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jarofstyles · 6 months ago

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Pierced Through The Heart

Hello my ducklings! Welcome to Pierced Through The Heart (I’m writing a second part it’s okay ��) friends to lovers, piercing artist h, artist Y/N, fluffy and smutty and all the fun stuff!

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WC- 8.7k

Warnings- smut, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex, h has tongue and lip piercings

“Finally! Hey.” An easy smile lit up his face as he watched her walk into his flat. It was always welcome to see her enter like she owned the place- she very well could, if she wanted to.. Looking her over with what he hoped were at least slightly concealed heart eyes, he lifted his hand for her to sit next to him on the well loved sofa. “Where have you been, gorgeous? Off hiding away?”

It had been a bit since they’d gotten together so when she had texted him asking if he was busy tonight, he had scrambled to make sure his place was clean and he could appear as nonchalant as possible when he texted her when he texted her to come over- even if his heart had been in his ass when she gave her ETA.

“Ugh.” Y/N groaned, stretching her legs out as she took a seat right next to him as he so graciously offered. “I got a huge fucking commission and it’s taken me ages. M’happy about it, don’t get me wrong, but I feel a bit over my head a bit. I needed to get a head start on it so I didn’t fall behind.” Sometimes she did get in her head about work so it made sense, though it didn’t make him miss her any less.

Harry nodded, tapping his fingers against his thigh. “I get it, babe. S’important and you've got to take care of your work. I just missed having you around.” He pouted playfully, putting his arm around her “But hey, you're here now.”

“Exactly.” She smiled tiredly, leaning her head on his shoulder. His cologne was a comfort she hadn’t realized she needed- as well as the simple concept of human touch. Being locked up in her studio as she chipped away at the commissions often had her forgetting how much both her body and mind actually craved a cuddle or two. “Where's the roommate tonight?”

Harry shrugged, his hand tracing lazy circles on her shoulder. “He's out. Some party or another. You know how it is with Kev. Always living life on the edge.” He chuckled, but there was a hint of worry in his voice. It wouldn’t be long before he went off the deep end- but that wasn’t a discussion for tonight.

“Yeah...” It was hard. His roommate was a bit much, so it was better they were alone, but she felt bad for feeling that way. “Did you order the food yet? Or were you waiting for me?”

Harry smiled, his fingers tightening slightly on her shoulder in a little squeeze. It felt so good to have her close to him again. Thankfully she was just as happy to be cuddly with him and didn’t seem to be weirded out by her friend’s overt clinginess- or didn’t show it- because he felt slightly pathetic with how much he’d missed her presence. “I ordered already, love. Should be arriving any minute now.” He took a glance down at her, his eyes soft with… something. She couldn’t tell quite what it was, but she’d seen it a few times. “I've got everything set up just the way you like it.”

“Ugh. You’re a godsend.” Wrapping her arms around him she hugged him tight, feeling a little bit of pressure roll off of her shoulders. He was always so good at things like that. taking care of her, making her feel relaxed, always being one step ahead. “You are the absolute best. I hope you know that.”

Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms around her in return and relishing in the feeling of her initiating the embrace before pulling back. It wasn’t that he wanted to, nor did he fully, but he needed to attempt some semblance of normalcy. “I do my best, babe. Just want to make sure you're taken care of, that's all.” The man smiled down at her, his fingers trailing through her hair. Just couldn’t fucking help it, could he? “And honestly, I love doing things for you.”

Harry had never considered himself much for taking care of people prior, tending to be more of a lone wolf in most aspect of his life, but when he met Y/N it had all… just come out. He loved being the one making sure she was smiling. Making sure she was well fed, warm, feeling comfortable in his presence. It gave him a sense of purpose, he thinks. The smiles were reward enough, but making her feel comfortable in his company was the ultimate goal. It's why he made sure his roommate wasn’t going to be here tonight. Y/N was too polite to say he made her a little uneasy, but he was attentive to her and receptive to her feelings. Her body language never seemed at ease when he was around-‘so he eliminated that sort of issue

“And that’s why you’re above everyone else.” Y/N mumbled, keeping her eyes closed as he ran his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. “That feels incredible, by the way.”

Harry blushed to himself, grateful she couldn’t see it right now. It was weird, feeling such a sense of pride wash over him over something so simple. He loved being the one she turned to, the one she felt most comfortable with. Hearing her praise him made him feel like he was genuinely doing something right. “Ah, yeah?”

“Mhm.” The girl nodded. “Tell me about work, though. Any interesting piercings? Anyone pass out? Had that one weird guy come in again? I want to know it all.” She kept her cheek pressed to his shoulder as he continued the motions.

Harry let out a soft laugh, settling into the comfortable rhythm of running his fingers through the silky locks as he tried to think of something interesting enough to tell her. “Well, actually, there was this one guy who came in for his first ear piercing and he freaked the fuck out when he saw the needle. He started shaking and sweating and just about passed out cold on the chair.”

“For an ear piercing?” Y/N let out a choked laugh. “I try not to judge people but… that’s kind of an overreaction, isn’t it?”

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. It was like her to be sweet about it and not judge, but he did sometimes. She was the only one who knew he really rolled his eyes at shit like that. He leaned down, pressing a small kiss to the crown of her head before pulling back to continue his story. “Yeah, I thought so too. But you should've seen the look on his face when I finally got the needle through.”

“Oi.” She winced. “Yeah, M’sure that was a joy to deal with.” Sarcasm laced her tone. “You have loads more patience than me. It’s why I work with as few people as possible.” Retail and service has never bode well with her, and when she had fallen into her own artwork she had counted her blessings that it meant she didn’t have to work with people day to day.

Harry smiled, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him as he listened to her voice. He loved her sarcasm, her wit, her everything, but he tried to keep that sort of fondness off of his face the best he could. “That's part of why I like bein’ close with you, actually. You're low-maintenance and always so easy to be around. A little grumpy, but s’cute.”

“Grumpy?” Her nose wrinkled, but she couldn’t deny it. The girl did her absolute best to be as sweet as she could but one of the things that made her tick was stupidity, and that was something people had to deal with in abundance when they worked in those industries. She was a little bit grumpy when it came to people. “I…wish I could deny those allegations, but I can’t. But in my defense, people shouldn’t be asking so many stupid questions. I worry more and more that people lose common sense as the days go by.”

Harry laughed, pulling her a little tighter against his side. "Grumpy and worried about the loss of common sense, huh? That's my girl." He paused, his fingers still gently fiddling with the ends of her hair. "But even with all that, you're still the most comfortable person for me to be around."

“Really?” She looked at him in surprise. Her guess would have been maybe Mitch, or Connor. Not her. “How come? I mean, not that I’m not extremely flattered and have to calm my ego at this moment because I can literally feel it growing out of my ears.”

Harry smiled, feeling his tummy twist slightly as he looked down at her, "Because you're just... you, ya know? You're honest, and a bit grumpy-which we already established as cute-, and you don't put up with any of my shit." It was refreshing to have someone who cared about you enough to call you out on shit, and that’s what he needed. It was an interesting juxtaposition to see her soft doe-like eyes looking up at him with her head tilted, telling him that he’s absolutely ‘full of shit’. Harry had been known to be a bit arrogant at times and she had taken that level way down, in a good way. "And you're the only person who can make me laugh without even trying."

“H… you’re gonna make me blush.” She playfully batted at his chest, but felt the swirl of warmth in her tummy. It was a true compliment all things considered. Harry seemed open, but he kept people at an arm's length usually. She had noticed that he didn’t do it with her which she had always special, but hearing it out loud made her feel even more so.

Harry's eyes softened slightly as he looked at her. "You're the only one who can see past all the layers and shit and just get me, you know?" He leaned in just a bit, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "And I fucking love it."

It was that moment, she would come to reflect, where the tension started. The kiss to the cheek, the compliments. It had started the loaded tension, the sexual undertone for the rest of the night.

Later on, after the food had been eaten and settled in their bellies and the second episode had ended and the third had begun, she realized how close she had gotten to him through the night. Her legs over his thighs, his thumb tracing over her knee. His eyes were on the screen giving her a chance to observe his beautiful fucking face for a moment without feeling the normal intimidation she would from him staring right back at her. The lip ring, the sharp curve of his jaw, his pretty mouth, the slope of his nose- a modern Apollo. It had been no secret that he was good looking but it was harder to ignore tonight. It was always hard to ignore just how beautiful the man was, but feeling it now, seeing it up close and personal felt like a privilege. Her body flushed when she noticed his eyes on her- he caught her staring, his eyebrow raised at her, but didn’t say a word.

Harry moved his hand from her knee, tracing his fingers up her thigh slowly before resting it there again. He leaned in closer, his lips curling as he whispered to her. "You like what you see, love? Wanna take a picture? I’ll pose for you, even. Let the pretty artist do her thing. Think I’d be a good muse?" The hint of tease was in there but he was waiting for her reaction. Feeling his own want for her bubbling over, simmering under his fingertips.

“You’re really handsome, H. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that, but you are.” Ever the blunt person, Y/N didn’t shy away from telling him that he was beautiful. That was the god’s honest truth. Harry was factually gorgeous and she had always thought so, as did most human beings whenever they went out. He commanded a room without even trying, attracting eyes like magnets- only his being the opposite pole.

Harry's smirk grew wider at her words, his hand still resting on her thigh. "Handsome, huh?" He repeated, his voice huskier than she had heard it before. It sent a bit of a zing to her tummy because- that was hot. There was a quick glance at the TV before looking back at her, his eyes locking onto hers. "You're pretty fucking stunning yourself, you know that?"

The air between them was static, the tension thick and palpable. Harry's hand on her thigh was a constant reminder of his presence, of his touch. Her legs were draped over his, their bodies close, touching in a way they had before a million times but it felt… different. The charge was there. He could feel it and he was sure she could too. What exactly changed, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps the heart had grown fonder over their bit of time apart, or perhaps the dam was finally overflowing and breaking against the weight of trying to hold back desires hidden behind the walls- either way, he was going to find out. The sound of the TV in the background was barely audible over the pounding of their hearts, but he could feel it in his throat.

Harry had been pining for her for what felt like an eternity. He'd watch her from afar, his heart aching with every smile she shared with someone else. The only true explanation he could come to was that he loved her, he realized. He had loved her for a long time now. He ached for her, his heart hurting every time she mentioned dating apps or hookups in the past because fuck, he wanted to be the one she was talking about, the one she was laughing with. He wanted to be her world, her everything. No one would expect the man to be a romantic, but he was. Maybe she’d brought it out of him, but he felt completely at her mercy and she had no idea just how tightly wound he was around her tiniest finger.

“You think so?” She felt a little shy with that compliment. It wasn’t often that she got like that, but Harry had a way of pulling it out of her. “Stunning is a big word, but thank you.” Licking over her lip, she looked down to his tattooed wrist, running her finger over the ink. “I’m glad you invited me to hang out tonight.”’

Harry's heart flipped at her shy reaction. Damn, she was so fucking cute. He wanted to lean in, brush his lips over hers and take a taste of her. The way she was looking at his tattoos, running her finger over them was driving him crazy. The sensation was something he’d dreamt about, post coitial bliss with her hands all over him in the best way. He wanted to feel all of it, all of her, everywhere

"You're more than fucking stunning, you know that?" Harry's voice was raspy as he spoke, volume low as if trying to keep it private for them even if they were already alone. He shifted in his seat, his hand on her thigh flexing a little as he leaned in closer to her.

Her heart stuttered in her chest as she looked at him, throat tight. She had an idea what was happening but she hadn’t anticipated it actually being any reality, let alone one that would be happening tonight. Part of her wanted to shy away but she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t let her. Eyes curious and round, her head tilted in question as he looked right back at her.

Harry noticed the way she was looking at him, head falling back slightly as he let it a light groan. "Fuck, don't look at me like that, please." He begged. He couldn't take it, seeing her so nervous and shy.

“Like what?” Her eyes widened slightly but she made no move to shift away from him. What was she doing? What was happening? And why did she want him to keep going, keep touching her, why did she feel like she was lightheaded from the attention he was paying to her? Had he always looked at her like this?

Harry's eyes were locked onto hers, his gaze intense. "Like you're confused. Like you don’t know how fuckin’ gorgeous I find you." He admitted, his hand on her thigh trembling slightly. "I don't know how much more of this I can take, you're fucking killing me."

Warm fingertips trailed over his wrist and down his hand, brushing over his wrists and back up as she waited for him to react. The anticipation was killing her, sitting perfectly still as she decided to wait. to let him take the lead. “Why am I killing you?” She was playing dumb. The sexual tension had risen up, her skin hot from it, but she wanted to hear it from him.

Harry sucked in a breath as she trailed her fingertips over his wrist, his heart racing in his chest. He couldn't take it anymore, he had to tell- had to show her. To let out everything that was building up inside of him. "Because I want you so goddamn bad." His voice was hoarse, laced with fervor, his eyes pleading with her to understand. He couldn't help the way he felt, the way he had always felt about her. "I've wanted you for so long, been pining for you.. it's driving me insane."

“You have?” Her head tilted, hair falling over her shoulder as he dropped that bomb on her. Y/N hadn’t had any real idea that he had wanted her, had always sort of thought maybe he just liked that she was easy to hang out with and that they’d meshed together really well, but the knowledge that he was pining over her sent the hoard of butterflies into her stomach. “How.. for how long?”

Harry's jaw clenched, knowing it was time to confess. There was no use in hiding it anymore, even if she was going to reject him. It was about to burst from his seams, leak from his lips regardless. "Since we’ve met," He admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "I’ve been fucking useless over you. Used t’watch you, wonder what it would be like to have you, to hold you, to kiss you." He looked at her with desperate eyes.

"I'd see you talking to that asshole ex of yours, and I'd just want to fucking rip him apart and keep you all to myself. Knew I could treat you better, make you feel better, give you all the shit he couldn’t. Heard you cry too many times over people that aren’t worth it and I can give you all the shit you need. I know I can." He admitted, his face flushing with anger and jealousy. "I've tried to ignore it, to move on, but I can't."

"You have no idea how many times I've imagined telling you, but I didn’t want to fuck things up between things up between us. You’ve felt safe with me. I didn’t want you to feel like I’ve been friends with you as some fucking attempt to get into your pants because that isn’t it. I’ll be your friend regardless, but I just need a shot. Please. Just give me one chance t’see." Harry felt a little pathetic for his approach but he didn’t have much control over it. It was all in her hands now.

Her breathing hitched as she listened, her cunt getting slightly wet at the way he looked at her, at how he spoke. losing that bit of a veil he had over him, showing her how he had felt. Finally, It felt like that part she couldn’t figure out was coming to the light. “Harry…” she breathed, feeling his hand reach for her jaw. It was welcomed, his warm fingertips tilting her head up.

She didn’t know he had that in him, but she really fucking liked it.

Gripping her chin firmly, his thumb brushing over her pouted lower lip as he looked into her eyes. "Shut up and kiss me." He commanded, leaving no room for argument. Harry didn't wait for her to respond. Leaning in, his free hand came up to wrap around her waist, pulling her close to him as he crushed their lips together. It was rough, passionate and intense, a hunger she hadn't sensed from him before- and she strangely loved it.

Harry’s lips were demanding, claiming hers as if she belonged to him. His tongue pushed past her lips, tangling with hers in a heated kiss that left her gasping. He kissed her like he was starving for her, like he hadn't eaten in days and she was the only thing that could satisfy him. His lips were bruising, hungry, insistent, molding against hers with a fierce intensity that took her breath away. The tip of his tongue delved into her mouth, probing, tasting, owning, his moan vibrating against her lips as he deepened the kiss.

She melted into the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck as she returned it with equal fervor. Her hands fisted in his hair, holding him close as she surrendered to the overwhelming hunger he stirred within her. She whimpered into the kiss, her body trembling with need, her heart racing in her chest.

Y/N could feel just how much he meant it, how much he had yearned for her. She could taste it on his tongue as he held her to his body, resting her on his thighs. He was greedy with her, taking and taking and taking- but she didn’t mind at all. If anything she flowed into it, melting into the feeling.

The way she fed into the kiss, so willingly and completely, made his heart race and his head spin. He could taste her surrender, her desire, her longing for him and he drank it in eagerly, as if he could never get enough of her. Her body melted into his embrace as her lips parted further, inviting him in deeper. He could feel her heart racing against his chest, her hands gripping his hair almost painfully, but he hardly cared.

Her body was pliant, her breathing uneven, as he continued to delve into her mouth. He could feel the way she shifted on his lap, her legs bracketing his hips as she slowly began to move herself against him.

A low groan rumbled in his chest, the sound almost primal as he felt her shifting on his lap. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard and it only served to drive him further into madness. He wanted more of her, all of her, every single part of her. “Baby…” The nickname fell out of her mouth as a breathless sigh. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

He pulled back from the kiss slightly, his breath coming in ragged pants as he stared down at her. Her eyes were glazed over with desire, her lips swollen and so prettily puffy from the intensity of their kissing- he wanted this to be the state of them every fucking day. Why was this only the first time he’d gotten the privilege of getting to see this? "I can't... I can't think straight when you're like this,"

Uneven breaths filtered the room, the TV show long forgotten behind them. She, too, was unable to think straight as she looked into his eyes. It was gorgeous, he was fucking gorgeous, looking fucked out just from a kiss alone. “Huh?” Y/N was hazy herself. This wasn’t what she had expected from coming over tonight but she had no complaints. Her mouth felt like it was buzzing and her clit was throbbing as she sat against him, his large hands keeping her still otherwise she’d continue her ministrations on top of him.

Harry reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek in a gentle touch. "Just looking at you, baby, makes me lose my damn mind. I need you to focus on me for a second, okay?" He swallowed hard as he tried to calm himself down. "You're fuckin’ stunning. Driving me crazy, really fucking crazy. The way you move against me... I need more of it." The man sighed out, his fingers trailing down her throat gently, petting her.

Harry's mind was swimming with need, a deep and intense desire to have her, to make her his and his alone. He wanted to feel her body pressed against his, the heat rolling off of her in waves. He wanted to kiss her, to touch her, to taste her. “But I don’t want t’just fuck you. I want you. Want you to be my girl.”

Holding her eyes with his own, he thumbed over her swollen bottom lip and watched as it snapped back to place as he released it. “I want t’do the whole thing. The dates, the flowers, everything you want. I don’t want to ruin this friendship but fuck, darling… I just want you to be mine.” He swallowed thickly, watching her reaction. “I’m willing to work for that title… but I can’t hold back anymore. Can’t keep pretending that I’m not dying t’hold you and kiss this perfect fucking mouth.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide and lips parted. Her cheeks were hot under the skin, chest rising and falling with every deep breath she took. It felt like he’d stolen her breath and her thoughts as he confessed to her, making her blink at him a few times. She looked completely lost in his words and the way he looked at her as he spoke them. The air around was thick with tension and desire.

There wasn’t a thought that needed to be had to confirm that she wanted him back, though. She always adored him, but he’d never seemed like the relationship type. Never showed his interest in the way she had anticipated. It had taken her by surprise, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t happy about it.

Without thinking, she reached up and cupped his face, her thumb brushing over his berry hued lips and running over the piercing as she searched his eyes. She could see the raw emotion in them, the way he was barely holding on to his control. And it broke her heart, in a way, because she was so completely aware of how painful it could be to hold back emotions for someone. “I wish you hadn’t hidden it for so long.” Softly, she used her other hand to push back his hair. “I can’t lie and say this isn’t a surprise… but I am more than willing to give it a shot.” Indulging in him, she leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Especially when you kiss me like you just did.”

She deepened the kiss, parting her lips for him and wrapping her arms around his neck in a desperate attempt to get closer to him. Harry groaned against her mouth, pulling her flush against him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

That was the answer he needed. He had imagined her rejection a million times, her acceptance a few times more, but nothing could compare to the actual feeling of it. Having her in his lap and the overwhelming giddy feeling working its way through his limbs as he tried to show it through his actions.

The kiss was needy, full of the longing and passion that had been building up over the months. He was rough and gentle at the same time, leaving her dizzy as he trailed kisses from her lips to her jaw. “Good. So it’s settled… no more silly dates with useless boys. You’re gonna give me a shot to show you just how much I can appreciate you.”

“Mhm.” Y/N nearly purred, rolling her head to the side as he kissed over her skin and down to her throat. It had always been sensitive for her, but feeling the cool brush of his lip ring, and then the metallic ball of his tongue piercing brush her hot skin had her shiver in his arms.

Harry smirked, knowing he was getting to her head. His hands roamed her body, pulling her in even closer as he sucked on a soft spot right under her ear. God, she was fucking soft wherever he touched her, he couldn’t get enough of her. He sucked hard on the spot, his nose brushing against her skin as he inhaled her scent deeply. His other hand came up to wrap around her throat, applying just a bit of pressure as he tilted her head to the side, giving him better access to her neck.

“Fuck.” Y/N felt her second heartbeat between her thighs, the strong hand and thick fingers holding her still. Positioning her where he wanted her. His rings added a similar sensation to his piercings, the mix of hot and cold working her up.

He hummed at her response, his hand tightening around her throat just slightly as he moved down to bite at her collarbone. A low growl rumbled in his chest, feeling the way her body trembled under him as he pressed a kiss over the racing pulse on her neck. Harry pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his own dark and intense as he spoke in a low, rough tone. "M’gonna mark you up, m’love. Every inch of your skin is gonna have my fingerprints, my bites, my kisses. You're gonna be my girl, and everyone's gonna fuckin’ know it."

“Yeah.” She hummed, grinning as his hand loosened slightly on her throat. As toxic as it may be, she ate up the possessive words, wanting to let him do that very thing.

Harry let out a low, pleased noise at her words, his hips rocking forward as he pressed against her heat. He kissed her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth as he gripped her hip with one hand and reached down to undo his pants with the other. His poor cock needed to breath, aching with need as he finally got her exactly where he wanted her.

"How do you like to be touched, baby?" He whispered into her ear, before sucking on the lobe gently and nipping it, smirking to himself as he felt her shudder in his arms. He pulled back to look at her, his eyes shining. “Hm? I want t’know. Want t’make you the happiest fuckin’ girl. Can do anything y’want.”

“I…” She had trouble finding her words. This was not at all the sort of thing she’d anticipated coming over tonight, but she was loving every second of it. Harry… wanting her? It seemed like it was one of those dreams, one of those things that sounded nice in theory but would never happen- and yet here he was. Asking how she liked being touched because he wanted to be the one doing it. “I like when you held my throat… and when you bit me. And when you held my jaw.”

Harry's lips quirked into a half grin and he nodded. He pulled back to look at her, his thumb tracing over her jaw where he had just held it so gently. He leaned down and bit the skin there lightly, feeling her shiver under him. Her reaction was immediate and visceral. The moment his teeth sank into her jaw, she let out a soft, needy whine, her eyes fluttering closed as her body relaxed into his grip. Her leg tightened around his waist, her free hand reaching up to gently touch the spot where he'd bitten her.

Her whole body seemed to melt against him, her back arching as she pressed herself closer, seeking more of that delicious pain. A soft, high-pitched noise escaped her lips, somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, as she tilted her head to the side, offering him better access to her neck as she felt his nose drag down the side of it.

She was completely lost in the sensation, her mind going blank as all her focus shifted to the feeling of his teeth on her skin. Her fingers curled into his shirt, her nails digging in slightly as she held on for dear life, her other hand still resting on the spot he'd bitten, gently massaging it. “That feels so good.” She exhaled, the feelings washing over her. “I love how you touch me, H.”

Harry smiled against her skin, his teeth grazing over her jaw as he spoke. "I love touching you too, sweetheart. You're so fuckin’ responsive, for me.” He kissed the spot he'd bitten, soothing it with his lips before pulling back to look at her again.

His bulge rocked between her thighs, his hand moving to cup her face. She could feel his want for her, his affection. Harry hadn’t been joking in the slightest that he wanted to be hers, and that was something she hadn’t experienced before.

"You still haven't let me make you mine, properly," Harry said, a hint of a pout on his lips. "I want all of you, Y/N." He moved himself against her again, the cock in his pants rubbing against her aching cunt. "Are y’gonna let me have you?"

“Y-Yeah.” She nodded, shy smile on her face. There was nothing she wanted more in the moment, actually.

“Don’t want you to regret it, though.” Harry murmured, face sobering. As much as he wanted her, he wanted to make sure this was what she truly wanted above anything else. “We don’t have to go too far if you don’t want to.”

“I wanna.” Y/N hadn’t been fucked in a while, no, but she trusted him. Hell, he’d waxed near poetry about how he wanted to be hers and vice versa. There was no one night stand needed to get off. Harry could do it- and if the things she had heard were true, he could do it very well. “Want you to fuck me.”

Harry's eyes widened at her confession, his hand lingering on her cheek for a moment before he let go. "Well," he said, swallowing thickly. "I can certainly do that."

He was practically vibrating with excitement, his heart racing in his chest as he held her close. The thought of finally being able to claim her as his own, to be the one to make her feel good and cry out his name, was almost too much for him to handle. "I've wanted to be with you for so fuckin’ long." Harry murmured against her skin, his breath warm against her. "I've thought about you every night as I've fallen asleep, imagining what it would be like to finally have you, Y/N. You’ve got no idea"

“Then have me.” Y/N could hardly believe it, but she needed it just as badly now. Her body was hot and achy and her cunt was wet and felt so empty- Harry would fix it. He was the only one that could. “Touch wherever you want. I trust you.”

The declaration of trust meant more to him than she would probably ever realize. It gave him the confidence to go for it. Harry's hand immediately moved between her legs, rubbing her through the fabric of her pants. The man groaned as he felt how wet she was, his fingers tracing over her cunt as he breathed against her lips. "Oh, fuck, baby." he whispered in awe.

“Take them off.” her plea was a little whiny but it seemed to make him happy with how he smiled against her lips. “Please… I want to feel you touch me with nothing stopping it. Need it.”

Harry's smile was wicked as he reached for the waistband of her pants, quickly adjusting her so he could tug them down her legs along with her underwear. There was very little time to waste when it came to getting to have her. This had been his wet dream, his fantasy, and he wasn’t going to waste it. He sat back up and looked at her, his eyes roaming over her bare pussy before he knelt down in front of her with a husky groan.

“What?” She felt shy with him staring at her, the most vulnerable she had ever felt in front of him. The hunger in his eyes was visible and she knew he liked what he saw, but his quiet observation was unnerving. She watching the silver glint of his piercing glint as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, strong, ringed hands gently pressing her thighs open and black polished fingers digging into her skin.

“M’sorry, baby.” he crooned. “Don’t mean to stare, but…. I’ve been waiting so long. M’not even sure this is real.” Any bit of control was completely gone. He leaned forward, pressing his face against the plush of her lower tummy, inhaling her scent before he looked up at her with those starving eyes again. "Fuck, you smell so good. You’ve no idea." he murmured before placing a kiss to her mound. “Wanna eat you up.”

Where she found the nerve, she had no clue- but the moment she had it, she let it go. “Do it.”

Her words were the last thing he needed before he gave into her- happily. Harry's hands gripped her thighs greedily as he buried his mouth between her legs, indulging in what he’d been wanting to taste for ages. He lightly kissed over her clit and nuzzled her as her felt her jolt at the feeling, letting her settle into it for a moment before getting into it. The cool metal ball of his tongue piercing tapping over her clit had her shivering, a shaky gasp leaving her swollen lips as her eyes fell closed.

It was overwhelming, to say the least. Harry's tongue felt hot and slick as it lathed over her pussy- the contrast in temperatures between him and her sensitive flesh making her squirm. He explored her, leaving nowhere untouched as she gripped the cushion next to her, taking full advantage of his permission to taste before he settled into a slow, gentle rhythm of lapping at her cunt. The man was good- almost too good.

She could feel herself sinking into the cushion beneath her as he ate her out, his tongue dipping into her pussy and licking at her entrance before swirling around her clit. His hands were gentle on her thighs, rings cool to the touch and fingertips digging into her skin as he pushed them open wider for him. He groaned against her, eyes peering up at her.The vibrations against her pussy sent tremors through her body. “Look at me, baby. Let me see your pretty eyes.”

The view was something else completely. Looking down at him, she felt herself nearly lose it altogether. It didn’t seem fair to have someone look that good doing such a filthy act, but it only seemed to make perfect sense for him. Harry exuded sex, and his sensual nature had always made her a bit curious in the past- but this was other worldly. His nose rubbed against her clit, his breath hot against her sensitive flesh, hair a mess, as hazy, dark green peered up at her from where they were so comfortably buried between her legs. Like they were made to be there.

Her hands fell to his hair, back arching as his tongue brushed her entrance again, breathing hitched as he nuzzled into her cunt, not caring about any mess as he pressed his tongue into her, nose brushing her clit with every movement. “Oh, fuck.” Her voice was a choked mess as she looked down at him in shock, not at all expecting this out of him. She should have, she should have known he was a filthy fuck, but she’d apparently unleashed something in him.

His hair was a wild mess as she gripped it, pulling him closer as he devoured her. He made happy noises against her, moving up to momentarily suck on her clit before plunging his tongue back inside her. She could feel his scruff scratching against her inner thighs, a rough sensation that made her clench around his tongue. It was animalistic, desperate in a way she had never felt before.

Harry hadn’t felt this deprived in his life. He hadn’t liked a woman this much before either, hadn’t wanted her this badly. He needed some relief, especially with her rocking her damn cunt against his face. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he pulled his sweats down, tugging his embarrassingly hard cock out and started to stroke. His hips rocked in time with the rhythm of his tongue, hand moving faster as she arched her back, pulling him closer. He could feel her getting closer, body trembling beneath him.

“H…” she panted, gently tugging him away from her cunt. “Inside me. I want to cum with you inside me.”

Harry groaned, a whine slipping from his lips as he pulled himself away from her pussy, a string of saliva connecting his tongue to her entrance before breaking away.

“M’not done with that. You taste so fucking good.” He mumbled, leaning himself up. His hands were gentle as he adjusted her to make them both comfortable. “Gonna make it good for you, baby. I promise.” Another time he would take his time, make love to her properly. Spend hours with her in a bed when they both had patience- but right now? He knew the both of them needed relief, and they needed it now. Taking a shaky breath, he positioned the tip of his cock at her entrance, the head pressing against her soaked lips. He looked up at her, eyes wild as he pushed forward, the tip popping inside her. He let out a satisfied groan as he sunk himself in to the hilt, her tight pussy squeezing him the way he knew she would.

She gasped, the way her walls closed in tighter on him as he sunk to the base was a small slice of heaven for him. He closed his eyes, riding out the pleasure of it for a moment. He could feel her body reacting in kind, legs trembling. “It’s okay, yeah? You’re okay?” He looked down at her, making sure she didn’t have any discomfort on her face.

“I’m okay.” She sighed, gripping onto his forearm. “I’m so okay. I want it all. You can give it to me.” Lightly dragging her nails down his skin, she knew she could handle it. It’s how she liked it- how she wanted him to give it to her. Y/N wanted Harry exactly how he wanted to give it because she had full confidence he was going to give it to her good.

“Alright, sweetheart. Jus’ hold on t’me then.” He pulled out barely, just the head remaining before thrusting himself back in, making her jolt under him. Deep- he was so deep, making her gasp as the pleasured fullness was felt to its extent. This was exactly what they needed. His hands grabbed her hips and he started moving in earnest, every thrust baring his need for her to cum around him. “Don’t have to hold back with me, sweet girl. Gonna make sure you feel good all night.”

She was a vision of beauty, legs spread wide as he fucked into her, the sound of their skin thudding together echoing through the room. Tears of pleasure slowly pooled in her waterline as he fucked her deep, his balls slapping against her ass with every thrust. Slow, deep, passion. It was palpable.

Not overly rough, no. Not at all. It was hot and heavy in the best possible way, making her eyes roll back. He wasn’t using her as a toy, but showing her how much he wanted her with his body. There was no mistaking it. Harry meant what he said. He wanted her, and he was speaking through his body. She heard him loud and fucking clear. Hopefully, he was listening back.

The room was filled with the sounds of their sex, the slap of skin, the wet squelch of his cock sinking into her over and over. She was shaking, her nails digging into his biceps as he pounded into her, the force of his thrusts making the aged sofa squeak. If it was any other scenario, he’d be cautious- but he was finally getting the woman he had been dreaming of around his cock.

Her whole body was a trembling mess, her breasts bouncing with each thorough thrust. Her back arched off the couch as he hit that sweet spot inside her, her walls clamping down on him like a vice. She let out a mewl, a saccharine call of his name as the intense pleasure washed over her. “Harry- Harry if you keep going M’gonna cum.” It was a frantic warning. Her mind couldn’t figure out if it was too much or not, but she didn’t want it to stop.

He couldn't help himself, his thrusts became even more urgent as he felt her walls fluttering around him, signaling her impending orgasm. He grabbed her face, his thumb pressing against her lips, shushing her as he fucked into with a blissed out smile. "Shh, m’dream girl, let it happen. Cum on my cock. Been dreaming of you for ages.

Let me have it."

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled moan of his name as her orgasm hit her. White hot pleasure hitting her blood as the tears left her waterline when her eyes squeezed shut, she dug her nails into him with a garbled whimper. Her body shook, her pussy fluttering around his cock as he continued to fuck her through it, prolonging her pleasure.

Harry leaned down, resting his forehead against hers as he felt his own climax building within him- especially with the feel of her nails digging into him and her own orgasm. "Fuck.. You're so fuckin’ perfect, so good, I'm gonna cum.." He whispered his final warning, groaning against her skin.

“Please.” Y/N whispered, dragging her nails up his arms and over his shoulders. “Give it to me. M’on the pill.” Her lips brushed his ear. “I want to feel it. You’ve been so nice to me tonight and I love it. Cum for me how you want. Anywhere you w-want.”

Harry was a mass of frayed nerve endings as he neared his release. His entire body felt like it was buzzing, his heart beating fast against his chest. The build up of pleasure in his balls and the slick feeling of her pussy made him feel as if he was on cloud nine.

His muscles tensed, and a low groan rumbled in his chest. He was so close. He could feel his orgasm building, coiling in the base of his spine, ready to explode- but her sensual coos into his ear and fingers down arms had been the breaking point. "I'm gonna cum so fucking hard," he gritted out, his voice strained with effort. “M’cumming for you, baby. G-Gonna give it all t’you and make you m-mine.” His words stuttered as he felt it start. His vision started to blur and his breath hitched in his throat as he thrust into her one final time, holding himself deep inside her as his orgasm ripped through him. His vision went white, his mind going blank as he emptied himself into her, his cock pulsing with each spurt of cum.

Catching his breath, he let himself sag into her as he felt her hand dragging up and down his back. Mutual comfort as she held him, helping him through his own orgasm as she wrapped a leg around him, making sure he felt steady as he checked in on her. His ears were sorta ringing in a good way, but he was chuffed. “Okay?” He cupped her cheek, stroking her heated skin. At her nod, he grinned widely. “Yeah? Okay- okay, good. Jus’, need to make sure you’re good. Hold on. Need t’make us more comfortable. I’ll clean up in a second.”

Ever so carefully, Harry pulled out of her, his softening cock slipping from her sensitive pussy. He cooed at the slight hiss she let out, apologizing as he grabbed a few tissues clumsily from the coffee table and wiped her the best he could as gathered her close on his lap, cradling her in his arms as he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, anywhere he could reach without breaking the tender moment. “That’s my girl. Fuck… you’re everything I want.”

Y/N had pushed away her crush on him when they’d first met, especially when they started to become closer friends- but this had been beyond her expectations. Harry had given her the fuck of her life all while claiming his devotion to her- something no one else had done before. She was borderline giddy as his hands stroke her, the rushed sex leaving their tops on and a true nod to the frantic passion they’d felt once the kissing had started.

A giggle left her throat as she peeled her eyes open to look at his flushed face and swollen lips, his eyes burning with an emotion she couldn’t place as she ran her hands over his shoulders. “We probably look so silly.” Harry’s pants around his ankles and hers off completely, both with just a shirt on.

Harry chuckled softly, his breath ghosting along her cheek as he spoke, his voice low and raspy from the intensity of their just-past fucking. The way she was looking at him was almost better than her moans had been.

“Silly, hmm?” Harry’s eyes took on a mischievous edge as his fingers traced the curve of her waist. He sat up on the couch, dragging her with him so she was straddling his lap. His roommate be damned, he wasn’t too concerned about the mess on the couch right now.

“Mhm.” Her smile faded into a soft grin. “We were a little eager, huh?”

Eager was an understatement, but Harry loved how cute she looked in this moment. The way she was sitting on top of him, all breathless and relaxed—it made him want to do it all over again, if only to see that look on her face.

Harry’s hand wandered to the back of her neck, his thumb gently tracing circles against her skin as he spoke. “I am eager.” He sobered slightly. “I meant what I said. I want you. I promise I’d be the best person you’ve ever dated. I’ll worship you every day and make sure you know how much you mean to me.”

He leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips, his eyes still locked on hers. “I’ll make you laugh every day, be there for you through everything. And when it comes to the bedroom,” Harry paused, grinning slyly.

“Hush.” Y/N giggled, placing their lips back together for a longer kiss, slow and smooth as she pulled back. their lips made a soft clicking sound as she rubbed her nose against his. “So if you want to be my boyfriend…. does that mean you’ll give me free piercings?”

Harry let out a chuckle, his arms wrapping around her waist as he hugged her close. “Free piercings, exclusive attention, really bad jokes, and a love that’ll make your heart skip a beat. That’s the deal, love. But you have to promise me one thing in return.”

“Hm… what’s that?”

Harry would give her the world if she asked for it, probably, but he did have one stipulation. “No more waiting between commissions t’see you. You can set up here, or I can come see you after work. M’a little clingy, if you couldn’t tell. Deal?” “Deal.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #piercerry #harry styles fic #harry one shot #harry styles au #harry styles fanfics #harry styles one shots #harry styles writer #harry smut #harry fluff

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darqx · 2 months ago

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Well i talk about it talk about it talk about it

The beginning of FUNKY TOWN is still stuck in my head.

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

Thanks, I'm glad my art improvement is noticeable :D I have actually KIND OF redrawn scenes before such as

and a bunch of frames from

so who knows i might do some more at some point lol!

YOU GUYS STILL SEND THEM TO ME :d

I don't actually get that many, i just tend to answer months worth all at once so it looks like a lot haha. I also don't answer a bunch of them if I've already answered something similar before or the answer is in my FAQ. Though I'm going to be honest some of the asks that get sent to me I don't think anyone expects me to actually answer, because they're just weird enough that if i turned off anon i'm pretty sure no one would be asking them.

My free time (...when I'm not procrastinating |D ) is trying to be spent on BP so I currently dont have any plans beyond the fun little doodles and animatics and stuff that I usually do. Gato is working on YKMET so if you guys like Strade then you have that to look forward to :)

(Why thank you!)

The armour follows his usual colour scheme which is gold on black.

You can tell this ask is from January lol.

Thanks haha my colouring style layers colour over colour so colour over grayscale always just looks oddly muddy in my POV |D ESPECIALLY LIGHT COLOURS LIKE YELLOW.

Demons can traditionally reproduce within the same species or with a compatible species.

Psychology, Law or Politics. I think these are the top normal majors you could take where the info you learn from them could be really useful in not getting fucked over and/or fucking someone else over.

I haven't been asked to make chibis for Gato this time around so you'll probably be getting something different for your finished runs!

Demon Commons.

All demons have some sort of specific mark that they are born with (anywhere on their body). The exact reason why has been lost to time, but it often gets used for identification. Here are some of the rest of my demon characs:

Hm, if I have to consider real life anatomy (nooooooo XD) the yellow is probably his iris.

Man i've answered so many asks i sometimes only remember saying something when another asks sounds familiar lmao 🤔 Ok; Rire, as a demon of station, has been captured in the background of some historical paintings and photographs, sometimes without his knowledge but always to his amusement later when he finds out. Like just imagine you are intensely studying art history and in those paintings of events with lots of people in it, suddenly your eye happens to catch upon a tall dark haired figure wearing sunglasses from that time period somehow blending in amongst everyone else there.

He has no particular preference in this regard.

Rire doesn't have like 🤔...a set criteria as it depends entirely on certain whims; like whether he is looking for business or pleasure, what he's feeling like at the time etc. If it's purely business then there are types of people he would approach that he wouldn't otherwise if it was for mainly entertainment.

They probably average out at about room temperature - they tend to reflect environment temp a bit and the main part that's closest to his back will always be a bit warmer than the rest of the ichor.

Probably not

They are evenly matched

Thanks very much! :D

Rire has been around for a while so yes he would have witnessed a bunch of things in human history. Who he met and who he made deals with is up for debate.

He is "polite" so he would thank you, at the very least. And yes they are his signature flower lol. It wouldnt be any special..er than receiving any other flowers though to him - we are the ones ascribing the meaning to it.

Two for the price of one 🤌🏻 Also this is an insanely old ask but yes you have permission to do fancomics or whatever with him |D

Anon, considering most people know him from a weird "dating sim", I dont think this is as startling an ask as you might think haha.

if it makes you happy.

Pick a nice smell that you particularly jive with and it would be that. This is individual specific so if a whole bunch of people are around Rire they may each perceive something different.

I get asked this question a lot |D I'm gonna be real with you guys - i haven't actively thought about a canon design for his parents because i'm kind of lazy to (since right now i dont need to know what they look like). Until that happens you guys will just have to go off the vague text descriptions i've given before :p

#boyfriend to death #rire answer dump #art #doodle #answer dump #long post

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confiaenanaa · 5 months ago

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Hello,how are you? I saw your post asking for fic ideas so here's one I hope you like it

Assistant reader who has worked with Eminem since the beginning of his career, the public and his kids love her, the kids always goes to her for advice and see her as part of the family . Marshall admires her and her relationship with his kids, He has always been attracted to her, but he respects her a lot and thinks she can find someone better, They are very close and know each other like no one else. They have fight a few times but she would always go to him and put some sense into his head and they would make up. Maybe she could have an accident or become very ill and end up in the hospital, he is terrified at the prospect of losing her. They get so stressed about the situation that they have a very serious fight, he says a lot of shit and she sends him away. A few days pass and they don't talk to each other, he didn't want to apologize and decided to wait until she came back and fix the things like she always did, but the things he said during the fight really hurt her and she decided to resign from her assistant position, she sent an email with the details of her contract termination.

You decide what happens next.

PS: I really loved your writing, sorry for the long request, I like to detail things, if you don't like the idea or don't feel comfortable writing this you can completely ignore it please.

Hugs and bye (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

my assistant - eminem

fem!y/n x Marshall Mathers

masterlist

synopsis: Y/N is Marshall's assistant. They're close and best friends until something goes wrong in her life...

A/N: hi! I know it's been a while, i've been super stressed with finals and stuff but i'm finally back on track and I wrote this. there's more to come since I have a ton of requests to have fun with! hope you enjoy this one. and i'm so glad to hear you liked my writing!

-Marsh!

-What?!

-Dre’s on the phone for you! Something about needing you to re-record something!

Marshall groaned from his office. Y/N giggled at his antics, he really could be a grump at times. She continued to put away files and work on his busy schedule, something she’d done every day for years.

Y/N had been Marshall’s assistant since what felt like forever, and it sort of was. Ever since his career took off, she’d been by his side. She did her job well, and never gave anyone on the team any reason to doubt her abilities. Not to mention she was always the go-to for advice. Marshall was always asking for advice; situations big or small, his mind always went to call Y/N. And his kids did the same. And his friends. And his team.

The public always wondered about their relationship, about what happened behind closed doors. “She and I are just close friends. That’s all.” And truthfully, that was all there was to it. They were friends. Though he’d often find himself wondering and daydreaming about what it’d feel like if they were more, he always stopped himself before it could get any deeper. He knew she deserved better. She was smart, kind, and hilarious. Surely, she’d find another man more attractive and muscular and smarter and funnier. Surely, she wouldn’t want a man like him. But, in actuality, they were both stuck in a cycle of feeling this way. She felt he deserved someone who related to him more. Someone prettier, someone more famous. Why would he want an accountant when he could easily have a bombshell?

Everyone around them knew how they felt about each other, except, apparently, them. They knew each other inside and out. Marshall knew all of her nervous tics; like her lip biting, finger picking, leg bouncing, pen tapping, and arm crossing. And, in return, she knew all of his icks; loud chewing, gum popping, loud singing, loud speaking, fingernail tapping, and slurping. They could read one another like books, unless, of course, it came to romance.

Y/N had been to enough family dinners at his house to know this. She was basically a Mathers herself. She became a Mathers when Hailie got her first period and Marshall had no clue on what to do. When she told him what to buy at the supermarket while she washed Hailie’s bed sheets and clothes. When she helped Hailie with her first breakup. And she became a Mathers when Marshall started his journey with sobriety and she was with him the whole time. Marshall admired her greatly. He admired her bravery and courage, her kindness and empathy, her ambition and perseverance, it seemed like everything life threw at her, she could easily push past it. He respected her a lot. He also respected how much a perfectionist she was. She made sure her nails were properly painted and if not they looked well groomed; cuticles always cut, nails long and strong, filed to perfection. Her hair was done meticulously, clearly also well taken care of. Her skin had a light glow to it. Marshall admired this for years. He admired and respected every aspect about her, she was like family to him.

However, like friends and family do, there were always a few quarrels. When Y/N was on her period and already in a sour mood, and Marshall decided that would be a good day to be a brat and complain about everything. Y/N adored him, but he could be really childish at times. He whined one too many times and she’d snapped at him. It escalated into an argument that Dre had to promptly break up. Or when Marshall was upset because he had writer's block and Y/N asked if it was really that hard to write a song. He snapped at her too. But, in the end, they always made up. In all honesty, it was usually Y/N that would fix things. She’d go over to him and no matter who was right or wrong, she’d say it was silly and smack him upside the head for staying upset.

The symptoms started mild. A bit of dizziness and fatigue. Walking up the stairs got harder, standing up suddenly quickly became a threat. Marshall and the others had noticed it, but decided not to mention anything. Health business is private business. Then, she started getting weaker. She was fatigued after just walking from the office back to her desk. She got pale. She no longer had that glow to her. Hailie asked Marshall what was wrong, but even he didn’t know.

She was always short of breath. When she talked, she occasionally slurred her words. She’d stumble through the hallway, just trying to make it back to her desk. This went on for months. In the beginning, Marshall took the pallor and fatigue as stress and exhaustion from work. He no longer complained, instead taking on some of her duties in an attempt to alleviate her. He saw nothing changed, in fact, it only worsened.

She started having heart palpitations. They became more frequent as the weeks flew by. When she’d hug her friends or set a hand down on someone’s arm, they’d notice that they were cold as ice. Her nails, something she once cared for, were now brittle. Her hair, once shiny and well put together, was now thinning and falling like a withering tree in the fall.

Almost a year had passed since the symptoms started. It was a somewhat normal day in the studio. Y/N walked in with Marshall’s weekly schedule in hand. Today, the windows weren’t coated with curtains like they usually were. Today, Marshall saw Y/N in the natural light. He noticed how pale she’d become. How her hair was now messy and thinned. How she looked almost malnourished.

He loved her the same, but he was concerned. He asked her to sit beside him on the couch, looking towards the others in the studio. Certainly the others had to have noticed her dire state. She sat carefully, moving slowly in an attempt to not exhaust herself too much. Her eyes darted around the room in confusion. Why was everyone looking at her like that?

She sat there for a while, when she realized she needed to finish a document for Paul.

-Shit!

-What? What’s wrong?

-I need to finish that paper for Paul. I’ll see you guys later.

Y/N stood up madly. Suddenly, she felt her body numb slightly and her eyes roll into the back of her head. She felt dizzy and everything around her felt surreal. She attempted to take a step forward, but instead, her entire body fell forward. Next thing she knew, it all went black.

Marshall saw her stand up. She looked like she was going to hurl. She fell forward and with a thud, she hit the carpeted floor. Everyone in the room ran to her. There was a bustle of voices. Pandemonium broke out. Someone called an ambulance. Marshall couldn’t remember much, but what he did know was that now he was sitting in a hospital lobby. Awaiting any news about his best friend.

The realization settled in. The panic came along with it. He realized that his best friend (and sort of the love of his life) was in a hospital bed right now, unsure of whether or not she’ll make it out of here. He knew he couldn’t lose her.

-It’s anemia. Her case was pretty severe, since it was left untreated for 11 months. She had an iron deficiency, most likely from not eating properly. It could’ve become deadly if she’d left it untreated for too long.

-Anemia?

Marshall couldn’t believe it. All of the signs were there and he never did anything about it. As soon as they let him know she was conscious, he ran into the room. He saw her in the bed and felt a wave of emotions. He felt sad knowing that she was hurting, he felt happy that she was okay, and he felt rage that she let this get that bad and that he hadn’t noticed.

-Hey, Marsh.

-Hey. Did you know you had anemia?

-Wow. Straight to the point. Um, not specifically but, like, I knew there was something wrong.

Marshall started to become upset. How was she so casual about this? If anemia is left untreated, it can result in death.

-And you didn’t do anything about it?

-Well, no. I didn’t expect anything serious?

-The doctor told me that you could’ve died if you didn’t treat it. And he said it was because you weren’t eating. Why weren’t you eating?

-Look, Marsh, I just assumed that it would go away after a while. I didn’t even notice it had gotten that bad. And I mean, I haven’t really had an appetite. I’ve been working a lot and I just think I was stressed.

-Well, you should’ve told me you were feeling overworked! I could’ve helped you! You could’ve died Y/N! Doesn’t that go through your head!

-I’m sorry! I didn’t think it was that deep!

-Yeah? Well it was. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I came here thinking you got some crazy disease. I was so worried.

-I can’t control my appetite Marsh. And you didn’t have to come.

-Yeah, well, when you’re on your deathbed, alone, you’ll wish you might’ve listened to me.

Y/N’s mouth stayed slightly ajar after that last comment. How could he say that to her? He saw the look on her face and immediately regretted it. He knew he was doing wrong. He knew that it was a terrible thing to say.

-Look, Y/N, I’m so sor-

-Get out.

-What?

-Get out, Marsh. Leave.

And leave he did. He went home that day and had a long night of processing. He concluded that he had a point, but he should’ve phrased it better; he also should have picked a better time to say it. But he didn’t want to apologize. For some unknown reason, he couldn’t find it within himself to go to her and apologize. Eventually, a week had passed. He figured that she’d come to him soon and they’d make up. However, he was proven wrong when he received an email that Paul had forwarded him that morning. The title read “My Resignation”. He began to panic, calling her and sending her countless texts.

He then called Paul, hoping it was a mistake.

-Look, man. I don’t know what you said or did to her, but it must’ve been pretty fucked up. You better go apologize to her now.

Marshall quickly hopped into his car and drove to her house. He parked his car in her driveway, seeing she was home. He knocked on the door furiously, hoping to get ahold of her. She opened the door only a few inches. Enough to see his face. She was about to close the door when he pushed it open. She stumbled back a bit.

-What the hell do you want Marsh?

-Look, Y/N, I came to apologize. I can’t believe I didn’t do this sooner. I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean any of the bullshit I said. I was just scared. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel bad. Especially since you were the one in the hospital bed. When I was the one in trouble, you never did any of that shit to me. I’m so sorry Y/N.

Y/N sighed deeply. As upset as she was with him, she couldn’t stay mad. She was starting to look like her old self again, Marshall realized. She got her glow back, her hair was looking thicker; she looked like she did before. Still a little thin, but back to somewhat normal.

Y/N smiled weakly. She knew she couldn’t be mad at him forever, and this was silly. Marshall looked at her face, smiling, and he realized just how much he loved her. He looked at every feature he’d fallen in love with; her eyes, bright and curious, her lips, pretty and cute, her cheeks, slightly indented with all the smiling she does, but still beautiful. He knew he needed her, and without thinking, he leaned down and connected his lips with hers. It was passionate and sweet. The kiss contained all the words that need not be spoken. When he pulled back, she was smiling like an idiot, wide eyed.

He knew that from then on, he would love her a little harder.

#masterlist #new writer boost #writers on tumblr #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem #marshall mathers #dr dre #50 cent #eminem fanfiction #angst #angst with a happy ending #fluff #one shot

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penvisions · 3 months ago

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services requested {chapter four}

Pairing: Kept Man! Joel Miller x Sugar Momma! Reader

Summary: In the aftermath of your explosive interaction with Joel, you decide to get some space. He finds out in the middle of helping Ellie with something by the way of your mother bringing by a set of keys for him. Will he make it to the airport in time to tell you how sorry he is?

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: no outbreak au, modern au, age gap (joel is mid 50's, reader is late 20's / early 30's), reader is more of an oc written in the x reader style, reader is described to have a scar and tattoos, power dynamics, sexual undertones, mutual pining, flirting, casual touches, mutual attraction, light angst, mentions of infinitely (not joel or reader, mentions of past trauma, allusions to power imbalances within the tattoo world, reader is depicted to have a manic anxiety attack, reader is terrified of flying, use of prescription drugs to sooth anxiety, airport rush scene bc come oooooon lol, masturbation (male), i think that's it!

A/N: so i'm moving forward with stuff to prepare for a hip surgery. it's been a long journey of just managing the pain and finally finding an answer to eradicating it. unfortunately, my insurance will not be covering the testing that determines if i'm a good candidate, so that will require me to pick up a few extra shifts. i've linked my kofi if anyone is feeling generous but there is no pressure or need to. dropping this and running to get back to school work, love y'all!

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The first deposit approval is staring you in the face. The payroll website that you use for your assistant and will be using for your own business once it’s all finalized and ready to operate is the only window open on your laptop.

Joel Miller – pending approval

It’s in bold since you haven’t pressed any buttons, any options. Because honestly? You’re at a loss as to what to do. You haven’t heard from the man since he all but berated you nearly a week ago. And the truth is that he had scared you when he did it. The way the whites of his eyes were visible in the faint light coming off of the streetlamps, the way he had raised his voice in almost a growl of frustration, the sheer size of him as he stalked into the house behind you.

Even if you knew, deep down in your very soul- he wouldn’t do anything to physically hurt you.

With a puff of your cheeks, you press a finger pad to the keyboard and press process deposit.

Sighing out your held breath, you move away from the laptop settled atop the desk and continue packing. Joel isn’t the only one going out of town, you reached out to a friend in California to go and work a guest spot at the independent shop they were opening. A break, a little breather to get out of a house all to yourself that you needed work done on to truly make the space yours.

You were too…everything right now to reach out to the man who you just paid to be in your services.

But you didn’t want to bother him, to agitate him, to make him feel any pressure about deciding what to do. Giving him the space and chance to make up his mind was both the polite and professional thing to do in this situation. That’s the comfort you told yourself in regards to your decision on how to handle the circumstances you found yourself in.

You’ve already taken his words and dissected them, going over them with your therapist. And she was right, he was reacting to the combination of outdated information and something from his own life. You want to forgive him, to move past it but it was going to take time, you know that. So you give him the space you know he needs, that you need to. As long as he apologizes, you know your heart will soften through the residual hurt and anger that you’ve already begun to work through.

Joel is staring at the dark screen of the new phone you sent. He’s plugged it in, the little charging symbol flashing at him before it disappears. He’s waiting now, for it to turn on. The code to synch up your schedule onto his calendar on a post it note alongside the password and username combination for him to long into the bank app to see the available funds on the work card you gave him with the contract. He hadn’t used it yet, feeling like he wasn’t worthy of the dollars and cents.

It hits him like a punch to the gut, when he see’s the bold words that spell out a phone call you’ve blocked off an entire hour for:

Case Attorney, parameters of protection. 2pm-3pm.

It’s nestled neatly among consultations and appointments that range from two hours to six hours, reminders to call and check supply orders and the status of the permits he’s already called after to secure timely dates. There are no dates blocked off, even if all there is listed on some appointments for nails, for hair, for everything and anything.

Busy. Always filling your time with something. And it all makes so much sense, if you’ve made a name for yourself, have the funds that you do.

He looks over at the blueprints for the house you finalized on, something you never mentioned until it was all set and done- inferring that this would be one the things he can handle for you in that initial meeting regarding the contract.

You were lonely, must be, he realizes it at the same time he feels it himself. He got so used to the daily conversations and interactions with you, the mundane tasks that didn’t feel so monotonous with you popping in and out of the house while they worked. Even just those first few days after the job was completed, you both continued to see each other. But now…

It’s been nearly a week since he’s seen you, more time since he’s interacted with you- like really, truly interacted with you. Since he yelled at you in your new home, demanded where your husband was and what role he would have in this agreement the two of you made. Joel likes to believe he’s got a level head atop his shoulders, but the truth is that he feels so all encompassing sometimes.

With Sarah, with Elle, with his brother- all three of them pull his heartstrings, strike the match of annoyance and anger, fuel his fierce protective side.

With a sigh, he pulls up your name in his messages. There is no previous thread, nothing transferred from his older phone due to the incapabilities of the new software. He isn’t sure how to reach out so he falls back on being professional. He settles with a summary of the good bones of your house, the suggested work being something he can more than aptly make a reality and then ends the message with a question for the best start date.

But you don’t respond, either busy or sleeping- he realizes the early hour and scolds himself. Of course you’re asleep, it’s only five in the morning. He sighs and looks out the window that his dresser is pushed up against. The sun is barely beginning to peak over the horizon, the sky a deep blue that a few stars shine in.

He startles when his phone beeps where he discarded it on the comforter.

A date, where the samples of what tile and paint you want will be left on the island in the kitchen for him. You’ll be busy with work most days, will probably miss him completely and he doesn’t think anything of it.

Until later that day when Ellie brings you up.

“Hey, I think I saw something about Grey going on a trip online.”

“What?” Joel does an amazing job of keeping his cool at the sudden news, the screwdriver in his hand drops and falls to the floor. Landing in the carpet with a dull thud before bouncing and hitting the top of his bare foot where he’s crouched down and fixing a loose shelf in one of Ellie’s bookcases. He hisses as it thunks, pain shooting across the muscles there and swelling immediately.

“It looks like she’s going to be a guest artist at a new place opening in LA.” Ellie says from where she’s cross legged in her desk chair, laptop open and displaying the piece of art she’s using as a reference for a project that’s due later in the week. She’s in one course this summer, going back to full time in the fall when that time of the year rolls around.

“She would’ve told me if she was going out of town.” At least he thinks you would, how else would he be able to begin working on the renovation of your home?

“I mean…are you sure about that with how things…?” Ellie hesitantly says, her brow furrowed in much the same way that Joel’s does, despite no direct blood relation.

“I…I would hope she would tell me, considering I have the blueprints for her house and the details of the renovation with a start date.” He picks the screwdriver back up and makes sure that his task is complete.

“Have you reached out?”

“…no.” He doesn’t turn to her, despite feeling her eyes on him from across the room.

“Well, there you go.”

“We leave in four days, there’s…”

A knock at the door has him whipping his head in that direction, completely blindsided by the direction of the conversation and someone calling upon him in the middle of the afternoon.

When he swings it open, your mother is standing there with a soft smile. She greets him, dangling a ring with three keys securely looped on it and announces that they’re for him.

“Grey left these for ya, said you’d need them to start on the job when you get back from Philly?” She pins him with a smirk, knowing she’s caught in the middle of something between the two of you. The higher pitch of your voice at the end of her sentence telling him that she’s looking for confirmation.

“Doin’ the reservations on her house.” He entertains her, though she probably already knows if she has the keys in her grip.

“Oh! That’s so lovely, you’ll do an amazing job just like you did with our house, I just know it.” She winks at him, offering the ring to him and plopping it in his palm when he holds it up. “Just make sure to lock the door back behind you and I’m sure she’s left a note of which lamp to leave on so the house doesn’t look empty at night.”

“Noticed she has a lot of late nights, I can definitely do that.” Joel feels his smile begin to melt the longer he realizes that your mother is talking so casually about the way he interacts with her daughter. How he’s watched you enough to notice certain mannerisms and routines.

Lydia stares at him over the threshold. Her sharp eyes finding the cracks in his demeanor, the effects of his harsh words, sleepless nights, and nose to the grind days. Joel’s heart beats steadily as she regards him, racketing up the longer the look lasts but especially when she gasps in the middle of her next sentence.

“She does normally, but- oh dear, she didn’t tell you?” The woman blinks and concerned wrinkles form in her brow and around her nose as she scrunches it in much the same way you do when you laugh.

“Tell me what?” Joel croaks, unable to dispel the anxiety and fear that bubbles up to fill his chest painfully. His breathing shallows as his mind works through all of the worst-case scenarios of you being in the hospital or something happening to you at the shop. His fingers tighten around the keys in his hand, the metal bites into the calluses from wielding tools his entire adult life.

“She’s gone to do a guest spot at a friend’s shop in LA for a few weeks. Manny is dropping her off right now, her flight leaves in a few hours.” Her announcement freezes time completely, Ellie was right. You were leaving without telling him. Running because he gave you a reason to.

“Shit.” He pockets the keys and shoves his feet into a pair of worn cowboy boots. Lydia moves aside quickly, avoiding him as he rushes past. His heart is pounding as he pictures you alone in the airport, swathed in one of the big, chunky cardigans that you favor. Shoving the keys into the ignition, the truck roars to life. Words from a past conversation echoing in his mind.

‘You look over at him and Joel feels his chest tighten as you smile sadly at him, lips barely lifting up.

“My parents are boarding.” He sees in the way you fiddle with your phone, fingers tapping long nails against the case, the way you focus completely on the screen. You’re nervous.

“Long flight, huh?” He set the roller in his grip down into the pan he’s poured a bit of paint in, making sure it’s not going to tip over before he wipes his hands on his stained jeans and gently pulls the phone from your grip. “Ain’t no use hyperfixatin’ on it. How long is the flight?”

“Something insane like fourteen hours. God, I couldn’t.”

“Not a fan of flyin?”

“Honestly? No, it turns me into a nervous wreck, I’d rather drive for three days to get somewhere than take a five hour flight.” You don’t meet his eyes, almost bashful at the admittance. But he watches you, sees the truth behind your words and he wants to pull you into a hug. But that would be a line, so he just reached out a hand to cup your shoulder as he moves around you, squeezing it in a quiet comfort.’

“Her flight takes off at gate 42A!” He waves a hand up through the open window to signal that he hears her shout, and his truck takes off down the street. “It’s a Delta flight!”

Ellie sidles up to Lydia with her arms crossed and a smirk on her lips.

“Oh, he’s got it baaaad.” Your mom says with a sweet laugh. Watching the way his taillights disappear around the street that runs perpendicular to the cul-de-sac.

“You have no idea.” Ellie shoves at her with an elbow, cackling at the way the woman scoffs in mock hurt and places a hand over her heart.

“Oh shut up, I didn’t even get you that hard.” She defends, shaking her head at the antics of her neighbor.

“Ellie, you little shit, I swear I shouldn’t invite you over for dinner. But I have a feeling your lovesick papa is gonna go as far as boarding a plane to fix whatever he did.” She tosses an arm over Ellie’s shoulders and tugs her close.

“Fuck, you’re right. He didn’t leave any money for food.” Her face falls and the words settle in.

“Alright, c’mon- I’ve got enchiladas comin’ out of the oven any minute now. Manny should be back soon too, she never lets us stay with her at the gate. She’s a tough cookie, that girl.”

“She really is,” Ellie makes sure to lock the door behind her and follows you mom across the street. “So what kinda enchiladas?”

Brakes screech as Joel comes to a harsh start in front of the valet stand. The logo for your airline hanging above the designated spot for pull overs and pickups. He jerks the gear shift into park, grabs a flannel from the back and shrugs it on as he rounds the front of the truck. He tosses the keys to the guy who looks up from his phone at the stand.

“Hello, sir, would you like long- or short-term parking today?” Joel pulls his wallet out from his back pocket and hands over his personal bank card. He’ll gladly pay anything out of pocket to mend the damage he’s done. He just wants to get to you before boarding begins. He got stuck in traffic, of course, making his little drive into an hour long deal that had his sighing heavily and hitting his fists to the steering wheel more times than he could count.

“Uh, whatever works. Short term shifts to longer after what- 24 hours?”

“That’s correct, sir.” The attendant tears off a receipt from a small printer, it’s got Joel’s name on it and the type of car he has. He’s ushering a quick thank you before rushing inside and going straight to the boards that show the departures. He whips his head back and forth, sweeping the area for arrows to direct him to the correct terminal that hosts your gate.

He’s just stepped onto the escalator to go up two floors when he spots a flash of sun glinting off of a watch. His chest tightens as he sees you standing out on the balcony for the floor he’s about to reach, putting out the butt of one cigarette and immediately move to light another. He can practically smell the smoke from it mixed with your perfume, and he takes a deep breath before an announcement calling for preboarding for your flight along with two others.

“Shit,” He mutters to himself as he gets to the top of the escalator. There’s a short line to go through security and they’re asking for boarding passes. He mentally steels himself, getting his wallet out and gritting his teeth as he approaches at the motion of the woman at the podium. He’s not the biggest fan of flying either, it’s always too cramped, too stuffy, it makes his anxiety bubble up. But you need him, more than he dislikes the very same thing as you do.

“Hi, I’d like to book a seat on the Los Angeles flight departing from gate 42A, ma’am.”

It’s been a shitty day, your morning client didn’t show up and the person who took the spot for a walk in wanted something too complicated for the time slot you had available. So you settled on a consultation instead. Anxiety steadily builds in your entire body, humming through you more efficiently than caffeine or the nutrient packed meal you had for lunch at your parents to keep you awake and moving. The bag you packed that morning sits beside you as you father drives you to the airport.

“No need to check the car in, when you’ve got me to help ya!”

“Dad, I really wouldn’t have minded. What if my return flight comes in super late or like really early?”

“Well, we ain’t workin’ too much these days, so shut up and drink your smoothie.”

“Well then.” You huff out a nervous laugh, the taste of peaches and passion fruit souring on your tongue as you take a big sip through the plastic straw.

“So,” He glances over at you as he signals to take the exit for the airport coming up in two miles. The highway is busy, right in the middle of the city. The word is drawn out, something riding the undercurrent of it and you look over at him with a raised brow.

“So?”

“Joel’s been a little distant since the remodel.”

“He’s busy, dad, running his own company and all.” You look back out the window, fingers trailing through the condensation on your plastic cup.

“Seems like he’s avoidin’ you, should you be over at ours.” And damn if your dad didn’t hit the nail on the head. You were both avoiding each other, too much brimming and needing to be dealt with but neither of you knowing how to begin to.

“No, we just…had a little miscommunication about the work he’s doing on my place.” A sliver of the truth is all you can offer, a little white lie.

“Hmm, okay. But don’t be too hard on him, he don’t have many people in his life ‘n he seems to have taken a liking to you.” Mulling over his words, you recall the way Joel once said that since his brother became so unreliable, he forfeited his only night out a week to go to the bar and decompress.

“Everything is okay, dad. I promise I’m not getting between you two. Invite him over if you wanna hang out with him.” Regret and guilt bubbles up, you truly didn’t mean to affect the way your parents and Joel interact. They were friends, all of them. You were simply the person who hired him as a handy man, the term kept man a little too close to the truth. But it lingers in the back of your mind. Joel is more than just a handy man, he’s someone who you talked to in the quiet moments and want to take care of.

“Wouldn’t be so bad if you did get between the two of us, never seem him look so…down. Maybe you could take him out to a nice dinner, don’t know when the last time anyone did something’ like that for him. He let’s your mom and me cook for him, sure, but it’s not the same. So stubborn on that front, but I’m sure you could convince him.”

You don’t exchange any more words as he pulls up to the drop off zone. With a kiss to your forehead and a crushing hug, he shoves you toward the entrance with a ‘now get outta here and go do your thing!’.

The nicotine was doing little to calm your nerves, you hated flying with passion. It was one of the things you didn’t have the guts to handle, even if it was a normal part of life.

You put out the cigarette you just lit when you notice the tremors of your hand shaking it so much the ash rains down onto the concrete of the balcony. You walk as quickly as you can through the main throughfare you know your gate is off of. You’ve got the last boarding group, which gives you enough time to collect yourself. Your intensions of splashing water on your face and taking a few deep breaths completely derails when you see that the bathroom is empty and a sob lurches out of your chest. With shaking hands, you plop your duffel bag onto the wall that backs up to the entrance and lean back against it.

Your head is raised as you try to keep the tears at bay, but they leak out anyway, in hot streaks down your cheeks as you slide down the slick tile and thud heavily on your butt.

With a pounding heart, a heavy weight in your stomach and twitching nerves, you sit there in the bathroom and succumb to the tears. Public setting or not be damned.

The last time you were on a plane had been one of the clearest recollections of what hinted you toward what was going on with your now ex-husband. Someone who normally comforted you and got you through the few flights that had to be taken. The last time though…

‘Micah is staring at his phone as they call for boarding, your group the first due to first class. He said he wanted to treat you, make the ordeal a little easier since your nerves got the best of you. Letting out a deep breath, you go to reach for the strap of your duffel bag and sling it over a shoulder. The tickets are loaded individually on your phones, something that you didn’t think much about.

He’s so wrapped up in whatever is on the screen that he startles when you walk behind him and wrap your arms around his neck to whisper in his ear that they’re calling for your group.

“Jesus, Grey! Don’t be doing shit like that, seriously!” He’s up like a rocket, his phone screen locking. An apology falls from you, claiming you didn’t know he would react so badly. “It’s bad enough you turn into a literal child when it comes to flying, but it doesn’t mean you have to be all clingy and invade my personal space.”

All you can do is nod once, to let him know you hear him and acknowledge what he’s saying. Even if it hurts, even if it does nothing but rachet up the feeling of a balloon inflating impossibly large inside your chest, too big to fill into the small space and making the air in your lungs feel like a monumental task to breath in and out. He doesn’t reach for your hand or usher you ahead of him with a guiding hand on the small of your back. He almost makes it look as if the two of you aren’t even traveling together as he gets into the line, not bothering to wait for you while your boarding pass gets scanned and verified.

He's already seated in the row that will house you two for the next seven hours, a trip out to Philly for the next month. A bottle of water in his grip while he scrolls on his phone with that same concentration as before. And you hate the way that your heart mends a little when the plane begins to glide across the tarmac and Michah reaches over to tangle his fingers in your own.’

You’re so lost in your feelings and memories that you ignore the loud rush of stomping steps that burst into the bathroom. It’s probably just someone who got off of a flight or someone rushing before they board.

“There you are,” You hear the sudden timbre of Joel’s southern drawl laced voice. Your head whips up to reveal your tear stained face slack in complete surprise.

“J-Joel? What- what are you doing here?” You roughly wipe the sleeve of your cardigan underneath an eye to dispel the wetness from your tears. His face softens from panicked to a sad smile as he kneels down in front of you and runs a hand over your mussed hair, tucking it behind your ear.

“You don’t like flyin’.” He cups the side of your face, thumb wiping the wetness there you didn’t manage to get yourself. You don’t flinch away from him as his eyes meet yours, even if a knot lodges itself in your throat.

“Well, yes, that’s correct but-“ You begin to shake your head, the last words he spoke to you hanging heavy in the air.

“Look, I know, okay? I know things are all out of sorts with us, but you…you needed someone and I’m here.” He’s unprepared for you to launch yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck and your face burying into his chest. He lets out a little ‘oof’ as his butt makes contact with the tile but wraps his arms around your back all the same. The cherry of your perfume and the smoke from the cigarette fills his lungs and he feels like it’s the first full breath he’s taken since the past confrontation. His scent, spicy and woodsy overwhelms you as you embrace, doing much the same to you.

“You’re so stupid.” You whisper, lips brushing against the soft skin of his neck. The urge to bite into the tan expanse overtakes you and your lips purse at keeping the action securely in your mind.

“I know, sweet girl, I know.” He’s completely serious, his voice barely a whisper in imitation of yours- not wanting to break the fragile moment. You can feel the guilt he carries in the firm way he holds you, in his very breath as you lean against him and move his chest as it rises and falls.

“You bought a flight to get through the line and into the terminal.”

“Guess that means we’re going to LA.”

“You leave for Philly in a few days.”

“Ellie is perfectly capable of flying out from here and I can always fly out from LA. I ain’t worried about that, I’m worried about you.” His confidence in the girl he raised obvious, pride in his tone as he realizes himself that she’s nearly grown as much as she will be.

“Shut up, you’re not real.”

“Real as you are, have a hard time believing it when you’re not around.”

“You can’t possibly be this flirty all the time, it’s not fair.”

“I’m gonna let you get away with sayin’ anything you want right now, cause you’re going through it.” He chuckles, his body shaking yours as he loses his composure at the things you have no filter for.

He’s pulling back slightly, his nose brushing your forehead and down your temple. Your breath hitches as you feel the jump in his heart beating in his chest, your eyes flashing up to meet his. Tension fills the bright room, bouncing off the tile and coursing through the air that almost sizzles between the very little space that separates your bodies. His hands are firm and wide on the whole of your back, fingers flexing as you glance down at his plus lips so- dizzyingly close.

The sound of someone entering the space and a shocked gasp as you jerking away from him suddenly, hands detangling from him as he moves slower to mirror your actions.

“Apologies, ma’am. Little pre-trip jitters is all.” Joel offers you a steady hand to stand, remaining on the floor until you’re back up on your feet, eyes trained on your boots. With a small grunt, he’s standing too and reaching for your bag as the woman scurries to one of the stalls and the lock clicks into place. The light music playing over the speakers pauses to announce the boarding for your flight and you two move together to exit the bathroom.

“It’s gonna be okay, I swear to you.” He’s pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, tickling you as his scruff brushes there. “Now let’s catch our flight.”

Joel watches quietly as you down two of the little shot bottles you purchased from the flight attendant the second she came around with the drink cart. He felt you reach for his hand the moment the plane began to taxi along the tarmac, your grip vice like as the aircraft built speed to take off. He tried not to clamp his hand around yours to give way his own discomfort at flying, wanting to ensure that you were tended to over himself. You were so tense still, your entire body rigid beside him.

He let you get him a bottle of water, though he had yet to crack the seal on it.

The window was closed, his body shieling you on the other side from the aisle, business class only holding two larger seats to a row. You had upgraded his seat and covered the cost so you two could be beside each other and he’s grateful, not even thinking of the original seat he may have gotten.

It’s well into the flight and he sees you bend down to dig into the duffel you insisted at having stored by your feet. The rattle of a pills in a translucent orange bottle draws his eyes from where he focused on cleaning the lenses of his thick framed glasses.

“These might make me a little sleepy, but, um, the rental car is through enterprise and the hotel is through a local place downtown.” He opens the water for you to down two pills, taking a sip before he twists the cap back on, shoulder warming as you lean against him, arm wrapped around his bicep and fingers tangling with his. It’s close, it’s contact, and he hopes you can’t hear the way his heart thuds in his chest as he pictures you doing so under less extreme circumstances. He worries he’s truly messed everything up, but you’re letting him be the support you need and that’s a big step in the right direction to mending what he almost burned down.

“I’ll make sure we get there safely, just worry about keeping calm. I got it, sweetheart.” The soft rumble of his voice sooths you, he knows as soon as your eyes drift shut and your breathing evens out.

Hours later, you begin to stir and feel marginally better. Everything is foggy through your sluggish mind, but you trust Joel to help you unbuckle from the seat as the plane finally comes to a stop after landing.

He does just as he promises, holding you securely to his side as you sleepily follow his guiding movements. The rental desk asks for the card on file and he’s leaning down and murmuring if he can dig it out of your bag slung over his shoulder. Your little hum of approval has him unzipping the side pocket before your voice reminds him that he needs to add himself down as a driver.

“Thank you, you and your wife enjoy your visit!”

The word slaps him in the face even as he tries to smile politely at the woman, turning away from the desk and guiding you over to the car. He secures you in the passenger seat before carefully placing your bag in the backseat.

“Sweetheart, what hotel did you book?” He watches as you pat yourself down, searching for something and then it clicks. Your phone. That’s in his own pocket, you pushed it into his hands back on the plane.

“I’ve got your phone here, Grey. I turned it on after we landed,” Joel hands it over and you blearily look down at the screen, little groans slipping past your lips as you sift through all the notifications to find what you were looking for. You turn it toward him and he sees the reservation, typing in the address listed in his own phone. He’ll text Ellie once everything is settled, more than the ‘landed safe’ he did as soon as the pilot turned off the fastened seatbelt sign.

As he turns the engine and maneuvers out of the parking lot and into the glittering city, he hears your phone ringing as it calls out.

“Hey momma, we made it.”

“Oh good! I assumed Joel managed to catch you, he rushed off so quickly.” Lydia’s voice chimes like tin through the line. “I’ve got Ellie over here, we’re playing monopoly and-“

“It’s late, let her go to bed.” You admonish and Joel smiles to himself at the concern you hold for his daughter thought you’ve yet to meet her.

“I’m fine! Glad you and dad are safe! Tell him he didn’t leave any food money!” Ellie’s loud voice causes you to pull the phone away from your ear and Joel smirks at the sight out of the corner of his eye.

“I think he heard ya, kid.” Your own sleepy smile softens the scene, making it more intimate in the close quarters of the cab. The rest of the call is at an appropriate volume and you assure her that you’ll make sure money gets sent over. As Joel signals to turn into the hotel entrance, you motion to the valet for him to stop at.

“Jus’ wanna sleep.” You mumble as you begin to disrobe, unaware of him freezing by the door as you do so. The skin you expose to him not even a thought as you hang your cardigan on the back of the chair at the desk and move to place your leggings there too. Your baggy shirt and underwear allowing for your legs to be on display, the ink that decorates them catching the low lights left on for those like you with late check ins. The snap of elastic as you unhook your bra is the last thing preventing you from laying down and you move toward the big bed to peel back the covers.

Slipping inside, you don’t even manage to get them over your body before you’re gone from the world and snoring softly.

Letting out the breath caught in his throat, Joel puts down the duffel bag and steps out of his cowboy boots before going into the bathroom. He hangs his head as his hands grip tight to the edge of the vanity in the large bathroom, a bathtub and glass panel shower filling the space. He dims the lights so they don’t sneak underneath the door, though he doubts you would stir at much right now.

He’s hard.

Arousal striking hot like a hook around his navel the second you began to take your clothes off and he feels like an old creep for the way his body chose to respond. You’re vulnerable, someone who trusts him to keep you safe. He wonders if he should go back down to the lobby and book himself a room, but…he doesn’t want to.

The shower doesn’t sputter to life as he turns the nob, it gently rains down instantly hot water and he groans as it runs over his exhausted muscles. He takes his time washing with the supplies already in the stall on a small alcove shelf. The same scent he recognizes from time spent with you, the hotel must’ve stocked your choice of products and he breaths in the comforting mix of lemon, cherry, and rose.

A hand drifts down to where he’s still hard between his legs, soap suds trailing down his body to envelop him completely in your scent and his breath sucks in the moment he wraps a wide palm around himself.

“Fuck.” He whispers, he’s really about to do this with you only one wall away. Fuck, he really is and it only takes him a few strokes before his orgasm blinds him, glittering stars of white clouding his vision as it buckles his knees and pulses out to paint the tiles. He’s panting heavily, the sensation almost too much as he pictures the way your legs looked, completely bare underneath your shirt. The little hint of your ass he got a good view of as you leaned over to pull the covers away from the bed.

The words of that particular clause in his contract float in his mind’s eye and he sucks in a deep breath. A decision on how to traverse that particular aspect of your relationship completely up to him. And god, does he want to keep up the casual and comforting touches, to feel the soft brush of your fingers against his own skin. But it’s okay, there’s time.

Damp and completely relaxed, Joel busies himself setting up the couch for him to sleep on with the extra blankets folded in the closet. He’s about to turn the light own by the side of the bed you aren’t occupying when he hears the hush of the sheets. Looking up, he sees you reaching out to him blindly.

“Come to bed, Joel.”

And damn, if he can’t argue with the soft timbre of your sleep voice and the pout of your lips as you lay in the big bed all alone. He looks over to where his shirt rests on the desk and walks over to shrug it back on before he slides underneath the covers beside you. The small huff of your breath as you doze back off and the gentle smile on your pretty lips eases him into a peaceful sleep.

You wake up to the sound of loud snoring, startling you where you’re curled up in the covers pulled up to your chin. Your eyes snap open as you take in a deep breath, the waking world shocking you as you spy tousled hair on the pillow beside you. Steaked with dark and light greys, but he’s the source of the sound that woke you.

Despite that, you bite down on your bottom lip as you take in the way he kept to his side of the large bed and slide out to go to the bathroom. The shower is amazing, the hot water rinsing away the last of the sleep that clings to you, a combination of the way you worked yourself up and the medication. You’re reaching to wash the conditioner from your hair when a soft knock sounds on the closed door.

“Hey, uh, I don’t mean to intrude, but nature calls.” Joel’s voice calls over the rush of water and you freeze.

“Oh, um, okay. The shower is clear, but it’s fogged up enough-“

“Ain’t gonna look, I promise.” And then the door is opening and Joel’s blurry figure can be seen through the mist. But you do. His hand is secure over his crotch and you realize he’s trying to cover the way his morning wood is tucked into the waistband of his boxer briefs. You quickly look away, arousal zinging through you as you do your best to ignore the sounds of him relieving himself.

He’s careful with flushing and washing his hands, not wanting to affect the temperature of your shower but it doesn’t even register as you do your best to avoid the weight his quick glance puts on your skin before he’s gone- just as quick as he appeared.

The rest of the morning is spent getting breakfast down in the restaurant, the conversation flowing easily as you both go over switching his flight for Philly to leave from LA instead of Austin. Money is sent over to Ellie and as you load up into the rental to hit up some shops for supplies you need to live out of the hotel room, Joel reaches for your hands and holds them gently.

“Hey,” He catches your eyes, the nerves he feels swelling up mirrored in your eyes.

“Joel, it’s okay, really. You- you didn’t know.” You try to pull your hands back and he lets you, curling them back to himself as he watches you switch your weight from one foot to the other.

“No, I didn’t. But I should’ve have come at you like that, it was…it was mighty unprofessional of me to do that. I was in the wrong and you didn’t deserve to catch the weight of how I responded to thinking you were married.” His words are genuine, carrying the guilt he feels over the way things unraveled and you exhale heavily.

“It…it wasn’t good, to hear those words come from you. Those accusations, but I understand how it might have looked, really. I just- Joel, I only ever wanted to help you, please trust me. My- the reason I moved my entire life is huge, and I was going to share it with you when I could find the courage.”

“You don’t have to, even now. I swear to you, your business and past is your own. I just want you to be okay, to be safe. That’s the most important thing.” You step up to him to carefully wrap your arms around his middle and lean up to press a kiss to his cheek despite the flutter in your chest and the slight shake to your hands.

“I’m okay, for the most part. But you’re…Joel, you’re amazing. You really didn’t have to alter your own plans to travel with me and to do everything you have since we left yesterday. I appreciate it, I appreciate you.” His own hands come up around your back to return the embrace, the causal touch lighting you up just as much as seeing him through the fogged up glass paneling of the shower this morning. He’s just so…handsome that it’s a little hard to reconcile that he’s here with you, that he’s feeling more like a friend and less like the man who you initially hired to help you out. The lines blurring the more time you spend with him, the attraction blooming and gaining a heated weight that’s harder and harder to shake from your body.

“I appreciate you too, sweetheart. It’s…it’s okay that I’ve been callin’ you that, right?” He suddenly looks bashful as you step back. And hope swells, that he might possibly feel the same effects as you do being in each other’s space. He’s asking more if everything is okay, you realize, not just the nickname he’s given you and you pause. He’s done so much the last few days, literally coming to your rescue as you fell apart in the very public bathroom of an airport terminal. He’s done more than enough to show how sorry he is and you don’t feel like his words were anything but an immediate reaction to something stemming from his own past. But you don’t push on that, just like he’s not pushing you now.

“Yes, of course.” You assure him, smiling softly as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, let’s go get you some clothes for the next two days, yeah?”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” The smile he gives you in return is disarming and you feel your stomach swoop.

“Okay, so I got the shuttle times for you, since you insisted. It’ll be here at-“ Your words trail off as you see him sitting on the large bed, his hands are in his lap though you note the way he’s clenching and unclenching his fists atop his thighs. He looks a little startled at your sudden entrance, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been.

“Wanted to get you something, spent my own money on it. I hope you like it.” The scent of the bouquet on the desk that he approaches now fills the room in a pleasant way, mingling with the cologne he favors and your own perfume. A wonderful mixture of you both in the space you’ll be occupying for the next few weeks. Sadness flairs up when you realize it will fade as soon as he’s gone. “Tried to keep it a secret until I could surprise you with it.”

“What other secrets are you hiding, hmm, Mr. Miller?” Your voice is raspy, the display of the petals over the bed where a new cardigan in a fancy box sits partially open for you to see the soft muted green of the fabric. A gift, to make up for the things you’ve already decided to move past.

“Jus’ Joel, how many times do I gotta-“

“But I respect you, Mr. Miller. Don't you want me to show how highly I regard you?” The air in the room shifts as does the pitch of your voice.

“Just a workin' man, always have been, ain't nothin' special.” He’s not looking at you, pink tinging his ears and the base of his neck as he looks down at the jeans he’s originally rushed out of the house in.

“Joel,” The sound of his name releases on a breathy sigh as you begin to saunter up to where he's leaning his backside on the desk, errant petals surround him, covers him in places he hadn't patted them away from. The rugged, worn denim hugging his frame, his plain, paint spotted t-shirt displaying the muscles he's built over the years of his life. He didn’t want to fly in the things purchased earlier that day, opting to keep them in the new bag he’s got to take with him on his trip. He's a tasty looking man, and no one else is around. You can't help the pulse of desire that lances underneath your skin, lighting you up in a way you hadn't felt in ages. the piercing gaze he pins you with even as you see the bob of a harsh swallow in his throat, the pursing of his lips as he tries to keep his calm the closer you get to him.

The air is thick, heady, tension crackling and making every other sound soft as you finally step into his space. Right in front of him, you have to look up slightly because of his height, his curls so soft underneath your exploring fingers as you reach out and pet them away from his face, the longer ones having fallen to frame his gorgeous face. You can see the moment his eyes dilate, darken as your tongue peeks out to lick over your bottom lip, the way your teeth sink into the plush give of it as you tangle fingers into his curls and the scratch of your nails on his scalp. A groan sounds deep in his chest, his own lips parting as it sits in the air between you. the sound spurring you on as you rest your other hand delicately on his chest, feeling the hardness of muscle there hidden beneath the thin fabric.

“I shouldn’t want to, I really shouldn’t with how things are and who your parents are.”

“Shouldn’t want to what?” Your heart thunders in your chest, his eyes trained on you with such intensity.

Hope swells, filling your chest where you can’t seem to get enough of the heavy air into your lungs.

“Shouldn’t wanna do this.” And then his hands are cradling the back of your head and the curve of your jaw as he leans down to press his lips firmly to yours.

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soaps-mohawk · 8 months ago

Text

I'm so sorry to everyone that I freaked out with the last post, I was trying so hard not to 😭 I have that like instant fear as soon as I see "we need to talk" or something in the same vein. I always think it's something bad.

This isn't bad, at least depending on how your perspective I guess.

So...I'm having thoughts about CRCB in October. I planned out posting schedules for Kyletober and CRCB and my Patreon stuff and it's going to basically be a post every day, sometimes multiple in multiple places.

That's a lot.

So, I am set on doing Kyletober since all of the fics are already written, but I was planning on continuing CRCB during October as well. But...I think I need a little break from CRCB. It's been about eight months of posting almost every single week and it's been a lot. I'm struggling with chapters right now and with work it's vastly limiting the time I have to write and focus on things and I'm kind of burning out right now.

So, what I wanted to discuss was potentially putting CRCB on hold for October while I focus on Kyletober and everything involved with that. Trying to do both is a lot and I'm not sure I can handle all of it, plus life, plus work.

I was planning on not necessarily putting CRCB on hold, but doing more of a "whenever I can/am inspired" random posting chapters kind of like I did in the beginning when I first started writing the fic, in November/December because those are very busy months and I will be dead tired from work and just general life.

I think I might still do that for November/December and possibly into the new year since there's no way the fic will be finished even if I posted every week until the end of December.

BUT

That's something I'll think about and make a decision on later.

Right now, my thought is...would you hate me if I put CRCB on pause in October? IF I do, I promise I won't end Chapter 39 on a cliffhanger. I wasn't planning on it anyway, but I promise I won't end it on a cliffhanger if I decide not to post any chapters in October.

That way if I do put it on pause, then I can not focus on it for a bit and give my brain a refresh, and I can also focus all my energy on Kyletober.

So yeah, it's going to be a lot doing both at the same time, and honestly I'm ready for a little break from CRCB. It's been going for a long time and it's a lot of words to get out in a week. I've been super stressed lately and I'm just struggling a lot trying to get through chapters.

So yeah. That's basically the dilemma here and the discussion to be had. I know y'all will tell me it's my blog and I can do whatever I want, but I would like opinions on it. Are y'all okay with me putting CRCB on hold to focus on Kyletober? Then pick it back up for probably just whenever I can chapter updates for the rest of the year? In January things will calm down and I'll have more time to relax and write and maybe get close to finishing the story. Plus I know a lot of my readers will be busy the next three months with the holidays and vacations and family and school and all of that, so you won't have to worry about getting behind and having to catch up with a bunch of chapters.

So...let me know...

#I wish I could keep writing it every week #but I need a break #a little refresh one could call it #it might do all of us some good

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anna-the-undertaker · 8 months ago

Note

Pick-a-fic prompt:

Newly arrived MC being unable to deal with the Brothers to the point of debating leaving the exchange program and thus running to the relative peace of the castle to step back and reflect (focus on the Royals)

Newly arrived MC being unable to deal with the Brothers to the point of debating leaving the exchange program and thus running to the relative peace of the castle, but the brothers find MC’s diary where their doubts are written as plain as day (focus on the Brothers)

Sorry this took so long to get to, I've just been so busy working, prepping stuff for moving, and I got absorbed in the fic I am working on. I chose the second one and ended up giving it more angst. I hope this is what you were asking for. Enjoy :)

Failure

MC had never felt so small.

From the moment they arrived in the Devildom, they were an outsider—human, fragile, and completely out of place. The brothers tolerated their presence, but only just. Every day was a new challenge, a struggle to keep their head above water in a world so different from their own.

Mammon, their first pact and appointed guardian, never missed an opportunity to remind them of how much of a burden they were. "Oi, don’t just stand there lookin’ useless. If you’re gonna stick around, at least do somethin’ useful, huh?" He’d toss those words at them with a grin, almost like it was a joke, but the sting was real. His careless remarks hit hard, especially when MC was already trying to find their place in this strange world. Mammon didn’t see the damage; to him, they were just another chore to deal with, something that got in the way of his schemes.

Leviathan wasn’t much better. Whenever MC tried to interact with him, they were met with his judgmental stare, as though they were trespassing. "What’s a normie like you doing here? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?" His voice was laced with annoyance, making them feel like some bizarre creature that had wandered into his private world. He kept his distance, never giving MC a chance to show they could connect with him, too. His obsession with his fictional worlds only made them feel even more like an outsider, as though they’d never understand or be worthy of stepping into his life.

Satan? Satan barely acknowledged their existence. If he ever looked up from his books, it was with frustration, as if MC’s very presence disrupted his thoughts. "Can’t you see I’m busy?" he’d say, his voice cold and dismissive. He wasn’t cruel, but his indifference hurt just as much. It was like MC was invisible unless they somehow got in his way.

And Asmodeus—Asmo treated MC like an accessory, something to admire for a moment and then discard when something more interesting caught his eye. "Darling, if you're going to wear something that dull, I really can’t be seen with you." His words were often accompanied by a smile, but the superficiality behind them was clear. He made them feel like an object, like their only worth was tied to their appearance. Even worse, Asmo never seemed to consider how his constant fixation on perfection weighed on MC, making them question their own worth more and more each day.

Beelzebub? He rarely acknowledged MC at all. His focus was always on food, and even when he did notice them, it wasn’t in a way that made them feel seen. "You smell different. Wonder if you’d taste good," he’d say offhandedly, as if it was just a passing thought. He didn’t mean any harm, but hearing those words was unsettling. It made them feel even less like a person and more like some temporary guest who didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

But Lucifer… Lucifer was the hardest to bear. His demands for perfection pressed down on MC like an unbearable weight. He expected them to adapt instantly, to know things they couldn’t possibly know, and when they inevitably made mistakes, the look of disdain in his eyes was enough to crush them. "I need you to be better," he’d say, his voice calm but sharp. MC could never shake the feeling that they were constantly being judged, constantly falling short of his expectations. His false sense of care grated on them the most—he acted like he was guiding them, but to MC, it felt more like control.

Everything was so new, so overwhelming, and no one seemed to care that they were struggling. They couldn’t keep up, and instead of offering help, the brothers’ habits and personalities only deepened their isolation. The teasing, the judgment, the indifference—it was all too much.

So, they ran.

It wasn’t a dramatic escape. They didn’t even pack their bags. They simply left one night, slipping out of the House of Lamentation and making their way to Diavolo’s castle. If anywhere in the Devildom could offer peace, it was there. Leaving behind their diary, a collection of their thoughts, hopes, and fears. They didn’t expect anyone to find it. Writing had been their only outlet, the only way to cope with the growing weight of their struggles.

At first, the brothers didn’t notice their absence. Days passed, and the empty seat at the table went unremarked upon. Only when the small disruptions became too obvious did Mammon speak up.

"Oi, where’s the human? It ain’t like ‘em to just disappear without a word," he grumbled. But even then, his tone was more annoyed than concerned.

Lucifers sharp gaze swept the hallways, his mind turning over the details of MC’s sudden absence. He’d been busy—too busy, really. Between managing his brothers and fulfilling his duties, MC had slipped from his radar, and now… now he realized he hadn’t checked in on them in days.

It wasn’t until Satan, searching for a book, came across MC’s diary tucked away in a corner of their room that the truth was revealed.

Satan made his way to the eldests office, frowning as he thumbed through the pages. "Lucifer, you should see this."

Lucifer took the diary, reading in silence as his eyes traced the words MC had written. The others were called, and soon they all knew what MC had been feeling.

The entries were raw, filled with MC’s doubts and pain. Each brother’s name was scrawled across the pages, followed by confessions of how their words and actions had hurt.

“Mammon makes me feel like I’m nothing but a burden. Every time he calls me useless, it’s like he’s confirming something I’ve already been afraid of. I’m just in the way here.”

“Levi never sees me as more than a ‘normie.’ It’s like I’m some strange animal in his eyes, something he doesn’t want to understand. He shuts me out every time I try to get closer.”

“Satan barely notices I exist. And when he does, it’s always with that look… like I’m a problem he doesn’t want to deal with. I guess I am a problem.”

“Asmo’s always commenting on how I look. I know it’s not personal, but it feels like all I am to him is an object. A pretty thing to dress up, but never good enough to really matter.”

“Beel doesn’t seem to care one way or another. He’s so focused on his hunger that I don’t think he even notices when I’m around. When he does, it’s just another reminder that I don’t really belong here.”

“Lucifer… I don’t know how to describe it. He expects so much from me. Too much. He looks at me like I’m failing him, like I’m not worth the time it takes to help. His care feels false. I can’t keep up with his demands, and I don’t think he even realizes how much I’m struggling just to stay afloat.”

And then came the final entry.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore. Everything is too much. The brothers… they don’t care about me. I’m just another responsibility to them, one they didn’t ask for. I’m seriously thinking about leaving the exchange program. Maybe I should. Maybe I’m not strong enough for this.”

The brothers were silent and exchanged glances, the weight of the words sinking in. They just hadn’t realized how much their habits, their personalities, had affected MC. Mammon’s constant jabs, Levi’s distant hostility, Asmo’s superficial comments, Satan’s cold indifference, Beel’s lack of attention… all of it had chipped away at MC’s sense of self, until they felt like they didn’t matter.

Lucifer closed the diary, his jaw tight. "I didn’t know they felt this way," he said, his voice low.

Mammon shifted uncomfortably. "I didn’t mean it like that. I thought we were just messin’ around."

Levi rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn’t think they cared what I thought. I mean, I barely even know them."

Satan’s frown deepened. "We’ve all been too focused on ourselves."

Asmo’s eyes were wide with guilt. "I didn’t realize… I just thought they were shy. Or adjusting." He looked down, his usual confidence gone.

Beel said nothing, his expression a mix of regret and confusion. He hadn’t even noticed how much MC had been struggling, too wrapped up in his own needs to see theirs.

"We need to bring them back," Lucifer said finally, his voice firm.

At the castle, the brothers had expected to find MC sulking, perhaps still angry or hurt. They had come, armed with apologies and, for once, a united front. Lucifer led them, the weight of the diary heavy in his hands. It felt strange, unsettling even, to think they had been so blind to MC's struggles. They had planned to convince MC to stay, to promise things would be different this time.

But when they arrived, the castle was eerily quiet. Barbatos greeted them at the entrance, his face impassive, but his eyes held a hint of something… regretful.

"Where is MC?" Lucifer asked, his voice tight.

Barbatos looked at the group for a moment before lowering his gaze. "You’re too late."

"What'dya mean, 'too late?'" Mammon blurted, stepping forward, his usual confidence replaced with a flicker of panic.

Barbatos sighed softly, his tone unusually firm. "MC has already returned to the human world. They made the request to Lord Diavolo, and it has been granted."

The weight of his words sank in, and the brothers stood in stunned silence. Lucifer, for once, had no immediate response. Mammon’s shoulders slumped, and Levi's hands fidgeted nervously at his sides. Asmo’s mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out, while Beel’s expression darkened in quiet contemplation. Satan clenched his fists, the anger rising, though not directed at anyone but themselves.

"Why?" Levi muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Because," Diavolo’s voice echoed through the hall as he approached them, his expression serious, "they didn’t believe things would change. MC had been struggling for some time, and none of you noticed. They felt abandoned. They were overwhelmed, and by the time you realized, it was already too late."

The silence was suffocating as the future King of the Devildom regarded them with a mixture of disappointment and anger.

"You failed," Diavolo’s voice echoed through the room, each word a sharp blade. "You were given one task—one simple requirement as part of this exchange program. To make MC feel welcome. To make them feel as if they belonged. To get to know them and have them know you in return. To foster understanding."

The brothers stood in a line, shoulders hunched, guilt pressing down on them like a heavy weight. None of them dared to speak.

Diavolo’s gaze shifted to Lucifer, his disappointment palpable. "And you," he said, his voice soft but laced with reprimand, "I expected better of you."

Lucifer flinched at the words. His usual mask of calm confidence shattered under the weight of Diavolo’s gaze. For a moment, he felt utterly powerless, a sensation he had long fought to suppress.

"You let this happen under your watch. You let MC suffer to the point where they felt they had no choice but to leave the Devildom behind entirely." Diavolo’s words were like a hammer, each one driving the guilt deeper. "You let them slip through your fingers."

Mammon, Levi, Asmo, Beel, and Satan could do nothing but hang their heads in shame, their usual bickering and antics gone, replaced by the crushing realization of how badly they had failed. This wasn’t just about MC’s disappearance—it was about everything they had overlooked, every word they hadn’t said, every opportunity to make things right that they had ignored.

Diavolo took a breath, his tone softening slightly but still firm. "You were supposed to protect them. Instead, you pushed them away."

The silence was heavy, unbearable. None of them could meet Diavolo’s gaze.

"You will return to the House of Lamentation and reflect on what has happened here today," Diavolo said, his voice a final command. "I hope, for all our sakes, that this failure teaches you something."

With those parting words, Diavolo turned his back to them, and the brothers were left with nothing but the weight of their failure pressing down on their shoulders.

They sulked back to the House of Lamentation, each one lost in their own thoughts, their usual banter replaced with a somber silence. They had been too late. MC was gone.

Lucifer

Lucifer sat in his study, the heavy silence of the House of Lamentation pressing down on him. The others had retreated to their rooms, each of them nursing their own guilt, but Lucifer remained still, staring at the open diary on his desk. MC’s words were a stark reminder of his failure—his failure to see, his failure to act, his failure to protect. The very thing he prided himself on—his ability to maintain control, to ensure perfection in everything under his watch—had crumbled in the worst possible way.

Failure.

The word echoed in his mind, gnawing at him like a relentless force. Lucifer's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as his anger rose, burning in his chest. How could he have allowed this to happen? How could he, of all people, have been so blind? He had always maintained order, ensured everything ran smoothly. He had taken on every responsibility, every burden, to prevent things from falling apart. But this...this was a disaster.

It was intolerable.

The weight of Diavolo’s words still hung heavy in the air: I expected better of you. The sting of those words cut deeper than any reprimand he had ever received. Diavolo had placed his trust in him, and he had let him down. Worse, he had let MC down—an innocent, fragile human who had come to the Devildom trusting they would be safe, that they would find a place here.

Lucifer stood abruptly, shoving his chair back with a force that sent it crashing against the wall. His usually composed demeanor shattered as the rage he had been holding back erupted. He slammed his fists down onto the desk, the sound echoing through the room. Papers scattered, and the sharp crack of wood under pressure reverberated through the air.

How had he missed it? How had he, with all his precision and attention to detail, been so oblivious to MC’s suffering? His grip on control, his obsession with perfection, had blinded him to what was truly important. He had been so focused on maintaining order, on keeping his brothers in line, that he hadn’t even noticed the cracks forming right in front of him.

And now, it was too late.

MC was gone—back to the human world. They hadn’t even waited to see if things would change, if the brothers would make things right. They had made their decision, and it was a resounding statement of just how much Lucifer had failed them.

His chest tightened with frustration. He had been so focused on pushing MC to adapt, to fit the mold he thought they needed to fill, that he had ignored the reality of their struggles. He had looked at them through a lens of expectation rather than understanding, and now they were lost to him. To them all.

Lucifer closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to reign in the storm of anger and guilt coursing through him. This failure—the bitter taste of it—was unacceptable. He couldn’t undo what had been done. He couldn’t change the fact that he had let Diavolo down, that he had let MC down.

But he could make sure it never happened again.

Slowly, Lucifer opened his eyes, the flames of anger still burning but now tempered by a cold resolve. He would not allow this to break him. He would not allow this failure to define him. He had to remain strong—not just for himself, but for Diavolo, for the Devildom, and for his brothers.

But deep down, the rage simmered, a constant reminder of his imperfection, his weakness. He had been shown the one thing he hated most: his own limits.

Failure.

It was something Lucifer would never forget. And never forgive. Not himself, and not the others.

Mammon

Mammon sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, his hands tangled in his hair. The silence in the House of Lamentation was deafening, pressing down on him in a way that made his chest feel tight. MC was gone—back to the human world. They hadn’t even said goodbye.

His first instinct had been to brush it off, like he always did. Make some flippant comment about how MC would be back soon enough, that they just needed a little time to cool off. But as the hours passed and reality settled in, the truth was undeniable.

MC wasn’t coming back.

"Dammit..." Mammon muttered under his breath, his fingers tightening around his hair as if that could stop the thoughts running wild in his head.

He replayed the last few weeks in his mind—the constant teasing, the jabs, the way he’d brush off their efforts with a casual, "Oi, don’t be so useless." He never meant it. Not really. It was just how he talked, right? But now… Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about how it must’ve sounded to them.

How it must’ve felt.

He always thought MC knew he didn’t mean anything by it. They were just words, stupid little insults thrown out without thinking. It wasn’t like he actually thought they were useless. Hell, he was actually starting to like them—though he’d never admit it out loud.

Mammon groaned, flopping back onto his bed and staring up at the ceiling. Why did he always do this? Why did he push away the people he cared about, acting like they were some kind of nuisance when they weren’t? It was just… easier that way. It was easier to hide behind the tough guy act, to pretend like nothing bothered him. But it wasn’t true. It had never been true.

And now it was too late.

"I didn’t mean it," he whispered, his voice breaking in the quiet room. "I didn’t mean any of it..."

But what good did that do now? They were gone. MC was gone, and it was his fault.

Mammon’s heart clenched as he thought about all the times he’d made fun of them, all the times he’d called them a burden, a hassle. He’d acted like MC was just some human getting in the way of his plans, but the truth was that they had become more important to him than he’d realized.

He didn’t show it—he didn’t know how—but they mattered to him. They made him feel different, like he wasn’t just the "Great Mammon," the greedy demon who was always causing trouble. When MC looked at him, it felt like they saw something more, something better. And now? They were gone because of him.

Mammon kicked his legs out in frustration, his shoes thudding against the floor. How could he have been so stupid? Why did he always have to mess things up? He had the chance to make MC feel welcome, to make them feel like they belonged here, and he blew it.

And Diavolo’s words kept ringing in his ears. You failed them.

"Yeah, I know!" Mammon snapped at the empty room, his voice harsh with guilt. "I know I screwed up! I get it!"

He sat up suddenly, running his hands down his face in frustration. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be their protector, their guardian. They were his pact holder, he was their first. He was supposed to look out for them, not drive them away. He hated that feeling—the helplessness that came with realizing he couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t just throw money at it or charm his way out like he usually did.

MC was gone, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

Mammon stood up, pacing his room. His mind raced, thinking of what he could’ve said or done differently. Maybe if he’d just told them how he really felt, if he’d stopped pushing them away and acting like they were a bother… Maybe they wouldn’t have left.

"I should’ve been better," he muttered, clenching his fists. "I should’ve told ‘em… I should’ve made ‘em feel like they mattered."

But he hadn’t. And now he was stuck with the gnawing regret that he might never see MC again. They were back in the human world, and they’d never want to come back to the Devildom, especially not after how he and the others had treated them.

He was the Great Mammon, sure. But what good was that title if he couldn’t even keep the one person who actually made him feel like he was more than just his sin?

With a choked sob, Mammon collapsed back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling as the tears began to fall.

He’d failed them. There was no getting around that. And the worst part? He’d never get the chance to make it right.

Leviathan

Leviathan sat in front of his monitors, eyes staring blankly at the paused screen of his latest game. His headphones sat around his neck, the usual buzz of online matches long forgotten. The quiet of his room wasn’t the kind he liked. It wasn’t peaceful or calming. It was suffocating.

MC was gone. Back to the human world. They had left without saying anything, without a word, without… him knowing. He hadn’t even noticed they were gone until the others started talking about it. And now that they weren’t here, the reality of the situation was starting to sink in.

Levi chewed on his thumbnail, anxiety swirling in his gut like an endless whirlpool. How could he have missed it? How could he not have seen what was happening right under his nose? His stomach churned with guilt as he thought about the way he’d treated MC since the moment they arrived.

Normie.

That was what he called them. Over and over again. He’d pushed them away, called them a nuisance, acted like they didn’t belong. He had no idea if they liked anime or games, but instead of giving them a chance to show they could understand his world, he had shut them out before they could even try. Why? Because they weren’t like him. Because they weren’t part of his world. Because it was easier to call them a "normie" and keep them at arm’s length than it was to let someone else get close.

Levi groaned, burying his face in his hands. He hated himself. Why did he always do this? Why did he always ruin things before they had a chance to be good? He had been scared—scared that MC would judge him like everyone else did, scared that they would see how awkward, how pathetic he really was. So he kept them away, treated them like some kind of animal when really… he had wanted them to be a part of his life.

They had tried. He could see it now, in hindsight. MC had tried to talk to him, had tried to get to know him, had actually listened to him when he'd rant. And what had he done? He’d dismissed them. Pushed them away. Called them human or normie—never their name—as if that was the only thing they could be.

He swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at his insides. If only he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own insecurities, maybe things would have been different. Maybe MC wouldn’t have left.

But they did.

Levi curled in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest as the realization settled in. They were gone, and it was his fault. His fault for being too afraid to let them in, too scared to admit that maybe he wanted them around more than he’d ever let on. He hadn’t even realized how much he missed them until now, until the space they used to occupy in the house, in his life, felt empty.

And Diavolo’s words kept ringing in his ears. You failed them.

"Of course I did," Levi muttered, his voice thick with bitterness. "I always fail."

He had failed to be a good brother, failed to be a friend, and now, he had failed MC.

"They must think I hate them," Levi whispered, his chest tightening painfully. "They probably think I never wanted them around." His voice cracked, and he quickly wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, but it didn’t stop the tears that threatened to fall.

Because that wasn’t true. It had never been true.

Levi wanted them around—he had liked having them around. But how could they have known that when all he ever did was push them away, call them a normie, and act like they didn’t matter? He had been too caught up in his own head, too worried about them seeing the worst parts of him, to let them see the good.

Now they were back in the human world, far away from him, and he had no idea if they would ever come back. And if they did, why would they want to come back to him? The shut-in otaku who made them feel like they didn’t belong?

"Stupid," he muttered angrily, wiping his eyes again. "I’m so stupid…"

He stood up suddenly, pacing the room, his hands tugging at his hair in frustration. What if MC never came back? What if they decided to stay in the human world forever, away from all the pain and rejection the Devildom had offered them?

Levi’s heart pounded in his chest, panic rising as the what-ifs piled up in his mind. They were gone. And he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance to tell them the truth, that he wanted them here, that he—needed them here.

But now it was too late.

With a deep, shaky breath, Levi sank into his tub, curling up again as his anxiety wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket.

It was always too late for him.

Satan

Satan sat in the library, the silence around him sharp and oppressive. The book in his hands remained unopened, his mind too preoccupied to focus on anything but the gnawing feeling of guilt twisting in his chest. MC had left. Gone back to the human world without so much as a word, without waiting for anything to change.

He ran a hand through his hair, jaw clenched tightly as Diavolo’s admonishment replayed in his head. You failed them. The words stung more than he expected, not because they were untrue, but because they were painfully accurate. He had failed them. They all had. And now the damage was done.

Satan wasn’t like Lucifer. He didn’t thrive on control or perfection, but failure still left a bitter taste in his mouth, especially when it was something that could have been prevented. He prided himself on understanding things—on reading people, situations, emotions. And yet, somehow, he had missed what was right in front of him.

I barely even acknowledged them, he thought bitterly, eyes narrowing as the realization sank deeper. When MC first arrived, they were just another part of the exchange program—an obligation. Someone he was forced to tolerate. He had never thought of them as more than that.

They had tried to speak to him on several occasions, asking questions, trying to understand the world around them. He had dismissed them each time. Not out of cruelty, but out of indifference. There were always more important things to focus on, more pressing matters in his mind. Books to read, knowledge to gather. What did it matter if a fragile human was feeling out of place? He’d barely given them a second thought, and now that they were gone, that indifference was coming back to haunt him.

Satan drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. He wasn’t angry at MC—not at all. He was angry at himself. He should have seen it. He should have recognized the signs. But instead, he’d brushed them off, barely looking up from his books when they entered the room. It was no wonder they had felt invisible. To him, they had been.

"How could I have been so blind?" he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the edges of his book.

His dismissive attitude had hurt them, but it wasn’t just the indifference—it was the frustration. The few times he had acknowledged MC, it had been with impatience. He’d grown annoyed when they asked questions, irritated when they didn’t immediately grasp the complex information he threw at them. He had expected too much from them. Expected them to just understand a world they’d only just entered.

I was unfair.

The admission grated on him, but it was the truth. He hadn’t given them the time or attention they needed. He had treated them like a distraction, like an inconvenience. And for what? Because they weren’t like him? Because they didn’t understand things as quickly as he wanted them to?

It was absurd. It was… disappointing. In himself.

Satan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his temples, trying to keep the anger in check. His temper was always there, simmering just beneath the surface, but this was different. This wasn’t the kind of anger he could lash out at. It wasn’t something he could destroy or control. This was guilt—a slow, burning guilt that twisted in his gut and left him feeling powerless.

I failed them, he thought again, the words echoing in his mind like a relentless chant.

They had left because of him. Because of the way he treated them, the way he ignored their presence. The diary had made it clear—MC felt like they didn’t belong, like they were a burden. And he had done nothing to change that.

He had let them slip away. And now they were back in the human world, far beyond his reach.

Satan stood up abruptly, pacing the library with sharp, determined steps. He hated this feeling—this powerlessness. He wasn’t like Lucifer, obsessed with perfection, but he wasn’t one to accept failure either. Yet here he was, unable to fix the mess he had helped create.

He stopped in front of a bookshelf, his hand hovering over the spines of the books. Usually, the smell of old pages and the promise of knowledge would calm him, would ground him. But now? It just felt hollow.

Books couldn’t solve this.

Knowledge couldn’t solve this.

For once, all the intellect in the world meant nothing. He had failed MC not because he lacked understanding, but because he hadn’t cared enough to try.

He closed his eyes, frustration boiling in his chest. "I should’ve done better," he whispered, his voice low and filled with regret. "I should’ve listened."

But it was too late. They were gone. And there was nothing he could do to change that.

For someone who prided himself on knowing so much, Satan realized now that he had understood so little. And that knowledge—more than anything else—cut deeper than any reprimand Diavolo could have given him.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus sat in front of his vanity, staring at his reflection. Normally, he would be admiring the flawless way his skin glowed, the way his hair framed his face perfectly, or how his latest outfit highlighted every one of his best features. But today, the usual spark wasn’t there.

MC was gone. They had left the Devildom and returned to the human world, and they hadn’t even said goodbye.

Asmo frowned, twisting a lock of hair around his finger as he glanced down at the collection of beauty products scattered across his vanity. How could they have left like that? Without saying anything to him? No farewell? No goodbye hug? They had just… disappeared.

And they didn’t even tell me?

That part stung. He was Asmodeus, after all. Everyone loved him. Why wouldn’t they want to talk to him, to tell him what was going on in their head before leaving? It wasn’t like he had been mean to them—he’d been nothing but fabulous! He’d complimented them, given them fashion tips, even helped them choose outfits when they were looking drab.

He huffed and crossed his arms, his eyes flicking back to the mirror. "I don’t understand," he murmured to himself, inspecting his perfectly manicured nails. "They could’ve at least told me if something was wrong."

But as he thought about it, something uncomfortable started to settle in his chest. He hadn’t exactly treated MC like someone who mattered, had he? They were just the new human, someone for him to toy with, to dress up like a doll, to show off. He had treated them more like an accessory than a person. Every compliment he gave was followed by a backhanded comment about how they could do better, how they could look more fabulous. He had made everything about their appearance—about how they looked, what they wore—without ever thinking about what they wanted, how they felt.

And that diary entry… the one about him.

“Asmo’s always commenting on how I look. I know it’s not personal, but it feels like all I am to him is an object. A pretty thing to dress up, but never good enough to really matter.”

Asmo’s heart clenched uncomfortably as those words echoed in his mind. They hadn’t been meant for him to read, but now that he had, he couldn’t stop thinking about them. MC thought they didn’t matter. That they weren’t enough for him.

That wasn’t true! He had thought they were cute from the start. Sure, they had a long way to go in terms of style and confidence, but he had liked being around them. In his own way, he had enjoyed their presence. He just… never said it. Never showed it beyond superficial praise.

Had he really made them feel like that? Like they were just some toy to be discarded when something more interesting came along?

He bit his lip, eyes dropping from the mirror. "I didn’t mean to make them feel that way," he whispered, a strange knot of guilt tightening in his chest. "I just wanted them to look their best, to be their best."

But that wasn’t really the point, was it? MC hadn’t needed someone to tell them how to dress or how to look. They had needed someone to tell them they belonged, someone to make them feel like they were important beyond appearances.

Asmo sighed, sitting back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. He hated this feeling—this heavy, nagging sense of regret. It wasn’t like him. He was Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust, the most beautiful being in the Devildom. People flocked to him for advice, for attention. Everyone loved him. So why did it matter so much that one human didn’t?

Because it wasn’t just any human. It was MC.

They had trusted him. They had spent time with him, laughed at his jokes, let him play with their hair and help them pick outfits. And what had he done? He’d brushed them off like they were just another pretty face, like they weren’t worth getting to know beyond the surface.

And now they were gone. And it was his fault.

Asmo twirled a ring on his finger absentmindedly, the usual sparkle of his jewelry doing nothing to lift his mood. "They probably think I never cared about them," he muttered, his voice soft. "And maybe I didn’t… at least, not the way they needed me to."

He hated admitting it, but it was true. He had cared more about how they looked than how they felt. He had been so focused on making them into something he could be proud of that he hadn’t stopped to think about what they needed.

And now they were back in the human world, thinking they were never good enough for him. Thinking they didn’t matter.

For the first time in a long time, Asmo wasn’t thinking about himself. He wasn’t thinking about how he looked or what outfit he’d wear tomorrow. He was thinking about MC—about how he had hurt them without even realizing it. And that guilt, that realization, clung to him like a weight he couldn’t shake.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the vanity and burying his face in his hands.

But it was too late now. MC was gone. And all the beauty in the world couldn’t change that.

Beelzebub

Beel sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the plate in front of him. His usual appetite was gone, a strange hollowness taking its place. The silence felt heavier than usual, and for the first time in a long while, food couldn’t fill the emptiness inside him.

MC was gone. They had returned to the human world. And he hadn't even cared that they had disappeared.

He ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowing as the thought settled in. He hadn’t paid much attention to them, hadn’t really thought about them as anything more than a human—something fragile, something that he wasn’t supposed to eat. They were just there, part of the exchange program, someone to tolerate but not worth focusing on.

Beel sighed, glancing at the uneaten food on his plate. It didn’t make sense to him. Why did it feel like something was missing now that they were gone? He hadn’t been particularly close to them. He’d never really taken much interest in what they did or said. They were just… human. And humans were something he didn’t think about much, aside from the occasional urge to eat one. But even that wasn’t really a problem. He knew better.

But still, the fact that they were gone—it didn’t sit right with him.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he thought back to the few interactions they’d had. Whenever he saw them, he’d mostly been focused on food. Sometimes he’d make offhand comments about how they smelled different, or how they might taste good, but that was just the hunger talking. He didn’t mean it personally. He had never meant to make them feel uncomfortable.

But maybe he had.

He frowned, the knot in his stomach tightening. They were right. He hadn’t cared one way or the other. To him, they were just another face in the Devildom, another human who wasn’t supposed to be eaten. He’d never gone out of his way to talk to them or get to know them.

He hadn’t thought they mattered.

But maybe they did.

Beel sighed again, his large hands resting on the table as he stared at his empty plate. He hadn’t done anything to make them feel welcome, hadn’t shown any interest in them beyond his usual blunt, hunger-driven remarks. To him, MC had just been part of the background, something he didn’t need to think about.

But now they were gone. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe he had missed something important.

He had seen how the others treated MC—the teasing from Mammon, the indifference from Satan, the distance from Levi. He had heard the way Lucifer demanded more from them, how Asmo insulted them under the guise of advice. Beel hadn’t said much, hadn’t gotten involved, but he hadn’t done anything to stop it either. And now that he thought about it, that made him just as guilty as the rest of them.

"They must’ve felt so alone," Beel muttered to himself, his brow furrowing. "And I didn’t do anything to help."

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much now. Maybe it was because MC had been part of their lives for a while, and now that they were gone, there was a strange emptiness where they used to be. He hadn’t realized how much he had gotten used to seeing them around, hearing their voice, watching them navigate the chaos of the House of Lamentation.

But now that they were gone, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

Beel stood up, pacing the room slowly. He wasn’t like Lucifer or Satan, always thinking things through, always analyzing the situation. He didn’t think too deeply about the people around him most of the time. But now? Now he wished he had paid more attention. Maybe if he had, MC wouldn’t have felt so isolated, so invisible.

"They were more than just a human," he muttered, a pang of guilt hitting him. "But I never treated them like they were."

He hadn’t thought they mattered, and that was his biggest mistake. MC had been a part of their world, even if they were human. They had been right there, trying to find their place, and Beel had done nothing. He hadn’t meant to hurt them, hadn’t meant to make them feel like they didn’t belong—but his indifference had done that anyway.

And now, it was too late.

Beel stopped pacing, leaning against the wall and staring down at the floor. He didn’t know what to do with this feeling. It wasn’t like hunger—he couldn’t just eat something and make it go away. This was different. It was guilt, and it was heavy.

"I should’ve cared more," he whispered, his voice quiet in the empty room. "I should’ve made sure they knew they were welcome."

But they hadn’t known. And now they were back in the human world, far away from all of them.

Beel clenched his fists, frustration welling up inside him. He hated that they had left feeling like they didn’t matter. He hated that he hadn’t done anything to make them stay.

But what could he do now?

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me angst

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imagine-darksiders · 5 months ago

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Tired dad Ulthane and his adventures with the Human Distribution System makes me smile so hard

Whoever was on the Darksiders dev team missed a great opportunity to record ambient voice lines between the humans and Ulthane that play whenever you go to the tree.

Some examples off the top of my head.

"Hey. It's... Ulthane, right? I-I'm Mary."

"Pleasure to make yer acquaintance, Lass."

"Ha... Likewise. Um... Listen, I don't think I ever thanked you... for bringing me to this place. And for, you know, saving my life."

[Suddenly bashful] "Ah, no need to thank me. Just... [clears throat] glad I got to you in time..."

"Yeah... Yeah, me too."

------

"Get out of the way, Ulthane."

"Can't do that, younglin'."

"Bullshit. You can't stop me. I have to go, I can't just sit in this tree while he might still be out there somewhere!"

"If I let you leave this tree, you'll die."

"You don't know that!"

"... And what if he turns up while you're gone? Hm? You think he'd want to find you missin'?"

"Don't do that. Don't use him to make me stay. You don't know what he'd want."

"Would he want you riskin' your life tryin' to find him? Or would he want you to be safe?"

".... I... I.... Oh, Sam."

------

"Hey, how did you get on with that list I gave you?"

"Got most of the stuff on it. The pictures were a nice touch, by the way. Made findin' things a wee bit easier."

"Oh! Well... Happy to help.... So. Um..."

[knowing chuckle] "The supplies are with the other rations, up in the hollow."

"Thanks, Ulthane. You're the best."

"Ach, I don't know 'bout that."

"Literally. The. Best."

------

"Hey you! Giant."

"Tiny."

"Oh, very funny. Say, how come you're not out there searching for more survivors?"

"Just got back. Elanya's goin' out in a bit. Someone's gotta stay behind and protect the tree."

"Some of us can stay and watch it! You should be out there looking for people!"

".... We're doin' everything we can, lad."

"I know!... I.... [muffled sob] I know... I just... I miss her."

"... If she's alive out there, we'll find her."

"Yeah.... sure."

-------

"Hey, big guy? You know there's a demon hanging around right outside the door."

"Aye, I'm keepin' an eye on him. But... if you see him causin' any trouble, you come tell me, got it?"

"Heh. Sure."

-----

"Oi, what's that you've got there?"

"Oh! Um... It's... just a radio... I've been tinkering with it... trying to get it to work. Maybe see if there's anyone else out there... Look. I-I know it's silly, but-"

"No, no, it's not, it's... [deep sigh] Listen, if you... need any help with it, makers are pretty handy. Just have to ask, okay?"

"Oh... Okay. Thanks, Ulthane."

-------

"Still no luck with that... wassit called? A radio?"

"Hmm? Oh... Hi Ulthane. No, no luck yet but... that might just be because they're only able to broadcast on a certain frequency for, like, a few minutes at a time right? Saving power or... something? I-I just need to keep searching."

"Well... All right... But don't stay up too late listen' to it again. You look like you didn't catch a wink o' sleep last night."

"Okay, Dad."

-------

"Say, what happened to your radio?"

"... I tossed it."

"Now why'd you do that?"

"I dunno. Figured it'd be more useful to strip it for spare parts.... I wasn't gonna hear anything on there anyway."

"...Y'know, just 'cause you didn't hear anythin', don't mean nobody's out there."

"..... Hey... Ulthane? Do you think we're gonna be okay?"

"Course you're gonna be okay. You've got me at the helm, don't ya? Old Ulthane's got a plan to set you humans back on track... Just have to trust me, eh?"

"We do trust you. And... thanks. I feel better."

"S'what I'm here for."

-------

[If you find 10 survivors]

"Getting a bit busy in here now, isn't it? A lot of new faces."

"Busy? Hmm. If you need me to carve out another chamber for extra space, I can-"

"-No! Ulthane, that's not... It's okay. I wasn't complaining. Busy is good. I prefer busy."

"... Aye, I'm with you there."

-------

[If you find all the survivors]

"I can't believe there's so many of us now! I didn't think this many people would have survived!"

"Mmhm, the Horseman's been busy. S'nice to have a lot of wee ones knockin' about the tree."

"You make us sound like a bunch of children."

[Gentle laugh] "If you knew how old I was, Lad, you'd feel like a bunch of children."

#darksiders #darksiders 3 #ulthane #Humans #survivors #post apocalyptic

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bots-and-cons · 23 days ago

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Ratchet, Knockout and Soundwave x sick human female reader?

I asked this because I myself am sick with a cold and I just feel like it would be nice to read something regarding some of my favorite characters taking care of a sick reader

A/N: Finally trying to get some writing done. I've got a couple of posts with Ratchet and Knockout about this already, so you can find those here, here and here. I only did Soundwave, since I've already done similar stuff for the other two and since it's a scenario, it's a character limit of one anyway

You'd never been sick the entire time he'd known you, so why now? Did it have something to do with the time of year? Were humans more likely to get sick in the winter, when it was colder and wetter? It certainly seemed like it, you had been sick for over a week now. Soundwave had been with you in your home, in holoform for a few nights, but other than that, he'd been stuck at the Nemesis. He wanted to take care of you, but he also needed to do his job.

He wanted to slip away again, but to his surprise, you showed up at the Nemesis before he could leave.

"Hi" you said, dragging a big suitcase behind you.

Soundwave's visor showed a question mark, as he pointed at your suitcase.

"Oh this?" you asked, motioning at the suitcase. "You're the only who won't get sick too, and I was tired of being cooped up at home, so I decided to come here. You know, like a sleepover?" you chuckled, but it turned into a cough.

"Acceptable" was the audio clip Soundwave played to agree to your plan.

He didn't think it was the best idea for you to be out and about, but you were correct about the fact that you weren't contagious to him. Other humans would of course get sick if they spent time with you, so it was understandable that you would prefer to be at the Nemesis. That you would prefer to be with him.

Soundwave accompanied you to his habsuite, and helped you set up your little nest in the corner of his berth. You had brought blankets and pillows in your suitcase, so you could be comfortable.

"Do you have more work to do today?" you asked as you settled into your little corner.

Soundwave considered it for a moment, but he just shook his head and sat down on the berth next to you.

"That's nice, I picked a good night then" you smiled tiredly.

Soundwave did still have some work to do, but it wasn't time-sensitive, so he could just do it the next day. Now he would much rather take care of you.

"How are you feeling?" Soundwave asked, by using an audio clip you recognized to be from the TV-show you'd introduced him to last week.

"I'm getting better, slowly but surely. I don't have a fever anymore, but my throat still hurts, and I have a bit of a headache" you shrugged.

Soundwave nodded, looking like he wasn't quite sure if you were being totally honest with him.

"I swear, I'm fine, or at least I'm gonna be soon" you assured him.

Soundwave took you at your word and just hoped you would get better soon. He wasn't really well versed in how human illnesses worked or how something like this might affect you, but from what he'd observed, it didn't seem life-threatening. You just mostly seemed annoyed to be sick.

Soundwave placed his hand on top of your head and petted your hair. It was a comforting gesture, and it made you smile. It was nice to have someone who you could hang out with, without fearing you might get them sick too. You weren't sick very often, but this time the illness was especially persistent, which was very annoying. Soundwave's presence helped a lot, even if he couldn't be with you all the time, you knew he did his best to spend time with you and to take care of you.

"Hey Wavey?" you asked.

Soundwave turned to face you, with yet another question mark on his visor.

"Thanks for spending time with me and taking care of me, I know you're busy, so I appreciate it" you smiled tiredly.

Soundwave nodded and gave you another head pat, with a smiley face on his visor. He was glad to spend time with you, and even if he felt like he wasn't much help with taking care of you, you didn't seem to mind. You looked tired, so Soundwave pulled one of your blankets over you and pressed his forehead against yours for a moment.

"Yeah, I know. I need to rest" you rolled your eyes with a chuckle as he pulled back.

Soundwave decided to stay with you until you fell asleep, and then go finish his work. He didn't have to wait for long, you fell asleep in under ten minutes. He raised his visor a bit and pressed a kiss on your forehead, before heading back to work. You would be safe in his habsuite, and he would be back before you woke up.

#transformers #tfp #transformers prime #maccadam #decepticons #soundwave #tfp scenarios #reader insert #tfp x reader #transformers x reader #platonic transformers x reader

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carolmunson · 2 years ago

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is he rich like me? (wealthy!s.h. x thick!reader)

desc: hi, we've missed you here at slate insurance hq. i've been working on this WIP since i think october, having the initial idea back then and then going back and forth on it for a million years. anyway, i finally finished it. you and big money steve are finally both on the same page, so here's some porn with plot. big money steve is big money steve, and he loves to spoil his girl. especially before a big dinner deal closing with a new client. tw: 18+ minors dni. p in v sex, oral (f and m receiving), some daddy kink (it's steve c'mon) but he's pathetic, some breeding kink. casual dominance. big wealthy tings. recommended listening: time of the season - the zombies

"what's your name? who's your daddy? is he rich like me?"

Big boxes and gifts were nothing new anymore. Selfishly, they'd become expected whenever you walked in the door from work. Though, if it were totally up to Steve, you would have quit your job the moment the last box of your things came past the threshold of his Tribeca apartment in January. But having at least some semblence of your old life was important to you -- and Robin would lose her mind if she didn't have you to share an office with anymore. Steve on the otherhand, was adamant that once the first baby was on the way, you'd put your career behind you. Presumptiuous of course, considering you weren't even engaged. Tonight was a dinner -- not for the both of you, but for business. Sales pitches, deal closings, re-enrollment. He'd never take you a steakhouse for a date, he'd rather die. But, always a steakhouse for business, 'It's just more -- I don't know how to explain it baby -- money talk, red meat, stuff like that. I know you hate it, I'm sorry, but it just looks good when I bring my girl with me.' He'd make it up to you every time with a new dress, a new pair of shoes, his lips on your neck, your knees to your chest. This dinner was no different, coming in from a nail appointment and a pedicure out to see an array of boxes laid out on your side of the bed. Your main component, which you were expected to wear to dinner tonight, was a black silk dress. "It looks small, Steve," you mumble, holding it up by the skinny straps. Sometimes your wonder if he forgets how full your hips are, how things that look chic on Kate Moss can sometimes look suggestive on you. Not that he minded, he was always very suggestive whenever you dressed up.

"It got it tailored to your measurements, so it shouldn't be," he explains while tying his tie in the mirror, "Just put it on, baby. The car's gonna be here soon."

You huff a little, turning on your heels to his walk in closet -- it might as well be a second bedroom with how big it was. You laid the dress down on the center island where he keeps all of his ties and watches in specially made drawers. You eyed the dress for a moment -- it really was beautiful. Black as night with a high slit on the right side -- of course he made sure it showed some leg so he could run his fingers along the hem under the table.

You take a look at yourself in the mirror in the long line black bustier he bought you. Breasts lifted and high, nearly spilling out of the cups. You'd never seen something without straps have so much support. But then again, you'd never had a bra be custom made either. The matching satin panties sat high on your waist, cut high enough that you'd never see the lines under the silk dress.

Moment of truth, I guess, you think, taking the dress and stepping into it. You waited for the resistance when you pulled it up over your hips but it never came. You waited for the uncomfortable pull of trying to get the skinny straps over your arms and shoulders, but it didn't happen. The dress slid on like butter, like it was made for you.

Oh yeah, duh, it was made for you.

"Can you help me with the zipper, honey?" you call out. Steve still loses his breath when you call him a pet name. So overwhelmed that you want him, that you call him baby and handsome and honey. Honey, honey, honey. Maybe someday husband. Maybe.

He steps into the room with purpose, stopping short when he sees you in the dress.

"Oh, wow," he gasps, "Wow, wow, wow."

"Stop," you bloom heat when he eyes you, "C'mon help me, we gotta go soon."

He steps behind you and you can smell the cedar and sandalwood in his cologne -- having long traded his Aqua di Gio for Creed's 1992 Bois du Portugal. His fingers are warm when he trails his middle and pointer up the skin of your back where the zipper opens, just to watch you shiver. He hooks the closure at the top carefully before pulling the tab at the bottom to slowly close the dress up. At the finish, everything is pulled into place. It was perfect. Dipping and flouncing exactly where you wanted it too, every curve perfectly showcased.

“Do you know where my clutch is?” you ask him in the mirror while his fingers trace your shoulders.

“It’s on the island in the kitchen,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss over the strap of the dress, “But I have another surprise for you.”

“Another?” you ask, eyes wide. He already bought you the dress, the shoes, the lingerie. What else was left?

"Close your eyes." You do, you hear him open one of the drawers and can feel him behind you when something cold hits your chest. He fastens it at the back of you -- you know it's a necklace but it must be nice if he's having you close your eyes.

"Keep 'em closed, baby."

You hear him come around to the front of you, adjusting the necklace, feeling his breath againt your ear. His fingers trail from your shoulder, down your arm to lift your left hand up, "Stay like that." Your heart hammers, but quickly fades out when you feel him put on a bracelet. His delicate touches quicken your pulse, his scent makes your mouth water. Steve had a way of making everything romantic -- getting coffee, going to the grocery store, taking out the trash, putting jewelry on you. Jewelry he bought. Jewelry you know you'll love.

"And lastly..." he continues, while putting your hand down. His nose brushes your cheek when his nimble fingers click a pair of earrings into place -- they're heavy and cold. "Harrington," you sigh, squirming at the pinch of the back going too far into your lobes, "I can put these on myself." "Don't be such a baby, Manhattan," he tsks, smoothing your hair away from your ears before standing back and looking at you. He smiles big at the sight, you simply adorned in his gifts. Steve doesn't know whether to cry or kiss you when he feels his heart leap in his chest. It happens all the time when he stares too long at you, no matter what you're doing. You're his. "Can I open them?" "You can open them," he encourages. When your eyes flutter open and adjust to the light, you see them in the mirror. A platinum set tennis necklace sat across your chest, a matching bracelet on your wrist. Earrings in your ears to complete the collection. You gape at your reflection, mouth hanging open while you try to wrap your head around it -- about how much money you're wearing right now.

"Steven -- they're beautiful..." you gasp out. He stands behind you in the mirror again, grinning at your reaction.

"Sorry there's no ring," he pouts before kissing your cheek, "Not yet, at least."

It was an every other day mention -- the ring. You'd only been officially together for half a year, but Steve knew what he wanted. It felt like you both had been together for six years anyway. You knew the ins and outs of each other, literally and figuratively -- there couldn't be anyone else quite like him. It helt like you both had PHDs in each other's likes and dislikes, needs and wants, goals and dreams.

"Don't worry," you breathe, still not over the sparkle on the rest of your limbs, "This is...this is plenty, babe." He burns in his cheeks -- babe. He's your babe! He presses a kiss to your cheek, settling by your ear to mumble a heady 'I love you,' from the deep base of his chest. His lower lip coasts your earlobe and your eyes roll back in your head, feeling his warm breath fan over your jaw. "I love you so much," he murmurs, hand gripping your waist, you can feel his grin against your skin, "But I need you to hurry the fuck up or we're gonna be late, angel." "You're so annoying," you glower when his sensual demeanor turns into a mean snicker, tapping your ass to get you to move out into the kitchen.

It took every ounce of will power in his body to not cover you in hickeys in the car. He had to give it to himself, he knew how to dress you for stuff like this, and God did your body alway deliver. He had to keep looking out the window so he didn't catch a glimpse of your crossed legs in the rear view mirror of the Bentley. It didn't help that you smelled like heaven, dirving him crazy with every movement, sending Mulger's Angel through his olfactory straight to his boy brain.

He helped you out of the car and waked you arm in arm to the door of the restaurant, always sure to be there at least 15 minutes before his guests. You got accustomed to the song and dance: exchange pleasantries, only ask the wife of whoever he's with direct questions, feign some form of old school obedience, let Steve do all the talking and so help you God if you roll your eyes once he has no problem letting you pay for when you get home. Always in good fun, of course.

Tonight is no different, you look over the menu, sharing sweet moments with each other before his guest arrives. Guessing the status of every couple there, what they're talking about, how long they've been together. A few celebrities come in laying low and you never get excited but Steve always does, still deep down a sweet boy from Indiana. "I think I'm gonna do the salmon," I say with a sigh, "I know that's boring."

"Not boring, honey," he shakes his head, taking off his glasses to clean them off before settling the silver frames back on, "The salmon's really good here." "You're really good here," you tease. "Yeah?" his brow quirks, a smile pulling at his lips, "I heard you're really good here." "Actually, you're really good here," you start to giggle. "Surprised to hear you say that because it was reported in the Culiniary section of the New York Times that you're actually really good here," he laughs, but you're both cut short when you see the m'aitre d guiding your guests to the table. You keep giggling, sitting up straight and crossing your legs under the table cloth so that your thigh peaked out of the slit of the dress. "No more fun, Harrington," you say faux seriously, "No laughing, we have to be boring now." "So boring," he agrees in a fake whisper, but his demeanor changes on a dime when his guest and his wife arrive. Steve stands immediately, hand out for a firm shake.

"Mr. Parker, good to see you tonight," he flashes an award winning smile, the kind that make older men wish he was their son and older women wish he was their husband, "Mrs. Parker, you look stunning. He let's you leave the house looking this good?"

Only Steve can make a joke like that and have it be charming. He pulls the fake string in your back and you start your performance as Business Dinner Barbie as soon as everyone sits down. When the sommelier arrives Steve orders a bottle of white and red for the table and when the waitress arrives he gets himself and Mr. Parker their second highest priced scotch. 'Just because it's the most expensive doesn't mean it's good, they just wanna get the suckers to buy it.' You could mouth the words as he says them at this point, the same schpiel every time.

"And would you like to put your entree orders in as well?" the waitress asks. Mr. Parker orders the steak dinner, rare, which doesn't surprise you because he sort of looks like someone who gets joy out of consuming blood. Mrs. Parker orders the salad because of course she does, she's never eaten a starch in her life, or at least not in the past forty years. Steve places his dinner order, always filet mignon medium rare with a side salad. Steve takes your menu from you to pass to the waitress when her attention turns to you for your order. You open your mouth to speak but Steve's hand finds yours with a light squeeze, keeping eye contact with the waitress. "She'll have the glazed salmon, medium. And I hate to bother the chef but can we pass the broccoli rabe on for asparagus?" he asks, eyes dropping from the waitress to yours as she answers 'Absolutely, Mr. Harrington'. You swallow when his gaze lingers on you, a smirk flicking on the ends of his lips, a moment only shared by the two of you.

"Thank you so much," he replies, still looking at you, "She just doesn't really care for it." He smiles back up at the waitress as he finishes his sentence, pulse quickening when he sees you adjust slightly in your seat. You liked that, and he likes that you liked that. He continues the conversation with a winning smile, pretending like he doesn't know you're melting next to him. Staring at him in his suit acting like you care what he's talking about, like you're not watching the way the leather band of his watch hugs his wrist, how he gesticulates when he talks, his long fingers and big veined hands emphasizing his words. The way his brow furrows when he listens, the slight tensing of his jaw while he thinks of what to say next. While Mr. Parker discusses the potential pitfalls of partnering with Slate Insurance, you feel one of Steve's big hands under the table, resting on your knee. His thumb traces circles on your joint for a minute, you figure it's a comfort touch, something to ground him while he considers his next move. You learn quickly that it's not that at all. He lets a finger trace slowly and softly up over your knee and half way up your inner thigh before grabbing it, slowly and intentionally massaging the fat there, slipping his fingers under the black silk. Your back straightens in your chair, trying to keep your cool while he continues -- soft grazes with his finger tips, back and forth, inching further up as he goes. You grab his hand tightly under the thick white table cloth, catching his lips curl at the edges while he speaks -- no one else would be wise to it. You curse him silently at his ability to always play it cool.

"Have some water, honey," he says sweetly, taking his hand from your grasp and pushing your glass toward you, "You're looking a little flushed." You swallow, your smile a little tight while you take a sip and he watches. A battle between the two of you that you know you've already lost. The cool water passes your lips and you're nearly reinvigorated to try your hand but he comes in with a final strike -- a death blow -- "Atta girl," Steve grins. You've never wanted to pull him out of a restaurant by his collar more than you do right now. Just like always, dinner is a success. Steve always closes the deal before the second scotch so that the cool down conversation can feel more friendly. 'You want the client to feel like they made a friend when they leave so that they trust you. That's business, angel.' He'd say. You say your goodbyes and tell Mrs. Parker you'd be happy to join her book club -- you're unsure how many book clubs you've 'joined' at this point, how many invites got 'lost in the mail'. "Very darling woman you've got there, Steven," Mr. Parker says as he and Steve shake hands, the final seal.

"Isn't she?" he asks, giving you a quick once over. Your blood rushes in your ears at his look, the rest of their conversation muffled by an infuriating need for him. As Mr. Parker and his wife leave, he cleans off his glasses while you both wait for his credit card back for the bill.

"Beautiful job tonight, honey," he smiles, putting his frames back on.

"Do not speak to me," you say with a smile, heat pooling through you while a soft pink appears on his cheeks. "Don't worry," he shakes his head, getting his card back and signing off on the receipt. He helps you out of your chair like a gentlemen, passing you your purse as a means to press a kiss to your cheek, "We won't be doing any talking when we get home."

By the time you get home to the Tribeca apartment, all of your lipstick has been worn off. You're lucky if Vinny doesn't quit being Steve's driver after all of that. "Sorry," he says to Vin while you get out of the Bentley, "Won't happen again, I'm so sorry."

You try not to count how many hundreds Steve flips through when he goes into his wallet, you try not to see how many he slips his driver in embarrassment. Sometimes it still made your chest tight. "You say that every Friday night," Vinny laughs, taking the money, "And every Saturday I gotta get the interior detailed. Goodnight, Mr. Harrington."

The air is a little humid when you get out of the car, sticking to your skin slightly -- the soft rush of the river calms you in the quiet of the night, and there he is, in the glow of the lights outside of your building. He doesn't say anything when he approaches you, just pulls you in for another air stealing kiss. Steve's big hand pushing you in at the nape of your neck to give him better access to you. You frown when he breaks away, a small one, a gentle tug on your eye brows an lips. His hand drops to yours, taking you inside, greeting the doorman and front desk concierge by name as he does every morning and night.

The brightness of the lobby is a harsh contrast to the low light outside and the burst of air conditioning makes your nipples peak in your bra. Goosebumps trail up your arms, but you aren't sure if it's the blast of cold air or the way Steve impatiently waits for the elevator to get you both upstairs. The door barely closes when he's on you, shoving you against the wall of the front walk way. "How dare you," he murmurs, lips peppering kisses from your lips to your jaw, tongue licking hot at your neck, "Look this fucking good all night." "It's kind of your fault," you laugh, panting slightly while his teeth graze over a sensitive spot by your collar bone. You kick off your heels, leaving $2600 on the floor of Steve's apartment.

"Mostly yours," he grunts, pulling you over to the living room after taking off his own shoes. He opens the big vertical blinds so that the city glitters into the penthouse apartment. Steve wastes no time however, getting behind you the same way he did earlier, fingers nimbling unzipping your dress. You both watch it fall to the floor in a delicate puddle, black water silk at your feet.

Now there was $6600 on the floor. Steve takes a second to admire you in your skivvies, his bottom lip tucking between his teeth. He surveys you like a work of art, like a statue carved just for him. You shudder while he circles you, feeling the heat of his ambers eyes burning with need on your skin. He chuckles when he notices you get a flustered, settling down on the couch. He motions for you to you come forward and while you are never one to listen, you make your way over to him without question.

"You like when I spoil you?" he asks huskily, pulling you down to straddle his lap. One arm wraps tight around your waist while the other wraps delicately in your hair. Your stomach presses against him while your breasts heave in his face. He pulls your head down to kiss you, hungry and powerful, while his hips press up to grind against your satin covered cunt.

"Mhm," you whimper into his mouth. His hands reach behind you to the hooks and ties at the back of your bustier. Steve's fingers never met a bra that they couldn't take off in an impressive flick of the wrist.

"Let's get all this off you," he mumbles breathily before sliding his lips from your mouth to your neck. The bustier falls forward slightly before he gets impatient, pulling the straps down your arms before discarding it on the ground. You reach for the necklace but he stops you, reaching back up to capture you in a hungry kiss. "Keep the jewelry on," he says, ambers eyes meeting yours. He's stern in his request and you nod obediently, hands lowering down to meet his chest.

Now there was $8,000 on the floor.

His hands find your breasts and he lets out a rugged groan, massaging them with his hands while he presses kisses down onto the soft skin.

"You can't come with me to dinner looking like this anymore," he murmurs between kisses, "Barely closed that deal. Too busy staring at these tits."

"Steve," you gasp out, giggling, "You closed it just fine."

"Mmm," he nods, mouth occupied by taking a nipple between his lips. You can feel the flutter of his tongue over it while he looks up at you, eye shining wickedly. Your whine just encourages him to keep going. Your hips press down against him, reminding him what you want more than his mouth, than his hands. He pops his lips off of you, the sound echoing in the open living room.

“Is there something you want?” he asks sweetly, leaning back on cushions of the couch. You nod, rocking your hips over his hard cock in his pants, letting out a soft tiny moan at each bit of friction.

“You're so spoiled angel,” he teases, thumbs brushing over your nipples before rolling them between his fingers, making you whine. His voice still dripping in depth and heat, “I think you should work for it.”

“I thought the whole point of this was so that I didn't have to work anymore," you tease back, leaning forward to kiss him. He hums into your mouth and you can feel him smirk into the kiss. Bastard, you think to yourself.

“Hmm,” he considers, palm skating over your thigh, “You do make a good counter point."

“I think giving into my demands is a good return on investment,” you assure, hips rolling against him in a way that makes his thighs tense up, "Imagine the long term benefits?"

He groans when you parrot him, getting harder at the thought of you genuinely listening to his business speak when you do these dinners. He squeezes the fat of your hips, tongue gliding over his kiss bitten lower lip while you take off his tie and start to unbutton his shirt. “Take these off,” he says, looking up at you while his finger traces your panty line. You heat up when he says it, a smug smile blooming on your face. His actions only confirming that he’ll always give in, “If you ask for want you want, I'll consider it."

“Oh, you'll pass that on to your team? I'd love to be considered,” you ask with a laugh, but he's done joking around, a tap to your thigh reminds you that he asked you to undress. You stand up off of him, your feet meeting the cold hardwood, your panties sliding down your smooth legs.

Now there was $8250 on the floor.

He undoes his belt while you stand in front of him, eyes glued to yours while he does it. You swallow when he winks, thighs pressing together — you know he notices. Steve shimmies his pants down slightly, enough that he can keep his legs spread wide while pulling out his length. It's clear that he's painfully hard, a guttural groan escaping him while his hand offers him some minor relief, “Is this what you want?”

“Y-yeah,” your voice barely above a whisper.

“Why don’t you suck on it first and I’ll tell you when you can ride it," he smirks, and without thinking, you start getting to your knees. He stops you before you can make it to the floor, putting a throw pillow beneath you to protect you from the hardwood. Steve can't help but kiss you softly once you make it to your knees, he was never any good at being mean and forceful with you. You'd been right the whole time, he couldn't boss you around -- at least not for too long.

You unbutton the rest of his dress shirt that will now need to be dry cleaned and repressed. You let a hand trail down his chest, gliding through the hair there while pressing wet hot kisses down to his pelvis. Pulling some of the skin between your teeth to leave red and purple bruises behind.

“That’s it, baby,” his breath blends with his words as he adjusts on the couch, leaning back so you have more access to him. You kiss close to the base, tongue trailing over the crease of his thigh, breath ghosting over his shaft while your mouth stays occupied with his heavy sac. You feel him lean back, relaxing while you work him up, his hands coming behind his head, arms bending at the elbows. "Just like that, honey," Steve purrs, "Just like that."

Your hand reaches up to stroke him, slow and deliberate, mouth getting wetter while you leave sloppy kisses at the base and on his pelvis. Your thumb glides over the shining bead of pre-cum pooling out of the tip, teasing over the seam just under it. Your tongue finally glides up to the tip expertly, letting your lower lip catch on the head -- his eyes meet yours behind his glasses, burning with need. It feels cruel to keep him waiting when he looks at you like that, so you don't wait. While keeping eye contact you adjust, taking him all the way to the back of your throat without so much as a wince.

“Oh fuck, good girl,” he gasps into a growl, hand reactively entwining in your hair, “That’s daddy’s girl.”

You groan into the praise, sucking diligently on his cock, thighs pressing tight together. Your back arches into a posture he can only recognize as needy, making him grin while he runs his free hand through his own hair.

“Learned to like that, huh? Whose your daddy, angel?” You smirk up at him in response, tongue gliding from the base to the tip again, taking half of his shaft in your mouth before taking it out with a low laugh, "You are, honey."

His eyes roll back, hips canting up towards your mouth while his grip in your hair tightens. You press him by the thighs back down onto the couch eyeing him while he whimpers when your tongue traces the curve of his cock again. Always on top even on your knees. "Fuck, don't stop," he breathes out. He lets go of your hair, arm reaching behind him to clutch the back of the couch. His hips roll up again, disrupting your rhythm slightly. You taste the salt of him on your tongue while you continue, a soft giggle erupting from your throat, sending shockwaves through him.

"Having fun, honey?" he asks, pulling himself away from you slightly. You sit back on your heels and smile, nodding. He leans forward, blessing you with kisses, deep and slow, "Let's take this to the bedroom."

"I'm on top, right?" you ask. He smirks, watching the jewelry glitter on you in the low light. "Not a chance," he giggles darkly, "Not tonight. Really wanna show you how bad I want you tonight."

"Oh, just tonight?" you ask smartly, getting up from your knees to head to the bedroom.

"Every night," he says with a roll of the eyes, getting up and tossing his dress shirt and tie on the couch. He watches you as you walk slowly to the bedroom, eyeing your smooth skin, the way your hips and waist twist when you walk. He knows you're walking like this on purpose, but he'll never complain. You fall back on the sheets you've been sleeping in for six months and he watches your breasts and thighs and tummy jiggle when you land. Steve grins, sliding off his slacks, socks, and boxer briefs before stepping between your legs, standing over you while you lay on the bed. "Hi," you say, a genuine smile pulling at your mouth when you look up at him. A stripe of amber light from outside pools into the room from between the billowing white curtains, coating you both in a dreamy haze.

"Hi, baby," he says back, his hands reaching down to slide from just under your breasts to your waist, "So beautiful," he whispers to himself.

"Move up a little for me," he instructs, his voice sweet and deep. You scooch up the bed, settling between the mountain of pillows leaning against the short head board while he settles between your legs again. He watches you and the way your body manipulates when he reaches down behind your thighs, pressing the tops of them to your chest. He leans forward, pressing his own chest against what can be felt of yours. Your knees are at your decolletage when he leans in closer to give you another deep kiss before leaning back again, quickly tossing his glasses on the bedside table.

You both stay quiet while he strokes himself a few times, smirking down at your glistening core while he lines himself up to push in. You aren't sure why, but every time he does, it feels like the first time.

"Oh my God," you whine while he pushes in slow, "Stevie." "I know, angel," he nods, gliding in all the way to the hilt. He grunts when he feels you grip him tight, trying to pull out slightly only to get sucked back in. He grips the back of your thighs for leverage, pulling back half way and pressing in, feeling you get wetter around him while he picks up a rhythm.

"Shiii-Steve, that's so deep," you whine. It only encourages him to push in deeper.

"Gotta practice, honey," he grins, starting to pant while he looms over you, letting go of your legs to get close to you again, "Need it to stick when we do it for real."

You pulse over him when he says it, back trying to arch despite your position beneath him.

"You like when I talk like that?" he whispers, his voice sliding back to gravely in your ear, "When I tell you how bad I wanna cum inside you?"

"Mhm," you whimper, nodding against his searing kiss, working himself up the more he thinks about it. "Get you all fuckin' full with me?" he growls, "Keep you nice and pregnant the second I get that ring on your finger?" You burn with lust while he babbles on, wrapping your legs around his waist while his thrusts get rough and desperate. Your body shakes and quivers while his hips slam against you, filthy wet squelches filling the high ceilings of the room. Mixing with a symphony of both of your sighs and moans, the smell of your sweat mixing with his cologne. Slam, slam, slam, slam, slam. The headboard beating the wall between the windows with a thud over and over again. "I fucking love you," he grits out. "I love you, too," you whine, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Heat licks at your lower belly, building while the slight curve of his cock makes the head brush over your g-spot in rapid succession, "Baby, I'm..." "Yeah?" he asks with a knowing smile, "So close for me, hm?" He sits back on his calves, still able to thrust while he looks down at you. His thumb presses against your lips, asking for entry. You let him in, making sure to get it extra slick with your spit before he takes it out, reaching down to slide it in circles over your clit. "How's that, angel?" he asks, thrusts not showing a hint of slowing down, "Does that feel good?"

Your thighs shake, eyes pricking with tears, shining while they look up at him. Well he's pleased with himself, you think, making a mental note to throw him on his back tomorrow and ride him into next week until he's a babbling mess. "It does, huh?" he asks softly, nodding down at you while you nod up at him. "Shit," he huffs, "Oh fuck."

"Not so...oh my god, oh wow -- not so t-tough now, are you?" you giggle. He groans when you giggle, Why are you so fucking precious? he thinks to himself, Who allowed this?

Heat rises even more, the jewelry starting to feel clingy as it sticks to your shining skin. Steve keeps his pace, eyes closing softly while he leans his head back, the column of his neck begging to be bitten and kissed by you. You whimper, pulling at the clasp of the bracelet, tossing it onto the carpet next to the bed. Now there was $48,250 on the floor. Feeling less trapped and more desperate to destroy his neck and chest, you sit up, your manicured hand pressing against his hair covered pecs. It doesn't take long for him to allow it, looking up at you while you climb on top of him.

"That's it, honey, give it to me," he breathes, "Show me how bad you want it."

Your hips move with a slutty percision that he loves, grinding against him for your own pleasure and his. He hisses when you bite down on his neck, letting out a soft laugh when you pull at his hair, "Come for me, angel, c'mon." He hears you pant in his ear while you lean over him, the diamonds in your necklace shimmering in his eyes. You sigh, sitting up straight, unclasping the necklace while you bounce on top of him, gently tossing it to meet the bracelet. Now there was $198,250 on the floor. "Do not," he groans out, hands grabbing your hips with bruising grip, "Put those earrings on the ground, we will never find them until a post ends up in my fucking heel." You laugh, your own head leaning back, making him yearn to taste the column of your neck this time. But your laugh doesn't last long, it morphs into guttural moans while he holds you in place, thrusting up into you in an unforgiving speed. Steve gasps, watching your breasts bounce in front of him while he continues on unrelenting. "Baby..." You squeak out, "Steve...oh fuck, oh Steve -- Steve, Steve, Steve..." The heat builds and builds and builds. Your eyes water while his cock bullies into you. The head hitting your g-spot, pushing in deeper while he goes. You let out a cry, nails digging into his broad freckles shoulders while our hips slam down on him, thighs vibrating while white blooms behind your eyes.

"Good girl," He coos while you shake, collapsing onto his chest, "That's it, angel, that's my girl." He eases you onto your back again, giving you slow kisses on your neck and chest while he chases his own orgasm. It doesn't take long, nearly on the precipice of cumming since he zipped you up in your dress earlier in the evening. His mouth gapes while he sends his seed over your tummy, painting you with ropes of glistening white. "Jesus Christ..." he gasps, settling himself with some big deep breaths that expand his sculpted chest. You both look at each other, panting and sweating, the passion wearing off to a pure and gentle love for each other. You both start laughing. "We swear we're sexy," you laugh up at him. His smile makes you melt all over again. You watch him ease up off the bed, leaning forward from the side to kiss your forehead. He picks up the jewelry, inspecting it for missing gems, or - god forbid - a scratch, and places it carefully on the side table with his glasses. "Wanna get cleaned up with me?" he asks, tilting his head, "Can you stand?" "Oh please," you roll your eyes, sitting up slowly, "I can..sort of stand." You already feel the ache between your legs from taking him, knowing you'll need at least a day to recover from something so big. He helps you up, taking you into the en suite bathroom and getting the water just right for you to step into. "I'll be right back," he says, pulling you in for a kiss on the temple before he disappears in the steam. When he returns behind the glass of the standing shower, covered top to bottom in dark green tile, he passes you a glass of Malbec that matches his. "A little celebratory night cap," he says sweetly. "To closing the deal," you grin, giving his glass a clink to cheers. "To closing the deal," he says back before you both take a sip.

"I know you're not wearing those earings in the shower, Manhattan," he sighs, putting the glass on the product shelf out of the water. He reaches for you ears but you yelp playfully, stepping away from him, "You're gonna be the fuckin' death of me, honey. I swear."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x thick!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #pbv!steve #steve harrington fluff

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thanosscross · 4 months ago

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Hello hello!! Welcome to my little meet your writer section!! 🫶🫶 I’m so excited you’re here! Welcome!

I felt like with you all being my lovelies and being so kind and amazing, you might want to get to know the writer behind some of your favorite stories of mine! 🫶💕☺️ please keep in mind this is a judgement free page, where none of it will be tolerated, unless we’re judging the man who shall not be named 🙄 so welcome! Get to know me here 🫶🫶

Hi! I’m currently 19 turning 20 this February 5th! 🫶 which I’m very excited about,

I go by she/they, really anything you’d like to call me! I’m somewhat the middle child, I have an older brother and two younger brothers, so I’m the only daughter/niece/granddaughter on my dad’s side (my dad’s only child). I grew up with somewhat of a rocky childhood so I’ve always got a soft spot for kids, I’ve become the ‘Mary Poppins’ of my family rather quickly so I’ve always got a kid on my hip, whether its my cousin, youngest brother (5&6), or my fiancée’s niece (5).

I’ve been engaged for almost a year now, I met my fiancee working at a local grocery store, She came through my check-out line, before applying a few weeks later. I ended up being the person to train her for the job position, and ever since then we hit it off, We were both in pretty toxic relationships before, so whenever we got together it was a little weird, but we quickly found a healthy groove together, and it's just been happy times ever since <3 A lot of people say it's too soon, or we're too young, but we prefer it this way, it gets all of the big stressful stuff out of the way, that way we'll have more time to focus on each other and building our family in the future <3. I was always taught that whenever you find the person you know is not only a good relationship partner but also a good business partner, you've found the one, and nothing is too fast, and I know I found my perfect partner in life <33.

I like writing a lot, I’ve been writing since I was about, 9 or 10? So almost full decade now, holy shit, I started out on wattpad, moved to writing on paper, and then eventually moved to tumblr around the time I turned 14? I like to call myself a 'detailed writer', I think of it as a writer who is more focused with writing out physical feelings and emotions. I like my stories to not only be easy to read, but I also like my stories written in a way where you can really picture or imagine the feelings behind the words, I feel like those are the best stories to read, in my opinion <33

I have five animals in total (I know! A lot!) I have three dogs, and two guinea pigs, MooMoo, Charlie, Daisy, Winnie, and Honey Bunz, who are all pain in my asses, but I wouldn't know what to do without all of them <3. For the longest time I wanted to be a lawyer, then it changed to a police officer, all because my original dream of being a firefighter was kinda taken from me whenever I was diagnosed with something that prevents me from safely working in overheated conditions. Now I'm set on writer, or just in the public eye, I don't really mind how, preferably some type of dancer (Competition teams/back-dancer/etc) Or a screen writer, I just want a position in the public eye where I'm actually heard and not just drowned out over the sounds of everybody else (Told you lovelies, rough childhood) I want my words to mean something, I want to be a voice for the people who can't find theirs yet <3

Favorites? Music wise? It's a little all over the place but my top five? (not in order) BigBang, ATEEZ, ENHYPEN, Sir-Mix-Alot, and stray kids <3 Shows? Squid game definitely, or a spin off series of the walking dead that's recently come out, The Walking Dead: The ones who live, I also watch 911, and the Rookie (I really miss being a firefighter when I had the chance). Movies? Really anything horror, I'll always be excited about a new scary movie that comes out, I've been like that since I was itty bitty though >< Jobs? I'd have to say either being a firefighter at only 16-17, or being the Easter Bunny one time at my local mall, those two were the most fun!

My style? I have three different types of styles, I either dress in Baggy Clothes (cargo pants, baggy t-shirts, my black jacket) or tight clothes (undershirts, skinny jeans, a flannel or button up, kept open, to go over it) or a mixture of both 😂 I’ve been mainly sticking with my baggier clothes lately though 🤌💕

Hmmmm...Last get to know me section..What should I put? We'll get a lil personal. I've struggled with severe depression and anxiety since I was around 11 or 12, whenever I had something bad happen to me at 13, it just caused it to become worse, along with other diagnoses. This one is a little more recent, and I'm still a little iffy about sharing it, just because a lot of people give it a bad rep, but I was recently diagnosed Bi-Polar. It wasn't that much of a shock, almost every female in my family has it, and it made a lot of sense for some things I experienced, especially the manic part of it. I've slowly been learning just because I was raised around people who are Bi-Polar who weren't good people, doesn't mean I'm a bad person just because we share the same diagnosis. I go to the doctor, take meds, just like anybody else <3, Some of you lovelies might question why I got so personal on here about it, but for the few that have the same thoughts, know you're not alone, I'm in the same boat with you, so why not us hang out and chill while we're here <33

And without further a-do....

Hi! Lovely to see you here lovely <3 this is the face behind some of your favorite stories! 💕🥰 so glad we can finally meet!

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 8 months ago

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Prynhawn da Elanor,

I'm a student in the US currently applying to universities for next year, and I have a couple of questions about Welsh universities if you have the time. I'm looking at both schools in the US and one in Wales (I managed to visit over the summer and it seemed great, loved the town and the university, and the degree that I'm interested in is very solid there), and the teaching style/expectations of students are an unknown factor. I've been taking college classes while still in highschool so I'm familiar with college-level instruction in the states, and it's not ideal for what I'm interested in studying. For example, at one of the schools I visited that is supposed to be a decent research university, the faculty were surprised that I had questions about research as an undergrad, and according to current students, the hardest part of their studies were quizzes on botanical taxonomy. So, I'm curious, what are the general academic expectations for students (especially in ecology or wildlife biology-related courses)? It seems like assessments are more practical or long-form and less quiz/multiple choice.

This got long-winded, so my apologies, and thank you for your time!

Shwmae! Happy to answer.

SO, I shall caveat this with saying that I don't really understand how higher education works in the US; it's a very different system to the UK in many ways. I'm therefore not entirely sure how to explain the exact differences. So, I'll just tell you about how it works over here rather than trying to do a comparison, if that makes sense? It means some of this will definitely feel like Water Is Wet stuff, but hopefully there'll be an exact answer in there that you can extract. Also, if you're comfortable doing so (and want to), I'm happy to talk over DM if you want slightly more specific advice involving you revealing details that otherwise might doxx you.

(Also second point, because I have danced this dance before and I know what Some Of You Lot are like when my posts start gaining traction beyond my circle of followers: in places where I do explain something that's different between the two systems, I am not saying one is better or worse than the other. Don't be a cunt about this. Work on your defensiveness and ego in your own time. I'm too busy and important for your feelings.)

Third point: I'm snipping this for length. On with the answer!

So, degrees over here are fairly fixed in terms of content and duration. Some offer a specific, set array of modules that make up the degree; others have essential core modules, and then you can choose from a small number of options until you get the required credits. But part of choosing the course for you over here is looking at the modules that make up the degree to make sure you're getting the exact focus you want; the one I teach on, for example, has a focus on practically applying environmental science, with the result that it has a very high post-graduation employment rate across a variety of environmental disciplines. Others might focus more on human geography, or environmental engineering, or climate science, or whatever else.

The reason for this is the quality assurance system in the UK. Courses have to be validated as being the right quality in terms of content, level of study, assessment practices, etc. Let's say you get a BSc from UWTSD in Environment, Sustainability and Climate Change; that comes with a quality assurance for a future employer that you have learned a specific set of skills, a specific knowledge bank, and are capable of using both in a specific way. There shouldn't be a risk, for example, that they hired someone from the same course the year before who had the same qualification as you, but turned out to not understand the dynamic processes behind sand dunes and couldn't write an official report to save their life, meaning you get passed over for the job the following year because they can't trust that your education actually means anything; if both of you have the same qualification, then the course should be meeting sufficient quality standards to ensure that you both therefore have the same knowledge and skillset.

So that's point one!

Where this works in your favour is point two: assessment. Assessment is also rigidly quality-checked, but it means you can ask a course director and immediately get an outline of what the assessment procedures are (not the precise assessment tasks, obviously; but, report vs exam vs lab practical etc will be known).

But also, yes, assessment in the UK is extremely rarely what I understand to be 'quizzes' in the US, and extremely rarely multiple choice. Rightly or wrongly, there is a definite perception in academic circles over here - even at high school level, much less university - that a multiple choice quiz is too easy to pass by guessing, and they're very looked down on as a method to assess learning.

What you'll have instead varies between modules and courses, but I can give you an idea with a couple of mine:

Level 4: Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services

No exams: two reports based on practical field/lab work, both worth 50% of the final mark

First: dissect owl pellets in the lab from two sites. Evaluate what the findings mean for the biodiversity on each site, and suggest some future site management prescriptions. 2000 words.

Second: fieldtrip to nearby woods to take allometric tree measurements and calculate carbon sequestration. Evaluate the ecosystem service provided by the woodland, and comment on site management and conservation. 2000 words.

Level 5: Coastal, Marine and Wildlife Conservation

One assignment, one exam, each worth 50% of the final mark

Assignment: Ramsey Island has far less biodiversity than neighbours like Skomer, Grassholm, etc. Research why, what was done to fix it, how well it's recovered, and suggest what should be done in the future to aid further recovery. 2500 words.

Exam: First half is a selection of short form questions to test baseline knowledge. Second half is a 50 mark essay question; choice of two topics to answer.

Level 6: Habitat Management and Building Resilience

No exams: two assignments, one before Christmas worth 30% of the mark, one in May worth 70%

First: choose a species reintroduction project of your choice, and find the habitat feasibility study carried out for it. Critique that habitat feasibility study. Put your findings into an academic poster and present it. 15 mins.

Second: using teachings from across the year, produce a habitat management plan for a site of your choosing. You need to actually visit and assess your site. 3500 words.

(L4, 5 and 6: first, second and final year of undergrad)

The idea in each case is not just to test knowledge; it's to test applied knowledge, and to teach real-world skills needed in the industry after you graduate. If you go into land management, for example, the ability to guess the right answers based on the multiple choice pattern is useless; the ability to assess a site and write up a management plan for it, on the other hand, is literally the job you're hired to do.

So, as far as research is concerned... if you mean carrying out your own research on a topic of your own choosing, the main place that happens is your dissertation in third year. But, you can start that earlier if you want. In our department, we also encourage and support any independent research a student may choose to do, even if they don't end up using it for their degree directly.

If you mean general research skills, though, those are vital to every assignment. If you only repeat back whatever papers or knowledge the lecturers have given you, and don't research independently, you will barely scrape a pass. We actively push you to learn those skills.

And then lastly, expectations for students! In higer ed, you are now an adult, and you are choosing to be here: this means that the expectation is that you're meeting the lecturers halfway, as it were. It's a mistake a lot of new students make, if they've come straight from high school - uni is just The Next Thing to do, but to them it's basically like school, so the teachers have to keep trying to teach them even if the student barely shows up or makes any effort.

But that is not so! They are no longer pupils, and I am not a teacher.

If I say to a class "Look up these papers and be familiar with the arguments before next session because we're going to have a seminar", and then someone doesn't bother because "Whoops I went out drinking and forgot to do my homework teehee", then they can get out. They are adults paying for a particular service. I have offered that service. If they think of it as homework and choose not to do it because they wanted to go out clubbing instead, then... okay. That's the choice they can make. But the consequence is, I'm not chasing after them, because I'm not a teacher, and that's not my job. Now they aren't having that session. This will have a knock-on effect for their understanding of the topic; but that's the choice they made.

(Again, before the Pissing On The Poor crowd arises: I am, very obviously, not talking about students who have other struggles that impact their academic performance. I am, very literally and clearly, talking about the 18-year-old school leavers who are still in the school mindset, and think of missing lectures as 'skiving', and on a lizard brain level think there won't be consequences to that because so far in their life, education systems have not been allowed to fail them for that behaviour.)

So, basically... you're expected to want to learn and improve, and to put the work in to do that. Not to just be there to get the degree, but to be there to learn. Adult education is collaborative between lecturer and student. We guide you, but it's your journey to take.

Anyway! I hope that is at all useful. Let me know if you want clarification on anything, or have any other questions!

#asks #university

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ghosty-zero · 1 month ago

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Sonadow one shot number #13: Hot Pockets

{I kinda wanted to try a clueless Shadow this time, oblivious to the dating world}

Shadow was a confusing hedgehog to read. Like a stone wall he stood unmoving and unwavering. His eyes were always in a stern glare, like he was just naturally angry all the time. If you were an outsider looking in, you'd probably believe him to be just that, but Sonic had been through enough with Shadow to know he wasn't just a stone wall. He was actually very expressive. He had emotions and thoughts. Sonic could tell there was an entire life story behind those eyes.

What Sonic wanted to know, was what that life story was.

Getting Shadow to talk was a chore enough on its own. The only times he seemed to actually speak up were when Sonic did something stupid, or when he felt the need to correct someone on something. Even then it was pretty hard to get him to continue talking. He didn't like being pushed to talk, and he wasn't one for small talk either. Which meant that Sonic didn't have much material to work with, but he had nothing better to do this evening and he had been thinking about it all day.

So, determined as ever, Sonic cornered Rouge one Tuesday afternoon at a local diner. He had asked her to meet him there after his racing session. She came in a bit late, but she came.

"Hello dear, I hope I didn't keep you waiting." She said with a smile as she took a seat across from him.

Sonic sighed dramatically. "You took forever, what happened?"

She shrugged. "I was busy. Work stuff."

Sonic rolled his eyes. "Well, now that you're here, I wanna ask you something."

"Oh?" She asked. "What is it?"

Sonic shifted in his seat. "How long have you known Shadow?"

"A few years. We've worked together for a while, why? What's up?" She tilted her head curiously.

"I've just been wondering about him a lot lately." Sonic said with a sigh. "He's just so confusing and I wanna know more about him, but he's not exactly one for opening up to people."

"Hm," Rouge leaned back in her chair. "Well, what do you want to know?"

"Anything really. Like where he comes from, what he likes to do for fun, what his favorite color is..."

Rouge laughed softly. "His favorite color is red."

"Really?" Sonic raised an eyebrow. "I thought it would be black."

Rouge shrugged. "Everyone thinks that. His favorite color is actually red."

Sonic sighed again. "I wish he'd tell me things like that."

"To be honest, he's not a big fan of yours either." Rouge said with a small smirk.

"Yeah, yeah I know." Sonic pouted. "He's told me he hates me, and he's not one for lying. He doesn't have to tell me twice."

Rouge nodded. "Well, why do you want to know these things?"

"I told you, I wanna know more about him."

"Could this be stemming from a, oh, I don't know, a crush maybe?" She gave him a knowing look.

Sonic blushed. "No!" He exclaimed quickly, then lowered his voice. "It's nothing like that..."

"Mhm," Rouge hummed. "You seem very concerned with his tastes in colors and hobbies."

"I'm just curious, okay?" Sonic folded his arms.

"I don't believe you."

"When have I ever lied to you?" Sonic asked.

"I'll admit, you're not really one to lie. But I also know you're not one to admit your feelings either." Rouge smirked.

Sonic blushed harder. "W-what feelings? I don't have feelings."

Rouge laughed. "You tell me the truth, and I'll tell you what I know."

"Well..." Sonic started, but stopped himself.

Rouge smiled at him, waiting patiently for his answer.

"Fine... maybe I do have a tiny crush on him." He finally admitted. "But that's all it is. A tiny crush. Like, super itty bitty. Barely even noticeable."

Rouge chuckled. "Right. And my favorite color is orange."

"What? No way! I thought your favorite color was purple."

"Sonic, you're missing the point here."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Anyway, you like Shadow, and you want to know more about him because you want to get closer to him."

"Well, yeah." Sonic nodded. "I mean, we are kinda friends and all, but we don't really talk much. It's kinda hard to get close to someone when they don't give you anything to work with."

Rouge sighed. "I know what you mean. Shadow has always been difficult to understand." She paused for a moment, then grinned. "I could try talking to him for you."

"Really?" Sonic asked hopefully. "Would you do that for me?"

"Of course." She replied with a smile. "Anything to help out a friend in need."

"Thanks, Rouge!" Sonic said happily. "You're the...wait...what do you want in return?"

She shrugged innocently. "Oh, nothing much."

"Nothing much?" Sonic raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Just your eternal gratitude and perhaps a little favor down the line." She said casually.

"Deal." Sonic replied without hesitation.

"Great!" She said cheerily. "I'll see what I can do. No promises though."

"Alright, thanks again Rouge."

When Rouge was assigned with a task, she was known to see it through till the very end. She set out right away to get more information on Shadow, but the first step was to actually find him. Which proved to be quite difficult, as he was a master at hiding when he didn't want to be found. They lived together in the same apartment, however he was like a rare creature. If you didn't see him at least once every few days, then you would probably never find him.

Rouge approached him casually one afternoon as he was making a bowl of black coffee beans.

"Hey, Shads." She said nonchalantly.

He grunted in acknowledgement, but did not respond.

"You know, there's this new movie that I've been wanting to see. It's supposed to be really good. You should go with me."

Shadow took a sip from his cup. "No."

"Aww, come on. We never hang out, hun."

"Your nicknames are unwanted and annoying." He responded coldly. "Do not use them."

"Okay, okay." She sighed. "But really, let's hang out sometime."

Shadow took another sip from his cup, then set it down on the counter. "I do not have time for such frivolous activities." He turned around and started heading towards his room.

"Ah, ah, remember that time I saved you from that angry mob?"

Shadow paused, then sighed. "Fine."

"Great!" Rouge clapped her hands together excitedly. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven. Be ready by then." She turned and walked off before he could argue.

Shadow just shook his head and continued on to his room.

The next day, Rouge was knocking on Shadows door, all dressed up and ready to go. When she received no answer, she knocked again. Still no response. She knocked harder, but there was still no sign of life behind the door. Finally, she gave up and opened it herself.

"Hey, Shads." She said loudly as she entered. "You ready to go yet?"

"I didn't say you could come in."

"I make the food in this house, I can do whatever I want." She said smugly. "Now hurry up and get ready. We're gonna be late."

Shadow stood up from his desk chair and turned around to face her. "I am ready."

"Well then, let's go!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room.

On their way to the theater, Rouge made sure to ask as many subtle questions as she could. However, she quickly realized that Shadow was not one for subtlety. He was very straightforward and blunt, which meant he answered her questions directly.

"So, Shadow." She started, trying to think of something to ask. "What do you like to do for fun?"

"I train." He said simply.

"Right, right. But I mean, like, when you're not training."

Shadow frowned slightly. "Why do you ask? Do you wish to spend time with me?"

Rouge chuckled. "Maybe."

"I suppose I enjoy reading." He replied after a moment of thought.

"Oh? What kinds of books?"

He shrugged. "Anything that catches my attention."

Rouge nodded. "Okay, I have another question. What kind of music do you listen to?"

"I do not listen to music."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow.

"It distracts me."

"Fair enough. What about...food? What's your favorite food?"

Shadow sighed. "Why are you asking me these questions? I do not see the purpose."

"I'm just curious." She answered honestly. "We're friends, aren't we? We should get to know each other better."

Shadow glanced at her sideways. "Are we? Friends, I mean."

"Don't hurt my feelings." Rouge smiled playfully.

He rolled his eyes. "If you must know, I enjoy hot pockets."

Rouge blinked. "Really? I thought you would be more of a sushi guy."

"I like sushi too." He admitted. "But I also enjoy hot pockets."

Rouge nodded again. "Okay, one last question. What do you think of Sonic?"

"Sonic?" Shadow repeated, frowning slightly. "Why are you bringing him up?"

"No reason, really. Just curious."

"Hmph." Shadow grunted, but didn't press any further. "He is an annoyance."

Rouge chuckled. "I guess so. But like, is there anything you like specifically about him? Anything at all?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Very sure."

"I think he's pretty charming, don't you?"

Shadow glared at her. "Do you have a crush on him or something?"

Rouge laughed. "No, no, no. I just think he's a fun guy. And he's really good looking too."

Shadow scowled. "I don't understand how you can find such a thing attractive."

Rouge smirked, playfully nudging his arm with her elbow. "Aw, don't worry hun, I think you're plenty attractive."

Shadow huffed. "Wonderful."

Rouge reported her findings to Sonic the next day, who was extremely excited to learn what she had found out.

"So, let me get this straight." He said as she finished explaining everything. "You learned that he likes to read, he enjoys hot pockets and he thinks I'm an annoyance."

"Basically." She replied with a nod. "But it's a start."

"Not a great one, but it's something." He sighed. "Thanks for trying, Rouge."

"It wasn't a problem dear." She said with a smile. "I hope it helps."

"Is there anything I can do to get him to open up? Like, you know how sometimes people get drunk and tell you their life story? Is there anything like that I can do?"

Rouge chuckled. "Is that really the best idea?"

"I dunno." Sonic shrugged. "I just feel like I need to do something to make him like me more, and I'm not very good at the whole talking thing."

"Maybe you should try getting him drunk then." She suggested with a smirk. "That way, he'll tell you everything and you'll get closer to him."

Sonic laughed. "He'd kill me if he ever found out."

"Well, you could always just wait for him to open up on his own, but that could take a while."

Sonic sighed again. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He looked down at the floor for a moment, thinking. "Do you think he'll ever open up to me? Like, ever?"

Rouge gave him a sympathetic smile. "At the moment, he doesn't like you very much. But that doesn't mean you can give up. Give it time, he might warm up to you eventually. You never know."

Sonic smiled back. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Thanks, Rouge. You've been a big help."

"Anytime, hun. Now go get 'em."

With that, she left and Sonic was alone again. He sat down on his couch and thought about what she had told him. If Shadow didn't like him now, then it would take a lot of effort to change his mind. But Sonic was determined, and when he wanted something, he went all out.

It took some time to come up with a plan, but when it finally came together, Sonic was confident that it would work. Sure, his plans usually didn't work out as expected, but this time was different. He had been thinking about this for a while, and he knew exactly what to do.

The plan was simple, but effective. He would corner Shadow and refuse to leave him alone until he agreed to spend some time with him. It sounded silly, but it worked on Tails all the time, so Sonic figured it would work on Shadow as well.

Unfortunately, finding Shadow turned out to be harder than he expected. The guy was incredibly good at hiding, and Sonic was beginning to think he had gone into hibernation or something. After a few hours of searching, Sonic finally found him in his usual spot in front of his apartment working on his motorcycle.

"Hey, Shadow." Sonic greeted casually.

Shadow grunted in response.

Sonic took a deep breath and prepared himself. "We need to talk."

Shadow stopped what he was doing and turned to face him. "About?"

Sonic crossed his arms and stared straight at him. "You. And me. Together."

"What?"

"Look, I know you don't like me, but we're friends, aren't we?"

"No." Shadow answered bluntly.

"Well, then maybe we can be more than just friends." Sonic suggested hopefully.

Shadow raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying, I want us to be closer." Sonic explained. "I want to get to know you better."

"I do not understand."

Sonic sighed. "Look, I like you, okay?"

"In what context?"

"I dunno." Sonic shrugged. "Just, romantically, I guess?"

"You guess you like me romantically?"

"Yes! No! Maybe?" Sonic ran his hands through his quills frustratedly. "I don't know. But I do know that I want to spend more time with you."

Shadow stared at him. "Why?"

"Because!" Sonic exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. "I like you, and I want to get closer to you."

"But why?" Shadow repeated.

"Because I think you're cool."

Shadow quirked a brow. "Cool?"

"Yeah! I mean, you're strong and tough and mysterious. And I like that about you."

Shadow shook his head. "I do not understand."

Sonic groaned, grabbing Shadow's shoulders. "Listen to my words. I want to date you."

Shadow blinked, processing what he had said. After a moment, his expression softened slightly. "You wish to court me?" He asked quietly.

"Yes! Please!" Sonic nodded vigorously. "Let's go on a date."

"A date? Right now? Why?"

"Because I like you! That's why!"

Shadow sighed heavily, turning back to his work. "You are confusing."

"So, will you go on a date with me?" Sonic asked hopefully.

"No." Shadow replied simply.

Sonic frowned. "Why not?"

"Because I am busy." He gestured to his motorcycle.

"C'mon, you can finish that later. It won't take long." Sonic insisted. "I'll take you out to eat or something."

Shadow shook his head. "No."

"Please? Pretty please? With sugar on top?" Sonic begged, getting down on his knees.

"What does sugar have to do with anything?" Shadow questioned.

"Just say yes and I'll tell you." Sonic replied.

Shadow rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"Really? Are you serious? Yes! Thank you!" Sonic cheered happily, jumping up to hug Shadow.

Shadow pushed him away. "Do not touch me."

"Sorry, sorry." Sonic apologized, stepping back. "Anyway, let's go then. There's a great diner just a few blocks away that has amazing food, according to myself, it's super awesome, you'll love it, maybe, hopefully."

Shadow sighed. "Alright. Let us go then."

"Great! Let's go!"

The walk there wasn't long, but it was awkward. Neither of them said anything, and Shadow seemed to be lost in thought. Sonic wanted to ask what he was thinking about, but he figured it would be better to wait until after they ate.

When they arrived at the diner, Sonic lead the way inside and sat down at a booth. Shadow didn't try to sit next to him and instead chose to sit across from him. They both picked up their menus and began looking over them.

"So, um," Sonic started nervously. "Have you ever been here before?"

Shadow shook his head. "No."

"Well then, I'll recommend you something good." Sonic said with a smile. "Their burgers are great, according to Amy. I personally wish they had chili dogs on the menu, but whatever."

Shadow glanced over at him. "You like chili dogs?"

"Love 'em." Sonic replied excitedly. "They're my favorite food in the whole world. Well, second to pizza. And third to hot dogs, and fourth to hamburgers, and fifth to-"

"I get it." Shadow cut him off.

"It's better than hot pockets." Sonic joked.

Shadow blinked. "Who told you that?"

Sonic panicked, realizing he had accidentally revealed that he had talked to Rouge about Shadow.

"Oh, uh, no one." He lied. "I just heard you liked them."

"Hm." Shadow hummed, unconvinced. "Who else have you talked to about me?"

"No one, I swear! I don't...uh...talk to people. Ever. Except for you, obviously, but that's only because we're friends now!"

Shadow narrowed his eyes. "We are not friends."

"Well, I consider you to be." Sonic said

defensively. "And I want us to get closer."

"Why?"

"Because I like you!" Sonic exclaimed. "I've already told you that! Don't make me repeat myself!"

"You speak so informally."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. So, how do you feel about chili dogs?"

Shadow shrugged. "I have never had one before."

Sonic gasped dramatically. "What?! You've never had a chili dog? What kind of life have you been living? Okay, we are getting you a chili dog right now."

Shadow didn't protest as Sonic went ahead and ordered them both a chili dog. When their food came, to say that Shadow was unimpressed was an understatement. He stared at the food in front of him like it had personally offended him.

Sonic tried his best not to laugh. "So, what do you think?"

"This is...different." Shadow answered after a moment.

Sonic grinned. "Go on, try it."

Shadow hesitantly took a bite, chewing slowly. After two seconds, he spit it out onto his plate.

"Wow." Sonic said, surprised. "It's that bad, huh?"

"That is the most disgusting and vile thing I have ever eaten."

Sonic laughed. "Guess chili dogs aren't your thing."

"No. They are not."

Sonic took a bite of his own chili dog. "Don't worry, this place has some pretty great burgers."

Shadow nodded. "Perhaps."

They sat there for a while, Sonic doing most of the talking while Shadow listened silently. When they were finished, Sonic paid for the meal and they left the diner.

"Thanks for coming with me, Shadow." Sonic said as they walked down the street together. "It means a lot to me."

Shadow didn't respond. He just kept walking.

"So," Sonic continued, not wanting to let the silence hang. "Got anything to talk about? Maybe some deep dark secrets?"

"No."

"Nothing? Nothing at all? Not even one tiny thing?"

"No."

"C'mon, you gotta have something."

Shadow sighed. "You have an apparent crush on me, hence the asking out on a date. I can only assume you spoke to Rouge in order to learn more about me."

Sonic cringed. "Is that bad?"

"Yes. And also no. It was actually quite flattering. I haven't been courted since-" He cut himself off abruptly, glancing away from Sonic. "It does not matter. My point is, I do not understand why you would like me."

Sonic tilted his head curiously. "I could list the reasons, but it's not exactly the best way to get closer to someone, right?"

"I suppose not." Shadow agreed. "I suppose I should try to open up more."

"It's a start." Sonic said with a smile.

Shadow paused for a moment. "I enjoy reading."

Sonic raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"You wanted to know more about me, did you not?"

Sonic stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"Yes." Shadow answered simply. "I also like sushi."

Sonic laughed. "Okay, that's-"

"I cannot sleep on wrinkled sheets and I greatly enjoy hot pockets."

"Oh, wow, I-"

"My favorite scent is lavender and I hate being touched unless I have given explicit permission."

"Shadow-"

"My meals must be prepared as they were on the Ark, otherwise I will become agitated and leave the room."

"Shadow, please!" Sonic laughed, putting his hands on Shadows shoulders.

Shadow blinked, startled. "What?"

"Just...stop for a second, I can barely keep up." Sonic chuckled. "

"Is this not what you wanted?"

"Well, yeah, but not all at once." Sonic smiled. "Take your time, we'll get there eventually."

Shadow nodded. "Alright."

"Great!" Sonic placed his hands on his hips, his iconic smile on his face. "Now, how about we go for a run? You're pretty fast, right?"

"I am faster than you." Shadow stated confidently.

Sonic grinned. "We'll see about that. Last one to the beach is-"

Shadow teleported out of sight before Sonic could finish speaking.

"A cheater!" Sonic called out, already running after him.

Sonic lost the race, but he didn't mind. He got to see Shadow smile, which made up for it.

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonic fandom #sonadow #oneshot #cute #short story #wattpad #wattpad writer #writing

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