#and they have the nerve to try to find people for one-offs when their service in consistently shit? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rnelodyy · 2 years ago

Text

The Owl House And Restorative Justice

At the end of Season 1 of The Owl House, it is revealed that Lilith, the main overarching antagonist of that season, was the one to curse her sister Eda, one of the protagonists, to win a tournament when they were teenagers. This information causes Eda to fly into a screaming rage and attack Lilith, and understandably so.

Eda’s curse is essentially a chronic illness, one that, in Eda’s own words, has ruined her life, being the reason she’s considered a social outcast and why, before meeting King and Luz, she hadn’t gotten close to anyone in years. In season 2, it’s revealed that the curse is why she pushed away her partner Raine to the point that they broke it off with her, and that during a particularly bad flareup, she accidentally maimed her own father, leaving him half blind and with permanent nerve damage to his hands, making him unable to continue working as a Palisman carver. The curse has ruled Eda’s life for decades now, so to Eda, this is the ultimate betrayal.

In the first episode of Season 2, Lilith has defected from the Emperor’s Coven, split the curse between Eda and herself to mitigate the symptoms for her sister, and has moved in with Eda at the Owl House. While Lilith herself still feels guilty and feels she has to make it up to Eda, everyone else, Eda included, has seemingly either forgiven her or chosen to look past it. Eda even makes fun of her for feeling bad about cursing her, and Lilith’s guilt is seemingly absent for the rest of the series.

The response to this was… Less than stellar, shall we say. A lot of people were angry, saying Lilith got away with her crimes without even a slap on the wrist, and that Eda’s forgiveness of her was far too sudden.

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen this kind of critique. Amity spent years bullying Willow after her parents forced her to break off their friendship, and when she began trying to mend that relationship, the response from fans was that Willow should have been a lot more angry at Amity, and that they went back to being besties far too soon. I’ve even seen this criticism leveled at Hunter for the things he did while working for Belos, at Vee for impersonating Luz for months to trick her mother, and at Luz for hiding the fact that she helped Philip find the Collector from her friends. And it does seem strange for the show to keep tripping on this same point again and again.

Except, it’s not really. Because I think that, when viewing this show from a different angle, those supposed flaws are actually symptoms of something very important to understand – The Owl House operates on a system of crime and punishment that is very different from our world’s.

More specifically, our world mostly utilizes retributive justice. The world of The Owl House utilizes restorative justice.

So first, what do those terms mean? Broadly, they’re two different forms of handling interpersonal disputes, or dealing with crime.

Retributive justice is the one our current justice system uses, where the focus is primarily on punishing the perpetrator. Retributive justice can mean detention, suspension, expulsion, jail time, monetary fines, some kinds of community service, exile, or in more severe cases, corporal punishment or the death penalty. It’s the lens most people view the world through, where if someone hurts you, hurting them back is the correct response.

Restorative justice is a very different approach, where you instead focus on helping the victim recover from what happened, and rehabilitating the perpetrator to prevent this from happening again. Restorative justice can look like verbal or written apologies, monetary compensation for costs and trauma, therapy for both victim and perpetrator, education for the perpetrator, mediation between victim and perpetrator, a restraining order, etc.

When viewed through a retributive lens, The Owl House lets its characters get away with a lot of shit. Lilith cursing Eda, Hunter rounding up Palismen knowing they’ll be killed, Amity tormenting Willow for years, it’s all stuff that, in a retributive environment, they should be punished for, and they’re just not. Eda is only genuinely angry at Lilith for two scenes, Amity and Willow fix their relationship very quickly once Amity starts making amends, and Hunter isn’t punished at all.

However, I believe the story of The Owl House is best viewed not through a retributive lens, but through a restorative lens.

Let’s look at the Lilith-example again. Lilith’s offense was cursing Eda, which she did because she wanted to win a spot in the Emperor’s Coven. Knowing Eda was better than her, she cast a curse on her, thinking it would only last for a day. But when the time came, Eda forfeited the match, soon after which she transformed into the Owl Beast and was pelted with rocks until she ran. The curse turned out to be very permanent, and Lilith spent the next 20 years trying to fix her mistake by working for Belos to try to capture Eda, since he promised to heal her curse.

However, when she finally succeeded, Belos went back on his promise. Instead of healing Eda, he ordered her to be publicly executed. When Lilith protested, Belos essentially told her to shut up, that it was the Titan’s will, and left her there.

So, having realized her method of fixing her mistake has gone real bad, Lilith sneaks down to the Conformatorium to free Eda herself, but arrives too late and finds Luz instead. After a brief fight they end up teaming up, and Lilith leads Luz to the elevator, but they are captured by Belos and Lilith is thrown into the cage with Eda. There, she restores Eda’s partially petrified body, and after fleeing with her, Luz and King, uses a spell to split Eda’s curse evenly between their two bodies.

From a restorative justice point of view, Lilith has done pretty much everything she reasonably could do to fix things. She’s denounced the Emperor’s Coven, returned Owlbert to Luz, helped Luz find the elevator to the execution platform, saved Eda from petrification, apologized to Eda, and while there’s no way for her to cure Eda’s curse entirely, she took on half of the curse at great expense to her own health, in order to ease Eda’s symptoms.

Eda isn’t angry anymore because in her eyes, Lilith has already fixed things with her. Punishing her more at this point is pointless. What more could Lilith do, really? What other lessons could she learn? The only thing that punishment would bring at this point would be more suffering.

Let’s look at another example: Amity and Willow.

Amity’s offense was breaking off her friendship with Willow because she was a late-bloomer, bullying her for years, and allowing her friends to do so too. Willow is left with horrible self-esteem issues because of this, and combined with her failing grades, turned her into a horribly shy and withdrawn wallflower (no pun intended). After she’s moved to the plant track she starts actually getting better, but Amity and Boscha especially continue to torment her. While Amity’s bullying of Willow does peter out over time, Willow is clearly still extremely resentful of her. In an attempt to make Willow forget their friendship, Amity accidentally sets most of Willow’s memories on fire, leaving her confused, amnesiac, and unable to grasp basic concepts like that chairs are for sitting in.

Luz pushed Amity into fixing Willow’s brain by going into her mind together and piecing her memories back together. There, the Inner Willow revealed what happened to Luz and the audience.

At this point, Amity shows her that her parents were actually the ones who forced her to end the friendship because they didn’t think Willow was a suitably powerful or influential friend, threatening to make sure Willow would never get accepted into Hexside if Amity didn’t force her to leave. Amity then apologizes to Willow for going along with it, and for the bullying, and vows to make sure her friends never mess with Willow again.

Willow accepts her apology, but also makes it clear that, while it’s a start, she’s not yet ready to accept Amity in her life again. Restorative justice has not been fully attained, because to Willow, Amity hasn’t fixed everything – Boscha and her squad are still bullying her, and still consider Amity one of them. This changes two episodes later, when Amity tells Boscha to grow the fuck up when she starts bullying Willow again, and joins her and Luz’s Grudgby team despite her personal issues to get Boscha to back off. Willow doesn’t make a grand gesture of forgiveness in this episode, but it is after this point where the two become comfortable around eachother again.

Did Willow forgive Amity too quickly for years of trauma? Maybe. If she had chosen to continue keeping Amity at a distance I certainly wouldn’t have blamed her. But in the end, Amity fixed the mess she caused as best she could, and has proven herself to want to be a better person, to want to be Willow’s friend again. She worked hard to prove herself to be a person worth trusting, and Willow decided to give that trust a chance again.

And while they did become friends again, that friendship was clearly still affected by what happened, which led to bumps that the two of them had to work through. Like in Labyrinth Runners, where Amity’s overprotectiveness over Willow makes Willow feel like Amity thinks she’s incompetent, and still only sees her as the helpless person she used to be.

Willow continuing to be mad at Amity and punishing her for what she did wouldn’t be an unreasonable reaction, but it wouldn’t have fixed anything. It would certainly have an impact on Amity, seeing her former best friend rejecting her attempts to make up for what she did, but the hurt on both sides would have continued festering, because deep down, Willow missed Amity too.

In Hunter’s case, there’s the question of whether he can even be held responsible for his actions. The Palisman-kidnapping in specific was explicitly done under duress – if he failed he would face verbal and physical abuse, and be threatened with his nightmare scenario: getting thrown out of the Emperor’s Coven.

And that’s not an empty threat either. Hunter has no magic, and Belos has drilled it into him that witches without magic have no future. Without the Emperor’s Coven, his only future prospects would be starving to death on the streets or wasting away in prison. Either way, Hunter would be alone, without family or friends, without a job or job prospects, without anyone to turn to for help. Any child would be terrified of that. Hunter wasn’t always acting on direct orders – in fact he defied direct orders to stay in his room in Eclipse Lake to go look for Titan’s Blood, and then again in Hollow Mind to arrest the rebels. But he made those choices based on the idea that Belos wouldn’t want him if he was a failure, and that he needed a chance to prove that he could still be useful.

And contrary to popular belief, Hunter does know right from wrong. He has a very strong moral compass, he’s just been forced to ignore it in favor of doing whatever the Emperor wants. To shut up that little voice telling him he’s doing the wrong thing, he uses what’s called a thought-terminating cliche, a statement that feels so fundamentally true that the argument need not continue. In Hunter’s case, that statement is “It’s for the greater good.” Sure, kidnapping his new friends and abducting Palismen to feed to the Emperor and threatening someone who’s been nothing but kind to him to take the portal key from her girlfriend and justifying terrorism makes his stomach feel like he swallowed a cactus and saying it out loud makes him sound like a horrible person – but it’s for the greater good. He’s doing it to serve Belos, and Belos knows what’s best.

So by the time Hunter is out of active danger and able to rest and recover from what happened to him… what would further punishment accomplish? He already knows that he did fucked up shit while working for the EC, and he’s proven time and time again that while he’s not fighting for Belos’s approval, he’s actually a genuinely kind-hearted kid. Punishing him now would likely cause him to react very poorly, because he’s been at the wrong end of that stick so often that he’s developed severe PTSD because of it.

And if you think restorative justice is still in order – Hunter is currently hyperfixated on making sure Belos can never hurt anyone again, and for the long term, he has expressed that he wants to become a Palisman carver when he grows up. While it won’t bring back the Palismen that were killed, it will help the current Palisman population recover and reintroduce Palismen to witches who may have had to give up theirs.

When viewed through this lens, the writing of The Owl House starts to make more sense. As a show, it is extremely forgiving towards its characters – they’re still held accountable for their actions, but as long as they’re willing to grow and learn and fix the damage they caused, they are very quickly forgiven.

However, I do understand why these writing choices can be… controversial, so to say. Because it doesn’t feel very satisfying, does it? When someone hurts you on purpose, your first impulse would be to try to hurt them back, that’s just how people work.

That’s the hardest thing to come to terms with when you become an advocate for prison abolition for example – you’re not just arguing for freeing a guy who got 5 years because a cop found weed in his pockets, you’re arguing for the release, and most importantly, the humanity of some of the most vile, disgusting people this planet has ever produced. Even now, when someone commits a truly awful crime and gets sent to prison for life, my first thought is “Good, I hope they rot in there.” But that’s not justice. That’s just revenge. And revenge is not something we as a society should want to build our justice system on.

It’s not satisfying to see Lilith go from using Luz as a human shield in her fight against Eda to sleeping on the couch in Eda’s house within 2 episodes. It’s not satisfying to see Willow let Amity back into her life when Amity has hurt her so badly before, or to see Hunter become romantically involved with Willow after he literally abducted her the first time they met. But that satisfaction isn’t really the point. Revenge is satisfying in the moment, but an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, and if someone shows a genuine willingness to change, it’s often better to give them a chance to.

However, my final point is about what happens when this approach fails. Because not everyone is willing to change. Some people, when faced with the consequences of their actions, decide to dig their heels in and refuse to admit fault, or blame the victim(s), or use those same thought-terminating cliches that Hunter used to justify their actions, “I was just following orders” being a big one.

And thus, we come to Belos.

If Belos showed a willingness to change, a genuine one, not an attempt at manipulation, should he be given the chance to? That vengeful part of me is VERY empathetically saying no. But logically, reasonably, he should be given that chance, if only because he’s a human being and no human being deserves to be mistreated. That doesn’t mean his victims are obligated to forgive him or be around him again, in fact I think that, for the sake of Hunter’s mental health, Belos should stay as far away from him as humanly possible. But he should be given the chance to start over, to truly better himself and do something good with the rest of his life.

But Belos isn’t willing to change.

Belos is a product of a bad environment and grew up with a cult-like mentality and hatred for witches that he had to adopt for his own safety. It’s hard to break out of that mentality, but not impossible. Case in point: Caleb. The tragedy of Belos’s character to me is that he had so many chances to change, so many people to help him make that leap, but all of the people who offered him that help ended up dead by his hands because he couldn’t handle the idea that he may have been wrong.

At this point, Belos is stuck. Changing would mean not only giving up on his life’s work, but acknowledging to himself that everything he’s done, mutilating his body, killing his brother, slaughtering thousands and installing himself as God-Emperor of a population he despises more than anything in order to facilitate a genocide, was completely pointless.

He can’t admit that to himself. Especially the thing about Caleb’s death. He’s sunk-cost-fallacied himself so far into a corner that all he can really do when faced with opposing viewpoints is dig his heels in even deeper and lash out in a rage at anyone who challenges him. Even now, when his body is literally falling apart at the seams, he’s still trying to commit witch-genocide, because it’s all he has.

Restorative justice doesn’t work in this case, because the perpetrator needs to be receptive to it. Logically you would assume the show would default to retributive justice, and characters like Willow and Camila do take a very vengeful glee in imagining themselves beating the snot out of Belos. But right now, the primary motivation of the Hexsquad and Hunter in particular when it comes to Belos is to end the threat he poses. As long as Belos is alive and free, he will continue to hurt and kill people, and if he can’t be talked down, he needs to be either contained or killed to prevent him from causing more harm.

The Owl House provides, in my opinion, a very nuanced take on restorative justice. It shows how it works in action, how different situations impact what it looks like, and what happens when it’s simply not an option. It’s not the most satisfying story to tell your audience, because when someone hurts our babies we want them to suffer, no matter how sorry they say they are. But in this case, I think that sacrificing that bit of audience comfort is worth it to tell the story like this.

#the owl house #the owl house meta #toh meta #toh lilith #toh amity #toh hunter #toh belos

3K notes · View notes

achilles-rage · 11 days ago

Text

thirteen crows: epilogue

summary: some insight on how they treat you weeks, and months later.

word count: 1.8k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: i wasn’t gonna post an epilogue to this, but i sort of liked the idea of looking at their dynamic months later, so i decided to write this short little drabble-type thing. enjoy<3

warnings: stockholm syndrome(??), controlling behaviour, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

three weeks later

You leave your boss’s office with tears in your eyes, keeping your head down as you walk to the kitchen to catch your breath so no one can see the sadness written across your face. You were barely in his office for 10 minutes, and he wasn’t that upset with you, but you’ve never been good with confrontation.

He had pulled you into his office before you started your shift and showed you some reviews that he found online about the Thirteen Crows that day. There were two reviews with your name specifically added, ranting about how bad your service was and how rude you were to them.

Your boss wasn’t necessarily mad; he knows that you usually have no problems with customers, but he was still rightfully worried about the reviews.

You try to finish your shift with a smile; desperate to not receive any more negative reviews about your service, but it’s difficult. Either Eddie or Buck has been by your side for the last few weeks; ever since you found out who they really were, and while they make butterflies erupt in your tummy sometimes, they also scare the hell out of you, which doesn’t help your nerves.

They told you they wouldn’t hurt you, not if you follow the rules, and you want to believe that, but you feel on edge every time you’re with them. Which is most of the time. You’re afraid to do anything; afraid that something you see as harmless will send them into a rage.

You also know that there’s no escaping them either. You know why they’re with you all the time outside of work; they won’t let you leave them.

When Buck finally picks you up from your shift, you stay silent in his passenger seat, eyes focused on the passing scenery as his thumb rubs gentle circles on your exposed thigh. Buck can sense your unease; it’s different than usual.

You tried to speak to Tara after your shift; she’s noticed the way you’ve shut down in the past few weeks, but you don’t talk to her. You don’t know how they find out, but they always know when you speak to anyone in a way that’s not just merely being friendly, and they do not like it.

“How was work, sweet girl?” he asks after a few minutes of silence. You blink a few times as you snap out of your daze, then look over at him, chewing on your lip. You don’t want to tell him about your boss and the reviews. God knows what he and Eddie would do.

They’ve continued killing, although they haven’t told you anything about it. They monitor your screen time, and everything else you do, so you don’t know the exact details. You’ve heard people talking about it at work, though, and you’re sure it’s more of the people they’ve met through work that have “deserved it.”

“Good. Long night.” you speak in a quiet tone, shrugging. His eyes dart from the road to you for a second, inspecting your face. His eyes narrow, like he doesn’t quite believe you, but he doesn’t push any further. You’re thankful for this, because you really do like your boss, even though your conversation with him has you on edge.

When you get back to Buck’s apartment, he helps you get ready for bed, and then you’re off to sleep, but not before his head is between your thighs yet again, desperately chasing the taste of your release.

The next morning, Eddie comes to pick you up and takes you to your apartment to pick up some more of your things, then brings you to his house for dinner. He sits at the dinner table while you prepare dinner, and when he, you, Buck, and Christopher sit down to eat, his smile is wide. He loves seeing you like this; his little family, finally complete.

You spend the night at Eddie’s house, your back pulled firmly against his chest, and while you’re not completely relaxed, you sleep soundly. You know Eddie wouldn’t dare do something with Christopher home, and these kinds of nights are the most relaxing for you.

six months later

You gasp softly when someone runs into your shoulder and makes you drop the can you’re holding. You turn quickly and look up to the man that’s run into you, and he looks down with an apologetic smile, raising his shoulders slightly.

You scramble to pick up the can and put it into your cart as he murmurs an apology, but you shut him down immediately.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t looking.” you tell him, although you know that he’s the one that ran into you. You’re so used to immediately backing down that it’s become second nature.

His eyes glance down at the dented can in your cart, and he licks his lips before he speaks again.

“You really shouldn’t buy that one; it can make you sick.” he tells you, stepping a little closer and ducking his head to speak in a quieter voice. With the gleam in his eye and his smile, you’re pretty sure he’s trying to flirt, even though the actual words don’t seem especially flirty.

You give him a smile as you feel your cheeks heating up. Of course you know that already, but this interaction surprised you, and you barely had time to think about your actions.

“Right. Thanks.” you tell him, trying to keep your body language disinterested. You know how Buck and Eddie would see this, and you don’t want anything to happen to this handsome stranger because they felt unnecessarily threatened.

You also don’t want them to take away your outings. They finally rewarded you with unsupervised time outside of the house to run errands, and it took months to finally gain their trust. You don’t want to do anything to ruin it now.

“I’m Will, by the way.” he says, seeming not to get the hint. You give him a tight-lipped smile and grip the handle of your cart, beginning to walk further down the aisle.

“I should really go.” you tell him, and while his brows furrow in confusion, he doesn’t try anything else. You let out a shaky breath once you’re out of the aisle, trying to stop the shaking in your hands as you create more distance between you and the man.

You don’t bother with the rest of the list. You’ve already gotten most of the items, and you don’t want to risk anything else happening.

You pay with the cash Eddie gave you before he dropped you off, and you make sure to keep the receipt and the change in a safe place until you can give it to him. They keep track of your finances, and ever since you lost your job, you have no choice but to rely on them completely.

When you get to his truck, you get right into the passenger seat and let Eddie put the groceries in the back. When he gets back in the driver's seat, he reaches across the centre console and pulls your head toward him, capturing your lips in a chaste kiss.

He sees your nervous expression when he pulls away, and he narrows his eyes as he keeps a hand on your cheek. He doesn’t have to prompt you though, as the words tumble from your lips before you can even think. It’s better to tell him than for him to find out later.

“There was this guy in there, he bumped into me. He apologized, tried to talk to me, but I walked away. I didn’t want to talk to him, I promise.” He smiles at your last sentence, tilting his head to the side as he looks into your wide eyes. They’ve trained you so well.

“It’s okay, sweet girl. You didn’t do anything wrong, did you?” he asks. His voice is soft, but there’s a hint of condescension as well.

You shake your head quickly, frowning, and he smiles wider. He rubs his thumb along your cheek, and you let out a small sigh, leaning into his gentle touch. You can’t help but relish in his soft touches; they’re the only ones you’ve really interacted with since you got fired from your job 4 months ago, and if it weren’t for them, you’re sure you’d be going stir crazy.

They leave you at Buck’s that night, all cuddled up in Buck’s bed with your favourite show on and promise they’ll be back soon. They give you sweet kisses and tender touches before they go, knowing that you won’t leave while they’re gone, not anymore. And when they come back, they know you won’t ask about the specks of blood on their clothes, or the glints in their eyes, even though you know about everything.

They’re always especially worked up when they get back from nights like this, and you’ve learned not to ask questions. They happen less often now that you’re with them all the time, but they still have this desire to go out, just the two of them, and have some of their own fun.

You know they’ve done something; you know it has to do with the man from the grocery store, and you know they won’t tell you a thing, which you’re thankful for. You thought you’d be more used to their actions after so long, but it still makes your stomach churn when you think about it.

You let them lay you down on Buck’s bed anyway, and although you hate knowing what they’ve just done, you like how much attention they pay to you when they get home. They’ve showered by the time they touch you, so you tell yourself that what they’ve done is gone. Their slate is clean, their actions are washed away; down the drain and never to be thought of again.

As they pay attention to your neck, and your pretty chest, and your plush tummy and thighs, they’re so glad they thought of their plan months ago. You’re completely dependent on them without your job, and that’s exactly how they want you.

It was easy to make those fake reviews; they knew that the original two weren’t enough, so they kept adding new ones until your boss had no choice. And although they knew you’d be upset about the harsh words, they also knew that they’d be able to make you feel better. You’d forget all about your shitty job when you’re completely taken care of by them, and they’ll make sure to give you anything you want as long as you keep being their sweet girl.

click here for my masterlist!

click here to be added to my taglist!

click here to read my request rules!

taglist: @officiallyalbino @wanniiieeee @dreams-encapsulated-in-glamour @buckandeddiesverison @catkight @tatyhend @emilysuperswag @kulteule @korosevren @nyx3028 @sporadicmakerwerewolf @sherlocksbaby2323 @essienoe @p14th0mps0n @celestixldarling @brooke0297 @zelfanswhenshecan @avengersgirllorianna @bingbongsupremacy @nishinoyahhh @alyssanicole01 @outof-spite @supernatural-bangtanboys @x0xchristine @pear-1206 @swanshells @tpwkstiles @lulubelle14 @cannibalhellhound @odetolocksmiths @rafecameronsloverrrrr @charlie-winchester94 @hollandxxmix @evysian @starbyun92939798 @maxinish @uhmidkmuch @theking-mustdie @daeswash @911varietyposts @superlock-in-the-tardis @lilsquatch7898 @hufflepuff-spidey @starboygf @wnbweasley @damndirtylitch @eva-tts5 @alexxavicry @sammiejane22 @boybandbaby (if you interacted with my taglist post and are not on this list, make sure your blog is visible in seatched, otherwise i can’t tag you! + more in comments)

85 notes · View notes

astrayas · 9 months ago

Text

Pressure Point

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x fem reader

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex

WC: 6k

Summary: When you run into Toji Fushiguro for the first time in years, you find him in the most unexpected position: as your new massage therapist.

18+!!!

Ao3 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“…So she wasn’t able to make it in today. I’m so sorry for the short notice!”

You sling your bag back onto your shoulder and rub your neck, masking your disappointment with a polite smile.

“Oh…that’s a shame,” you say. You were really looking forward to your appointment today. Your usual masseuse is nothing less than an artist, and you’ve got plenty of knots to work out right now. “Well, when’s the next time she’s free?”

“Since you’re one of her regulars, I think we could work you in tomorrow…” the manager chirps, clicking at her computer. She takes a few minutes, clearly unfamiliar with the software. They’re really understaffed today. “But…oh! Actually, there is someone available to take you right now.”

“Oh?” You perk back up again, which is all it takes to strain your muscles. You wince just a bit. You really need some relief.

“Yes! He’s actually our top massage therapist. His new clients normally have to book him months in advance, but it looks like he had a cancellation today. I can go grab him, if you’re interested!”

You deflate just a little. Him? You’ve never seen a male massage therapist, and you weren’t planning to start today. Then your shoulder whines at you again, as if to protest your hesitation, and you’re rubbing at it before you realize it.

Well, if he’s really that good…

“Um. Sure,” you force out. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all!” She springs to her feet and graces you with a polished customer service smile. “Please, have a seat. I’ll go let him know.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, a rush of nerves guiding your short, stilted steps to the nearest chair. You flop into it and try to reason with yourself. If you get uncomfortable, you can just leave. But he’s their top massage therapist. He obviously knows what he’s doing, and you really need—

“Nuh-uh. I don’t do walk-ins.”

A loud, gruff voice booms from the hallway, clearly audible through the thick waiting room door. Whoever’s speaking doesn’t seem to care about indoor voices. You have to strain to hear the manager’s response.

“She’s not a walk-in!” she argues. “She had an appointment, but Rei called out at the last minute.”

“Sounds like that’s Rei’s problem, then.”

After a few seconds of silence, you stand up. This sounds like more trouble than it’s worth. You can wait another day; you’ll just tell them you’ll reschedule.

“Come on! This client’s been coming to us for years. We can’t lose her!” the manager pleads.

“You can’t lose her. I’ll be just fine.”

Your lip curls in disgust as you hoist your bag over your aching shoulder. People book this guy months in advance? Whatever. You can just leave and call them later. But as you turn to walk out the door, you hear one last exchange.

“Ugh…how about this? I’ll give you a few extra days off next month.”

You pause mid-step.

“…I want a week.”

“A week?”

“I’ve been working my fingers to the bone for you for God knows how long. I want a week, or I walk.”

Another long, heavy silence, but you’re still listening.

“…Fine. Fine. I’ll make it happen. Just go out there and be pleasant, alright?”

“I’m never anything but,” the gruff voice hums, and you can just barely hear the manager groan as the door flies open. The strap on your bag slides down your shoulder at the same moment, and you look down as you pull it back up with a grimace.

“You must be the one Rei stranded today. Nice to meet you. I’m—“

He freezes mid-sentence. When you finally look back up, you freeze, too.

“Toji…” you murmur.

You’ve lost count of the years it’s been since you and Toji Fushiguro parted ways. But you could go a century without seeing that face and still recognize it. The scar on his mouth, his fierce green eyes, his strong, chiseled frame…none of it’s really easy to forget.

But it’s his most unforgettable feature—his big, wolfish grin—that traps you in place when it’s clear he recognizes you, too.

“Well, well,” he croons, an irritating melody ringing in his voice as he holds the door open and extends his hand. “Come on back, ma’am. Last door on the left.”

You shuffle past him without so much as a “Thank you” and grip the strap of your bag tight. God, why did it have to be him? Out of all the people who could have walked out of that door, why him?

You step into the room he pointed you to and take it in with wide eyes. This is certainly a step up from your usual setup with Rei. It’s bigger, but the atmosphere is so much more intimate. Soft, ambient music drifts through the room. Candles flicker on select small tables lining the perimeter of the space, playing on the velvety flower petals artfully arranged on the floor and the massage table. It’s downright romantic.

But it’s the table itself, lying in the center of the room, that draws most of your attention. It’s plush and oversized, draped in crisp, clean linens and adorned with a fluffy duvet and a lavish pillow. It almost looks like it was made for sleeping instead.

And it looks…sturdy.

“So. Been a while since you up and vanished,” Toji says with little ceremony, shutting the door behind him. “What have you been—”

“So is this a sex thing? Is that what you do here?” you blurt out. He blinks at you, mouth falling slightly open, and crosses his arms.

“Wow. That’s the first thing you say to me in six years?” he rasps.

Six years. It’s been six long years.

You blink back at him a few more times before you register what you just said, and you slap a hand to your mouth several seconds too late.

“Uh—shit—” you stutter, your hand rising to slap your forehead. “I didn’t mean—”

After some lengthy floundering, which he lets you do in perfect silence, your hands finally drop to your sides, and you heave a deep sigh.

“I just—this is a big bed—”

“You mean a massage table.”

“And apparently you’re the most requested guy here—”

“Because I’m a good massage therapist.”

“And you were a criminal the last time we talked!” you finish. Your voice rises a little more than you intended, and that goddamned knot in your shoulder spasms. You rub at it desperately and take a calming breath.

Something like a low growl rumbles in Toji’s chest as he strolls over to the sink and washes his hands.

“If I’m remembering correctly—and I am—you weren’t an upstanding citizen back then, either,” he flings back. He dries his hands, turns back around, and leans against the counter, looking you up and down. “At least my crimes were impressive.”

You set your bag on a nearby chair and scoff at him. “Yeah. So impressive I just couldn’t bear to live in your shadow anymore.”

“Cute,” he sneers. “You want the damn massage or not? Because you clearly need it.”

“Oh, like you can really tell—”

“Your right shoulder. That one’s obvious.” He pushes himself away from the counter and closes the distance between you with just a couple steps. “You keep rubbing at it like a maniac. But the way you’re standing right now tells me you have pain in your lower back, too. Right about…” He circles behind you, a shadow of a grin growing on his face before he disappears from your sight. You shiver when he rests a large, strong hand exactly where the small of your back hurts the most. “...Here.”

You spin back around and scowl at him. He holds his hands up in an innocent gesture.

“Yeah, those are my biggest problem areas,” you mutter.

“Then let’s take care of ‘em,” he proposes, sauntering over to the door. “Believe it or not, I am a professional now. I take my clients seriously.”

His eyes glint when he turns the knob.

“Even petty thieves like you.”

Your blood pressure instantly shoots through the sky.

“Don’t think I won’t—” you start, unsure of what vague threat you’re about to make, but he’s already halfway out the door.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to get undressed,” he nearly sings. “Start out face-down.”

And with that, he’s gone. The door shuts with a click, leaving every stupid knot in your back to tense up and scream even louder. You don’t even bother hanging your clothes on any of the hooks nearby, opting to pelt them to the floor instead. Infuriating. He’s infuriating. He’s every bit as infuriating as he was all those years ago, when you were just two delinquents among many wreaking havoc in town.

Back when you thought he was the sexiest, funniest, dreamiest guy on earth.

You smack some petals off the table before you settle under the sheets, lying on your stomach. Whatever. It’s not like the feeling was mutual. What did you even see in him back then, anyway? Other than the eyes and the muscles and the voice and the face and the—

Toji knocks on the door.

“You decent?” he calls from the other side.

“No,” you sniff. “But I’m under the sheet. You can come in.”

He chuckles as he lets himself back in and promptly closes the door. You can only see his feet as he walks past you and stops at the counter, and he shakes a bottle.

“Alright. So, I know your shoulder and your lower back are your biggest problems right now, but I’ll find your other pressure points as we work,” he announces, instantly professional. “But first, I need to ask if you’ve got any areas I should avoid.”

“Nope,” you inform the floor. “It’s all up for grabs.”

He laughs again, and you curse yourself under your breath. What an atrocious choice of words.

“Good to know,” he hums. Ugh. He sounds too pleased.

Your heart skips as soon as he pulls the sheet down from your shoulders all the way to just above your backside. He gets straight to work, starting by feeling for tight areas.

“Yeesh. You’ve got trigger points all the way down your back,” he marvels. “It’s almost impressive.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” you sigh.

You have to admit it: even now, even as he just searches and assesses, his touch is divine. It must be thanks to those dexterous fingers, those powerful hands, his shocking familiarity with every part of the human body…

You squeeze your eyes shut in a desperate bid to push the thoughts out. Stupid. Stupid. What a stupid crush you had on him. You start talking just to fill your head with something, anything else.

“How’d you even fall into this line of work? It’s not—“ Your breath hitches when you hear him squeeze some oil onto his hands and rub them together. “It’s, um…just not a career path I ever thought you’d take.”

You can hear the grin in his response. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to help people?”

You answer with some snorting laughter, which tells him enough.

“Thought not,” he sighs. “No point in lying, then.” His hands work their way to the rough spot on your shoulder, and you brace yourself. “Honestly? It’s good money. That’s all there is to it.”

“That I believe,” you answer, screwing your eyes shut when he starts working that knot. This is going to be a rough session, you just know it.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” he mumbles, genuine shock lining his voice. “What do you do these days?”

“I’m just an office worker,” you grunt. You take a deep breath when he digs in again.

“An office worker and…what? A cage fighter? A trapeze artist? These are insane knots for an office worker.”

“I’ve got—phew—I’ve got really bad posture,” you mutter. You squirm under his movements.

“Clearly. You must be hunched over 24/7.”

This time, you don’t answer him. Deep tissue massages can hurt, sure, but this is on a whole new level. You bear with him for about another minute before you wave him away.

“God, Toji, are all your clients masochists?!” you cry, glaring at the floor. You keep lying flat on your stomach, waiting for the pain to ebb away.

“…Some are,” he croons.

Your hands tense at your sides. “So it is—”

“I’m joking, damn,” he huffs. He switches to your other shoulder and, mercifully, handles it with a lot less pressure. “I mean, I’m sure some are. I wouldn’t know. People just come to me when they’ve got injuries and chronic issues. When it comes to that slow, painful deep tissue massage, I’m the best around.”

“Solving pain with pain,” you remark. He slides down to the middle of your back and digs into a spot just to the left of your spine. “That does sound right up your alley.”

“...I see you’ve still got a mouth on you,” he grumbles, and whether consciously or not, he pushes down especially hard. You suck in a breath and screw your eyes shut. “How’d you land a cushy office job with your attitude?”

“I learned when to keep my mouth shut,” you fight to answer, focusing on your breathing. “I was wondering the same thing about you, based on that conversation I heard in the hallway. Do you always talk to your managers like that?”

“Ha!” He pulls his hands away and rubs some more oil between them. “Only the ones who can’t afford to lose me. Business has been booming since I started here. And, damn, you should see the tips I get.”

“Tips?” you squawk, pushing yourself onto your elbows and staring up at him. “What do you mean, you get tips? What do you do to earn tips?”

“Um.”

Toji clears his throat and looks to the side. It’s only when he physically covers his eyes with his hand do you realize you pushed yourself so far up you nearly exposed your chest.

“Oh. Sorry…” you mumble, flopping back down. Heat erupts on your skin. You’re really excelling at making an ass of yourself today.

“What’s with you?” he grunts. He presses a palm against that sore spot at the small of your back. “We’re allowed to accept tips here. Why are you so sure I’m just doing weird sex stuff?”

Before you can answer, he starts applying pressure to the spot. Lots of it. To your surprise, it actually feels…good. So in lieu of a response, you simply let out a groan that lasts a little too long. And just beneath it, just for a moment, you swear you can hear a pleased sound humming in him, too.

“Don’t tell me…” His thumbs rub the small of your back in slow, deep circles. “...you were hoping for it?”

Your eyes shoot open. But he pushes in again, granting you deeper relief, and you lose the will to snap back at him. Not when he’s finally easing all that tension.

“Are you disappointed I don’t offer any special services?”

“Gimme a break,” you manage to say. But that’s all you say before his hands slide down to your glutes. Over the sheet, of course, like a professional, and he’s stroking them like any professional massage therapist would. But that doesn’t change the fact that, in a less professional sense…his hands are still on your ass.

“Well, I don’t blame you,” he boasts. He slides a little lower. He’s…really working those glutes. “I know why I really get so many requests. I know why my tips are so great. I mean, just look at me—”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you spit, wriggling out of his hands and flipping onto your back. You’re careful to keep the sheet over your chest this time. “I heard enough of that for a lifetime back in the day.”

“Hey. I’m not done with your back,” he pouts, frowning at you.

“Can we come back to it later? You’re gonna break it at this rate.”

“Coulda just asked me to be gentler.” He lifts the sheet away from your left leg and takes your foot in his hand. “I can do that.”

As if to prove his point, he uses a single thumb to gently stroke the inside of your arch. Exactly where it aches after a long day in heels. How did he know that was a sore spot, too?

“I listen to my clients,” he continues, stretching out your foot and sliding up your leg. He starts kneading the lowest part of your thigh, just above the knee. “Another reason why I end the day with so much extra cash.”

“I get it,” you mutter. “You have an awesome job and you make lots of money because you’re super hot. Congratulations.”

“Super hot, huh?” he whirs. “I mean, I know, but it’s nice to hear from that mouth you allegedly know how to keep shut.”

“Ugh.” You desperately try to focus your attention on the soothing motions of his fingers. “Can’t believe I used to have such a big crush on you.”

For a moment, for a fleeting, measly fraction of a second, his hands jerk. Then they pick back up as usual, gliding a little farther up your thigh. It takes him a few seconds to answer.

“Did you, now?”

Your brows furrow, but you keep your eyes closed.

“C’mon, Toji, it was so obvious,” you sigh. “There’s no way you didn’t know.”

“I really didn’t,” he says flatly. His fingers dig a little deeper into your skin. “We ran with a big group, remember? I…didn’t get to see you as much as I wanted to.”

You shift a bit under his touch. “As much as you wanted to?”

“...See? You didn’t know I had a thing for you, either.”

His fingers linger on your thigh, rubbing the same spot over and over. Finally, you open your eyes. You sit up to rest on your elbows and look right at him. And in the dim, flickering candlelight, you take a moment to really study his face for the first time in six years.

Six years that haven’t done much to age him, really. His jaw is still strong and sharp. The deep scar etched into his lip still hasn’t faded. His hands, which you’ve become very familiar with today, are still powerful, with veins and tendons that ripple just beneath the skin, with fingertips calloused but not rough. And his muscles are still toned and strong, if that tight black t-shirt has anything to say about it.

“Well. What could have been, right?” you murmur. You glance to the side and let your head fall back onto the table; you can’t bear to hold eye contact any longer.

After a long, tense moment, he pulls the sheet back over your left leg and moves to your other side.

“...Yeah. What could’ve been.”

He moves up your leg the same way he did the first, every knead and stroke therapeutic, but something feels different about his touch. It’s more…clinical. Truly professional now. Like you’re just any other client.

You fight the sinking feeling in your chest. The fact that he never showed he was interested in you stings a little, but that doesn’t matter anymore. There’s a reason you left the way you did. Toji wasn’t good for you, and you weren’t good for him. Nobody in that group you ran with was good for each other. You had to leave while you were still just a petty thief. Before you started racking up “impressive” crimes like him.

Toji’s still quiet as he pulls the sheet back over your legs and moves to the head of the table, settling on a rolling chair and scooting forward. You open your eyes again but look at nothing in particular. You don’t know what to look at. You don’t know what to say.

His hands slide under your shoulders, searching for that especially tight spot again. The moment he finds it, he digs in. You clench your teeth and bear it. Working out a knot can hurt. He’s doing his job. Just let him do his job. Just let him—

“Why’d you leave?”

Your eyes fly back open. His hands haven’t stopped working, but they have slowed.

“What?” you squeak.

“Why did you leave?” he repeats. You glance up and find him staring right back down at you, those deep green eyes glimmering even in the dim light. “Why did you just up and leave like that? No note, no nothin’?”

“Because…” You take a deep breath. It’s been a while since you’ve thought about those days. “Because I just couldn’t keep going like that. I couldn’t keep spending every day scoping out targets, planning which stores I’d hit next. I had to get out and make something of myself. I did it, and…look, you did it, too.”

“But why did you leave like that?” he carries on, his voice tinged with something close to desperation. “Why did you just disappear? Do you know how much that killed me? To just lose you like that, overnight, no explanation?”

You fight against a new sensation in your chest. It’s something rising, growing, gnawing.

“Because if I’d said anything, you would’ve tried to make me stay,” you answer.

“I couldn’t sleep at night wondering what happened to you.”

“You were the only one who could have made me stay.”

“When I could sleep, you were in my dreams.”

“You never needed me, Toji! You didn’t need me then, and you don’t need me now!”

“Fuck you for thinking that. And fuck you for just leaving.”

“Fuck you for making me think you wouldn’t care!”

He doesn’t respond to you before he flies to his feet, takes a breath, and walks back to the other end of the table.

“Lie back,” he says. “We’re not done with your massage.”

“Huh?”

“Lie back,” he repeats. “I’ve got some more pressure points to work out.”

“Uh…alright?” you mutter, and slowly, you settle back onto the table and stare at the ceiling. Goosebumps rise on your skin when he pulls the sheet back from one leg again, lifting it all the way to the top of your thigh this time. He squeezes some more oil onto his hands and rests his palm on your knee.

“Did you know you’ve got a lot of tension down here, too?” he asks, his voice low.

“I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me. I’m tense everywhere.”

“You really are,” he confirms with a soft laugh. “Like…when I was massaging your legs, I kept feeling you tense up when I got around…” His fingers snake their way to your inner thigh. “Here.”

You suck in a breath. “Well, that’s a sensitive area, so…”

And you’re sure you’re tensing up now. But the heated exchange you just shared is still ringing in your ears. That would leave anyone tense, right?

And it’s normal for your legs to part when they’re tense…right?

Your other leg has only moved a few inches away. But it’s a shift big enough for Toji to notice, and he glances down with a smirk.

“Is it, now?” he purrs. His fingers crawl a little higher up your leg. “Sensitive here, too?”

“Uh-huh…” you murmur, gripping the sheet below you. He’s reaching pretty far up. If he keeps going, it won’t be long before he finds out just how sensitive you’ve been from the moment he started touching you.

But you don’t stop him. You don’t want to.

“And how about—” he starts, but he stops himself when his thumb swipes across one part of your inner thigh a little too quickly. Like it slipped on something slick.

Your eyes shoot over to him. Well, secret’s out now. But still…you were dripping that far down your leg? That’s almost embarrassing.

His expression, though, suggests he doesn’t think so.

“Oh…” he whispers with a heavy voice, a strained voice, a voice that tells you all professionalism just flew out the window. “I think I know where you’re holding a lot of tension.”

Your heart flutters when his fingers dance their way up to the source of all that tension, when his knuckles graze it with all the pressure of a feather. It starts to ache the same way it did for him years ago, when you thought he never had eyes for you.

“Think you can help me with it?” you invite, parting your legs a little wider.

That little smirk grows into the same wolfish grin he first greeted you with. One finger, one long, strong finger, circles your entrance and slides in. You’re melting and moaning in the same moment, relishing the new ferocity lighting up his eyes.

“I think I can,” he breathes, sliding his finger in and out, up and down. “A special service just for you, since you’re just so damn—” Another finger slips in to join the first. “—tight.”

He waits until he’s up to his palm before he curls both fingers upward, searching for that spot, the source of all that pressure inside you. It takes him all of a second to find it. He beckons back and forth, up and down. He spreads his fingers ever so slightly, settling on a pressure that commands all your attention to that area.

You whimper and close your eyes. There’s so much you want to say. You want to find out where he learned to do that. You want to tease him, ask him how much he’s practiced. But this moment would be better spent, you remind yourself, simply enjoying this instead. So you part your legs a little wider and let him demonstrate just how well he’s learned to use his hands.

He leans forward just far enough to let you glue your hands to his shoulders. As he does, his other hand comes down to push just above your pelvis, his palm grazing your clit, and that tension rises higher and higher.

Then he leans in a little more. Every flicker of the candles reveals a new detail you’d missed in his face before. Every night of sleep he lost. Every day he thought of you. Every test he faced to make something more of himself, just like you did. Your hands work their way up to cradle either side.

And that’s it.

His lips are on yours, and his fingers pump faster. You claim each other in a kiss six years overdue, a kiss so desperate and needy and vicious it nearly consumes you. His tongue finds its way into your mouth and explores it freely. His teeth dig into your lower lip, a gesture as rough as his massage, but it brings you nothing but pleasure.

Pleasure that grows and grows and grows with all that tension he’s working out of you, so close to releasing. Your eyes start to flutter; your nails sink into his shoulders; your walls clench tighter and tighter.

“There it is,” he murmurs, encouraging you to keep going. “Let it loose. Let it out. Let me feel you let it out.”

The palm he’d left on your stomach presses down a little harder, condensing all that pressure into a volatile ball. His fingers beckon your pleasure forward quickly, deftly, and you writhe when you feel your tension threaten to release all at once.

And it releases like an explosion, knocking your head back and pushing your back up from the table. You try to buck your hips, but his hold on your pelvis is so strong that you ride out your ecstasy between his hands instead. Your walls convulse around his fingers uncontrollably, which he holds in place until your tumultuous release fades to gentle ripples.

And when those, too, die down, he captures your lips in another greedy kiss.

“How’s that tension?” he asks with a sly grin.

“Hmm…” You hold a finger to your chin and pretend to think. “Better, but I think there’s still some left.”

Your eyes flick down to his pants, which do little to hide what kind of tension he might be feeling now, too.

“If you’re still up for helping me work it out, I mean,” you add, letting the rest of the sheet fall from your chest. He allows himself a brazen, longing glance at it before he stands back up and pulls his fingers out, making you jerk.

“For such an important new client? Of course,” he hums. And like he just can’t help himself, he’s already slipping a thumb under the waistband of his pants. “If you could just get face-down again, ma’am.”

You giggle and flip back onto your stomach, tossing the rest of the sheet to the floor. Toji lets out a low whistle of appreciation when he finally sees you completely uncovered.

“Goddamn,” he mutters. And that table proves just as sturdy as you imagined when it barely even jostles as he joins you on it, pushing your legs apart and settling between them on his knees. His hands roam across your body, drawing hard lines between your shoulders, down your back, up and across and around your ass. You turn your face to one side and rest it against the plush table, enjoying every movement of his skilled fingers.

“Goddamn, goddamn,” he repeats, just to really drive the point home. He keeps one hand on your ass while the other pulls itself away. A couple fingers slide up and down your slit, just long enough to make it tingle, and then…he’s lined up with your entrance. A wave of anticipation ripples through you, emerging only as a faint shiver.

“So. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna push down and push in,” he says, palming the small of your back. “Still gotta work out those knots, after all.”

“Wow. Truly dedicated to your craft,” you snicker.

“Like I said, I’m a professional. Now, breathe in…”

“Huh? Why?”

“Just do it. Breathe in…”

You look back at him with a raised brow, but you do as he says and take in a deep breath.

“And out…”

You breathe out a lot more quickly than you were planning to when you start feeling pressure everywhere. His thumbs are digging into your back, stroking it in even circles. But he’s pushing into you at the same time, filling you out slowly, completely. The arousal that’s practically pooled inside of you lets him slide in easily, but it still takes a second to adjust to his size. Your face falls back onto the crisp linen sheet beneath you, your eyes closing and your lips parting as you embrace that delectable fullness.

“Good?” he asks behind you once he’s fully buried in you, and one hand slides back down to grab your ass.

“Very good,” you confirm.

You and Toji groan in tandem when he pulls his hips back, dragging himself slowly along your walls, and pushes back in. The moment you relax around him, he thrusts a little faster. And faster, and faster, and faster, until he has to secure a hold on your hips.

What a pro, you think to yourself with a smirk. How did he know? How did he know this was just the pressure you needed?

“Just when I was starting to forget about you,” he growls, snapping back against your hips. He doesn’t spare a single inch every time he drives himself back into you. Your jostle forward and bunch what you can of the sheets between your trembling fingers. “I was just starting to forget you, and you had to go and waltz back into my life. That’s just like you.”

Your answer barely comes out as anything more than a few pathetic whimpers. “Then maybe this time—fuck—you shouldn’t—”

His fingers bury themselves in your hips.

“Let me—”

He leans forward until his chest meets your back, his hot breath tickling the nape of your neck. His rhythm starts to falter.

“Go.”

Your words must spark some new flame in him. Because he’s pounding into you mercilessly now, driving deep inside you and hitting that perfect spot again and again. You whimper, you mewl, you muffle your groans against the pillow, and your walls start to flutter around his cock.

“You think I’ll let you go now?” he snarls, a low, rumbling sound that reverberates through your skin. “No. Not now. Not when I’ve finally got you like I’ve always wanted you.”

He plants ravenous, messy kisses against your neck. His teeth graze your shoulder, threatening to clamp down and make good on his claim.

Shit. You’re getting close again. Your groans rise until he has to hold a hand against your mouth.

And you know you should keep it down, lest you ruin this good job he’s landed for himself. But you can’t stop a wordless cry from trying to push its way through his palm when that tension shatters inside you again, releasing wave after wave of ecstasy. He shudders and hisses behind you, his hips snapping and jerking and stuttering until he pulls out of you. His release lands on your back a moment later.

For a few seconds, neither of you say anything or move a muscle. You simply soak in the afterglow six years in the making, your ragged breaths overpowering the soft, ambient music. Then Toji finally breaks the silence with a simple remark:

“Fuck.”

“Fuck,” you agree.

You stay on your stomach, eyes closed, as he pushes himself off the massage table and pulls his pants back on.

“Just a sec,” he mumbles. You simply nod, lying motionless where you are as he wipes his mess off your back. “And…hour’s almost up. I’d like to keep working out your knots all day, believe me, but I do have a client coming in.”

You blink your eyes back open. For a moment, you wonder if you should say what’s on your mind. If this one-time reunion should stay a one-time reunion. But with or against your better judgment, you decide to voice what you really want, instead.

“I’ll just have to come back for another session, then, right?”

You flip back over and sit up to find him already grinning at you.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he chuckles as he finishes buckling his belt. He steps up to you and takes your face in his hands, rubbing a soothing thumb across your cheek. His eyes flick to your lips, and he steals one more long, hard, greedy kiss before he takes the dirty towel with him to the door. “...I’ll give you a minute to get dressed.”

When he shuts the door, you hop off the table onto shaky legs and fumble to put your clothes back on. You comb your fingers through your hair and adjust your skirt, ready to face the world after a truly satisfying…massage.

The manager’s still sitting at the front desk when you walk back into the waiting room. She looks up from her computer and greets you with a big smile.

“Wow, you look happy!” she pipes up. “I take it Toji took good care of you?”

“Yeah,” you say, hoisting your bag back onto your shoulder. Funny. He didn’t spend that much time on it, but it already feels so much lighter. “I feel great.”

Toji appears in the doorway, wiping his hands on a new towel, smirking at you and leaning against the frame.

“I’m so glad to hear that! So, did you want to—”

“Book her for next week,” Toji says so nonchalantly, like he’s just finished up an average session. The manager beams at you, clearly pleased that their center could make it up to you after their blunder today. Toji looks right at you, too, when he shares another note.

“She’s gonna be one of my regulars.”

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji smut #jjk #jujustu kaisen #toji x y/n #jjk smut #jjk toji

201 notes · View notes

garbinge · 3 months ago

Text

THE DATE (3/?)

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x F!Reader // Word Count: 3k Summary: Rooster takes you out on that date he asked you on. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Fluff. Light Angst. Drinking. No use of Y/N. Talks of parental death. A/N: You've heard of slow burn? Well this entire story is the opposite of that. LOL.

You heard the car as it pulled down your street from the front steps of your family’s house. Lifting your head up from your phone, you saw the roofless bronco pull into your driveway. Rooster was out of the driver’s seat within seconds, making his way around the car when suddenly he lifted his sunglasses as he saw you sitting by the front door. With a small chuckle to himself, he leaned against the passenger side of the car.

“You know part of a date is getting you at the door!”

You looked around, sarcastically of course, with the added dramatics of lifting your hands up in confusion. “I don’t see the problem. I’m at the door, you can still come get me.”

He smirked at that, pushing off the car and making his way over to you, extending his hand out to help you up and then walking you over to the passenger side of the bronco where he opened the door for you.

“Forgot how chivalrous military men can be.” You were teasing him but appreciated his efforts.

“You know, you’re baiting me.” He called out as he walked back around the car. Jumping into the driver’s seat now, he plopped his sunglasses back over his face before looking back over at you. “I know better than to ask if you’ve dated other guys in the service on a first date.”

“Is this our first date?” You squinted, really thinking it through and he just stood there looking at you for a moment searching for the same answer.

“Is it?” He asked, wondering what your opinion on the matter was.

“Well, technically speaking, it could be. But on the other hand, you’ve already slept with me, and I don’t sleep with people on first dates.”

“So then this would technically be our third date.” He thought through what you said and did some rough guessing on how you’d likely count your interactions as dates.

“And the third date is when you start to ask questions like that.” You were turning to put your seatbelt on, waiting for him to ask you the question but instead he just reversed out of the driveway. “You’re not going to ask me?”

“I know you haven’t dated a service member.” His hands were on the wheel now as he drove back down your street towards the main road.

“How do you know that?” Your face was puzzled.

“If you dated a military guy, you wouldn’t have the rule not to sleep with them on the first date.”

“And why is that?”

“You don’t know the stereotype? Your first date isn’t just your first date, it’s your engagement, your marriage, your anniversary all in one. Military members move fast.”

“You taking me to our wedding, Rooster?”

“No, but don’t worry we’ll be moving fast enough.”

He wasn’t wrong. You were now standing in the hangar staring at the plane he planned to take you up in.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights.” Rooster looked nervous.

“Not scared of heights.” You started to look around at the plane.

“You been for a ride before?” He was trying to find the answer to the unknown look on your face.

“No, my dad never took me.” Your eyes looked over at the entire hangar, the lockers, the desks, the parts storage. “And Mickey was too fresh to even think about being a backseater.”

“We can do something else if you want.” His voice was littered with emotion, nerves, stress, upset.

“No, no.” You cut him off practically. “This is good.” You nodded and walked back around to him so you were looking up at him nearly a couple inches from him. “Just tell me what to do.”

As you stepped into the pit of the plane, you saw a bouquet of sunflowers plopped in your seat.

“Didn’t think I’d forget, did you?”

You grabbed the bouquet and looked it over before looking over at Rooster who was still on the ground with a smile.

“Toss ‘em down, you’ll get ‘em on our way back.” He lifted his hands to catch the flowers and place them to the side before following you up in the plane.

He stood in the front seat, leaning over to yours where he was tightening your seatbelt harness and then starting to go through the system. Talking you through the buttons, what they each did, what he’ll say to you when he wants you to press a certain one, and then finally talking you through the safety features. Placing his own headset on first, he made any needed adjustments before bending down and fixing yours over your ears. His eyes were locked on yours when he moved the microphone to sit properly in front of your mouth.

“Do you trust me?”

You heard it through your headset and gave him a short nod as you stared at his face.

“I need you to say it through your mic.” His hand touched the microphone and you spoke into it with affirmation.

“Good. Your mic works and you trust me. I’d say our first date is off to a good start.” His mouth lifted into a smile.

“And if you’re lucky maybe it’ll end with you taking me to the chapel.” It was a joke, one that earned a pretty good laugh out of the man who was about to take flight with you.

“If you get nervous, just tell me and we’ll come back down, alright?”

You nodded and then quickly spoke up knowing that you’d have to give verbal confirmations to him in the air. “Alright.”

As you coasted in the air, it was hard to even comprehend what was happening, you felt your emotions in your gut, but the excitement in your chest as you flew over the mountains and desert.

“You doin’ alright?” His muffled voice filled your ears.

“More than.” Your voice sounded amazed as you looked around at the scenic views.

“You’ll be able to see the ocean shortly.” He said pointing to his right which made you turn your head over to follow his point.

“Holy shit.”

That made Rooster smile, you couldn’t see it, but he was grinning from ear to ear at your reaction. As you glided across the coast, he let you take it all in allowing silence to fill the craft for a while. Only occasionally breaking that to give you the heads up of when to look at things through the glass and teaching you certain buttons and how to read the navigation system. As you took in the trees over your current location, he spoke up asking you something a little more personal.

“What was going on in your head when we were at the hangar?”

That got your attention and you thought it over for a couple seconds. “I used to spend Sundays sitting inside a hangar reading while my brothers helped my dad fix up his planes. Well–Mickey. Griffin, my younger brother, he would just play with the dogs.” A chuckle could be heard over the mic.

“Why Sundays?” His hands were on the handles as he started to change your course of direction.

Another chuckle could be heard from you before answering. “He was giving my mom a day free of noise.”

Rooster matched your laugh with his own. “You tell your brother I was taking you on a date?”

“No. But if we hit that chapel I’ll give him a call.” You teased.

Bradley couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. As he looped around, flying back over the coast again he chatted to you over the mic. “You ready to head back down?”

“One more lap around?” You hoped he’d agree and that’s when you heard the smile in his voice as he spoke to you.

“My pleasure.”

________

“You take all your dates in the sky?” Sipping the glass of wine you looked over the top of it at him.

“Not one.” His answer was quick, him sipping on his own drink. The noise from inside the bar was loud but muffled as you two sat on the picnic table outside.

You frowned, a little surprised to hear that. “So I’m special.”

“I’m just hoping to make it into this book of yours.” He was popping a peanut into his mouth. You already ate dinner, two greasy fast food burgers parked on one of the coast overlooks paired with sodas and fries.

You leaned over and grabbed a peanut from the bowl yourself and popped it into you mouth too. “This book that still has no concept.”

“Mm, I’ve been thinking about that actually.” He eagerly swallowed his beer so he could speak.

“Oh have you?”

“I think you should write about yourself.” He spoke it so obviously, like the answer had been there the whole time.

“Funny, I’ve been spending the last few days convincing myself to do exactly not that.” You took a large sip from your glass, clearly feeling the affliction of the idea.

“Why would you do that?” He asked you, his face twisted in puzzlement.

Blowing air out of your nose you looked down at the table, not able to make eye contact with him as the reasons filtered through your mind. “There’s just a lot to…” You were looking for the right word, “unpack.”

He nodded as you said it but then shook his head. “Wait–convincing yourself, so you had the idea already?” He squinted his eyes and then pointed at you. “And you knew it was a good one.”

“It was an idea, not a good one.”

“I think it’s a great one.”

Your eyes moved up to his, speaking the question for you.

“You just spent all this time writing other people’s stories. It’s time to write your own.” It was pretty quickly that he realized you were not on board for this conversation, by the way you were chugging your drink, not making eye contact with him, getting more on edge. “All I’m saying is you should consider it.” Rooster was standing up now. “You want another glass of wine?” He asked the question so genuinely it made a laugh escape from your mouth.

“I’ll take a beer. I was only drinking the wine cause we’re on a date.”

His face twisted up again, this time searching yours for more clarity on your words. “Another one of your rules?”

“It’s classy.” You shrugged without really having any real explanation for it.

Bradley was leaning over the table for your empty glass when he paused and looked at you holding back a laugh. “We had fast food for dinner in the front seat of my car.” His sentence was evident, like what you had said held no real legs because of what you ate for dinner. Classy wasn’t what he was going for and wasn’t what he wanted you to go for either.

“To be fair, you took me for a ride in a plane. That’s pretty fancy.” You were still trying to convince him you were right, if you could even call it being right. In this situation, maybe you were just trying not to look silly.

Rooster laughed with a head shake, and grabbed the empties before walking around the table to get back in the bar for refills. “I’ll be right back.”

Your eyes moved to the water, watching the waves crash against the land and then pull back out to sea. It was very much a metaphor to what you were going through, how the waves would crash hard with force, similarly to how certain areas of your life felt. Other times, they’d be calm and easy to handle. But either way, it was always beautiful to watch. Even when the forceful waves were matched with dark clouds and winds, it was still beautiful. Just like your story.

You felt a shadow behind you and started to speak, “I was thinking about what you said.” As your body turned you were met with your brother, a smile on his face which also had a hint of wonder on it as well.

“What did I say?” He was leaning down to give you a hug in greeting.

“Oh, um,” You tried to think quickly on what to say and do in this situation, only having seconds–minutes if you were lucky to come up with something. “About our lives being unique.” You thought back to your conversation with your brother the other night.

“Pretty sure you said that and I agreed.” He was standing in front of you now as you sat on the picnic table bench still. “What’re you doing here?”

“I was going to tell you, I just there’s not really much to tell yet��I was–we’re still–it’s still being figured out.” Rambling, you were rambling now, a common response you had to not knowing what to say or do.

“Penny had this beer that supposedly tastes like wine, so I got you that so you can still feel like you’re on a fancy date.” Bradley was staring at the two glasses that were filled to the brim in his hands, walking carefully so he didn’t spill them, fully unaware that Fanboy was at the head of the table, until he looked up.

Shit. Luckily he thought it instead of saying it outloud. “Fanboy.” He nodded in greeting, taking a quick turn so he was to your right placing down the beer and whispering in your ear. “Sorry.”

Mickey’s face was taking in everything, showing different emotions while simultaneously showing none at all if it was possible. “You two are on a date?” He spoke that last word at an inflection that was meant to be extra sure he said it correctly as well as you hearing it correctly, and you also knew he asked it in a way like he was trying to believe it.

“Yea, do you want to talk–privately?” Starting to move from out of the picnic table, Mickey stopped you with his words.

“No, no need. I’ll leave you two to uh–” His eyes looked down at the ground as he searched for the right words, he didn’t want to say date again, you could tell that much. This was the thing with Mickey. He didn’t care. He cared. But didn’t fit in the typical elder brother stereotype. He was well aware you could take care of yourself, if you needed anything he’d be there in a heartbeat for you, but he didn’t poke where he didn’t belong. Which is what made this whole situation awkward. He felt like he poked where he didn’t belong. And you felt like you were hiding things from him. Which you never did. You didn’t tell him everything, but that felt easy when you were traveling around the world. This was different. This was his world. “I’ll leave you two be, have a good night.” He nodded his head once at both of you, his eyes jumped to you and smiled. “Call me if you need anything.” His way of trying to let you know he wasn’t mad at you. It was then that his eyes jumped to Bradshaw’s, who was now sitting next to you. “Rooster.” His face still had the smallest curve, not as much as the smile he gave you, but one that was still pretty visible.

“Fanboy.” It was said exactly how he spoke it when he greeted him.

As your brother entered the bar, you closed your eyes and turned your head towards Rooster and opened them reluctantly saying a whole lot of nothing with your silence.

His face was just as serious as yours as he said his next words, which is what made them so funny. “Guess we can head to that chapel now.” It was the joke that broke the tension and you let out a bellowing laugh, leaning your head into his chest, his arm raising as he laughed with you to bring you closer, resting it on your back and then on the back of your head all while he let out his laughs.

“Give me this.” Moving to grab the beer he got you, you took one large sip and looked at him with a sour look.

He tried hard to hide his smile, holding in his laugh. “No good?”

“Bad. Very bad.” It was spoken through a cough after you regretfully swallowed the beer and again, both of you broke into a fit. Little did you know, you were being watched. By a couple people. Inside your brother was smiling to himself, seeing you happy was enough to make any reservation he had about the situation take a backseat for at least now. And the other set of eyes on you were Hangman’s as he approached the building.

“Love birds.” He called out as he stopped on the sidewalk that led up to the front door.

Rooster raised his glass to him in a cheers. “Asshole.”

He took the comment in stride, laughing while he headed inside. While Rooster was distracted with that you went to grab his beer from his hand to take a sip out of it, anything to get the taste of what he brought back to you out of your mouth. “Well I guess you’re not lying to Hangman anymore.” You spoke it through a gulp and your face still a bit turned around.

“What do you mean?” He went to grab your glass and sniff it. He wasn’t going to try it, but the smell was enough to make him realize it was pretty bad.

“That I’m your girlfriend.” You shrugged, placing the glass to your mouth again, this time just enjoying the drink.

His nostrils flared as he looked at you with humor and happiness before his eyebrow tweaked slightly in preparation to joke with you.

“Girlfriend? I thought we were headed to the chapel tonight?”

Dividers by: @realitycanbewhateveridesire :) 🛫Top Gun Maverick Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @writing-until-i-drop @jtheteenagewitch (let me know if you’d like to be added!) CHAPTER INDEX <- where you can find previous chapters to this fic!

#top gun #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster x y/n #rooster fanfiction #rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw Fanfiction #Top Gun Maverick Fanfiction #Garbinge #My Writing #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #mickey fanboy garcia

84 notes · View notes

twola · 10 months ago

Note

Congratulations on the 1k followers 🥳🎉 it is so deserved. As your requests are open I wondered if you would be interested in writing a follow up to "In The French Way", with either Arthur giving or receiving? Your pick! It's my firm belief that Arthur is an ass man and I would love to see more of that in fics.

Thank you for you continued service to cowboy horniness 🫡

Ask and ye shall receive, my dear @readingcoco 🍑

In the French Way II

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link ➵ Previous | Next

cw: anal sex, cowboy giving.

Skin to skin, he’s so warm pressed against your back in the bed, his hips instantly pressing forward into yours, the long line of his cock flush against your ass.

The morning light trickles through the curtained windows, the street outside slowly coming to life with the sounds of city life - horses and people and the ring of the trolley bell a few blocks away.

But here, locked away in the temporary sanctuary the two of you have built, the idea of leaving bed is far from anyone’s mind.

Arthur takes a greedy handful of your rear, spreading you and pressing his cock to settle between your cheeks, rolling his hips forward. He suckles on your earlobe as his hands roam all over your body.

The sheets have been kicked fully off the bed and crumbled on the floor, unneeded in the humid, warm Lemoyne night. Besides, the two of you had thoroughly stained them after many rounds last night.

“Can I-...” he trails off, one hand still firmly on your hip.

You roll your hips backward, along his cock, rubbing yourself against him, “Can you what?” you breathe out, enjoying the press of him against your rear.

Arthur groans as you slide yourself up and down his cock, seemingly losing the power of speech for a moment.

“Can you what, Arthur?”

He surges forward, pressing the length of him against you completely, and whispers into your ear as he squeezes your hip hard.

“Can I have y’ here?”

A roll of his hips for effect. He withdraws his cock from its place against you and his hand trails down from your hip, making you gasp aloud as he slides a finger to press against puckered skin, not too hard- not delving inside, but enough to prove a point.

“I- I ain’t never done that… taken a cock….” You stutter but have to admit to yourself that you crave more of this touch, as he runs his finger up and down the skin around your rear opening in a way reminiscent of you and him last night, when he accepted your touches that bled into accepting you in his body.

“I’ll be gentle. You was gentle with me - let me return the favor.”

You’re panting as the pad of his finger rubs, up and down, the puckered skin so sensitive that it makes you shiver and your cunt wetter.

“Al-alright.” You stammer, but he does not make any moves to press forward.

“Only if you want to, sweetheart.” Arthur removes his hand, skimming it over your hip again, gentle and calming, “ ‘only if it’ll make you feel good.”

You pause, biting your tongue as your cunt clenches around nothing, wanting him to return his hand to where it was.

“Let’s try.”

Arthur leans closer and nibbles at your earlobe as he groans, a full-throated rumble from his chest. He presses his cock against your ass hard, slipping lengthwise between your cheeks without assistance from his hand.

His hand moves forward from your hip, snaking between your thighs to your cunt. You uncontrollably open your legs for him, mewling as he strokes your damp skin.

“Gonna have you come for me first.”

Arthur finds the bundle of nerves and gently rubs at it, you gasp as you press back against him, your head tipping backward against his shoulder with his ministrations.

It’s several minutes like that - you feel like you could drown and he increases the tempo to make you a quivering, sobbing mess by the time he moves his fingers down and gently presses two of them inside your cunt. You come immediately, shaking, gasping, moaning against him as he kisses up and down your neck.

By the time you can catch your breath, he pulls his hand from you gently, unwinding himself from the embrace he had you in to roll out of bed, stepping over discarded clothing to get to his satchel, rifling through it as you turn around in bed.

“What’re you doin’?” You ask breathily.

“Gettin’ somethin’ to make it easier.” He grunts back at you as you admire his naked form, his pale skin usually hidden by his clothes, the scars and marks that tell his story.

He drops the satchel back to the floor when he finds what he is looking for, turning back to the bed. You cannot help but smile when you see his cock jutting out from his pelvis, rigid and hard for you.

Arthur slides back into the bed next to you and starts prying off the lid of the small tin he obtained.

“What’s that?” You ask, peering down at it.

“ ‘s a balm. Now c’mon girl, turn around and lemme make you feel good.”

One large hand clamps on your hip and pushes you to turn around again, facing away from him.

He rubs the balm, warm between his fingers, against your skin, and you gasp as the slippery substance is spread around the puckered skin of your opening. He plays with you for a few moments, and you try to swallow back mewls of pleasure before he slips his pointer finger inside, gently, slowly breaching the ring of muscle at your opening. You shiver as he slides his finger deeper, all the way to the knuckle, circling within you slowly.

“Y’okay?”

“Mhm.” You mumble, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. You press your hips backward to take his finger deeper. He kisses down your neck to the curve of where it meets your shoulder.

He groans as he sinks a second finger into you, you shudder at the stretch. After several moments of gentle thrusting, he nips at your earlobe before pulling his fingers from you.

You peer back over your shoulder to see him slathering his hard cock with the balm, pumping it as his skin shines glossy in the morning light. He turns over to lay against your back.

Arthur guides his cock against your opening and gently presses the tip into you, his hand leaves his length and immediately searches for yours as he throws his arm over your waist. He finds it and interlaces your fingers as he kisses the back of your neck as you try to relax yourself.

He presses forward, the first inch of him entering you through the tight ring of muscle, which spasms slightly at the intrusion. You gasp as his cockhead becomes sheathed within you, stretching you out.

“Okay?”

You shake your head, unable to make a sound, as you squeeze your fingers between his hard. Yes, it hurts, actually, it burns, but in a way that leaves you wanting, aching for more. He carves a space out for himself that no man has been before.

He slides in another inch. Christ, you could swear you feel protruding veins on his shaft you’re so tight and sensitive around him.

He’s about halfway in when he wrests the arm underneath you past the curve of your waist, moving his hand to cup upward toward your pelvis, immediately pressing it between your thighs, seeking out your clit to rub against it. You cannot help but moan aloud before catching yourself as he strokes the little nub of your pleasure. As your cunt clenches around nothing, you press backward to take more of him in, leaving him gasping as he catches on and pushes forward, your rear meeting his pelvis as he’s fully sheathed within you. The ring of muscle stretched by his cock quivers delightfully, overpowering the dulling ache in your hips.

Arthur nips at your earlobe again, rubbing slowly at your clit, “God, you’re so tight.” He groans while trying to stay still, “Everythin’ I am not to spill in ya right now.”

“Yeah?” You sigh breathily, your body grows used to him, the pain and burning fading away against the lovely sensation of being full and warm. You squeeze the hand still interlaced with his. A moan escapes you as a spasm in your stretched muscle makes you clench down on him, your whole body shivering as he groans against the clutching.

“Yeah,” he breathes, pulsing his hips gently back and forth, testing you, and you moan receptively.

He growls in your ear as he starts to rock back and forth from a slow, gentle undulation, “Wanna spend inside you- let me, agh, let me this time, darlin’.”

An enticing concept, and your cunt clenches needily as you imagine him letting go inside of you, something he won’t normally do.

“Yes,” you rasp as he starts to slowly thrust his cock back and forth into your ass, “Come inside me.”

He groans in response, picking up speed. Slick sounds of skin slapping on skin fill the air in the tent as he leans his upper body over you and finds your lips as you turn your head toward him. His large, warm hand continues to grope at the apex of your thighs, clit throbbing as he presses his middle finger against it.

You whine into his mouth, loudly, as he fully fucks your ass, and you can feel his rigid shaft throbbing within you, his responding groan telling you he’s close too. With each movement of his cock, the slick, soft skin of him rubs delightfully against the puckered ring at your opening - an overwhelming feeling in its own right. His finger circling your clit sends you down that road of no return.

And at once, he thrusts his hips forward hard, burying himself as deep as he can go, and abruptly sheathes two fingers deep within your cunt, and you come almost immediately, clenching tightly around him. He grunts as you nearly scream into his mouth, his cock twitching within your ass as he jets his hot load within you. You dig your nails into the hand you hold and he squeezes hard in return.

You both come down slowly, panting, and he removes his fingers from you and moves to draw gentle circles on your hip before slowly retracting his cock, a small moan escaping your mouth as he leaves you, his warm spend dribbling out from your quivering, used hole.

Arthur leans over and kisses your cheek softly, “You alrigh’?”

You smile as you nuzzle yourself back into his embrace. “Mhm,” you say with a satisfied sigh.

“Y’may not want to ride today.” He curls into you, chuckling lightly.

You snort under your breath, quite aware of the ache in your hips and rear.

“Is that your way of sayin’ we’ll be here another day?”

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead fanfic #twolafic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #red dead smut #twola1k #prompt request #voluptatem

224 notes · View notes

fandomrose · 10 months ago

Text

Furina post 4.2 reverse comfort.

Hi again. A Furina post 4.2 reverse comfort. I've been working on this for a depressingly long time.

There is implied spoilers but not many. This is also friends to probably, eventually lovers. Starting with the friends in this fic.

This is alot more angsty than the Neuvillette one. It does have descriptions of injury and disassociation. I drew on my own experiences with my own disassociation and helping others through theirs.

I really wanted to do one for Furina because I wish to hug the poor woman. She's been through too much.

I hope you enjoy 💙

You clutched bags filled with cooking ingredients. Ever since learning that your 'former' Lady Furina was living off of macaroni from a certain blonde haired traveller and 'talkative' flying pixie. You decided to pay her a visit, said flying pixie freely telling you where she lived.

Nerves coursed through you. It had been a few weeks since you had seen Furina. Since the prophecy had 'not' come to fruition your services as a private investigator for 'solutions for the prophecy' was no longer needed. And when Furina stepped down from her position as Hydro Archon you stopped seeing her.

'Diva archon' is what people called her but you knew her better than that. You can't have claimed to be close but, you had seen glimpses of the hidden care and love she had for the nation she governed. True god or not you saw glimpses of all she sacrificed over your few years working under her. You had grown fond of her and the trail she was put through almost broke your heart.

You steeled your nerves before knocking on Furinas door at just past midday. There was silence before you heard rustling, the unlocking of the door and it opened giving you the first look at Furina in 3 weeks.

She had slight bags under her eyes, she looked thinner and her smile was not as bright as it used to be.

"Why hello, it's certainly been a while since I've seen you,-" she started off attempting the same theatrical countenance she had before but it quickly faded. "Why have you come here and how did you find out where I live?"

The thought of her finding it worrying that you knew where she lived didn't cross your mind. "The travellers companion may have let it slip my lady."

She sighed, "Please don't call me that any more just 'Furina' is fine." Her voice now sounded tired, a slight rasp of exhaustion present.

"Alright my- Furina... um," there was an awkward air between you two, one that you were determined to dismiss. "I was wondering if you would like to spend the afternoon in familiar company... I brought food if you'd like to have dinner."

Furinas eyes narrowed slightly. "Did Paimon also tell you that I was living off of macaroni."

You had somehow forgotten how sharp Furina was. "Yes.. but, but I didn't just bring food, I thought I'd teach you to make more dishes other than macaroni. Still quick, easy and involving pasta but different. Also baking bread. I thought it would go well with what we are making...." You felt yourself ramble, trying to convince Furina to give you a chance.

She looked like she was fighting with herself for a moment. You hold your breath waiting for a response. "Okay.. that sounds nice actually."

You sigh with relief "Alright lead the way my- um- Furina." You watched as she flushed a slight pink before leading you inside. Her home was modestly furnished but well coordinated and clearly to her aesthetic taste. She led you through the short hallway and into her kitchen. It was up to Fontaine’s modern standard with an oven and hobs, a sink and a new cooling machine that was recently invented by the Fontaine research institute for the storage of Fonta, but had been later discovered to increase the shelf life of many different foods. They were currently very expensive however. You wondered how she was able to afford it with no job. Her shelves were almost bare however, it made you glad you came with ingredients and a few extra essentials.

"Here you can put the food on the counter." Furinas gestured to the counter close to the oven. "What are we making?"

You nod and pull the ingredients out. "I thought a cottage pie and some garlic flat bread would be a good start. I also brought the ingredients to make some simple crěpes for dessert."

"Great ... I don't know how to make any of that, are you sure you want to bother teaching me?"

"Of course Furina, why would I bring all this if not to teach you."

"I guess you're right, so what are we starting with?" Her voice was hesitant, you begin to wonder if she was really up to this. What if you were pushing her too hard?

"Ah I thought we'd start by preparing the bread.."

You show her the steps of baking bread. She follows your instructions diligently, her smile broadening and confidence returning with every step she gets right. "This isn't as bad as I thought it'd be. Then again of course I could learn anything I put my mind to."

Seeing her smile again was all you wanted out of today. If you were being truthful with yourself.

"Now we let the dough rest for about 45 minutes.. in the meantime let's prepare the potatoes for the mash that'll go on top of the shepherd's pie."

You teach her how to peel a potato with a paring knife. Or rather you try to. As she pulled back the knife her hand slipped on the potato and she nicked her palm with the knife, a long thin line of blood appearing on her palm. You were focused on your own potato when you heard her yelp in pain. You immediately drop the knife and potato you were peeling and rush to her side assessing the damage.

"Furina! What happened?" You gently grab her hand looking at the wound. "Where is your first aid kit?" She didn't speak, only pointed to a cupboard on the other side of the room, her eyes glued to her wound, pearls of tears collecting in the outer corners of her eyes and all you want to do is draw her into your arms.

But first the wound, you gather the first aid kit and sit Furina down at the table in the kitchen and quietly bandage her hand. The cut wasn't deep, which was good, but she barely flinches as you clean the wound, which was a point of concern. You sense she's not up for criticism or questions so you keep things to yourself while you finish bandaging her hand.

I take a deep breath and try to talk to her again now that the wound is dealt with. "Furina? Are you up for continuing or would you like me to take over?" She didn't respond immediately seemingly not even hearing you, you are about to attempt to get her attention again when-

"No. You- you take over." She sounded exhausted again, and almost defeated. Worry crawls through your stomach all the way up into you throat but you hold back for now. Not quite sure how to deal with this Furina.

"Alright." Is all you can say, softly as not to startle her. As you continue prepping the meal peeling the potatoes, boiling them in milk for extra creaminess and seasoning with salt and pepper. You start up another hob and cook the meat, frying off the fat before adding, flour, worcestershire sauce, a splash of red wine, tomato paste, chopped bell peppers and onions. While the mixture reduces you prepare the dough Furina made earlier, spreading a mixture of garlic butter rosemary and thyme over the dough and place it in the oven.

You catch Furina glancing at you while you work. You turn off the heat on the meat and take some of it from the pan in a small spoon and carefully carry it over to her. "Would you like to taste test Furina?" She looked up at you in surprise before nodding slowly. You offer the spoon to her and she leans forward and closes her mouth around it without taking it out of your hands.

A moment of silence, while you might usually feel flustered at this kind of action. But with Furina seemingly still out of it, not registering what she'd done, it was just concerning. You take the spoon away and turn around.

"Is it good?"

A tired "Yea" is the only response you get. It'll do for now. You finish off the cottage pie by arranging it in a dish putting the meat and veg mixture, then the creamy mash before sprinkling a generous helping of parmesan cheese over the top of the mash and putting in the oven for 20 mins. The bread is almost ready to take out and could make a good starter.

You set a time and sit by Furina, slightly awkwardly, not knowing what to say. You'd been so focused on your tasks you hadn't realised how strange it felt to be around Furina in a casual setting and especially not when something seemed to be bothering her so greatly.

"Furina.. How's your hand?"

"It's fine, doesn't hurt much anymore."

Your concern was beginning to reach a peak. She couldn't look at you for some reason. And her voice was so weak it was barely there but you don't know what to do without crossing an unspoken boundary or making things worse.

The bread timer goes off. You rise from your seat to take it out, putting it on a rack to let it cool for a few minutes.

You look over at Furina, her form slumped and defeated looking, her eyebags somehow more prominent than when you started. You didn't understand what could have made her this way. Overall yes, you were there at her trial after all, at the end of it you were just happy she wasn't actually executed. But what happened today? Was it the injury? But why would that cause a near catatonic dissociation?

You didn't want to push, instead you just cut up the bread and offered her a piece, on a small plate, in the hopes that some form of stimulation would reawaken her. She slowly picks at the bread, putting small pieces in her mouth.

The second timer goes off. The cottage pie is ready, so you remove from the oven, find two large plates and serve the food.

She looks up at the food and picks up the fork, slowly digging in to the cottage pie. You watch with interest hoping maybe food would perk her up at least a little. And perk up she does. Finally a smile graces her face, small but there.

"This is lovely, thank you. Truly a meal worthy of the great Furina De Fontaine." She made an attempt at her energetic performance but was still tired it seemed.

You smile at her in what you hope is a pleasant and reassuring manner. "Well my lady I am glad it's worthy of your greatness."

She laughed that same haughty laugh you'd grown to enjoy hearing even if it was a little strained with exhaustion.

"Would my lady enjoy some crêpes to cleanse her palette of savoury tastes?"

"Yes, a batch of crêpes sounds wonderful my humble chef."

You stand and bow hoping this play was helping her recover from whatever state she was in. Turning to make a small batch of crěpes you don't notice the way she slumps in her seat.

You dust the crêpes in powdered sugar, lemon juice and fill them with cream and chopped fruit. A plate of two crěpes is placed in front of Furina with a smile. Your smile fades seeing her downtrodden look again.

"La- Furina? Is everything okay?"

"It should be... but it's not" was her response. You watch as tears slip down her cheeks. She tries to quickly wipe them away. "Ahhahaha.. how silly, I don't know why.. an overflow of hydro yes it must be."

You walk round the table and stand by her. "Furina, you can tell me what's wrong. You- you don't have to hide anymore."

It seems that small push was all it takes for her to allow herself to break. She turns and practically falls into your arms and sobs. "It was going so well. But then I messed up again. I really am useless" She cried into your arms, her sentences broken up by bouts of heartbreaking sobs.

Saying anything felt like a bad idea for now so you remove her hat and simply stroke her head while she cries into your chest. You don't know how long it takes but you patiently wait for her tears to dry and her sobbing to subside. Grabbing a soft handkerchief you lift her face and dab at her cheeks. You watch her eyes widen as if she realised she was actually crying into a living person rather than a plushie.

"I- I-"

"Furina, it's okay.. you aren't useless and you are still learning right. You have no idea how many cuts and burns on my arms and hands I have scars for just from cooking. Hahaha. It happens my lady. But if I may be so bold, it's not about the accident is it?"

You pause before speaking again, not wanting her to have any excuses you make sure to beat her to the punch.

"Have you mourned yet? Your status as an archon? Your position in Fontaines elite? Your friendship with Monsieur Neuvillette? Anything else I am not privy to."

It wasn't the most elegant way to put it. Some might call it cruel but she needed to confront this in order to move on.

You begin to regret your decision when you see Furina hang her head and cry again, much more subdued this time. You open your mouth to apologise but-

"You're right... I've been ignoring it all instead of dealing with it. I thought I could just move on, and 'improve myself' and everything would be okay."

She spoke so harshly of her own thoughts. You shake your head and sigh.

"Don't be mean to yourself Furina. Your only mistake was isolating yourself, but if I may be so bold, again, I'm here. And I want to help you, I've always liked spending time with you so I'd be more than happy to be your friend."

She began to sob again. "You want to be my friend? You'll stay by my side even when I'm like this.."

"Yes Furina, that is what I want. As long as you want it to." You open your arms letting her hug you again. She was crying, but at least her tears were happy this time.

This was probably the start of something wonderful.

#genshin x reader #furina x reader #angst and fluff #genshin x you

133 notes · View notes

belles-non-wallpapering-content · 1 month ago

Text

Library E.S x FEM! reader

Overture- You got called in to pick up a shift at the library when you met the most unusual guy. But then he runs away.

CWs- Mentions of Ghosts, reader is described as wearing a skirt, one use of y/n

A/N- First Egon Spengler fic, and I'm super excited about it. Second of 32 fics for October

You’d gotten called in for a shift at the library on your day off for what felt like the thousandth time, but today was actually interesting. The elderly librarian who so often judged you for your choices in outfits, music, and anything else– had seen a ghost. Whether she did, or had simply gone crazy, you were curious.

You got there, set your stuff down, and were immediately glad you came in. You’d yet to see the mess waiting downstairs, one you’d have to reorganize, but it was someone in particular who caught your attention.

A bit older than you, but most definitely your type, sitting criss-cross on the floor of the New York public library. He had something on his head resembling a stethoscope, but more intricate. While you wouldn’t call him intimidating per se, getting up the nerve to talk to him would be difficult. That was, until your boss came up to complain about your new fascination.

“Hey, glad you could come.”

“No place I’d rather be.” You gave him a sarcastic, overly cheesy smile to drive the point of how unhappy you were to be here again.

“Well, the big boss called some people from the university to come check on the ghost situation, mostly just because Alice has been freaked out for the better part of two hours, and he wanted her to finally stop crying. But since the resident shusher is out of commission, I’m going to need you to go tell that man he can’t sit on the floor in the middle of the aisle, and do whatever that is. Thank you.” He walked off, leaving you to do it without any complaint. You hated him for it. Not only did you now have to talk to the cute guy, you had to scold him? Every second you were regretting answering the phone more.

You wandered over to him, nervously fixing your hair and clothing while you walked towards him.

“Excuse me sir?” He didn’t even look up when you called out to him and you decided now may just be your only chance to make an impression. You fixed your skirt before sitting down, legs pushed to the side, but otherwise matching his posture. That finally got his attention, and he finally pulled the stethoscope off his head so he could hear you.

“Hello.” You weren’t sure if he was nervous or disinterested, but you steeled yourself to maintain customer-service levels of peppiness.

“Hi. May I ask why you’re sitting on the floor?”

“I’m trying to get a PKE reading on everything in the building, to accurately predict supernatural activity in this area.”

“Ok, may I ask for a version of that answer suited for someone who hasn’t had a science class since high school.”

“I’m just taking measurements to determine a baseline before my colleagues get here. We were hired by the director to come inspect the grounds after an incident this morning?”

“Oh ok, you’re one of the guys from the university! My boss sent me over here, he thought that you were just hanging out in the aisle.” You gave a small point to your boss, who was already staring daggers at you.

“And here I thought you were just curious.”

“Oh believe me, I was. Still am.”

“Well I’d love to tell you about this, anytime.”

“I’d like that. Once you’re done with your job, come find me? I’m here all night.”

“Okay.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was a blush on his cheeks. You got back up, brushed off your skirt, and went to send your boss over.

But the next time you saw him it was after a loud crash, and he and his colleagues were fleeing from the building as quickly as possible. Not exactly swoon worthy, but the way he nearly fell flat on his face while running did bring its own charm.

—

You were convinced you’d never see him again, until you went to unlock the library doors the following week. There he was, in a full suit, with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. This time he was definitely blushing, but so were you, seeing him waiting there.

“You’re back.”

“I am. I brought some equipment I’d like to test on the apparition, if of course, that’s alright with your bosses. I apologize for leaving last week, we needed funding for some new facilities and hardware.”

“I appreciate it, it is Doctor Spengler right? We never really got introduced.”

“Yes, I’m sorry again for not coming back sooner…Y/N” you tilted your head at him, because you were certain you hadn’t mentioned your name yet, and you couldn’t figure out how he knew. Until you happened to look down and catch the plastic ID badge hanging from your neck.

“Oh right. Name tags.” You took a moment to just settle into the embarrassment before starting again.

“I can walk you downstairs?”

“Are you sure your superiors are ok with it?”

“They’re not here today, so it looks like you’re stuck with me.” You gave him a cheery smile, and just a hint of puppy dog eyes. You really wanted him to ask you out, and the more time you spent together, the more time you had to make it happen.

“Al-Alright.” You walked him down the hall to the elevator, and as soon as you arrived at the basement, he turned to you.

“I think you should go back upstairs. This is highly experimental equipment, and I’m testing it on an apparition with full skeletal structure.”

“Sorry, can’t. I am to not let you leave without filling out paperwork, after last time. I don’t know if you noticed, but it is kind of trashed down here, and they’re pissed about it. But I can start by just reorganizing the card catalog, so I’m out of your way?”

“Alright. But stay over here for your safety, ok?”

“You got it.” You held your hand up to say ‘scouts honor’, and you thought you were home free, until he came back. He’d only gotten about 5 steps away before he turned back around and fished in his coat for a plastic cup.

“There may be ectoplasm there, if you could please collect it in here for further testing.”

“If this is an attempt to get me to give in and leave, it’s working.”

“Please?”

“Yeah, yeah, go catch your ghost and try not to make too much of a mess?”

“Don’t you have janitorial staff?”

“Yeah but I have to organize all the books that end up on the ground.”

“Maybe don’t come back here for a while, then. There was an incident with a bookshelf earlier.” And then he just—walked off? No explanation, nothing.

You got through 3 drawers of the card catalog, and collected a Petri dish full of what you hoped was ectoplasm, trying to ignore the loud crashes and yelling, before you saw Dr. Spengler again. He looked terrified, and was holding a smoking box.

“Oh! Wow-uh, is that supposed to be happening?”

“Probably.”

“Reassuring, thank you Dr. Spengler.”

“I don’t think I can leave this in here indefinitely, I may need to postpone doing the paperwork for your superiors.”

“That’s—it’s fine, don't worry about it. Here’s your stuff, by the way, just come back later today?”

“Definitely. And would it be— would it be possible for me to ask you—on a date…with me?” He looked like he regretted saying anything, but you were all smiles.

“That would be great, how about you pick me up here in a few hours?” After nodding, blushing, and a quiet ‘alright’ he started to turn back towards the exit, making it about 2 steps before coming back.

“I do feel compelled to tell you that I’m not—fun. Or at least from what I hear.”

“Thank you for the warning but I think you’re very fun.” You put the same emphasis on the word to drive the point that you really did think so.

You both stood there just looking at each other for a moment, before your eye was drawn again to the box, which was now smoking even more.

“You might want to—um, before it sets off the fire alarm?” He looked back down, and the terrified look from before came back, and he started walking backwards towards the exit, keeping his eyes on the box the whole time.

“I’ll see you tonight” you called out for him before he turned around, and his face split into a shy smile, before he gave you a wave goodbye.

#egon spengler #ghostbusters egon #egon spengler x reader #Egon spengler fluff #ghostbusters fanfiction

50 notes · View notes

clockwork-ashes · 8 months ago

Text

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part VI

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this head canon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :)

And a huge thank you to everyone reading!

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole

Part VII >>

Elain held tightly to Lucien’s arm, her fingers linked with his, her other hand clutching at his wrist. An anchor, his heartbeat a comfort as they were led down the winding halls of the ancient Forest House.

Lucien looked entirely unbothered, hardly troubled now that he was no longer in the presence of his family. Elain asked herself how, considering she very much felt as though she had woken from a nightmare. Her thoughts were foggy, her knees shaking in relief with every one of her steps. Elain wanted to sob.

Lucien’s thumb traced the curve of her knuckle and Elain breathed in deeply to calm her nerves.

It was almost humiliating, being paraded past the Autumn guards stationed at every corner as she clung to Lucien. She had to remind herself that it was expected of mated couples to behave so attached, that she was not amongst human nobles that would judge her for any open affection that was displayed.

Elain briefly wondered what Cora had done in her absence, and whether the other woman had been made aware of the change in their plans. Elain’s thoughts turned quickly, though, to what her sisters would say. Elain was sure that Nesta, more than Feyre, would be furious.

Elain assumed she would have the Inner Circle’s complete support, but she could only guess at their displeasure with how the night had unfolded.

Elain had told a High Lord that she was marrying his son, and she was only just beginning to realise the weight of such a promise. Elain felt her stomach flip, panic starting to creep along her spine.

Just when Elain’s anxiety started to take root, Lucien’s hand gripped hers more tightly. Elain felt as he tried to reassure her through the bond, and her annoyance was enough to redirect her thoughts.

The Forest House was strange and unlike any place she had ever been to. The rough stone walls were a warm grey, closer to the colour of sheep’s wool than to the cool toned rock she had become used to in Night.

Elain was surprised to see all the wooden furniture considering all the torches, flames dancing and sparks falling but never setting anything alight. She walked by a couple elegant fireplaces set into the walls, but she saw no chimneys, no soot or ashes.

Like the roots of an ancient tree, hallways connected and split off into different directions, an unnavigable maze. Elain wondered how anyone was able to find their way around.

One of the guards shoved Lucien towards a flight of stone steps, urging him to turn. Elain frowned when she felt him tense, thinking perhaps he had been offended by the gesture. It was only as a voice rang out beside them that Elain guessed Lucien had scented someone’s presence.

“Your services are no longer needed,” the words were rough, a demand. “I can take the prince and his lady to their shared suite from here.”

Much to Elain’s surprise, the guards obeyed. In the time it took for them to leave, Elain had turned her attention to the new arrival.

The man was handsome, Elain could admit. His short hair a more copper shade of red, his eyes a bright hazel. He was pale, like most of the people she had seen in Autumn, and he looked battle-worn. A slashing scar cut across his throat, just visible above the fabric of his jacket.

Even if Elain had not just been in a room with Beron Vanserra, she would have still been able to see the resemblance between the High Lord and the man who so obviously was another one of his sons. She took a step beck, knocking into Lucien’s side.

The man raised a brow, but other than a passing glance, he paid her no mind. His focus was on Lucien, the torches on the wall flared. Elain wondered if that always happened, if flames simply responded to those in Autumn, a reflection of their emotions.

“Where’s Eris?” He snapped, like he had no patience for either her or Lucien.

Her mate’s shoulders were stiff. “Is the loyal dog looking for its master?” Lucien’s drawl was taunting, as though he was expecting a reaction from his brother. His words were obviously meant to offend.

Elain could feel Lucien’s shock flooding the bond between them when his brother merely shook his head.

“You always did cause so much trouble, Lucien,” he frowned, looking very much like Eris. With a sigh, he angled his chin to the flight of stairs in front of them. “Follow me.”

Not like they had a choice, Elain thought. She could feel as Lucien turned to look at her, to check in, but she stared at his brother as he led them to a pair of thick oak doors. His attempt to comfort her was appreciated, but Elain truly thought she could not look at him without her anxiety once more taking hold. With a wave of his brother’s beringed hand, the doors opened to reveal a cosy space.

The fireplace was already lit, comfortable carpets covered the stone floor, and by the arched window on the room’s other side was a large bed, fit for two. Elain blushed, forgetting for a moment that Lucien and her were to be married, of course their shared suite would have only one bed.

Elain watched as Lucien’s brother waved his hand once again, this time lighting the candles littered on some of the wooden tables and nightstands. “I hope the rooms have been set to your liking. Should you need anything, let one of the guards know.”

Elain spoke for the first time since having left the throne room, “My lady’s maid was with me, I was wondering…” She trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

“I’ll let Eris know,” the Autumn prince offered. “I’m sure he’s thought of everything.” There was no bitterness to his words, only an acknowledgement of his eldest brother’s very thorough planning.

Elain dipped her head in thanks, but he had already begun to leave. Elain looked to Lucien as he watched his brother warily, and he hardly seemed surprised when the other man paused at the room’s threshold.

“Congratulations to the both of you on your engagement,” he said flippantly, over his shoulder. Elain could hear a flicker of doubt in his tone, perhaps a suggestion that he was not entirely convinced by their act. She wondered if Eris had mentioned it to him, if they were close enough to have shared such information.

Elain noticed the irritation that flashed in Lucien’s eye, how the other one whirred. “Thank you, Callum.”

It was clear to Elain that there was bad blood between the brothers, and while she was curious, Elain also knew that it would probably be very rude to ask Lucien about it. She watched as Callum left, glad that she no longer needed to play the role she had given herself.

The doors slammed shut behind the Autumn prince, and Elain promptly let go of Lucien’s hand. She already missed the feeling, but to reach for him would be like an admission of how she so often longed for his touch when he was near. She put distance between them, almost tripping on the edge of the carpet in her rush.

“Gods,” she mumbled, running her fingers through her curls. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Lucien’s scent, apples and summer mornings, lingered in the air.

What have I done?

Elain decided that she was a fool for coming to Autumn. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into, had been so desperate to save Lucien’s life that she had doomed them both.

When Elain opened her eyes, she saw Lucien flexing his fingers, like the memory of her hand in his was enough to unsettle him. He had dark bruises along his jaw, clenched in what she thought was concern. There were blood stains, brown and aged, along the collar of his white shirt. A smear of dirt was on his temple and Elain could tell he had been treated poorly until she had come.

Lucien was still the loveliest man Elain had ever seen, and she hated herself for believing it.

“How in the hell did Feyre convince you to come for me?” Lucien asked, voice tired, like his own thoughts were weighing him down.

Elain furrowed her brow, frowning at him. “Feyre?” She echoed, incredulous.

At her question Lucien seemed to anger, only for a moment, before he spoke once more. “Rhysand, then, made you do this?”

“No one made me do anything,” Elain hissed, keeping her voice down, remembering how careful Eris was with his words even when they had been alone. “I came for you because I chose to.” She was frustrated, angry that everyone assumed she could not make decisions for herself. It was with great effort that she kept her hands at her sides, that she did not begin pointing at Lucien with an accusing finger.

“Why would you do such a thing?” Confusion and disbelief lingering in his words.

“Because I felt like it,” she snapped, feeling very much like a child. Elain did not share with him that after so much death, so much change in the last few years, she did not think she could bear more. “And you should be thanking me, not questioning my motives.”

Elain watched as he bent ever so slightly at the waist, the smallest of bows. He did not take his eyes off her as he said, “You have my thanks, Elain.”

At the sound of her name falling from Lucien’s lips, Elain took a step towards him, the movement almost involuntary. “You shouldn’t call me that,” the impropriety of it all had Elain blushing, she attempted to tell herself that was why she could feel her heartbeat quicken. “You don’t have the right—”

“I think I do,” Lucien said with a shrug, “considering we’re about to be married.”

It looked like he wanted to say more, but Elain interrupted. “It means nothing,” she was shocked at how snarled the last word was. “Nothing has changed between us,” her words held a finality to them.

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, “Not for one moment did I believe otherwise.” He sounded exhausted, Elain noticed.

Briefly, Elain felt guilty for being upset with him.

Lucien shook his head, and as he spoke he did not look at her. “You shouldn’t have come to Autumn.” Elain could not say it with certainty, but she could have sworn fear leaked slowly down their shared bond.

“Next time I’ll let you be killed,” Elain waved her hand dismissively. “What’s done is done, I can hardly tell your father I’ve changed my mind.”

“I think we’re well past that,” Lucien confirmed. The silence between them was awkward, and Elain wished they had separate rooms, despite knowing it was for the best that they were together.

She could feel Lucien’s gaze on her, but Elain was looking at the comfortable armchair by the fireplace. She cleared her throat, “You take the bed.”

Lucien did not argue with her, a testament to how utterly drained he must have been, Elain concluded.

“Thank you, Elain,” he said softly, sincerely.

Elain was left with the impression that Lucien was thanking her for more than just the bed.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #autumn court #vanserra brothers #they finally talk to each other alone #ashes writes sometimes #all you have is your fire

88 notes · View notes

lvrhughes · 1 year ago

Text

Marry Me | Q. Hughes

pairing: Quinn Hughes x f!reader

summary: Quinn's always been in love with you, but you're getting married.

warnings: angst, marriage?, drinking

word count: 0.6k

italics are flashbacks:)

not my gif!

You’ve been invited to Y/n Y/l/n and…

The name blurred in his eyes, irrelevant. He knew the day would come but he wasn’t ready, knocking the wind out of him as he read it.

They’d been friends for forever, they were always seen together, it was always Quinn and Y/n. Ellen always knew they’d end up together, yet Quinn never quite got the nerve to ask.

So they never were, letting her slip through his fingers. Falling in love with someone else while he followed her.

“Quinn,” Her voice was breathy, sounding of excitement and fear. “You made it.” she grinned, reaching her arms out to tug around his shoulders.

Dragging him down in the process, his arms slipping around her waist, just like it used to be. It was a feeling of peace over Quinn for the moment, before she pulled away back to greeting other guests.

She had it planned out since they were five. She’d have her granddad preaching the service, she’d have magnolias all over, never too many people. Always thinking to save her dad money, keep everything small, just her and her man. Ellen used to swear how it’d be her and quinn on the isle one day and how he wished that were true now.

He wore his black suit, standing in the back corner. Tucked away in one of his pockets, his only flask he was given as a joke once. He never planned on using it but it seemed needed today, the strongest whiskey he had filled the flask.

The music starting, everyone turning to see the groom enter, his tux the perfect shade of bue. Just like she’d always dreamed of.

“Quinn! Come, we’re playing wedding!”

“What if I don’t want to play?” he teased, holding his ground as the young girl tugged on his wrist.

“Please? Quinn, you make the best groom!” He never stood a chance, agreeing to her every ask, following her out there to be her pretend groom.

“Would you ever marry me?” He asked, standing at the fake altar with her.

“No! I’ve gotta marry my prince charming and you're not him!” The child grinned, imagining her perfect prince waiting for her like the movies. She wouldn’t see how it hurt Quinn, she wouldn’t see that he’d never move on.

She looked like a princess in person, her dress was exactly the same as the one she dreamed of as a girl, her hair tied just as she wanted. The tears filled Quinn’s eyes quickly, taking a shot of whiskey to cover it up.

“Love?” He asked, looking at the girl staring out the window. They were sixteen, he’d just gotten his license. What better than a road trip?

“Hmm?” She hummed back, turning to look at him.

“What's on your mind?” He asked, pulling into the parking spot of the motel for the night, leaning onto the console when he parked the car.

“I don’t know, just thinkin’”

He knew he shouldn’t, the leaning in was subconscious. Almost kissing her. He freaked out, pulling away the minute he realized what he was doing, shaking his head and the thought away.

“Let’s get in, huh?” He asked, trying to move on.

Even from the back row he could see the tears glistening on her father’s cheeks, the tears slipping down her grooms too.

He was there early, he could go find her. He could get it off of his chest, tell her he still loved her, how he’s always been in love with her. But he won’t.

“Tell her! You know she loved you!” His brother's pleas fall to deaf ears, Quinn mumbling out a reply.

“I’m not gonna mess it up.”

He could feel the tears get closer and closer to falling with every step she took, taking more shots of whiskey, try to make it through without crying.

Yeah she wanna get married, yeah she’s gonna get married, but she ain’t gonna marry me.

#mads writings!#quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #hughes #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #nhl x reader #vancouver canucks imagine #vancouver canucks

200 notes · View notes

lovelybucky1 · 1 year ago

Note

Neil trying to be cool to get the attention of a client (disinterested in him) being totally cringe and geeky with his movie recommendations

im a filmbro just like neil so i really resonate with this

my inbox is open for requests!

warnings: one mention of sexual content, mild mentions of violence, neil being a geek with zero rizz

masterlist

It’s not often hot people walk into Gumshoe Video. There’s the regulars, the families, the loser film bros who are there at least four times a week, the teens who try to rent pornos, and old people looking for the classics.

When you walked in, Neil almost dropped his fast food cup filled with Dr. Pepper. You’re exactly his type, and he pushed the other employees out of the way so he could be the one to help you.

“Hi, I’m Neil. How can I be of service?” he greets you, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. You look down at his name tag and note that it says owner underneath his name.

“I don’t need any help, thanks,” you smile politely and continue walking. You aren’t trying to be rude, but you had a long day at work and this puppy dog of an employee is only going to get on your nerves.

“Are you looking for anything specific?” he asks, following you down the aisle.

You sigh. “No, just something to watch.”

“We have a huge selection. What’s your favorite genre?”

You resign yourself to the fact that this man is going to be up your ass until you leave the store.

“I don’t know. Action? Comedy?”

“Well, right over here we have Fast and Furious.” You wrinkle your nose. “We also have The Dark Knight.”

“Uh, no thanks. The villains in those movies are always so cheesy.”

Neil hums and scans the shelves, looking at the collection of videos for rent. “If you want a comedy we have Daddy Daycare, Superbad, American Pie…”

“I think I’ll just look around myself-”

“Or if you want something classic, we have Citizen Kane, Casablaca, The Godfather, Apocalypse Now-”

“Look, Neil,” you sigh. “I appreciate the suggestions but I really don’t need any help.”

Feeling rejected but not letting it show, Neil nods and steps away. “If you need anything, I’ll be behind the counter.”

You nod and watch him walk away before turning to browse the movie selection by yourself. It takes you a while to find anything that you were interested in, but you settled on Friday the 13th. It’s not what you’d usually go for, but your life needs a little excitement here and there.

From across the store, you could hear the other employees ridiculing Neil for “striking out”, though you’d have to argue that he never even got up to bat.

When you walk up to the counter to rent the movie, no one is to be found. You look around and find a bell on the counter labeled ring for assistance. You hit the button and the bell rings, and immediately following the chime is a thud and a curse. You peak over the counter to see Neil crouched underneath it, rubbing the top of his head.

He stands up and looks at you, putting on a charming smile like he didn’t just embarrass himself.

“All set?” he asks.

“Yep,” you reply shortly, handing him the box.

“Friday the 13th,” he reads. “That’s a good one. You didn’t tell me you’re into horror.”

“I’m not really. Just wanted a change,” you reply, figuring if you engage in his small talk, he’ll let you off the hook sooner.

“Did you know this was filmed at a real summer camp in New Jersey?” You shake your head. “It’s still operational, actually. The only set piece they had to build was the bathroom; everything else was already there.”

“That’s really interesting,” you smile, lying.

Unfortunately that was the wrong thing to say, because it made him perk up. “If you think that’s interesting, wait until you hear this…” He ducks under the counter again and comes back up with another movie in hand. “Scream was based on a series of real murders in the 90s. Ghostface was based of the Gainesville Ripper who killed five students in Florida. He wore a black ski mask, which was the inspiration for the movie.”

Neil must have noticed your concerned face and stopped.

“Uh, sorry. I guess giving a stranger facts about a serial killer is kind of weird,” he chuckles.

He scans your movie, swipes your card and prints out your receipt. Before he handed it to you, he scribbled something at the bottom.

“Thank you for renting from Gumshoe Video. Have a nice day,” he smiles.

You give him a polite smile back and on the way out of the door, you look down at the paper in your hand. He wrote what looks to be a phone number, but his handwriting is too messy for you to make out the digits.

#neil lewis #neil lewis x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #watching the detectives

343 notes · View notes

sydsaint · 10 months ago

Text

Valentines Day content time!! Gotta show some love for my king of the bums <3

Summary: The reader gets stood up on her Valentines Day date by her crush. Luckily for her, Eddie is frequenting the same bar and happy to share a drink to cheer the reader up.

Everything is set to go perfect tonight. You're hair is done up as nice as you can get it, makeup pristine and glowing, dress hugging every curve perfectly. You check your phone for any messages but find your messages dry.

"Huh, that's weird." You comment to yourself. You haven't heard from Ricky, who you finally managed to get a date with tonight, since yesterday.

You send Starks a quick flirty message that you're looking forward to your date with him later and wait. But no response comes. You glance at the clock on your phone. It's only an hour until you're supposed to meet up with him. 'Maybe he's just busy.' You tell yourself as you order yourself an Uber.

You arrive to the restaurant that you and Ricky agreed to meet at around 45 minutes later. You head inside and glance around for Ricky but don't spot him anywhere. 'I'm 15 minutes early.' You tell yourself as a waiter comes by to get your drink order.

"I'm waiting for someone, actually." You explain your situation for the waiter. "But can I get a glass of red wine to start?" You ask him, hoping that it'll calm your nerves.

The waiter nods and walks off to fetch your drink. You pull out your phone and check your messages again. Nothing. Your phone remains dry as the Sahara in terms of messages. But you don't lose hope. The waiter brings by your wine and you pick it up for a drink as soon as it's set down in front of you.

eight o'clock hits. Ricky is supposed to meet you here at this time. But he seems to be nowhere to be found. You check your phone again and are met with disappointment. But you refuse to give up. You wait some more. And some more. And just a little bit longer, holding out hope that Ricky will show up with flowers and an excuse about why he's so late.

But he never comes.

"Ma'am, is there anything else I can do for you?" The waiter comes by with a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah." You shake your head, refusing to cry. "You can tell me where the nearest bar is."

The waiter nods and turns toward the front of the room. "We have a bar on the second floor. Just head back to the lobby and take the elevator up." He explains. "And miss, I am sorry that your date didn't show." He adds.

"Thanks. How much do I owe you for the wine?" You reach for your wallet with a defeated sigh.

"No trouble miss, it was only two glasses. On the house." The waiter insists.

You flash the waiter a thankful smile and pull a twenty out of your wallet for a tip. The waiter gratefully takes it and sees you off to the elevator in the lobby.

You take the elevator up to the bar with a heavy heart. You can't believe that Ricky stood you up. He seemed so excited and interested in you when you asked him if he had Valentines Day plans. So why? Why didn't he show up?

The elevator comes to a halt and slides open. You step out on the bar floor and head straight for the service counter. The place is full of single people looking to hook up, as well as a few casual couples enjoying drinks. Oh how badly you wish you were one of those couples and not the girl that got stood up on Valentines Day of all nights.

"Hey, can I just get a beer when you have a minute?" You reach the bar and beckon to the bartender whose busy cleaning glasses.

The bartender nods and turns around to fetch your drink. You stare at your reflection in the mirror on the back of the bar. All that work for nothing.

"YN? That you, sweetheart?" A familiar male voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

You turn away from the mirror and find Eddie looking at you curiously. Your eyes widen a bit upon seeing him outside of work like this.

"Eddie, hey." You offer him a friendly smile. "Out getting a drink too?" You ask him.

"Yeah, just trying to enjoy another lonely night." Eddie jokes with a small laugh, his gaze finally taking notice of your fancy attire. "You waiting for someone?" He asks you.

Your friendly smile drops from your face and you shake your head. "I was. Not anymore." You answer him and the bartender brings your drink to you.

"I'll get her drink." Eddie pulls out his wallet before you can grab yours. "You got stood up huh?" He turns back to you. "Now what fool was dumb enough to stand a girl like you up, sweetheart?" He asks you. "Especially when you look like that."

"I was supposed to meet Ricky down in the restaurant." You explain. "He never showed up though." You frown and pick up your drink.

Eddie nods knowingly and picks up his own drinks. "Well the kid is a damn fool then." He chuckles to himself and takes a drink. "Because you look absolutely stunning."

"Thanks Eddie." You finish off your drink and signal the bartender for another one, intent on drowning your sorrows in drinks tonight.

The bartender replaces your bottle and Eddie insists on paying for it again. He watches you down half of it and shakes his head. "I recognize that look." He turns to you. "Look, I know that you probably feel like shit right now, kid. But you ain't gonna find a solution at the bottom of a bottle, trust me on that. I've been looking for a long time."

"You never know." You reply and finish off your drink. "I might find peace of mind. Or a reason why Ricky didn't bother to show up with another drink." You laugh.

"Alright." Eddie slides out of his seat and walks over to you. "Come on sweetheart, lets get you back to the hotel before you do something you'll regret." He sets a gentle hand on your arm and pays his tab with the other.

You're reluctant to leave, but Eddie's gentle hand guides you out of the bar and into an Uber back to the hotel. He sticks at your side until you're at your hotel room door.

"Alright, here we are." Eddie takes your keycard and gets you inside your room. He sets you down on your bed and turns to leave.

Before Eddie can walk off you grab his hand and pull him back and into a hug. "Thank you, Eddie." You sniffle. "At least someone cares about me, right?"

"More than you know, sweetheart." Eddie whispers back and rubs your back gently. "Alright, get some sleep kid. You'll feel better in the morning, I promise." He insists in a louder tone so you can hear him.

You fall back onto your bed with a nod and drift off to sleep. Eddie tosses a blanket over you and sets a bottle of water on your nightstand before switching the light off and exiting for the night. The only thing on his mind now is Ricky Starks.

#wrestling #aew #aew fanfiction #aew fanfic #aew fic #aew x reader #eddie kingston x reader #eddie kingston #syd's wrestling fics #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fanfic #wrestling fic #all elite wrestling

67 notes · View notes

jacenotjason · 3 months ago

Text

Always With You - Part One

Spooky Month Fanfic

brief writing of Father Morthy and Father Gregor, soon to have a part two woahh

enjoy!

Gregor pushed open the heavy door to the church, his movements anxious and hurried. “Morthy?” he called out, his voice echoing softly through the vast, empty space. He quickly slipped off his leather bag and hung it on the nearby hook. “Morthy, are you here?” His gaze swept over the church, searching for any sign of the priest. “It’s Gregor,” he added, hoping the familiar name would bring a response.

Rumors had been circulating that Morthy had gone radio silent. The church had been closed for Sunday service, and Morthy hadn’t been seen since. Gregor was all too familiar with the paranoia that accompanied battling demons, but he understood it was far worse when it involved Morthy. While he hadn't heard a single whisper from Moloch after his recent victory, the situation with Morthy and Gadreel was…. different. Gadreel was a relentless tormentor. He had been pursuing Morthy for years, showing no sign of giving up. Unlike Moloch, who knew when to quit and return home, Gadreel was determined to either force Morthy into submission or kill him in the process.

Gregor had never directly faced Gadreel, but the very presence of the demon was enough to instill terror. He didn’t need to see Gadreel to be afraid; the stories of the demon’s cruelty and the aftermath of his encounters were enough to frighten anyone.

"It's just me," Gregor called out once more, trying to keep his voice steady. "I promise." As he continued to search the church, the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee reached his nose. The comforting smell offered a glimmer of reassurance, suggesting that Morthy might have been here recently.

“Gregor?” Morthy’s voice emerged from the shadows, and the sound was like a balm to Gregor’s frayed nerves. He turned to see Morthy approaching with deliberate caution. Gregor didn’t blame him for being wary; Gadreel’s ability to possess people was deeply unsettling. While Moloch’s possessions were obvious—his victims quickly sprouting horns and fangs—Gadreel operated in a far more insidious manner. The demon was a master of long-term schemes, often remaining undetected for days on end.

"It's me," Gregor reassured him, raising his hands in a gesture of innocence and openness.

Morthy’s relief was obvious, but doubt still flickered across his face. His eyebrows were knitted together in an anxious frown. “...Is it really you?” He clearly wanted to believe Gregor, but had to be on edge.

In response, Gregor gently pulled down his lower eyelid to reveal the clear, human quality of his eyes. Gadreel’s possessions were nearly impossible to detect at first glance, but the eyes were the telltale sign. Possessed eyes would be devoid of humanity, with an unnerving lack of reflection and overly dilated pupils that gave Gadreel away.

Morthy scrutinized Gregor’s eyes with intense focus, his gaze searching for any sign of corruption. After a tense moment, Morthy’s features softened with relief, and he pulled Gregor into a tight, heartfelt embrace. The gesture took Gregor by surprise, but he quickly returned the hug.

After the hug separated, Gregor looked up at Morthy with worry, "What's going on? People are saying you've been absent."

Morthy’s response was hesitant, his composure clearly frayed. He looked far from his usual self; his hair was disheveled, and dark circles under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights. “I…” he began, struggling to find the right words. “It’s Gadreel.” Gregor wasn’t surprised. “He’s planning something… I don’t know what exactly.”

Gregor nodded, trying to process the gravity of the situation. “I’m sorry if this is rude, but…” he ventured cautiously, “When was the last time you slept?”

Morthy’s face tightened as he bit his lower lip, clearly distressed. “About three days ago,” he admitted, his voice shaky. “But I can’t seem to sleep. Every time I doze off, Gadreel—” Morthy cut himself off abruptly, shaking his head as if trying to clear away the memory. “It’s easier for Gadreel to possess me when I’m asleep. I have nothing to defend myself with, and I’m not aware of what he’s doing. Whenever I doze off, I wake up somewhere dangerous—or doing something dangerous,” he stammered, his frustration obvious.

Gregor listened intently, trying to piece together the information. “Something dangerous?” he repeated.

Morthy’s frustration was palpable as he struggled to explain. “I’ve woken up at a train station, right on the edge of the platform, about to fall onto the tracks. Or I find myself on top of the church, like I’m about to jump off. Once, I woke up out in the snow, barely clothed, risking freezing to death. I even—” His voice faltered, “I coughed up a rat. A rat, Gregor! It’s like Gadreel’s trying to make me lose my mind.” Morthy’s voice trembled like he would start crying.

"Is..." Gregor's voice shook slightly as he asked, "Is he trying to kill you?" Gregor asked. He couldn’t help but think Gadreel had grown bored of his little toy, and was throwing it away.

Morthy sighed deeply, his expression one of grim contemplation. "That’s what I initially thought," he confessed, his tone heavy with resignation. "But… I don’t think that’s his endgame. If Gadreel really wanted me dead, he wouldn’t go through such elaborate and different means. He could have killed me easily by now. The fact that I keep waking up just before something fatal happens makes me think that's not what he wants…”

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, "I think… I think Gadreel is just showing me his power, demonstrating that he can do whatever he wants to me, whenever he wants. It’s like he’s making a game out of it, just to remind me of his control. It’s not about killing me; it’s about making sure I know he’s always watching, always in control, and a-always ready to pull the rug out from under me."

Gregor’s eyes widened as he absorbed this new layer of understanding. Gadreel’s methods were not just cruel but taunting, designed to keep Morthy in a state of constant fear and vulnerability. The idea of being subjected to such relentless psychological torment was almost as horrifying as the physical danger.

"Okay..." Gregor said, breaking the tense silence with a determined nod. "Listen, Morthy, I'll help you contain Gadreel for a little while longer." He understood that they couldn’t completely rid Morthy of Gadreel, but there were ways to keep the demon at bay, at least until Gadreel got bored. "But you're not going to be able to get anything done if you're sleep-deprived."

Morthy started to protest, his voice tinged with frustration. "I can’t—"

"I will stay up," Gregor interrupted gently but firmly, taking Morthy’s hand in his. "I’ll stay awake and keep an eye on things to make sure Gadreel doesn’t possess you again. You need to get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow morning, we’ll bless the church and your bedroom to help keep Gadreel at bay.”

Morthy’s shoulders relaxed visibly at Gregor’s reassurance, though a new wave of tension soon followed. “I… I can’t ask you to do that,” he said, his voice laced with guilt and concern.

Gregor squeezed Morthy’s hand gently. “You’re not asking,” he replied, his tone resolute.

Morthy’s gaze faltered, “But what if Gadreel hurts you?” The concern in his voice was loud, a blunt reminder of the very real danger Gadreel posed and how necessary it was to fear him. Morthy’s fear for Gregor’s safety was evident, his hands trembling slightly at the thought of Gregor being harmed because of him. “I-I couldn’t bear to think of you getting hurt because of me.”

Gregor’s gaze softened, and he squeezed Morthy’s hand gently. "I can handle it," he said with quiet confidence. "I’ve faced demons before, and I can deal with Gadreel, too.” Gregor’s confidence was obvious, but he was scared, too. He hid the fear of Gadreel for now, knowing he needed to be brave.

Morthy’s expression softened slightly, though the anxiety never fully left his eyes. “Thank you,” He murmured.

“Of course.”

Part Two

22 notes · View notes

bellarkeselection · 2 years ago

Text

Yellowstone 3

Kayce Dutton

There's Another Girl For Him pt 2 - Monica confronts the reader and asks her about Kayce. The reader doesn't know what she is talking about but starts to be conflicted with what her heart is saying

There's Another Girl For Him pt 3 - Kayce and Y/n go up the summer camp and feelings become too hard to ignore. Some interesting news also comes along

I'm Worth a Shot - request from @timbradfordsboot Kayce Dutton request: reader has a crush on Kayce but won’t act on it due to who his dad & sister are. She’s also heard rumors about bad things happening at the Yellowstone. Kayce convinces her to give him a chance

Two Dutton’s in the Family - Request from mackleann on Wattpad. Kayce and the reader get married and on that same day Jaime tells John he has a son.

Awkward Conversation at 6am - John catches Kayce and the reader kissing in the kitchen in the early morning

Burning Desire for a Dutton - Request from Wattpad VOIDRANBOO - Reader is Rip’s best friend and is a secret relationship with Kayce. Beth helps get them together but they are both worried of how Rip will react

Is This You Asking Me Out - anonymous ask Reader is trying to sneak off to met her Stalker of a ex to tell him to stop calling her. Kayce shows up at the place where she's meeting the ex she's relief to see him.

When War Follows You Home - Navy reader x war time. Kayce and reader service together reader shoots a kid is having trouble dealing with it. Years later they run into eachother in the states.

The Sheriff’s Daughter - Kayce gets arrested and his girlfriend bails him out where he learns who her father actually is.

It’sAbout Time - Request from Wattpad mackleann Kayce or Lee ( you pick ) where the reader is a family friend who comes to help with the cattle branding. The pair confese their feelings and get teased by the bunkhouse gang

Breathe With Me - Request from @val2557 imagine of Kayce Dutton and he is helping the reader when she has a an anxiety attack when there is a lot of people at a dinner they are attending?

Two Baby Daddy’s - anonymous request where reader is pregnant after she slept with both Rip and Kayce which now makes her wonder who is the baby’s father

When She Comes Home Tonight - Request from Tumblr @child-of-of-the-sunshine How about a Kacey fic based off the song When She Comes Home Tonight by Riley Green

John Dutton

- requests open

We Got Nerves For Nothing - Readers a waitress john meets her while having coffee with the sheriff donnie haskell they hit it off immediately reader gets nervous about John meeting her child ( whatever you prefer ) only to find out John's nervous about her meeting his family and they laugh about it

Seven Morming Wake Up Call - anonymous ask John dutton and reader in bed after shes taken a pregnancy test " im too damn old for kids " John says " not old " reader says

Opinions of our Horse Trainer - your the new horse trainer and slowly reader and John fall for each other maybe Beth doesn’t trust her but Kacey likes her

Noisy Kids Can’t Ruin This - anonymous ask John and Reader have been dating for a year or longer now and they’ve been keeping it a secret from his kids, they sneak around like teenagers running through the house after hours sort of dynamic and sneaking through the ranch after hours. I’m thinking maybe they stayed up late and took two of the hours on a little “trip” and get caught by Rip and Beth and Kayce who come looking for the horses ?

Rip Wheeler

You Make Everything Better - Wattpad request Rebelmicheleamidala - Rip and the reader spend the evening at home on the couch just enjoying the night together cuddling

Wheeler's as Tough as a Beer - can u do a piece with rip x f! dutton reader when she's pregos with rips bby girl and she either have a little accident with a horse or in danger bc of one of the shows villains like beth

Don’t you have anything better to do - Wattpad request mackleann Rip and reader get married and they get teased by the bunkhouse guys

Giving second chances - Wattpad request from Silverose365 Reader is a trouble teen the state is having trouble with so after multiple failed foster families the state calls John. The reader accidentally messed up on a job and gets called out until Rip makes a different choice than her previous foster family's.

The rules of fighting…especially my wife - season 1 where jimmy got beaten up by Fred but instead of Jimmy could it be the reader is rips wife and she’s secretly pregnant with their second child and she protects her stomach and then revel to rip she’s pregnant again

He’ll go to the Train Station - anonymous ask Reader has a Stalker one night when the ranch is out doing something reader is alone at the ranch and the Stalker comes attacks her and rip gets a call from kayce after finding her

We’re All Family Here - Reader is Carter’s younger sister and she has a prosthetic leg and the reader is worried that Rip and Beth will kick her off the ranch if they found out. Wattpad request from - @Quackity_bwead

Lee Dutton

Wedding rings and a baby - Wattpad request from halidaehler2015 Lee and the reader get married because they have a baby on the way

Regardless They’ll Always Be Dutton’s - I just had an idea about a story that I think would be great. It would be a Lee Dutton x reader with alittle kayce x reader - request from @cookiez56-blog

Dutton Boys Got My Back - Anonymous ask Reader is drunk and she calls her friend jamie to come pick her up jamie tells his dad and brother reader calls and needs to be pick up at a bar so lee and jamie go when they gets there some guy was hitting on her and Lee saves her and jamie being a lawyer threatens him

Ryan

- requests open

He ain’t anything like you- anonymous ask where the reader is talking to them and she sees her ex over their shoulder and they notice her state maybe he hears them call her darling and think they are together.

Anonymous ask - How would Ryan react if you told him you were pregnant??

The Ranch Brought Us Together - @child-of-of-the-sunshine Okay so Ryan and Dutton!reader are engaged and she finds out he got branded after the whole Colby and Teter thing. That kinda the basis of what I was thinking 🤔

251 notes · View notes