ll probably be mad that you didn’t tell her earlier. You are not being a bother to anyone, you have human emotions and this situation you are in is a hard one. You aren't being selfish, you are asking for help, which is a very human thing and you very clearly need it right now, there is nothing wrong with that. Now, how about I call Williamson for you, I’ll see you if you can get down here? I’m going to call Tony down here, I’ll brief him and he’ll help, okay?”

“I don’t want to tell Tony, he’s going to be mad and he’ll probably tell me this kind of behaviour isn’t wanted on his team and then I’ll get sent home.”

I could feel the material of Sam’s jumper that she must have thrown on after training soaking up my tears, that was embarrassing.

“I know you don’t want to, and I can promise you that Tony is going to be nothing but supportive, you’ve done nothing wrong. There is nothing illegal about what you did, now or then. Tony is not going to send you home, I promise. Now, do I need to call Williamson or can you do it?”

Realistically I probably could have, but I really didn’t want to.

“Can you?”

Sam nodded at me immediately, which comforted me a little bit.

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I couldn’t. She should be in Sydney right now to watch the Lionesses play tomorrow night, yeah? I’ll talk to her and we’ll see what we can work out for you. I don’t have her number though, so can you call her on your phone and I’ll talk to her.”

I nodded quickly, shakingly pulling my phone out of my pocket and pushing it out onto the table. I very quickly pulled Leah's contact, I’d called her last night so it wasn’t hard to find. She was the only person in the world that I could talk to when I was at my lowest, the only person who actually cared about me. So last night, whilst I was mid panic attack, on Ellie's and I’s ensuite floor I called her and she’d talked me through it. I should have told her then, it probably would have saved me this whole interaction with Sam, but I hadn’t wanted to worry her anymore, so I blamed it on pressure of being selected to start this week and she’d accepted my answer.

We’d been texting most of the morning, her asking me if I’d gotten sleep and if I was feeling alright, I’d answered shortly with an array of 'yes', because I didn’t want to worry her anymore. I passed the phone over to Sam once I found her phone number and she clicked the call button before pressing the phone up to her ear and standing up from her seat, starting to pace between the seats.

“Hey Leah, this is Sam, Sam Kerr, from the Matildas. Look, I’m here at our Sydney training facility with Y/n, we’ve just had a pretty serious conversation with her about some problems that she’s had recently and I was wondering if you were around so you could be here for her.”

Sam pulled out her own phone again as I assumed she listened to Leah’s response. It amazed me as to how fast her fingers danced across her own screen, it was a different kind of multi tasking.

“Yup, Mmm. Alright, I’ll send you the address, it’s not far from you guys hotel from recollection. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being able to do this for her, I’ll see you soon and we can talk about it then.”

I gulped as Sam said her farewells and then hung up the phone before walking back over to me.

“She’s coming down, should be here in fifteen or so. She sounded worried about you, mentioned something about you having a panic attack to her on the phone last night and that she was concerned about you. I’ve texted Tony, he’s finishing up with Ellie and then he’s going to be down here. I’m going to get Steph to meet Leah downstairs when she gets here and she’ll bring her up, Y/n, we’re all here to support you however you need, alright?”

Me and Sam stayed silent in the room until about ten minutes later there was a distinct knock against the door.

“Sam, it’s me, unlock the door.”

Steph’s voice was pretty distinct, even through the heavy door. Sam stood up almost immediately, walking to the door and unlocking it before a grumpy looking Steph and a flustered version of Leah made their way through the doorway before Sam had the opportunity to relock it. Leah’s eyes went straight to my own, her whole facial expression was very controlled, she could command an entire room with that face, I knew from experience.

“Are you okay?”

Her words were directed at me, and only me. I pressed my tongue against my front teeth and lip, trying to decide how to answer the question.

“There’s some stuff that’s been happening that I haven’t told you, I’m not in trouble, or at least that’s what Sam is telling me. It’s some stuff from my past, when I was a kid. Explicit images and photos, on the internet, from when I was a kid. They popped up a few weeks ago, starting when I was in Spain with you before we came here. I didn’t bring it up because I thought I was at fault for it as much as the person who has possession of them. Sam told me that it isn’t, that I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sorry, I know it was fucking stupid and I should have told you about it or not done it, I don’t even remember taking any of the photos or videos, it just happened and now I don’t know what to do because I don’t want it getting out to the public and I just, I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Leah’s face relaxed a little bit as I progressively talked and rambled. Once I was done she walked over to my spot, seated on one of the chairs and wrapped her arms around me.

“Hey, it’s alright, we’re going to sort this out. She’s right, you didn’t do anything wrong and you should have told me earlier but I am so grateful that you are telling me now, yeah? You are so brave kiddo, that’s child exploitation and whoever has possession of those materials is the one who’s in the wrong, okay?”

I nodded into Leah, Steph and Sam were whispering between each other behind us.

“You have to take legal action though.”

Those words made me feel like I’d been stabbed and my guts had been ripped out of my body cavity.

Leah let go of me very gently and pursed her lips.

“Because this isn’t going to go away if you don’t, and I know that you are strong but you aren’t going to be able to live if you know that this person who has possession of these materials is still out there. You’ve been checked out for weeks now, since before Mallorca. You aren’t going to check back into your life until this goes, I know it. I need you checked in, I need you to be my girl, not the skeleton of your own body that you inhabit as a coping mechanism when something bad happens.”

I think Leah would have said more if it wasn’t for the incessant knocking against the door that came again. Sam was the one who went to the door again, letting Tony in. He looked flustered as well, and a little bit worried. I’d known the man since I was 15, he’d seen me in some pretty interesting situations. Sam intercepted him before he could say anything, pulling him aside and giving him what I assumed to be the rundown of the last hour.

“I don’t think I can handle this getting out, it will, if I take legal action this is going to get out and then I’m going to be Y/n Y/l/n, the Matilda’s exploitative rookie and I’ll never be back here. My career will be over, Jonas won’t want me back, everything I've worked for will be done.”

Leah took a deep breath before wrapping her arms around me and working her hands through my scalp and hair.

“If you take legal action you will be supported, I’ll make sure of it. We are a part of a community of women that uplift us for everything you do, this won’t be any different. There will be some who judge, there is always going to be someone there to judge you. Y/n, you need to do this for your sanity, I won’t lose you to your mental health again, not like last year. Kerr has done the right thing here, bringing this up, it shows me that she cares a lot more about you then you think, it also shows me that she knows what’s best for this team and you. She wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t think this was the best course of action.”

I nodded into Leah, trying to convince myself that her words were correct. Eventually, after Sam had given Tony the full rundown he sat down across from me, exactly where Sam had been beforehand. Sam and Steph both stood behind me and Leah, Sam’s arms resting gently on my shoulders, it was grounding.

“Sam’s told me about what’s happening. First of all I want to say how sorry I am that you are going through this, it’s not something that anyone should have to deal with, ever. Second of all I want to let you know that this team, this whole nation is in support of you. Look, it’s too late for me to take any action now. I’m going to get the police to come down tomorrow morning, you aren’t in trouble. I just think that they are going to have a better understanding of this situation than any of us could. They’ll come down, we’ll have a talk about all of this, they’ll ask the questions they need to. We don’t need to make any decisions now, we’ll talk to them, Sam and I will be there to advocate for you. After that we can make decisions about taking legal action and whatnot. Otherwise I just wanted to tell you genuinely, from the bottom of my heart how much we all care about you and value you here, we are all going to be here for whatever you need in the future, you are a valued part of this team and family and we are all here to look out for your needs, okay?”

I gulped, I could feel fresh tears springing to my eyes again. I was petrified of the police, to say the least, but Tony’s voice was so reassuring. He was the father that I’d never had and when I was 15 and he’d met me I’d been in a bad place, I’d needed him to be that figure in my life and he had been. He gave me a routine, gave me something to wake up for every morning. I probably wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for Tony. He’d given me a chance when no one else had been prepared to and for that I would always be in debt to him for.

“Okay, I’ll get in contact with the police, we’ll get a constable down tomorrow morning and we can have an open conversation with them about it, you are not in trouble, nothing is going to happen that will end in consequences for you. I think though that you need to head back to the hotel and get some proper sleep, your body needs it. So head back, don’t worry about any of this, because I’m going to sort it out and we’ll talk about it in the morning with a clean slate and mindset, alright?”

I nodded at Tony, I didn’t really have much to say.

“Thank you Coach.”

He nodded at me, before standing up and walking around to the other side of the octoval table and giving me a pat on the back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, don’t worry about this anymore, it’s going to be okay. Get back to the hotel, we’ve got an early wakeup tomorrow.”

I nodded at Coach, watching as he left the room just as quickly as he’d entered it.

“I’ve talked to Steph, her and I are rooming together so we’ll switch, she’ll stay with Ellie and you can come and room in with me, I think we’ll keep it that way for the rest of the tournament.”

I looked over at Sam, nodding along with what she was saying. Leah reached her arms around me, a big bear hug.

“And I am here, I expect you to check in with me, at least twice a day. When you guys head off to Melbourne or Brisbane I’m not going to be able to be there, so I need you to stay in contact with me, okay? Anybody does so much as look at you wrong I want to be the first to know, okay?”

I nodded at Leah, half in fear, half in adoration. She was the only person in the world that I actually trusted in. Our bond had been forced, when I’d moved to London to play for Arsenal I’d been moved into the spare room in her apartment and in a very short amount of time we’d created a bond that extended beyond the realm of friendship. I loved her, she was the first person besides Tony to give me a chance and he was obligated to give me on, Leah had chosen to fight for me and to stick by my side even when it wasn’t easy, she was a good person, better than I was sure I’d ever be.

“We’ll drop you back to your hotel on our way home Williamson, it’s the least we could do considering you got here so quickly, can you just give us five minutes to grab our things from the locker room?”

Sam’s voice held no room for argument, she was insisting on giving Leah a ride home and Leah didn’t try to object.

“Please, call me Leah and if it’s no trouble I would really appreciate it. I can meet you guys down in the foyer in about five, I need to go to the loo, so whilst I’m doing that how about you guys go and get your stuff together?”

Sam, Steph and I all walked back down to the change rooms in a comfortable silence. It was when we actually made it back to the rooms that I realised I still had my boots on, the cleats that were spotless from not even getting any wear at training. The cleats that a few hours ago had seemed impossible to tie up. I made quick business of pulling them off of my feet, throwing them into my kit bag and pulling out the pair of Nike dunks that I’d worn in earlier when we’d all come down here for our match analysis. Sam and Steph both made quick work off slipping out of their training kits and changing into sweat pant duos that matched with me. After they’d gotten changed and refreshed we all grabbed our bags and whatever other things we had lying around before making our way down to the foyer.

Leah was waiting for us, tapping her foot violently against the marble floors. When she spotted the three of us out of the corner of her eye her stress ceased almost immediately. I’d learnt a lot about Leah in the amount of time I’d known her. One thing about England’s captain was that she was not as fearless as everyone credited her as being, she put on a brave face, a bloody good one, but she was just as human as everyone else and sometimes it showed, especially when she felt uncomfortable in a situation or she didn’t think she deserved to be where she was. I’d moved in with her initially just before she'd led the Lionesses to their victory at the euro’s, and at the time Leah had been a basket case to be nice. I think that was how we’d bonded, through our similar insecurities of not being good enough to fill the shoes that had been passed down to us.

“C’mon cap, let’s get going.”

Leah smiled at me and nodded. We’d been keeping our relationship under wraps for a few months now. Neither of us were insecure in our situation and we were happy to enjoy our private, happy and blessed life together. Plus we hadn’t really seen much of each other in the past month or so, being caught up with our obligations to our national teams. Leah was also very committed to her rehab and I couldn’t be there for every step of that so we’d spent some time apart. We’d both agreed when the new Arsenal season rolled around that we’d tell the team, but still keep it under wraps from the public for as long as we could. Neither of us were worried about the public finding out, I was out, had been since I was 14. Leah wasn’t officially but she’d also never dated a man and in the eyes of the female soccer world that pretty much means you're gay. It would come out when it did and we were prepared for that to happen.

We walked out to Steph’s car, piling all of our bags in the boot before Sam and Steph slid into the passenger and drivers seats whilst Leah and I both took seats in the backseat. Somewhere along in the drive her hand made its way to my own, resting gently on top of my knee cap. I interlocked our fingers and smiled up at her, this was the part of a secret relationship that I liked, getting moments just between the two of you that only the two of you understood. The sweet nothings. I felt my heart plummet a little bit as we arrived out the front of Leah’s hotel and I realised that I was going to have to say goodbye, potentially for a few more weeks. That was the suckish part of being a professional athlete messing around with another professional athlete, there wasn’t always a timeline on when you’d see each other next, sometimes it was just situational.

I made the call to walk Leah to the door of the hotel, when we got to the doors I gave her a hug, a big, long hug. She hugged me back, tightly. Leah was good at hugs. When we finally had to come apart I looked up at her, with my big green eyes and apparently she couldn’t resist because she reached down and honoured me with a peck. It was nothing more, a small gesture but to me it was everything.

“I love you okay, be safe, text me, call me. I am always here for you, don’t keep me in the dark on things that you think are going to burden me, they aren’t, call your therapist, please.”

I nodded at Leah, she was using her captain's voice with me that she knew I couldn’t refuse.

“When you get back to the hotel I expect you to eat some proper food, not of those bloody granola bars that you insist are nutritional, proper food. Hydrate, at least a litre of water. Sleep, you deserve to sleep, let yourself sleep. Call me in the morning and tell me how you are feeling, okay?”

I gulped and nodded at Leah, an action that I was becoming aware I might have done too much of tonight.

“Love you too, thank you for being here for me.”

“Anytime, I’m only ever one call away, now go home.”

I gave Leah one final look before walking back to the car, closing the door behind me only to be bombarded with googly eyes from the two co captains sitting in the front of the car.

“You and Williamson?”

Sam’s voice was the first one to break the sound barrier, it scared me a little bit.

“Yeah.”

I made it sound like it was a non fact, like every person on the planet knew that I was in the bed sheets of the Lionesses Captain.

“Fuck, I knew it, McCabe owes me fifty quid.”

Steph’s voice was steadier and surprised me a little bit.

“We all had bets, how long have you guys been together?”

“We’ve been dating for 6 or 8 months, fucking around with each other since I joined Arsenal so about a year or so.”

Steph’s eyebrows rose to the top of her forrid, obviously very surprised by my answer.

“You're trying to tell me that you and Lee have just casually been hiding a relationship behind closed doors for months.”

“I mean we’re roommates, it wasn’t that hard to hide, plus we just aren’t rabbits who need to fuck on every surface unlike Sam and fucking Kristie, I’m never going to be able to mentally burn the image of you two getting at it on the pool table after the olympics, that was fucking traumatic.”

Sam’s face had flushed, we constantly brought it up with her. After our bronze loss to the US in the olympics a lot of the team had gone out in celebration with the Americans, what I hadn’t expected to find that night when I’d walked into the room that I thought was the bathroom was Sam eating her secret girlfriend out on the table. It had messed with my brain permanently.

“Hey you're the one who’s always bringing it up, maybe you were secretly into it, secret fantasy between you and Williamson.”

I loudly gagged from my spot in the backseat, extremely displeased by Sam’s imaginative imagery.

“Nobody thinks that Sam, it’s just you and all of your lost brain cells.”

There was something so comfortable about the dynamic between Sam and Steph, something so sisterly and bonded. They were like family, they messed around with each other and pushed each other but they loved each other and the both of them knew that at the end of the day. They might not have been the closest on the team, they weren’t each other's best friends but they were family and that was all that mattered.

“Whatever you say Stephy.”

#woso #woso community #leah williamson #marry me rn #sam kerr #leah williamson x reader #matildas x reader #matildas #tillies #samantha may #sam kerr x reader #tears for fears #crying lil bit #i’m sleep deprived #it’s 12am #idek #idek anymore #idek what to tag this

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chocochococoffee · 4 months ago

Note

I saw your post asking for cumplane prompts and I couldn't resist giving one:

Fusion au (ala steven universe) where SQQ and SQH can only fuse with one another because fusing with anyone else would reveal them as transmigrators

yayyy thanks for the ask! i did a fanfic for you. its short tho. iis doneeeee but i cant really link it since android tumblr is shit and aint letting me hyperlink. i hate it

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57639514

here

-----

Sometimes Shen Yuan felt that he was thrown inside a nightmare. Airplane called it a fanfic, but didn't call his bro out for being wrong. Gemstones here, alien attacks there, the world the System had for them wasn't Proud Immortal Demon Way anymore.

Where to start, though? Oh, from the Very Start.

PIDW was meant to be a stallion xianxia. Cheap, easily sellable, you could add whatever bullshit and people would eat it with gusto because Magic Chinese Bullshit solved all problems, no matter what Cucumber would say against it. Now... whatever this world had instead was a mix of intergalactic/sci-fi with some touches of modified xianxia for whatever meaning cultivating could have in their now very touchable, colourful cores. What was this, Land of the Lustrous? Cang Qiong sect itself felt like a direct ripoff outta it. There was no buddhist father of the sects in their mountain though, just a lot of rowdy humanized stones polishing themselves to perfection. Sometimes they polished each other with dual cultivation. Airplane cackled madly when Shen Qingqiu had furiously mentioned it to him, skin dark green in embarrassment. No matter how edited, the core (haha, geddit?) was still the same.

For being a modified xianxia, now that their cores had become actual gems a lot of their training had become a lot more literal. Tangible, even. Airplane decided that it was easier than all the soul and aura bullshit he had written eons ago.

So yeah. Gems. Literal aliens running the whole mountain, training humans (it wasn't the case for every sect, though) and other gems for polishing into immortality. Of course the head figures of every house would have to be gem people, most of them coming from pure lineages. According to some history books, gems had colonized their plane centuries ago. Something about the quality of the soil and the nice fauna.

Airplane had called bullshit on that, he knew it was because of the specialized porn.

Fusion they had called it, the process of becoming one with another gem, the act of purest feelings that would result in a better, stronger core.

Fusion could also be done within humans, for some reason. He had guessed that the trace minerals inside the alien gems were very accepting of the chelating qualities of the organic complements in humans.

As a result, everyone wanted to fuse. Forget dual cultivation, it was the actual Goal of the gems. It was part of all sects training, it was a required step for perfection.

And everyone could fuse and de-fuse. They could do multiple fusions too! Fusion threesomes, foursomes, maybe more!

"Do you really believe in that bullshit?" Shen Qingqiu had asked Airplane, now Shang Qinghua, while drinking, while lazing and acting unmannerly outside of every eye put on him. While relaxing in front of the only one who could see him really relax. "Is fusing really a step to happiness?? Today even my own students are asking me why I don't do fusions with anyone in Cang Qiong. They are asking me if I am broken."

Shang Qinghua knew from where those words came from. He had been the one who warned Shen Qingqiu of what fusing really meant.

He had done it once when younger, and he had broken his partner's mind.

They couldn't take all the information inside Airplane's mind and soul. Two lives were too much for a person, even more if they had the information of the world itself.

And yet...

"Not gonna lie to you bro, I do like the idea of fusing. Even Qingge has benefited of it - I believe that it can work miracles sometimes. Just... not with us. Fucking system doomed us sexless." He took a sip of his own baijiu. Tasty shit.

"Fusionless."

"Whatever, it feels like sex."

Shen Qingqiu had known of his only experience. It had broken him to see that he was unable to participate on one of the best features that the PIDW fanfic they lived in had to offer.

"Your Only sex experience, you mean."

"Whuh? You come here to call me out while drinking my wine? Pfwuh, you ungrateful child. At least I Have fused once, you are still a Green Sapling compared to Me"

"Well I AM green! And this is bullshit."

To follow the design, Cucumber was also a gem. It was an implicit requirement to be the head of a sect in Cang Qiong. He, though, was not what Shen Jiu had been.

Everyone knew of the new Shen Qingqiu proud stone, a malachite that had grown from his chest in needles towards his shoulders and neck, a problem not only made his skin get greener shades whenever his emotions ran too strongly but also that required lots of tailoring attempts thus ending with sluttier clothes, making him shine through the hallways of the sects quite literally. He didn't really know how his core had evolved from an olivine to a malachite, their compositions were different, no? And Shang Qinghua had been the only one who knew of the peridot on Shen Jiu's chest, the knew he had guarded and hid all his life, a secret that not even Yue Qingyuan knew at all.

Bullshit world. Bullshit System restrictions also.

"But no, I didn't come here to 'call you out', you swine. I came here with a proposition"

"Whoa, this is new. Are you feeling too alone without Binghe, now?"

"Binghe has nothing to do with this! It... it is more about my. Our. Uh. Our mental health. I was thinking that maybe we could try fusing? We are two people in the same conditions and I thought that maybe the restrictions that affect others shouldn't affect us... wait, what is with that face??"

Qinghua sweated, the astonishment making him acquire an orange tone. "How many cups of baijiu did you drink?? I am not trying anything unless you are sober -- I am sure sober Cucumber wouldn't even try to touch me unless to hit me with your fa-- ouch!" He was hit with Qingqiu's fan.

"I am Not Drunk, Qinghua, I have just started my second cup. My opinion will not change, also, I am telling you -- agh, you are right, this may have something to do with Binghe after all. Today Mu Qingfan even tried to recommend me some fusing to Take my mind out of my Binghe's 'demise' and... you know, it has been one year since I had to thrown him into Jue Di Gorge... Medicines aren't making any effect right now and you heard me, I may be kind of desperate, though, If I am asking this to you so... can you try to listen to me once without being an ironic piece of shit??"

And sure thing, all that sentence had been acidic as fuck but the pain clad under that was veridic.

For mental health huh...

"Cucumber bro, you know how this means much more than just treatment, right?"

"I know"

"This also means you will have to understand me, within the fusing bonds and outside of them. You will have to treat me well if we are agreeing to it, even if its just to Try."

"Yeah I will... I am willing to try."

Airplane cackled. "Try?? God, you really are unromantic, you little shit. Go drink some water, let the alcohol flush away first. If I am going to try fusion sexing with you I will not do it with baijiu on the body."

"Hey, I am taller than you!!" But he obeyed his instruction without retaliation, and Airplane thought that may be a start.

When Airplane fused for the first and last time it had been with his roommate, a promising An Ding prospect which meant he was also a tired and hopeless kid with great abilities in math. He had been funny and ridiculous, and also a human.

He was now six feet under and Airplane excelled in math as a memento of their last dance.

Now they had written their own goodbye letters to their peers and friends, if anything went wrong.

"The best way to start a fusion is by dancing."

"I know, there are many types of courtship dances and Qing Jing teaches more than twenty of them. In my last life I had two left feet and now look at me, master of dances I will never use."

"Oh, not even on me, bro?"

"If you are like me we wouldn't even sync if it isn't something from the modern world, our world."

True that, plus Airplane still had maintained his two left feet from his other life. An Ding never cared to teach them things as frivolous as that, confident on the innate abilities of their own students to learn on their own. Something that Qinghua had planned to change in a near future, of course all depending on how the Binghe domination trope went.

"Got any plans, Cucumber bro? I may have stayed in this world for too long, my mind is already a bit hazy..."

"Hmm. What about Caramelldansen?"

"HELL, NO"

"Gangnam Style?"

"You want us to fuck or to laugh until a heart attack!?"

"Language!"

"Meanie. Hmm, what about Let it Go?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"You know the choreography? I do."

"... of course you would"

It took them a few tries, and they didn't know the choreography as well as they had memed in their own original lives, but they, in time, learnt that the best way to fuse was when in sync with the other, and if it had meant them to be embraced to each other while laughing, it was enough.

"Shizun, what does this mean??"

If the whole of Cang Qiong had taken their reckless union and odd choice of partner with dismayed eyes and mean suspicion, Binghe had been on top if that mountain. Three years training in the underworld had felt like a millennia, and it may as well have been that amount of years considering that coming back may have meant that An Ding and Qing Jing had fused as their leaders had not only become an extremely stable gem, but also decided to keep fused longer and longer. Chrysocolla may have been an invention born two years ago, and may the citrine sparkles shine oddly on their black and green eyes, but the happiness they radiated may have been depicted in books as the bright blue-green colour that made their own robes and hair.

Even when separated they had changed each other, Shen Qingqiu's core turning into what looked more like Azurite, and Qinghua's secret Citrine core changing into various forms of Agate.

"Shizun, are you really happy this way?" Binghe had asked Shen Qingqiu while suddenly missing his green spikes. His new blue robes may not mix well with Qing Jing altogether but it couldn't that it was a beautiful colour.

"Mm, I may be? Now I know many things that I didn't before." He had smiled, finally satisfied. He now had all the information that even Qinghua had reprived to himself and the rest of the world in his mind, thing that became even more ckearer when together, and Qinghua had now someone who loved him and his inventions near. Qingqiu himself had learnt to love his real life inventions too, he could even pass Mobei-jun and see what Qinhua adored in him, too. That was a funny thought, but he had two years of unlearning and relearning new things, enough to be more accepting of what their future could be.

"You think you can convince Shang Qinghua if I can join you?"

If he had fused with Qinghua for that reunion he would've surely not sputtered his tea. That was a certainty.

#hope you like it!#opalfairy #svsss #svsss au #scum villian self saving system #cumplane #shen qingqiu #shang qinghua #steven universe au #hope that is of your liking

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kiiboslostahoge · 8 months ago

Text

A Tech-Demon's Weakness

Summary: Vox is much more angry than usual now that Alastor's back, and it's causing issues with the WiFi. Velvette makes Valentino calm him down, and the man decides to have some fun in the process.

Notes: These guys are supposed to be the most evil mfs even compared to the other overlords, why tf was their scene in the finale so cuteee agghh,😭😭😭, approx 1.5k words

Valentino had a problem. A large problem, in fact. One that he never usually had.

Vox. Vox was too angry to do his fucking job. It made no sense - Vox was supposed to help calm him down, not the other way around!

"That bitch keeps ruining my connection, Val! Some employee lost a day's worth of editing because it couldn't save!" Velvette had said before shooing him off. "Go calm him down so he stops making everything buffer! At this rate, we'll have another blackout."

Couldn't she do that herself? Valentino wasn't meant for these sorts of affairs! If only Vox was here to calm him down - he always did such a good job with that.

Wait. Vox couldn't calm him down, Vox was the one who needed calming! God, why was Vox so angry? The Alastor thing was cute to watch, but not when it ruined their Internet speed.

"Ugh, but I wanted to-"

"Shoo," Velvette said. "Do your job."

Velvette wasn't sympathizing at all, not like Vox did! Valentino was going to get back at that flat-faced man for causing him such a headache.

From Vox's lair, he could faintly hear swear-filled shrieks.

God, this was going to be such a pain. Valentino almost wanted to make Velvette do it but instead, but she'd just yell at him to calm down, and knowing how blindly rageful Vox was right now - that statement would only make him more angry, and the WiFi would only get even worse. Valentino didn't think he could handle the WiFi getting worse than it already was.

No. Calming Vox down would be easy, he knew it. He'd just need to resort to- Unconventional means.

What were the means in question? Valentino would decide that when he got there. He had a small mental list, though.

He sauntered downstairs, where Vox was hissing, furiously eyeing the screen, tracking Alastor like a cat would a laser pointer.

"That old-timey fucker doesn't know shit about this fucking-"

At some point, it had begun to seem like Vox was swearing for the sake of it. The action made sense, though. He had quite some anger to get out, and swear words were an excellent method of expelling anger.

"Vox," he crooned, because he was going to have fun with this. Unlike some demons who happened to have a flat face, a hatred for radio, and hypnosis powers, he wasn't an uptight little bitch.

"What is it?" The reply came instantly. "I'm busy."

And though that was ordinarily true, right now, Vox seemed like a typical chronically-online easily-trolled loser rather than the CEO who had almost all of the Prie Ring under his thumb.

"Relax a little, would you?" Valentino said, pinching at where Vox's cheek would've been were he not a TV screen and earning himself a slap of the wrist. "I hear you're getting a bit worked up over the radio demon."

"Of course I am! He's a-"

Before Vox could introduce anymore colorful swears that even he'd likely never head of, Valentino poked him in the stomach pointedly.

"Ah-ah," he said, unable to be anything other than endlessly amused by this. "You have to calm down, Vox! Can't you see you're acting irrational right now? Why, Alastor could never-"

He was cut off by Vox's static-filled rage.

"Oh, don't even start!" Vox said, but before he could continue his rant, as Valentino's hand accidentally grazed the back of his screen, he let out a static-filled yelp.

Valentino couldn't help but grin. Right. That was one of the best ways to force Vox to calm down.

The thing about the tech demon was that he was ridiculously, mortifyingly ticklish. And with that ticklishness came mortification. Emotional and physical sensitivity? There was nothing more exploitable than that.

"I almost forgot, darling! How could you possibly have let that happen?" He said, and though his statement had little elaboration, Vox knew what he meant.

A gulp was heard.

"V-Val, don't you fucking dare."

Really, though, how could Valentino possibly have forgotten about this? Vox's reactions were much too amusing, and Valentino hadn't even touched him yet! He'd have to do this more often.

"What should I refrain from doing?" He asked, savoring moment of this. A poke to Vox's side, followed by a velp. "This?"

"Prick," Vox said, looking away.

There was really no point to being insulting, was there, now? But this was an opportunity for Valentino.

"I'm hurt!" He said, feigning a pout. "You're so mean to me."

Vox grit his teeth at that, but before he could retort with whatever string of insults he had in mind, Valentino took the chance to dig his fingers into Vox's neck.

Already, Vox was struggling to hold in his laughter."

"I- haah- f-fucking-"

And then, Valentino reached his antenna.

"H-Hahahate you! Gah, fuhuck!" Vox squirmed futilely, namely, it was futile he wasn't actually moving away. Valentino hadn't bothered to hold him down, because for some reason, Vox never did manage to actually pull himself together and actively attempt to leave.

"Aww," he crooned, not bothering to give Vox a break. "Is big bad Vox so ticklish he can't help but lose his mind at the slightest touch? You know, I wonder what Alastor would think if he saw you now!"

Any hope of Alastor taking him remotely seriously would be crushed at that moment. Vox pouted, and at that moment, Valentino couldn't help but wonder.why he found a literal Flat screen television's pouting so adorable.

"Shuhut u-up!" He laughed, more giggled like a child, and it was, in all frankness, quite difficult to take him seriously. "L-Lehet me go, or I swear, I'll-"

Valentino prodded at a small wire end sticking out, and Vox's laughter devolved into pure static.

"There we go," he said.

After a while, Valentino finally had his fill, letting Vox go. Now, it was time to get his work out of the way and-

Wait, what was he here to do again? He'd forgotten.

Nevertheless, he was faced with a huffy, pouty Vox. What could be better?

"Come on, darling!" He said, placing a condescending hand on Vox's back, patting him as if he were a child. Because really, that was exactly what Vox was acting like right now. "Did you really loathe it that much? It isn't my fault, you know how I am. I just had to exploit your complete and utter inability to move away properly."

"Don't bring that up again," Vox said, voice low, almost a growl.

Valentino just tilted his head in amusement.

"What? Your utter inability to escape my clutches? I couldn't possibly do that!" He said. "It was much too amusing. You, completely able to leave at any moment, and yet you couldn't even muster up the brainpower to recognize your obvious escape! Honestly, if I didn't know much better, I'd even believe you were enjoying it!"

Vox slammed a fist on the table, eyes wide with embarrassment.

"S-Stop talking, prick!" He said, and the dots quickly connected in Valentino's head.

Oh. That was what was going on.

"You liked it, then?" He asked, though he already knew the answer. It was just funny watching Vox squirm.

"No I don't," Vox said, attempting to regain his typical demeanor - and succeeding, though Valentino knew him too well not to notice the shakiness of his voice. "I'm not even ticklish. Really-"

His right eye spiraled, and for a second, Valentino felt his thoughts cloud.

"Don't you trust me on that, Val?"

Vox's hypnosis wouldn't work that easily. Valentino quickly put an end to that by reaching for the loose wire, completely breaking Vox's concentration.

"G-Gah! You-"

"I should tell Velvette," Valentino said with a chuckle, because he knew how fearsome the thought of anyone knowing Vox's newfound secret would be, especially someone with as much of a penchant for blackmail as Velvette.

"D-Don't," Vox said. "Please."

Vox used the word 'please'? Miracles, it seemed, were not to miraculous after all.

Nevertheless, the mention of Velvette reminded Valentino that he, sadly, had things to do other than mess with Vox. Like get his WiFi back up to task.

"I won't," Valentino said. "If you stop watching the princess's hotel all the time."

Vox's eyes widened.

"And stop watching for that fucking Radio Demon? I don't really know why you think I'd ever do that."

"Then I suppose I'll just tell Velvette-"

"No, wait! Deal," Vox said, eyes filled with panic. Valentino smirked, drawing up the contract.

"Sign here, darling!" He said, and Vox hastily scrawled his signature onto the contract. Those things were good for more than getting souls.

"Fuck you," Vox said. Feisty once again, it seemed. Though he'd likely calm down shortly after. Hopefully with that, swear words would regain meaning to Valentino. It didn't feel ad gratifying to use them anymore - Vox had been using them so often they'd begin to feel like ordinary words.

Valentino just stayed silent, feeling his face stretch into a grin. He could vaguely make out Vox shooting him a concerned look.

Whatever. He'd discovered a new weakness of his dearest Vox's. And oh God, he was going to have so much fun with it.

#hazbin hotel tickling #lee!vox #ticklish!vox #ler!valentino

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slippinninque · 5 months ago

Text

😤Fussy 😤

Fontaine x black reader

Fontaine listens on as you get some things off your chest.

Warnings: fluff, cursing, fussy!reader, long fic, before work drop so may have some typos before I can edit lol

Fontaine can tell the difference between you being angry and you being fussy.

One would entail a cold front of emotions, you turned into an absolute Ice Queen when angry.

Fussy, on the other hand, Fontaine found you to be utterly adorable. He would never dare to say this as the Ice Queen will appear, but he did keep his smiles to himself.

You reminded him of a video he saw of a kitten at the vets office, just meowing and screaming at the audacity of being taken care of.

How you stomped around the house like an angry little bear, your lil' flip flops slapping frantically as you tried to remember what you came into the room for.

If he saw you wince when taking off your bra or feel you tossing in turning in bed, he knew what was coming. He kept the heating pad and ice cream bars ready.

The wrinkle in your nose? The sharpness to your gaze? The one dimple that came out when you purses your lips? Fontaine was weak for it.

He rather you have a rough day and come home spitting fire rather than see you tripping over your tears.

Fontaine knew you were a pot of emotions and not everyone that poured out may be pleasant, but he loved you more than enough for that not to matter. What mattered to you mattered to him. While he may rob you or poke fun, Fontaine will still offer any help you may need.

--------

"Whatchu doin', pretty?"

"Locking up."

"Mhn. Sound mad, you okay?"

"...smch, I'm fine. This dang-darn-damn-fuckin'-fuck ass gate won't close!

Fontaine choked on the other end of the line and you paused in wrestling with the iron gate. It was never the same since the Disastrous Book Fair of 2018. Poor thing.

"Don't you be sayin' that out loud, baby. No one should know yo' gate don't work."

"What? What they goin' do, burgle some damn books? At the free book house?"

"Damn, that's what they callin' libraries now?"

You growled into your phone as you strained to keep the latch lines up just enough to flip the lock.

"That's what Imma call 'em now. D'you know this old man got mad at me 'cause I wouldn't show him how to pull up titty pictures?!"

"Mn! Bold as hell."

"Right? Then gonna look me up an' down and ask for someone else t--!"

You gasped then shrieked as the latched pinched your finger before settling into place. Rage doused you and before you could recall yourself--you dropped your bag and kicked the gate.

"Fuck you, fucking broke-ass, rusty-ass, tragic-ass gate! Imma turn yo' ass into scrap!"

Furiously stabbing the lock home and finally securing the gate, you grabbed your fallen items. Still ranting and raving under your breath, you did take a look around to see you were alone before tattling to Fontaine.

"The gate fucking bit me..."

"Just come on home, baby, okay?" Fontaine's voice gentle and it somehow only fueled your indignation.

"I am," You snapped as you stomped towards your car, "I want to cuddle. Hard."

------

Yowling, crowing, and calling --you told on the day you had. Unreasonably unsatisfied patrons, rinky-dink electronics that should have been swapped out ages ago, and to top it all off the A/C died as the day reached its muggiest.

"That was when I decided to leave the house." You muttered, staring gloomily down at the bump of your belly beneath the seat belt.

You were only bloated but you hated how you looked like you were expecting in your favorite skirt. Your hair wasn't fuzzy in the way you liked and your locs were staging a rebellion.

As you crawled through the late-afternoon traffic, you noted that your tank was nearing half. You always kept a full tank if you could help it.

"I ain't worried 'bout that car," Fontaine's voice held no room for argument through the car speakers, "I'll take your car an' fill it up later--I asked you to come on home."

When Fontaine wouldn't let you stop for gas, you huffed and puffed to his unceasing fondness. All up until you pulled down the street and into your driveway.

As soon as you came through the door, Fontaine was there to meet you. He took away your purse and pulled you into his arms, despite your grumblings.

"I could have done it, y'know." You grumbled into his chest. It felt good to be home. It felt better being in Fontaine's arms but there was a restlessness under your skin. You resisted the urge to bite the

"I want to do it for you, how's that?" Fontaine countered before he began running his hands over your aching shoulders. You grumbled, momentarily lost in the feel of his hands on you.

Then you remembered your outrage.

"No, I wanted to do it 'cause I was out and I could have gotten my cinnamon bun early. I could have slept in an extra 5 minutes..."

He leaned put his lips to your ear, "Then how 'bout I get you your cinnamon bun, too. Hm?"

"I guess..."

"Yeah?"

His lips trailed softly around your neck to kiss your cheek, arms tightening around you enough that the next sigh that escaped you wasn't as hostile.

Fontaine took your silence as acceptance as he lead you away from the door and past the living room.

"I want to sit." You muttered, enticed by the blanket nest you made the previous night. Fontaine held you fast with as tsk and insisted you shower.

Your aggravation flared but before you could open your mouth to complain, Fontaine kissed you again. He grabbed a handful of your ass in tandem, swallowing down your surprised yelp.

"Get in there and clean up, Imma feed you and you can tell me all about it."

He released you with a pat to your ass and a "go on now" slant to his eyes. Stomping your foot was all you could think to do before turning on your heel and going towards the bathroom.

-------

The shower did help to loosen your body but the wrinkle in your brow remained as you left the bathroom.

Fontaine met you with another kiss, pressing a plate into your hands before wordlessly setting you toward the couch. You gratefully settled into your blanket nest and released a huff, your comfort and hunger coming at once.

Still...

You didn't eat. You craned your neck over the couch to try and see into the kitchen, only to be caught by Fontaine as he balanced his dinner and drinks for the both of you.

"I'm comin', baby." His knowing grin warmed your face as you settled back down. Then you registered what was on the screen and perked up, absentmindedly reaching for your folk.

"You don't mind, do you? You can put on somethin'--

"No, no--I want to see you play."

Fontaine had a talent for eating dinner and keeping himself alive on GTA. You liked the chaos of the game and Fontaine liked to ride around to cause some just for you.

By the time your fork hit the ceramic of the plate, Fontaine was joined by a few of his homies though he didn't bother with the headset. You watched them challenge rivals and loot their spots. The action sucked you in and hearing the gang laugh together and crack jokes loosened your frown up.

Belly full and suddenly feeling very lazy, you fell over to lay in his lap. Fontaine chuckled and leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. He shifted to put his feet up on the table, giving you more room to lay out and face the TV.

"Feel better fusspot?"

Maybe a bit pouty but the only remainder of your annoyance came from your bandaged finger. You could not recall too much, not while settled on Fontaine's warm thighs and perfectly encased in your blanket.

Content was creeping back into your chest, shooing away the yucky feeling and returning your balance. All you had to say about your day has been said ten times over, the horse was buried by now.

"...Yeah. I feel better."

Looking up at him in time to catch his fond smile, you felt the rest of your ire fade away. You just had an off day and you would have a better one tomorrow.

Now was time to enjoy the night with your man.

-----------

Ending notes: another before work drop of something that was flying around my mind! 🤣Tell me what you think and give me some prompts! Im slow but I love to get them! Please comment and reblog! 💕💜✨

✨taglist: ✨@megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful @8ttached @thadelightfulone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile @ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93 @sageispunk@hunnishive@notapradagurl7@mcondance@longpause-awkwardsmile@ms-angiealsina@educatorsareslutstoo@miyuhpapayuh@mogul93 @kindofaintrovert@blowmymbackout @mcondance @kindofanenigma @eggnox

#fontaine x black reader #fontaine #fontaine x reader #they cloned tyrone #john boyega #x black reader #fontaine x blackfemreader #Fontaine x Black!Fem!Reader

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draculasfavoritewife · 6 months ago

Text

El Hambre (Hunger)

Summary: Getting Miguel to take a break is a full-time job unto itself, and requires a little extra incentive.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!Spider!Reader

Warnings: Lots of suggestive talk. Miguel being an ass hehe. A risky make-out in a public space, idiots in love CANNOT keep their hands to themselves. I put far too much of my descriptive powers into talking about how devastatingly sexy Miguel is. Also for my intents and purposes, Reader understands and speaks Spanish.

Note: I use the shortened version of his name "Mique" in my own writing just because I personally prefer it. Swap it with whatever nickname you prefer in your head :)

This is one of my personal favorite pieces I've written, and still makes me giggle like an evil maniac whenever I return to reread/edit it. I have shamelessly watched every Miguel scene in ATSV far too many times and will continue to do so; his image is already tattooed on the backs of my eyelids. As mentioned in my HCs, reader is a spider-hero, but I left her pretty vague on purpose -- feel free to fill in her costume/powers/skill set with your own spidersona!

*Spanish translations at the end! (I am fairly bilingual, but if I made a lil mistake here or there do forgive me)

He hasn’t turned away from his myriad glowing monitor screens in nearly ten minutes, standing like a damn statue with his feet wide apart and hands braced on his trim hips, only lifting to sharply swipe through any screens that serve him no purpose. Each tiny shift of weight, the rise and fall of his ribcage as he breathes, all the little things that prove he is still, in fact, alive, cast soft highlights over the swell and dip of taut muscle, every part of him coiled and ready to explode into action like the perfect hunting machine he is.

Right now, though, his eyes are burning from overexposure to even the dim interior of his watch station, and with an annoyed sigh he turns his face to the side, long fingers rubbing furiously at where the bridge of his nose meets his brow in the hope of chasing away the dull ache gnawing there.

“You do know that even though I don’t have spider-sense I can still hear you, right?”

You let go of your strand of web and drop lightly to the platform behind him, pulling off your mask and tucking it away. “What gave me away, the sound of me drooling as I stared too long?”

Shocking hell.

You’re in one of those moods.

Miguel can’t quite decide if he’s too tired for this right now or if he’s curious how far you’ll try and push him on his home turf. And it’s that indecision that starts him digging his own grave.

“I was going to say the way your heartbeat spikes every time you set foot in this room.” His voice comes out sweet and thick as honey, because he knows exactly what that tone does to you when he uses it.

“...And I can still smell my clothes on you. Did you sleep in my shirt again?”

“Maybe.”

Actually, you’d fallen asleep in a veritable pile of his clothes — it had been a bit since he’d had a free night, okay, and you weren’t desperate you just missed him.

That makes him chuckle. He can probably tell you’re omitting the whole truth.

Miguel finally turns to fully face you, and you inhale quickly as always, at the way he towers so far above your head, how his wide shoulders block out the light from his screens so his silhouette swallows you in darkness. His hair is messy, and there are deep shadows under his eyes, but his pretty mouth is slanted in a wry grin and the set of his thick eyebrows hints at underlying amusement.

“Cute,” is what he remarks at your wide blinking eyes and rapidly heating skin, and it makes him smirk wickedly, to see how that one word flusters you for the barest of seconds. You’ve told him multiple times that you hate being called “cute” by anybody else, but ever since the first time the word slipped past his lips when he really realized just how much smaller you were underneath his body….

Well, he knows the effect it can have.

You scowl and regain your composure. “Don’t call me that.”

Miguel’s only response is an easy shrug, a lift of one shoulder. “What’d you bring me?” He nods at the containers in your hands.

“Entitled prick.” With a dramatic flourish, you whip them away from his claw-tipped fingers. “What makes you think these are for you?” The exchange is back in your court with his query, and you intend to keep it there.

“Aren’t they always?” Dark eyes zero in on yours, their softness in the gloom betraying what the gesture means to him even if he won’t say it.

With a huff, you thrust the thermos and small box into his chest, pretending you don’t keenly notice the way the impact sends a ripple through his impressive pectorals. “Coffee. And those stupid little empanadas you love so much.”

“Not stupid.” He takes them from your grasp much more delicately than someone with hands so large should be able to. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a single craving for subpar food? Keeps me human.”

He’s baiting you, knows that the words “not since I tasted you” are on the very tip of your tongue, because that’s just how your dirty mind works and he loves it. Can see the struggle on your face as you resolve not to say them aloud, and that almost goads him on more, to know you’re thinking it and just barely holding out so he doesn’t get the upper hand again quite yet.

You settle yourself on a nearby console and gaze expectantly at him, swinging your legs.

He gives you the side-eye as he sets your offerings down next to his work station.

“What.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I see you eat something,” you inform him sweetly.

Miguel groans. “Ay, loca, no eres mi madre. I’ll eat when I’m done running these last projections, okay?”

You obstinately sit cross-legged on the console and make a show of getting comfortable for the long haul. “Then I guess you’re stuck with me, Handsome. I meant what I said.”

He glares.

You glare back.

Finally he opens the box with painstaking slowness — you see the way his nostrils flare at the scent of hot food, though you know he’d deny it — and he takes a large bite, maintaining eye contact the entire time he chews and swallows, each motion dripping with mockery. His tongue runs across the length of his upper lip far too sensually to be accidental, and you just catch the points of his fangs glinting in the partial darkness.

“Better?” he drawls, dropping the empanada back in its container and leaning towards you.

“That was one miserable bite! Doesn’t count.”

His lip curls in a taunting sneer, and before you know what’s happening one of his powerful arms is on either side of you, his head cocked to one side as he studies you through half-lidded eyes. “Maybe your ears don’t work, Sweetheart. Tú no eres mi madre. ¿Comprendes?”

You decide to change tactics. “Fine, fine. I’ll let it go. But —“ you gently push a few stray strands of hair away from his forehead, pausing to kiss the stress lines between his eyebrows. “— when was the last time you slept, Mique?”

He rolls his eyes. “This morning —“

“For more than twenty minutes.”

That makes him think. And by the way his gaze guiltily slides away from yours, he knows you won’t like the answer. “…When was the last time I stayed with you?”

You sigh and cradle his strong jaw in your hands, thumbs massaging soft circles into his skin to get him to unclench his teeth. “That was four nights ago, Mique.”

A long exhale escapes him, and he rests his head against your chest. It warms you, that he feels safe enough in the moment to let down his guard and actually show such intimate affection in his workspace.

Or maybe he’s just that tired.

Either way, you’ll take it.

You start working his back and shoulder muscles, kneading deeply into the firm knots where you know he holds onto everything — anger, grief, guilt, worry — Miguel does not talk through the mess in his head, preferring instead to let it fuel his savage strength. But when the adrenaline at last wears off, you know the toll it can take on his body.

A sound halfway between a groan and a growl, and altogether far too suggestive for the time and place, rolls from deep in his chest and his hands tighten on the edge of the console, metal protesting as his talons curl into the hard surface. “Mierda. That’s tight.”

“Should I stop?” You can’t quite tell if his reactions are spurred more by pain or pleasure.

With Miguel, the two often travel hand-in hand, anyway.

“No.” To your disbelief, his hands uncurl from where they’re sunk into the console and travel to find your legs, teasing them apart so he can shove himself even closer and you have nowhere else to put them than around his waist, your heels resting just above his ass. “Keep going. Feels good.”

“Someone’s touchy today, huh? And not in the usual way,” you tease, and then suddenly yelp as his hot, searching mouth lands right in the center of your chest, very noticeable through the thin material of your suit. One of his hands immediately clamps over your mouth to stifle any further sounds.

“Cállate, Chula,” he warns, finally raising his eyes to yours again. You can see the crimson starting to smolder through in his irises, a sure sign that he’s giving in to having you right here in front of him, that you just might be a better use of his time than his projected calculations of multiverse-wide collapse.

He could use a break.

“You know people can hear you.”

You push his hand aside. “Right, and that was totally way more audible than whatever sound you just made a minute ago.”

“You know how I feel about it when you’re a brat to me,” he growls, snagging your lower lip with his thumb.

“I think you love it,” you whisper, one of your own hands sliding up the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his dark hair.

“I think that disrespectful mouth needs to be put to better use.”

He hasn’t ever kissed you in his workspace before, and the forbidden feeling of it as he pushes you down on your back, pinning you to the console and stopping your mouth with his own sends a jolt down the entire length of your spine. Miguel has always been a wild kisser when he’s properly worked up, and you gasp out loud as his sharp teeth nip your lip, immediately followed by his tongue soothing the momentary sting.

“I told you to be quiet,” he hums as he at last lets your mouths break apart.

“You didn’t say you were gonna bite me, Cariño!”

His answering smile is a wider one than you’ve seen in days. “Why would you ever assume no biting with me, Baby?”

“…Fair point.”

It takes you a minute to realize his fingertips are teasing the neck of your suit down bit by bit, leaving more and more of your throat exposed. “¿Qué haces, Mique?”

He shushes you, this kiss a little more romantic and drawn out than the last. “You said you’d sit here ’til I ate something, hmm?”

“Y-yes….”

His gaze burns dark red and you suddenly feel the entire weight of him trapping you in place.

“Well lucky you, pretty girl — you look a lot tastier than a cafeteria empanada right now.”

He keeps one hand over your mouth as he attacks your neck, your shoulders, your wrists, anywhere that he knows gets a shiver out of you and that you’ve told him he can leave a mark. You try to keep still, you really do, but it's almost impossible with the Spanish endearments he mutters in your ears and the way his lips, teeth, and tongue take you on a seemingly endless rollercoaster of sensation. You hear him hiss once or twice when his onslaught makes your thighs tighten around his hips, but you can’t help it, can’t help trying to pull his body even closer, even though his heartbeat is already thundering against yours and your desperate breaths are rocking his lungs.

When he finally uncovers your mouth again to let you take in more air, you splay your hands across his wide chest, prodding at the nearly-nonexistent layer of his digital suit. “Off.”

“Mmm, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he murmurs regretfully, and to your dismay, he suddenly releases you, picking up the coffee you brought him and swearing briefly in Spanish when he realizes it’s not as hot as he wanted anymore. “They’re looking for you.”

You sit up quickly at the sound of youthful voices echoing faintly in the corridors but getting closer — your spiderlings, no doubt, wondering what on earth took you so long bringing O’Hara his dinner. You’re a mess, you realize, hair disheveled and suit boasting several tears in unfortunate areas where his claws caught, the skin beneath already bruising wherever his mouth was.

“Catch your breath,” he advises around another bite of empanada, with all the smug tone of a life coach having just witnessed a breakdown (as if he wasn’t the sole cause of that breakdown). “You’ll need it, to explain away all of that.”

“I hate you, Miguel O’Hara.” You grit your teeth and slide off of his equipment, halfheartedly readjusting yourself and tamping down the rising tide of desire he had the audacity to start. “You and that fancy body glove of yours.”

“Just because no one can see what your nails have done to my back doesn’t mean it isn’t there,” he offers flippantly, as if that will do anything to fix your current state. “And I know by ‘hate’ you really mean ‘violently need me to make up for stopping short’. I have to come by for some of my missing clothes later anyway.”

Hope blossoms in your chest. “You’re coming over tonight?”

A thoughtful sip of coffee. “Unless LYLA kills me first for making her watch us go at it. I’ll pick something up for dinner, too. And who knows….” He steps closer, his free hand wandering from your back all the way down to your thigh and up again. “Maybe, if you tire me out real good, I’ll even get some sleep like you want?”

Anticipation bubbles through your veins at the thought.

“Yeah. I’ll be waiting.”

He gives your hip a sharp squeeze. “Atta girl.”

A burst of chatter below heralds the arrival of your little clan of doting spider-kids, so you gather your wits and swing down to meet them, praying none of them put two and two together and actually get four.

Miguel glances over the edge of the platform, and barely hides his satisfaction and amusement at the immediate flood of concern and questions that greets you: “What did this to you?! Are you okay?!”.

He almost considers coming down there and setting the record straight when he hears you say, “It’s okay, Kids, really, don’t worry about it. Just got chomped a few times by a giant angry spider while I was on a mission. But he’s gonna pay for it next time, I swear.”

No eres mi madre = You're not my mother

¿Comprendes? = Understand?

Mierda = (Expletive)

Cállate, Chula = Be quiet, Cutie

Cariño = Honey, Sweetheart

¿Qué haces? = What are you doing?

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officialstrawhat · 7 months ago

Text

The Rose Of Dressrosa- Chapter 5

Chapter List

Hello! Wow, it's been forever. But on the bright side, I am completely caught up with One Piece! :D Please enjoy this Chapter!

Trafalgar D. Law x Fem!Reader

Summary:

After King Riku is dethroned, Doflamingo takes you under his wing and asks you to follow only one strict rule, "do not leave the palace alone". However, your sense of adventure is too great.

Law had only one thing in mind... Revenge. And you seemed like the best way to do that.

Trigger Warnings!: Please be advised there will be some allusions to grooming, non-con touching, and manipulation.

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: Gif is not mine. Not Edited.

Chapter 5

You hummed happily as you sat in the courtyard of the palace. You sat back against the trunk of the large tree rereading your favorite parts of your adventure book. This was a great chapter:

In the South Blue, there are descendants of wayward giants from Elbath. According to legend, centuries ago, these seafaring giants were shipwrecked on a tiny island in the South Blue. In an attempt to return to Elbath without a ship, they tried to build a stone bridge to reach their homeland. Eventually, the island ran out of stones, and the giants soon realized they would never see their homeland again. Now, every year, their descendants walk across the stone bridge to honor their ancestors...

“You're chipper,” Dellinger came up from behind you.

“So? Am I not allowed that as well?” You bite back at his comment, rolling your eyes.

So what if you were happy? Was that so bad? Whenever you left the palace you felt a euphoric bliss that only satiated until the next time you could sneak out again. Anytime you would go out it was all very secretive. At least you hoped so, you tried not to ever talk to anyone unless it was necessary. Which only made it all so lonely.

That was until you met him. Law. He was new and told you all about his adventures sailing from island to island. It captivated you.

He captivated you…

You began to blush furiously at the thought. He was attractive, that was easy to admit. But to act like this it was a feeling you had never felt like this.

“Hellooo?!” Dellinger began to snap his fingers in front of your face.

Oh shit. Was he talking to you? “Hmmm…”

“I said, Doffy wants to see you.”

Your heart sank, “Did he say why?”

“Oh yes we had a great big chat all about it over tea,” the Sharkboy said mockingly.

Rolling your eyes again, you rise from your grassy spot.

“Have fun,” he laughed as he sank to lay down on his back the brim of his cap hiding his eyes. “Hopefully he doesn’t kill you”

“Asshole.” you tossed out as you walked off.

Shit. Shit. Shit. you curse.

Did he know? Did someone see you while you were out? With some strange man no less. You weren't stupid this could be bad. You had heard rumors of how Doffy would kill if he felt like his family was put in jeopardy. Maybe if you explained…

Taking a deep breath you knocked on his massive office doors.

“Young Master?” You say as you enter cautiously.

When you fully entered his office it was empty. It had been a long time since you had stepped into his room. You looked over to his desk and there were the flowers that were browned and dead in an expensive crystal vase. You waved your hand over the petals, reviving them back to life. The act caused a memory to revive as well.

Seven years ago…

Doflamingo sits in his desk chair reading a newspaper

“Doffy!”

He looks up, “Aww there's my Rose.”

“I made you something!” You tell him excitedly

“Did you?”

You nod and reveal a wildflower from behind your back lifting it up to him.

“Watch what I can do!” You turn the one into several different colors.

“My that is something,” he smiled and placed an invisible string to the flowers and tied it together before placing the bouquet in a crystal vase, “I think it works well there.”

“Mhmm.” You agree as he places you on top of his lap. “Doffy? How many strings can you make?”

He chuckled, “How many stars are in the sky?”

“You hung all those stars,” you gaped.

“Let me tell you a secret,” The Young Master leaned in close to your ear, “Only for you”

“Y/N,” you heard causing you to spin towards the entryway.

“I was told you wanted to see me,” you said hesitantly as you watched Doffy walk over to his large chair next to the window.

“Yes. Come sit,” he said once he placed himself in his large chair, you moved to the opposite chair in front of him. Before you could sit he stopped you by grabbing hold of your wrist.

“No, right here.” he patted his lap. You felt your stomach turn. Gulping you moved and sat on top of him, causing the grin on his face to widen at your obedience.

“I am proud of you, you know,” he says pulling you closer to him, “for keeping up with your training. In no time you will be able to unleash the full potential of your power.” He ran a hand through your hair brushing a strand behind your ear.

“Will it always be Monet training me?” you ask trying to focus on your breathing as your heart beats faster against the cage of your chest.

“Yes. As difficult as it may be,” he spoke, his words trailing off before speaking again this time his voice dangerously low and slow, rubbing your thigh. “Unless you want me to step in and teach you. I am a very good teacher.”

You watched his hand inch closer and closer to the most intimate part of yourself. Immediately you jumped out of his lap, “Was that all you wanted to speak with me about?”

“No,” He chuckled, seemingly amused at your jumpiness, “I wanted to speak with you before I leave for The Reverie.”

He’s leaving? This was news to you. You had heard of the meeting before. He had gone before, four years ago.

“I also wanted to warn you that while I’m away-”

“Don’t leave, I know.” You finish.

He stared at you with a grin on his face, “I know my rules may seem rigid but I do so because I care.” He rose from his seat and walked toward you. “You are naive my dear and I would hate to see you taken advantage of. I've only ever wanted to take care of you. Let me take care of you.”

He towered behind you, “Perhaps the next reverie I’ll let you attend with me” he spoke lowly again but this time he snaked his large hand down the length of your back eventually resting and firmly grasping the curve of your backside causing you to take a sharp intake of breath, “On the condition you continue to be a good girl of course.”

He moved too quickly for you to even understand what was going on. His hand wrapped your loose hair pulling your hair roughly, exposing your neck to him. Frozen in place you watched him smirk and lean down to the crook of your neck. He inhaled your scent deeply before rapidly running his tongue from the base to the top of your neck to the point where you could feel the tip of his wet tongue lash against your ear.

Before you could push back he let you go. Dismissing you back to your room. Quickly you scurried out the door as Doffys laughter echoed in the room.

Four hours later you met Law just like you had planned and tried to block out the events earlier today. As you walked through the alleyways you were at war with yourself. You kept thinking about Doffy and how he held you. How he touched you. It felt- not good. But Doffy had looked out for you your whole life.

He wouldn’t hurt you.

But he just did…

Maybe this was always meant to happen?

What was it that Doffy said? “Let me take care of you..”

Maybe it wasn't a big deal. He was very clear. All you had to do was play by his rules and in four years possibly get a taste of freedom. Do what he says, stay on his good side? Allow him to touch you and-

“Are you hungry?” Law asks as they walk down the dark street pulling you out of your head.

“No,” You say flatly arms crossed against your chest.

“Ya sure? I found this great little booth down this way” Law replied. He could sense something was off you weren’t your normal cheerful self.

“It's nothing.” You push back suddenly changing your mood into one of fake enthusiasm. “Food sounds great. Let's go.”

You two walked in silence for a considerable amount of time before he brought you to a small cart parked on the sidewalk of a market street. There were so many people and Toy people that it brought a certain warmth you always loved about the city.

You knew this place although it looked different in some aspects. Your attention immediately went to the two-story building the stucco roof was a different color and bicycles as well as their seller could be seen from the new glass windows but you could only imagine a woman who looked a lot like you did now helping customers in the quaint shop.

Law passed you the food and drink he purchased and led you away from the area until he found an empty alleyway.

You both slid down the building and remained quiet until Law finally spoke. “We don't have to talk about it.”

“Hmm?”

“Whatever it is that's wrong,” he told you, “We don't have to talk about it. Frankly, I’d rather just eat my empanada.”

“I used to live there,” you aren’t sure what made you say it, “Above the bike shop. Well It used to be my mother's flower shop”

He remained silent. Allowing you to continue if you wish.

So you did. “She died. I was ten.” You felt the tears but managed to push them back. “It sucked.”

Law nodded. “To your mom” You raised your glass of bottle letting it clink to his.

You both continued to eat in silence. Law wished he could say he was pretending to care about your sad story. But he did. It made him think of his mother. He was ten too. Or maybe it was because he knew something was up the moment he saw her walking over to him. He wondered what could have- No. he shook the thoughts from his head. He had to stay focused. He couldn't afford to start caring about some spoiled girl's sob story. She was just a key to his plot and it was high time to start putting it in motion.

@rebeccawinters @mj-airlines @awkwardspontaneity @cresent-z

#one piece x reader #romance #angst #donquixote doflamingo x reader #trafalgar law x reader #fem!reader

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