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sharkikive · 6 months ago

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match made in heaven (ken sato x fem!reader)

Summary: You were Professor Sato’s research assistant and your apartment just got destroyed by Ultraman.

Somehow, this led to a matchmaking project between you and the infamous baseball player, Ken Sato.

Word count: 6,887

A/N: I yap a lot when it comes to writing. Just writing this because the Ken Sato brainrot is too damn strong. Just a bunch of gibberish. Not my best but currently too hung up on Kenji. Includes mention of Professor Sato, Mina and Emi (definitely having baby fever because of her).

Ken Sato.

His name was a staple in your daily life, yet you had never met the man face to face.

The moment you thought you had escaped from hearing the broken recording of his name, it was brought up once again as the news of him returning to Japan plastered the news.

You rolled your eyes at the screen, but were careful enough not to let the old man hunched over the table, poring over some papers on Kaiju, see you.

Well, you could not exactly tell the father that you were tired of hearing his son’s name everywhere, could you?

“Professor Sato,” you started. “I shall take my leave for today.”

“Ah yes, sure. Please have a safe journey back home. I’m sorry this old man can’t send you back safely,” he replied, to which you quickly dismissed.

“Professor, I’ll be fine.” You chuckled lightly, “In case you have forgotten, I’m already 26. I’m already an adult. No longer the wide-eyed, 17-year-old you first took under your wing.”

He gave out a breathy laugh, sniffling as you knew what’s going to come out of his mouth next. You resisted the urge to stop him, purely out of respect.

“Kenji is the same age as you. I wish you could meet him, but that child is very stubborn. He wouldn’t even answer my calls, let alone meet me.” He paused, as if thinking of the next sentence, but went against it.

You only smiled weakly, the only response you’d always given when he mentioned his son’s name. You took this as a sign to leave before bowing and setting off to your apartment.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were tired of listening to that man’s name every single time. Yes, you knew that it was Professor Sato’s guilt that kept him talking about his son, but the more you heard about him, the more you found him less likeable.

He came back to Japan, yet he did not even contact his father even once? Yet Professor Sato would talk about him every day.

You knew nothing about baseball, and did not care to find out, but the appearance of Ken Sato forced you to learn that he’s apparently about to be the saviour for the Giants.

You sighed, stopping under the night sky as you watched people milling about the streets.

You were an ambitious girl who had a deep interest in Kaiju and without shame, Ultraman. Ultraman was the first hero you knew and grew up with, so imagine the elation you felt when you found out that Professor Sato was affiliated with both. He agreed to take you under his wing with the condition that you finished your degree, so the moment you had gotten your scroll you showed up in front of him, eager to start.

He probably couldn’t turn you away considering how you seemed… pitiful. Yup, that’s probably the word.

You enjoyed working as his research assistant, but found out soon enough that he was a lonely man who missed his wife and son dearly. He was a father figure to you, considering that you were orphaned at a young age.

It was a peaceful night.

Well, if you consider the scene of Neronga choking Ultraman as a peaceful night.

Correction: It was supposed to be a peaceful night.

You stepped back as the gigantic hero got slammed into another building, destroying yet another public property. You winced as it was obvious that the hero was not upholding the principles and seemed more like he was trying to destroy as much as he could.

The thing that irritated you the most? You knew exactly who it was under that suit.

You shook your head, not even bothering to see how the fight would go. You were 100% sure the KDF would be gunning down the Kaiju in no time.

You set off again, mildly hoping that your apartment did not get obliterated in the chaos, or you would definitely hunt that baseball player down.

It was hard to ignore the fight when two giants were stomping around the city, and you dropped dramatically on your knees when you saw Ultraman being launched in the direction of your building.

“No-” you weakly said, knowing that your voice was merely a speck of hopelessness among the gasps of the crowd, Ultraman’s groan and Neronga’s roar. From behind your glasses, a tear rolled down your face as you saw your apartment building crumbling, all thanks to that stupid, cocky, asshole of a baseball player.

Now thanks to Professor Sato’s beloved son, you were homeless.

***

Maybe it was your lack of sleep from worrying about how the progress of rebuilding your house went, because you were dragged by Professor Sato at 2 in the morning to the secret base, facing a scene that you promptly found ridiculous.

Right, seeing the giant hero hunched over in front of you was no surprise because you knew exactly who it was. A little bit weird how he’s here considering his relationship with his father, but that wouldn’t be an issue.

But what was an issue was that the said giant was cradling an equally gigantic pink baby Kaiju and was- you took a step back.

Something must had happened because Ken Sato was crying in front of you. Not the scene you’d expect in the morning while being sleep-deprived.

Your mind was only registering the words ‘injured’, ‘need help’ and the rest was a blur as Professor Sato helped in correcting the fracture in the Kaiju’s arm. The Kaiju was calmed down, brought to sleep and you could not help but smile at the sleeping baby.

Part of the reason you were still there was because you found the baby Kaiju so adorable with her chubby cheeks and twitterings.

Another part was because you were curious to see (discreetly, of course, under the pretext of looking over the Kaiju) the dynamic between Ultradad and well, the son. You were facing the Kaiju but you were straining your ears to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Doing this-“ you picked up a sentence, -“doesn’t suddenly make you Ultradad.”

You felt slightly perturbed. Kenji came in here pleading while crying, Professor Sato helped him without any questions yet the son was barely grateful for it.

But you knew you’re no one to be meddling in their family affairs.

So you kept quiet, straining your ears with Mina - the robot - hovering nearby.

Your mind wandered to whether it would be plausible for you to chip in a request for Ken Sato’s autograph and sell it high to make up for the costs of your destroyed apartment.

That’s the least he could do after reducing your safe space into rubble.

You snapped back to the present as you heard your name being called, and was greeted with the sight of a smiling father and a son looking like he’d love to be anywhere but here.

Ken Sato was not smiling, but he didn’t look like he hated you either.

The next thing you knew was that you were left alone with Ken, and you couldn’t help but think Professor Sato had a hidden agenda because he left with a chuckle. Even Mina was nowhere in sight.

What could I possibly say to this man I’ve never met before?

The young man in front of you looked starkly different from the confident, boastful man you had seen in interviews. Instead, he seemed more like a sad excuse who looked so distraught you swore you could see him shrinking.

“So uh-” he started, scratching his head with an awkward smile. “Y/N… right?”

Your eyebrows lifted at the mention of your name.

“Dad told me about your apartment.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

You clicked your tongue. “Other than the fact that I became homeless, it’s no issue.”

You did not intend it to be a joke, but it seemed that the only immediate response he could give was to laugh awkwardly, before he buried his face in his hands. “God- I’m so- sorry.” He pried his fingers slightly to look at you, before continuing. “I came back to Japan because dad wanted me to continue this- I don’t know what you call this. Legacy?”

Your eyes trailed his movements; you got slightly startled as he suddenly sprang up and you pushed back your glasses.

“High hopes from everyone ever since I started playing for the Giants, dad wanting me to become Ultraman and-“ he sighed exasperatedly, “it was too much.”

You rubbed the tip of your nose before shrugging. “Well, you did seem confident while you were on TV. If you ask me, you gave them that confidence.”

He left his mouth slightly hanging open as he didn’t expect you to give it to him straight.

You continued, “Ultraman is a hero for some, if not all. Some of them may not care. But all,” your eyes collided with his as he plopped back down onto the sofa, “don’t know who is under that suit. All they know is Ultraman is supposed to be the hero protecting the city with-“ you pressed your lips into a thin line, “-minimal damage.”

He blinked. Did he look like he wanted to cry again?

The corner of your lips lifted up slightly, but you quickly switched it off as he looked at you imploringly.

You raised your hands shoulder-level, hiding a yawn before managing. “Don’t expect me to become your counsellor, but what I’m saying is, when you’re Ken Sato, the baseball player, of course they’d expect you to play well. When you’re Ultraman, people expect you to be the hero.” You interlinked your fingers. “They don’t see you becoming both at the same time. And now, you added another point to your resume. You became a single dad.”

He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. He sucked in his lower lip and for the first time ever you thought that maybe Professor Sato’s son wasn’t that bad at all, both personality and lookwise.

“I can’t comment much about what you feel about your father. I won’t deny that my opinion on you was formed only based on what I saw, but I now know that you must have had a reason why you acted that way to your father.” You shrugged. “I saw a lonely father and a distant son. Because I spent almost all of my time with Professor Sato, please trust me, he talks about you every single day.” You spread your arms, “Your father talked about you, the TV was blaring news about you 24/7 and I was exhausted hearing your name all the time.”

He didn’t seem offended, but was merely focusing on the one sentence. “My father talks about me every day?”

”Every day,” you breathed. “You and your mother.” You smiled, “He never stopped thinking about both of you.”

”Huh.” It seemed like he didn’t know how to react.

This time, you couldn’t help but yawn so you got up quickly, intending to leave the base. If the conversation wasn’t finishing, you were sure you were about to finish it. Your eyelids couldn’t hold much longer.

It was nice having a talk with this infamous baseball player and it sure did change your perspective of him.

He looked on, confused, as you gave a slight nod before heading towards the exit.

”Hey-“ he started, doing a slight jog to catch up to you, who was almost asleep standing up. He gently grabbed the strap of your sling bag, and you snapped your eyes open. He retracted his hand, citing, “Sorry. But where do you think you’re going?”

It was your turn to look confused. “Home?” You said it as a question rather than a statement. “Wait,” you tracked back, “not home. My temporary home at the inn down the road because,” you giggled, clearly drunk from the lack of sleep, “Ultraman destroyed my home.”

”And because Ultraman destroyed your home, you’re staying with me,” he said smoothly, slightly nudging your back with his shoulder. Clearly he struggled as you were much shorter than him.

”With you?” You had no idea where the idea was going yet so you shook your head. “Why would I want to stay with you?”

He took a step back and tugged at the strap of your sling back, essentially dragging you with him. “Don’t misunderstand. Dad’s staying with me as well, we have Mina and you’re joining me because we need to train her.”

”Wait, wait, wait.” You slapped a hand on his shoulder, but he was still holding on strong to the strap. “We? Her? What are we even talking about?”

You were clearly guided by him as you found yourself standing underneath his gaze in front of the Kaiju’s enclosure.

”We as in you, me, dad and Mina.” He nodded, looking satisfied. “Her as in this baby.” He did a show of hands towards the sleeping Kaiju.

You grimaced. “Sir, I did say that my perspective on you has changed, but that doesn’t mean you’re dragging me with you.”

”You’re my dad’s research assistant, right?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Yes…” You didn’t like where this is going.

”You don’t have a house… yet.”

”Yes…”

You took a step back, and what you could describe him now was as a puppy as he imitated your actions. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he leaned down to level his eyes with yours before saying, “Your boss is here, and you currently have no home to go back to. So why not? Take it as me being sorry for destroying your house as well. Deal?” He put out his hand to give you a shake.

You laughed nervously. “And what is it in for me…?”

”You… get to live in the same house as Ken Sato?”

”Nice, yay,” you said flatly. You rolled your eyes. “No.”

“Oh come on,” he groaned. “I feel bad.”

”There’s no need for you to feel bad, okay. I put that behind me, whatever.” You threw your hands in the air. “I’m going, bye.” You turned around, ready to leave.

”I’ll give you my autograph, as many as you’d like,” he quickly chipped in. “Signed possession, whatever you want.” He grinned in satisfaction as he saw you stop in your tracks and you quickly turned around. “It sells. A lot.”

”Hmm…” You seemed to consider it before you shook your head. “Your reputation lately isn’t the best so to sell them might be a bit hard…” You trailed off, clearly more of an effort to swat him away since you did think about it.

You couldn’t deny, it was a nice offer. But you were more worried about how you would cope, considering that you may have found him slightly attractive…

“I’m sure dad would be happy for you to stay here as well?”

You gritted your teeth. First time meeting him in real life and he already knew your weakness. He knew that using his father’s name would cause you to waver.

Still, you held on to your decision.

“No-”

He blinked slowly, and you heard the baby Kaiju stir in her sleep.

You ran your eyes towards the Kaiju before sighing. There was one thing you were interested in.

No, not the man in front of you.

You walked over to the enclosure. “How is she with strangers?”

Kenji popped up beside you before winking. “If I say the stranger is a friend, you’ll be glad to have her around.”

You took a moment to think, weighing the pros and cons. “Full privacy? Separate bathrooms?”

He scratched the nape of his neck. “Well, there is one separate bathroom for the guests but the shower’s faulty.” Something dawned on his face as he just realised this. “The only working shower is in, uh, my room.”

You stared back at him. “So there is a chance I might run into you naked?”

“I’ll preserve my dignity.” He paused. “You know what, take my room. I can use the guest room.”

You chuckled, taking his hand in a forced handshake. “Fine, deal.”

He looked surprised, but trailed after you as both of you took the ride up. “Wait, what was the dealbreaker? Because of the Kaiju? The room? The-” he looked at you almost accusingly. “-chance of seeing the Ken Sato naked-”

“Shh-” you clamped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to silence him just as the entrance pried open, revealing a smiling Professor Sato.

“Dad,” Ken said in a muffled voice, and you pulled back from covering his mouth. “Dad,” he tried again. “She agreed to staying here.”

You looked at the professor from the corner of your eyes. So it was his doing. You wondered what the father had held over his son’s head to make him obey.

“Can I retire for the night?” You did an exaggerated show of stretching. “I’m becoming delirious from the lack of sleep.”

“Room’s to your right,” Ken offered.

“Make sure to lock the door,” Mina reminded you.

“Mina,” Ken groaned. “What are you implying?”

“Just general safety measures. Ken-” she hovered near the baseball player, “-are you okay? Your heartbeat is increasing-”

He groaned. “I’m fine, Mina. I’ll be using the guest room.”

Both of you went separate ways, leaving Professor Sato and Mina in the living room.

Professor Sato whispered, “Mina, status report on the project.”

Mina obediently replied, “Matchmaking project is showing positive progress. We can expect to see rapid progress in the next few weeks.”

***

Training and taking care of the baby Kaiju - which the professor had named Emi - was no easy feat. Contributed by your almost non-existent stamina, you were left cheering from the sides as mostly Ken and Emi did all kinds of simulation to train her. Dealing with a 20-feet monster was not on your bucket list, but you had proudly ticked it off mentally.

You heard whooping from the two and you held onto your bottle as the ground shook when Emi jumped up and down. Subconsciously, you smiled as you saw Ken cheering for the baby, and he almost got crushed when Emi gave his human form a high-five.

You quietly went up the lift as Ken was fussing over Emi to make her go to sleep. You plopped down on the sofa, switched on the TV and to no surprise, his name decorated the evening news.

Ken Sato showing good progress…

Ken Sato showing a more mature side…

Ken Sato helping the Giants to pick themselves back up…

“I definitely look better in person,” Ken’s voice came from behind and you could feel his presence near you. “May I?” He asked for permission to sit beside you but both of you knew the answer as he plopped down right next to you.

You see, these are the small things that could make you wonder whether he’s doing it on purpose or he really had no idea how they affected you.

You gulped when you could feel his knee bumping against yours, or when he casually put his arm on the back of the sofa across your shoulders. There was no contact but there might as well be something because you felt like your heart would jump right out.

Your romantic encounter with a guy was only as far as a guy who called you a creep because you were following him. That day, you were navigating the world half-blind because you broke your glasses and it seemed that he was going to your destination. Sure, you admitted that it was your fault and you apologised profusely, but that made you avoid taking the train for at least two weeks.

You got startled when Ken pressed a cold can on your cheek. The corner of your eyes caught the words ‘COCONUT WATER’. Remembering how Mina had essentially pestered Ken to drink coconut water as a ‘healthy option’, you smiled. Mina had also reminded Ken multiple times that because you didn’t drink, never, ever offer you a can of beer.

”Nah,” you refuted. “You look better on screen.” You imitated taking a camera shot of his face before chiding. “Up near you’re just…” You trailed off.

”Just what?” He asked, prying open his can of coconut water. Without asking, he took yours before helping to open it up for you.

This. These small gestures were what convinced you that you were turning crazy.

”Ugly,” you supplemented.

”Hey, play nice,” he tapped the opened can on your cheek before shoving it into your hand.

You chuckled, taking a gulp of the drink before both of you basked in silence. To him, it was a comfortable silence but to you, you were currently hoping that your heartbeat would just… stop.

You thought that maybe spending time and living together with Ken Sato would further confirm that you hated his guts, but so far, you were only getting the opposite effect. You were sure there was some character development somewhere… from that first moment he destroyed your house to that moment you met him again as he was cradling Emi.

You hated this growing feeling you had towards him and it’s so painfully obvious what Professor Sato (and Mina) were planning on doing to both of you.

The worst part was it seemed like it’s either: 1. Ken was too oblivious, or 2. He knew, but didn’t want to entertain the thought.

Was it a better idea to just leave? They did say your house would be finished being rebuilt in a few days.

”So…” you croaked. “My house will be done in a few days so I think it’s better for me to start packing.” You stole a glance at him. Now… Why am I hoping that he would stop me?

A flicker of disappointment behind his eyes but he was quick to switch it off. “Sure,” he rubbed his nose. “If… that’s what you want.”

You pursed your lips. This stupid erratic heartbeat wouldn’t stop and you hated that you didn’t know what to do with it. “I’ll… start packing then.” You took another peek at him. He wasn’t looking at you.

You stood up, but he stopped you. Your heart was making its way out of your ribcage for beating too loud, but it slowed down when he uttered, “Hey, don’t forget your coconut water."

You looked at him with an ‘Are you serious?’ look before taking it, not once unlocking your stare from his and standing up, finished the drink in one gulp. You crushed the can, and threw it in one shot towards the dustbin.

”Oh, okay.” He looked surprised by your reaction.

You stalked your way to the bedroom and closed the door. Sighing exasperatedly, you pressed your back against the door and slid down. You buried your face in your hands before lightly hitting your head with a fist. You felt bad for reacting that way but you found it harder to deny the feeling when you were so confident that you would manage to resist.

Outside in the living area, Ken looked troubled, his forehead wrinkling when he tried backtracking what he did. He turned to look over his shoulder as the spherical robot hovered near him, and he threw his head back.

”What is it, Mina? Are you here to chide me again?”

”In these kinds of situations, the woman is usually hoping the man would stop her from leaving,” Mina said.

”Mina,” he pleaded.

”I believe a misunderstanding had happened,” she offered again, to which he appeared confused. “Please, do look at the screen.”

Ken’s eyes travelled to the projection Mina made. He looked even more confused as one of his solo interviews was displayed. He looked inquiringly at Mina, before the latter sweeped her robotic hands to ask him to focus on the interview.

It was an interview he did some time last week. His face changed when he started catching on what Mina was trying to show.

“So your name has become the talk of the town again for a good reason now.” The interviewer paused for effect. “This is a question that I’m sure everyone has thought of at least once when we’re talking about Ken Sato.” The interviewer looked at him. “Do you have anyone you’re interested in or at least, someone you have set your eyes on?”

Ken’s response was immediate as he laughed and shook his head. “No, no. Not right now.” He leaned back, a relaxed stance as he waved his hand in front of his face. “Right now I’m only focusing on my baseball career. Still got a long way to go. I don’t want to waste my time on something so unimportant.”

The interviewer turned back to the screen. “You’ve heard it directly from the man, folks. He’s-“

Mina switched off the replay while Ken looked regretful.

Exasperated, he said, “Mina, you know I don’t mean it that way.”

“I believe you should be clarifying that with Y/N herself and not me. She is the subject of your affection.”

“Affection-” he mulled over the word. “Do you really think so, Mina? Is this what this…” He put a hand over his chest. “Foreign feeling is?”

“From my observation,” Mina replied as she stayed close to Ken’s shoulder. “Your expression becomes livelier, your smile becomes wider and your eyes twinkle more whenever she is around. Now,” she paused, “you do have that same reaction whenever you’re with Emi. However, I do sense your heartbeat increasing every time you’re with Y/N. I believe this is what they would call a romantic attraction.”

“So in short,” he sighed, “I like her but I’m saying the opposite thing? But-” he almost grabbed Mina to ask her more, “how would I know if she feels the same way? I- I don’t think I can handle rejection from her. Do you sense anything from her?”

There was a silence as Mina backed up, making way towards her room. “I believe that is not a question for me to answer, Ken. Why don’t you sort it out with her?”

Ken looked at the door of the room you’re in, gathering the courage to make his way. He stopped in front of the door, he shook his hands, breathing in and out as his mind reeled with all sorts of apologies and words to offer to you.

He raised his hand to knock on the door, and at the same time you swung open the door, causing him to knock a fist on your forehead.

So much for Ultraman reflexes.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Ken shouted, automatically cupping your face to see the damage he’d done. “Are you- are you okay?”

You blinked, everything happening at once too much for you. He knocked on your door, you happened to open it at the same time and now he’s-

“I’m… fine. Can you…” you tapped your palm on his hand. “...let go?”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” he let go as he laughed nervously. “Reflexes fail you at times like these, right?” His face fell as he saw you avoiding his gaze. “Hey. Can we talk?”

You looked up, finally looking at him. “Yeah?”

He exhaled. “Like, properly.”

“Have we not been communicating properly?”

Mina suddenly appeared beside both of you. “I apologise for having to interrupt but yes, I do observe some miscommunication going on. So if both of you may sort it out.”

Mina’s hands pushed both of you into the room and shut the door.

There were protests from both but they quickly died down before silence stretched. Both of you exchanged glances but not words, and neither had any idea what the other was thinking of.

All the apologies and words Ken was thinking of offering to you went up in a cloud of smoke. Instead, he asked the one thing he wished he could take back. “So when are you planning to leave?” Dang it, Ken.

Your face contorted, obviously offended. “As soon as I can. Don’t worry,” you walked over to the bed, shoved your clothes into your duffel bag and zipped it up. “I wanted to tell you that I finished packing.”

”You’re leaving tonight?” This time around, he didn’t hide his disappointment. Why, why is it so hard for him to ask you to stay? To tell you what he really feels?

Sure, he couldn’t deny that his attitude came from growing up mostly without his father around. He had grown up with this wall built around him as a defensive mechanism. He found it hard to communicate with others, to explain what he really was feeling.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. He figured it was best to let the feeling die down. You’d be better off with someone else anyway.

”Just tell me when you want to leave,” he finally uttered. “I’ll open the door for you.”

You gritted your teeth and only nodded.

He turned around and shut the door. Mina and his father were outside, the latter having a worried look on his face.

”Kenji,” Professor Sato uttered.

”I want to be alone, dad,” he mentioned. “Mina,” he turned to the supercomputer, “just make sure she gets to where she wants to go safely.”

As Ken shut the door, Professor Sato turned to Mina, to which he uttered, “I trust this is not the time to ask about the progress.”

Mina answered. “Yes, Professor. I believe we may have hit a wall.”

***

You decided to leave early in the morning and with only a note, saying that you’d like to have some time off. Mina was kind enough to open the door for you, but when she asked whether you’d like to have Ken and Professor Sato see you off, you shook your head vigorously.

”Mina, tell them I’m going somewhere nice for a vacation.” You winked, but it was obvious that you were trying to hide something from breaking. “They better not look for me.”

Mina paused, as if she’s using her electronic brain to figure a way to stop you. “Kenji has a reason for acting that way.” A pause. “Though I am merely a robot with little to no experience in romantic relationships.”

You chuckled. “Thank you, Mina. Really, all of you were so kind to me. It’s just that,” you sighed, “I understand why he’d act that way. He has a whole career to look forward to. Adoring fans. He can’t be wasting-“ you gulped, the words bitter on your mouth, “-time on something so insignificant. I shall take my leave.”

”Y/N,” she uttered. “If I may ask one last question before you leave?”

You tilted your head. “Sure, Mina. What is it?”

“Were my calculations wrong about what you’re feeling?”

”And that is?”

”You hated him at first, but that hate has turned into something more… lovely."

You couldn’t help but smile. “It’s so obvious isn’t it?” You crinkled your nose. “I better take my leave before the three of them wake up.”

That was the last you saw all four of them - Professor Sato, Ken, Mina and Emi. That was what… a week ago?

Now you’re sitting, slumped in your bean bag as you groaned, bored out of your mind. Nice vacation, my ass. If that means reading the same books over and over again, surfing the web and watching the same TV shows while being cooped up in your house, you’re definitely having a nice vacation.

Even then, you found it hard to avoid that person. He was literally everywhere.

You switched off the TV, stretched, before something gigantic shook the whole city. Your eyes went wide as you realised that there was a possibility of another attack. Without much thought, you pushed up your glasses and took a glance through your apartment window.

There they are.

You saw both Ultraman and Emi traversing the landscape. You turned around to leave your apartment, but stopped as you heard sharp chirpings.

Emi was hovering near your window and you laughed, amazed at the sight in front of you. “Emi, you grew wings! You can fly now!”

The baby Kaiju smiled at you, seemingly proud that she could finally set off from the ground.

”Emi, come on.” You heard the one voice that could shatter your resolve then and there.

You tried to close the window, had enough, but the hero stopped you from shutting the window.

“Ow,” he complained, flapping his hand. Ken quickly stopped you from leaving as he said, “Look, I’ve been a jerk and-“ a loud boom resonated through the whole city, “-I want to start over.”

You sucked in your lower lip, mulling over his sentence. You lifted up your eyebrows as if to say, ‘Really, right now?’

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I like you, okay? But I didn’t know how to say it. Or maybe I was just afraid of rejection.”

You tried to keep a straight face but failed; you didn’t expect to hear a confession from Ultraman. You cleared your throat as you looked away. “Become a hero, save the day and then say all of that again,” your voice dropped to a whisper, as if anyone could hear you, “as Ken Sato.”

You’re not sure whether it was possible, but his eyes lit up brighter as he nodded. He started a light jog to launch himself before shouting, “Wait for me!” He disappeared in a twinkle in the night sky.

With your best guess, you assumed the fight must be going on between them and the KDF. Knowing that you’d be anxious waiting to see the results of the fight, you grabbed your jacket, set off into the night and tried searching a vantage point where you’d be able to at least get a view of what’s happening.

You found a spot and narrowed your eyes as you tried to get an idea of where the two of them stood. Emi… Ultraman… Is that Gigantron?

You became confused as you remembered clearly Professor Sato claiming that the most magnificent creature on Earth had died. What the hell is going on?

You gripped the railing of the bridge you were on, the fight getting further and further away from you. You watched the fight unfold… breath battered as you were silently cheering them on. You gasped as another figure launched himself into the fight.

”Professor,” you muttered to yourself. “Please, please be safe.”

The fight was a distant chaos, you could barely see what was going on. You gritted your teeth as you waited for the final call, but dropped to your knees as you realised what was going on.

”No, no, no. Ken…"

You saw the shield. Ken underneath the shield, the explosion that should have been loud, but was muffled inside the enclosure Ken had made before blinding light filled the atmosphere.

Tears filled up your vision as you saw the giant hero collapse into the sea.

***

You stared blankly at the unmoving body in front of you, while another person was strategically standing near the exit. You looked over your shoulder as you felt a light, reassuring tap.

Professor Sato wanted to offer some words of reassurance, but you merely shook your head. He let out a heavy breath, saying, “I’ll leave the two of you alone. I'll continue working on restoring Mina.”

”Thanks,” you sniffled. “Professor.”

Apparently on the day the fight happened, Mina was caught in the frenzy and was almost shut down, while the secret base was partially destroyed. Now the Professor was working on recovering Mina, while Ken…

You sighed, looking at the patient in front of you.

Nothing to worry about, actually. Despite the quick thinking of Ultraman in front of you throwing himself over the bomb, he actually managed to escape with just a broken arm. He’s not dead, Ken Sato was still here, recovering.

But what annoyed you was that it seemed every time you came to visit, he would pretend to be asleep. Not even stirring, obviously faking sleep to avoid talking to you.

So what, all that confession was for naught? Just an adrenaline rush from becoming the hero?

This time around though, it did seem like he was fast asleep. His chest was rising and falling steadily. His hair was messy, and you resisted the urge to tidy it up.

”You jerk,” you grumbled. “I was so worried for you, but… you’re really planning on leaving me hanging like this?”

”Y/N…”

You stopped grumbling to yourself as you heard the man in front of you mumbling your name. You leaned forward, curious to hear what he got to say.

”You look so…” he continued, eyes still shut.

You strained your ears to catch more.

”I like you…”

You pressed your lips together before punching his unhurt shoulder, almost too hard.

He gasped, sat up straighter, taking in big gulps of air as his irises move frantically to search for the source of the punch.

”Who-“ he blinked. “Y/N?”

”In the flesh,” you deadpanned.

”What are you-“

”I told you,” you interjected. “Tell it to my face as Ken Sato.”

He looked guilty for a moment, and you leaned back in your chair.

”You’re going to say it was a mistake, aren’t you?” You asked, clearly exasperated.

”No, it wasn’t a mistake!” He quickly said, searching for your eyes. “After the fight that day I felt like being a hero means that there was a possibility I would just-” he imitated an explosion, “disappear.”

You grabbed his collar. “If you know that even any single day you have a possibility of disappearing, that your life is short, then-” the grip around his collar became tighter, “-it means that you have to grab every opportunity as soon as you can. That includes confessing to someone you like.” You threw your hands up in frustration and stood up, pacing back and forth. “God! Why are relationships so complicated? And why am I so, so, so stupid?”

You buried your face in your hands.

“I don’t know,” you said, tears pooling in your eyes. “When you said you didn’t have any interest in anyone, and that you didn’t want to waste your time on something so insignificant. Hearing that, I just-” you sighed. “-thought that the answer was so obvious. You have your priorities straight.”

“Y/N-” he stopped you by touching your arm lightly, pulling you over to sit beside him. “That was-” He winced as he felt pain shooting up his arm. He tried again, “That was what I’d usually say in interviews before this, because baseball was the only thing that put a smile on my face. But now…” He took your hand, caressing it. “You came and it was just one, big confusion for me. You are the only person who has managed to,” he chuckled, “cause the Ken Sato to waver. It was a foreign feeling for me."

“Idiot…” you mumbled.

He pulled you closer with his good arm, and obviously inexperienced, you shut your eyes tight as you felt him softly breathing against your cheek. Of course, you thought he’d go for a kiss on your lips, but you heard him chuckle before he pressed a light one on your cheek. You opened your eyes and he was grinning.

He thought you looked adorable.

“What was that?” you asked flatly.

“A kiss?” he said, unsure of what exactly you were implying.

“Uh-uh.”

You grabbed his face, and he looked surprised as you leaned in to kiss him on the lips. Your glasses were in the way so you took them off, and you felt his arm snaking around your waist to hold you firmly in place.

In the heat of the moment and flurry of emotions, you found yourself pinned under him, his good arm caging you. He kissed you again, but this time around you felt your heart beating so loud you had to place your palms against his chest to slightly push him away.

“Ken,” you warned him. “We’re in the hospital.”

He blinked, feigning innocence. “Really? I had no idea.” He traced a finger on your cheek, wiping away the traces of your tears. He pinched your cheek as he said, “The doctor told me that I’m good to be discharged tomorrow.”

Suddenly conscious of how you’re pinned under him, you looked away. “That’s good. You can go back home in no time.”

He tapped a finger on your chin, causing you to look back at him. “My house is still under repair, remember? I’m essentially homeless.”

“You can live with your dad-“

“Take the hint, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead before collapsing beside you, both of you cramped on the small hospital bed.

You thought about how you had never, ever brought a guy home. And now Ken wanted to…?

“I’ll think about it,” you said.

He smiled, squeezing your shoulders as you buried your face in his chest. “Can I ask just one… question?”

“Sure, shoot.”

“What was the dealbreaker, really? The one that made you agree to stay at the secret base?”

“You really want to know?”

“Of course.”

This time, you didn’t even hesitate. “The chance to see the Ken Sato naked of course.”

“Damn it. I knew that was the reason.”

#ken sato #kenji sato #ultraman #ultraman rising #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #ken sato x you #x reader #kenji sato x you #ken sato x y/n #wr: mine

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hazelfoureyes · 10 months ago

Note

Do you think you could do a male version of the radioapple is the safe word? Or maybe just a gender neutral pronouned story? I adore it so much

of course! I am happy to adapt my stories whenever possible 🥺✨ sometimes I can’t but this one was an easy enough shift! didn’t tag the horny deer cult, this is the same story but with the hardware swapped out. Will tag in new pieces 🙏 warning; I almost exclusively watch femboy gay porn and it shows

The Safeword is RadioApple (Part 1)

(RadioApple x MaleReader)

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, smut, RadioApple in a sense, male reader, creampie, breath play, rough sex, Alastor is an eternal little shit, soft jazz, hard jazz, Luci calls himself Daddy, 🗣️ READER GETS SPITROASTED, threesome, asshole hulk smashed, half assed blowjob, help I got too horny on main

MINORS DNI BRUH

“Sir.”

Lucifer jumped, whipping around and shoving Alastor’s face away. “You are a living nightmare, fuck!” He hated being snuck up on, as most people do. Adjusting his hat, he looked around the hotel lobby to see if anyone else witnessed his personal jump scare. Charlie and Vaggie were seated nearby, but hadn’t paid them any attention.

“I aim to please! Now,” Alastor gestured to the stairs, “I, unfortunately, need to show you something upstairs.”

“Ha!” Lucifer forced out a laugh, “Ha. Haaa- Not a chance, scarecrow. Find someone else to search for your brain.” He smirked to himself. “Did you hear that Charlie? I made a joke.”

But Charlie was not laughing. She finally turned her focus to them. “Dad, you have to start trying to get along with Alastor.” She looked to Alastor who was nodding along as if he actually cared at all, “He’s trying to spend time with you. Come on, Dad. For me?”

With a pout, he dramatically crossed his arms, “Fine. I’ll play nice, for you. Not for him.” Lucifer glared daggers at Alastor. “Fuck him.”

“Daaad!” She groaned.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.”

Alastor let his microphone follow behind Lucifer’s back, an unseen and unfelt safety net so he couldn’t back out. When they approached Alastor’s door, Lucifer put up his hands as if to physically stop the situation from progressing, “There is no way in all of hell I am going in your bedroom.”

Alastor’s eyes rolled, frustrated already with the interaction. “Are you sure about that?” He pushed the door open, using his mic to make contact with the small of Lucifer’s back. He stopped resisting when he finally looked into the room.

He took a step in, willingly, and as he saw you sitting in the center of the bed in just your sleep robe, he let out a quiet, “What the fuck is this?”

Then a louder, “Heeey, kitten…”. The sound of the door locking made his head whip back to Alastor, teeth bared.

“Luci.”

Softened under the sound of his own name from your lips he brought his attention back to the bed.

It was no secret to anyone that you two were fond of each other. It was the little things you did that endeared the fallen angel to you, how you doted on him. Filling his glass at dinner when you noticed it getting close to empty, holding the door for him, keeping eye contact when he went off on some excited tangent.

Everyone was also aware you were Alastor’s person. And Alastor would give you anything you wanted in death; and today you happened to want Luci.

You’d seen the broadcasts of the King of Hell defending his daughter during the last extermination. The power he gave off, even from your screen, brought goosebumps down your arms. So when you found your way to the hotel, you were elated to see Lucifer himself readily available for interactions. Your luck continued, as your father’s love of jazz had been passed down to you and allowed the radio demon to notice your presence among the sea of new residents. Following the sounds of Nat ‘King’ Cole, he found you one evening in your room, and a mutual fondness for music bore a new friend. And then, more.

Soon enough you were a regular member of the Hazbin Hotel core crew, by way of Alastor.

That’d been some months ago now, and you finally had the courage to ask Alastor for a special favor.

No part of him understood your motivation, but the idea of making the king of hell pussy-whipped to his darling was understanding enough. And, of course, the pleasure of watching you enjoy yourself. While he was capable all his own, he was happy to allow someone else to fill in. Not to mention—- no, actually, definitely mention the fact it would give him a little more power in the tense dynamic between himself and Lucifer.

For Alastor, sharing you physically wasn’t an issue. Sex was something he did for your pleasure, though he did enjoy the control he held over you in those intimate moments.

Watching you mewl under someone else, knowing he gave the permission, that Lucifer would never have a chance in Hell if The Radio Demon didn't allow it, made his head dizzy with the loss of blood flow. Whatever pleasure Lucifer could give you was pleasure he has granted you both. The idea of someone pining for you but never having a chance unless he says so made him feel powerful.

“I have a request, of sorts.” You tried to keep your smile still, cheeks twitching with pure nerves. The room was lit by only two small lamps on either nightstand and the light coming from the half open bathroom.

Lucifer approached you, making a dramatic point of going past Alastor. The radio demon chuckled, the king of hell scowled. He placed one knee on the end of the bed, trying to forget this was the spot you shared most nights with Alastor. His smile encouraged you to continue.

“You can say no.” You added quickly.

“Why would I ever do that?” Lucifer continued to smile at you, too sweetly for what you were going to ask.

“Many reasons.” You added quicker.

“Come on, tell Luci.” He laughed softly at the idea of denying you anything.

You pressed the tips of your index fingers together nervously, “I want you to fuck me.”

He tried to blink but his eyelids only seemed to rise further and further up his face with every attempt.

“You what now?”

His eyes darted to Alastor, who was now crawling onto the bed and settling behind you.

“It was a fairly straightforward statement, sir.” Alastor’s tone was always teetering on mocking when he addressed Lucifer, “My dear would like you, for some god awful reason, to bed him.”

If this hadn’t been such a shock, Lucifer would have quipped, “Oh because you can’t, you overdressed maitre d’?”

But when he opened his mouth, there was nothing. He just stared at you. Alastor’s long legs and lanky arms came down beside you, behind you. You looked like the enticing light of an angler fish’s lure, sharp teeth shining just over your shoulder.

“I thought-,” he motioned between the two of you.

You nodded, “Alastor is happy when I’m happy. And right now, I’d be overjoyed to spend an evening taking care of you.”

Oh, why couldn’t you have said it so sweetly the first time? Take care of him? You always did. Every time he felt something lacking he’d find you close behind offering him just the thing.

Whether a smile, or supportive word, or just a sympathetic ear.

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawled toward Lucifer. His face was flush, his brows knitted together in some mix of worry and confusion.

“You don’t have to do that, kitten. I don’t need that.” He reached out a hand to touch your cheek but stopped himself; he’d never touched you before. He had gone out of his way to avoid it, because he couldn’t bear what it would do to him. He’d just be hurting himself, he had thought. His hand began to pull away but you reached out with both of yours and took hold of his wrist.

“I don’t have to do anything, ever, Luci,” Alastor’s grin widened as you said it. A hum of approval only he could hear. A silent, ‘That’s my boy.’

“This is about what I want.” You leaned up to rest your cheek in his open palm, “I’ll accept any answer from you.” Your eyes staring up at him promised safety, “So, what do you want?”

He buried his face in his free hand, opening his fingers to look over you once more. In the shade of the canopied bed, Alastor sat motionless. But Lucifer couldn’t see him, not because of the shadows but because his focus was so purely on you. He had absolute tunnel vision, which happened often when you two would speak. Lucifer made a low sound, coming from somewhere deep in his chest, hidden beneath all his shame and sense of inadequacy.

Your question was answered as he removed his hat, tossing it to the chaise lounge near the wall. You sat back on your legs and gave him space to remove his coat. Your heart seemed to double its pace, skin practically vibrating. A not-insignificant part of you expected a gentle but firm, “kindly fuck off.”

He seemed to be avoiding eye contact as he pulled his bow tie loose, only returning his knee to the bed when he’d kicked off his boots. Just the shifting of the weight of the bed made your thighs twitch, finally. Alastor leaned backed and watched, Lucifer’s gaze was full of uncertainty as he crawled to you.

Hilarious. Already worth the price of admission.

Both on your knees, you leaned up and placed a chaste kiss on Lucifer’s lips. Pulling back, you looked at him and he felt like we’re looking at the sun. Your face was so bright, and warm. What light were you reflecting back at him? Surely not his own. That was long dead. Long buried under bruised wings and lost promises.

You snaked your fingers into his hair and brought him in for a deeper kiss. When you bit gently on his bottom lip, he shakily opened his mouth. Your grin spread across both of your faces as you pushed your way past his lips.

Lucifer’s tongue was long, and tapered more than you’d expected. It moved, unsure, against yours. Your hands slunk out of his hair and down his chest, sliding until finding the buttons of his vest.

You felt him gasp into you, and when you began to open his shirt he pulled away, “It’s been… a very long time.”

A scream echoed in your skulll, your own scream, thankfully entirely in your mind. He was so cute. So soft. He looked so worried, you wanted to rip him to pieces with affection. Was that possible? You were going to try.

Your hands fumbled over his belt, the tremble in your fingers making the pants button feel like an aptitude test. Your mouth returned to him, kissing down his cheeks and into the space under his jaw. Finally you could slip your hand down into his pants, and you hissed without thinking.

He was painfully hard, throbbing head pressed into his skin. Your own cock twitched under your robe at the feeling.

Did you do this? Had you gotten the King like this with just a question and a kiss? Tip nearly purple with pressure, you rested your forehead on his collarbone and watched his stomach jump as you wrapped your fingers around it.

Alastor fought back a laugh, tongue nearly cut clean off with the attempt. This was better than he had expected. And he had just the idea to push it over the top.

When your head dipped to swipe your tongue over Lucifer’s cock, you both startled at the sudden sound of music. First you looked to the radio, then to Alastor.

One hand was loosening his bow tie, the other unbuckling his pants.

“Don’t stop on my accord,” he bit his bottom lip, watching your attention return to Lucifer’s lap.

Lucifer raised a finger in protest, “I wasn’t aware this was a group activity.”

“The more the merrier.” Alastor whipped his belt off and tossed it to the floor, other hand pulling his member free.

“Three’s a crowd.”

“Two heads are better than one.” When Alastor lifted your robe away and sunk himself into you, hole soft and ready for him already, you moaned into the blonde hair at the base of Lucifer’s cock.

Your breath over his shaft and now down his balls made his hips buck against you. Your hands gripped at Lucifer’s thighs, trying to get steady enough to return your mouth to his waiting heat. You could smell his arousal, your head dizzy with so many of your senses being assaulted by both men.

“You okay, kitten?” A concerned hand came to your cheek.

Your watery, lust clouded eyes met his, “It feels so good, Luci.” His dick jerked. When you finally managed to get him in your mouth his head fell back, legs under him twitching with the need to move along to the bobbing of your head. Lucifer was wider than Alastor, the corners of your mouth burning as you tried to take in as much of him as possible.

Alastor’s hand raked long nails down your back, a whine ran from your throat and down Lucifer’s shaft. He moaned in turn, trying to not connect the dots between himself and Alastor.

“I think you may need a little demonstration, from someone more–, “ Alastor leaned down, his face now inches from Lucifer’s. His hand wrapped around your neck, “experienced.” He pulled you up by your throat.

Lucifer watched, your knees no longer touching the bed as Alastor fucked up into you. One hand gripping your throat, one arm holding your body against his. Your face began to redden, and your thighs noticeably clenching as best they could, legs open and feet on either side of Alastor’s body. Your cock hard and bouncing with every thrust. Lucifer winced, you looked pained, he wanted—

“Aa--Alastor,” Your voice was like honey, thick and sweet around Alastor’s name. Lucifer’s face fell flat, how could he have that? What did he need to do to have you say his name in such a debauched way? Why did that gangly sack of bones get all of the fun?

“See? He can handle more than you’d expect.” Alastor grinned, planting a kiss on your neck. You could see Lucifer watching through your wet eyelashes, his cock twitching repeatedly as his hand finally came down to touch himself.

With the hand not holding onto Alastor’s wrist at your throat, you reached out for Lucifer. “Luci.”

Alastor let you fall forward. Keeping your hips in the air and knees dangling just above the comforter, he continued his rough pace into your tight heat. Pulling your body on and off of his length with harsh drags he watched you lick from the base to the top of Lucifer’s member. Each thrust from him knocking your chin against it.

When you popped the head back into your mouth and moaned around it from Alastor’s continued fucking, Lucifer gripped your hair with both hands. Alastor’s own erection jumped in you, the king of hell himself buckling from his dearest’s mouth. He could break him entirely by just pulling you off of Lucifer’s cock and refusing to return you. He was positive Lucifer would cry into his ruined orgasm if he did such a thing.

Tempting.

But, he promised to play along, for you. And he would, at his own terms.

He pushed aside the thought entirely, instead returning to the task in front of him. Your tongue was pinned down when Lucifer was in your mouth, cock too fat to allow any room for movement. You abandoned trying to suck him off, and changed tactics to lick and kiss the sensitive flesh in your hands.

Lucifer’s mind was—- he wasn't sure where exactly. His consciousness splintered around you. The feeling of you; your tongue was swirling around him, the first contact he’s had other than himself in literal years. The sound of you; your soft moans and huffs were both audible and physical, the hot breath ghosting over him. The sight of you; head in his lap as he leaned back, your ass in the air and making a satisfying slapping noise every time–

Alastor. His eyes met Lucifer’s and a wicked grin took hold of his features. Lucifer could practically hear Alastor whisper across your body, ‘Watch this.’ Maybe Alastor had thought it, but he kept it to himself.

Your hands began pumping Lucifer’s length while your body was slightly dragged away as Alastor backed up and let your knees find some solid ground again.

Lucifer sat on his legs still, eyes flitting from between your face to the place you and Alastor connected. He could see Alastor disappearing inside you, and every intrusion had you gasping and mewling into the blankets. Your hand was still gently stroking him with outstretched arms, eyes clenched close.

Alastor smirked up at Lucifer, coming down over your back to reach around your body and find your dick, now pulsing under his hand. Immediately, you reacted. Legs squeezing together, hands stilling around your king’s cock. With a bite and lick to your shoulder blade, the radio demon set a bruising pace against you. That warmth in your core was spreading down as you felt him press against your g-spot with every kiss of his hips.

You choked out his name, a chant Lucifer had never wanted to hear before now. How could you make Alastor’s name sound so delicious? He wrapped his fingers around yours on his dick and began moving with you. Your eyes rolled up to him, a weak smile forming before your orgasm made your face tighten. Alastor knew your body so well, bringing you to orgasm was like playing a well practiced song on the piano. Both required strong and fast fingers and a sense of rhythm. His hands working your shaft, fingers ghosting over your balls and head with every stroke up and down.

With a few more deeper, shorter moves Alastor stilled, too. Your knees slid down as your hips sank into the bed, your own release sticky and already cooling under you.

Lucifer let your hand go limp, swallowing hard. He wasn’t ignorant to the way Alastor smiled at him as he reclined into the headboard, tucking himself back into his pants.

“I have complete faith in you, for once.” Alastor teased Lucifer, hand motioning to your still limp body. His smile seemed to dare Lucifer, challenge him, to keep going even with Alastor’s release sitting pretty in you.

Luci took a deep breath, steadying himself mentally, before pushing the hair from your forehead, “Hey there, kitten. What do ya need?”

With an uncharacteristic hunger in your eyes, you forced your line of sight up to him, “You, Luci.” Visibly shuddering, you sat up and brought your legs towards him, your knees touching each other in an odd display of shyness. Your hand felt at your entrance, Alastor’s seed just beginning to find its way from your relaxed and stretched hole.

“Is it okay?” You asked, spreading the thick fluid between your fingers in front of Luci.

Something between a grimace and a pout came over him, it wasn’t his ideal situation but the idea of — just how much he’d slip and slide in and out of your with the added lubrication made him feel feral. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Alastor hoped to ruin you and sour his experience. He decided to not allow it.

With a kiss to his nose, you wrapped your arms around his neck and lied back. You weren’t sure you were breathing anymore when you felt his scorching head slot up with your entrance. He rubbed the leaking fluid over himself and you with swipes up and down your ass, teasing your entrance with every pass. The difference between his heat and the cooled cum made him shiver in turn.

As he began to press into you, your body instinctively scooted away. It took both of your hands hooked under his arms to stay still enough for him to make any real headway.

Luci stopped, your face clearly pained. Your head shook in response, “Please, you just have to keep going. I’ll adjust.” While both of his heads swelled with pride – Alastor’s cock clearly smaller – Luci didn’t notice the wild eyes of the radio demon.

Alastor brought a hand to his face, red eyes peering between his spread fingers, smile threatening to break at the seams as he watched Lucifer Morningstar fucking his cum into his darling dear.

What a pitiful sight. How humiliating.

What would Charlie think of her big bad daddy? What would the other sins say? If they could see their king now, slick and shiny?

Your nails cut into his skin, and you were worried you were tearing slightly. Instead of attempting to thrust his way in, he chose to just continually press. The way your body seemed to be splitting made you second guess your decisions. But when his head finally popped in, your bullied boy cunt got some reprieve. He stopped, taking deep breaths.

Tears were collecting on your waterline, Luci noticed and leaned on an elbow to wipe them away. His blonde hair was falling forward now, tickling at your forehead.

You nodded, answering a question he didn’t ask, and he continued to force your walls open to accommodate him. The only sound in the room was the soft instrumental jazz number playing from atop the dresser. Your voice was stuck in your throat, Luci was focusing too hard to form words. Alastor could speak, but the music was just too enjoyable to interrupt.

Finally, after what could have been two minutes or twenty, you felt Luci bottom out. You had to just lie there for a second, never having felt something so solid in your otherwise soft body. No slight to Alastor, who was perfectly skilled in his abilities. Luci was just—- more than you had expected.

As he pulled out, you thanked the heavens and hell and the rings within that Alastor had left you so wet and already softened. The first few thrusts were genuinely uncomfortable, the pleasure you felt almost entirely mental, drawn from the reality of who was pulling your insides back and forth. You were so tight around him that he too was almost pained; so much pressure but no way to move enough to get any release.

Slowly, the ring of your entrance relented and Luci could finally move at a normal pace. He would take himself out to his head before slipping back in. Every thrust made your body spread around him, a semi-truck through a field of sunflowers. Your body didn’t stand a chance, and you were grateful he chose gentleness for his entrance.

He leaned back on both hands, using the position to fucked up into you at an angle. He knew very well where to hit to begin gathering your pleasure.

Alastor dropped his head, yours between his legs. His hair made a short curtain, hiding the look he was giving you from Luci. He adores the faces you make when you are happy. Excited. Pleasured. You tried to offer him a smile, but you couldn’t manage it for long. Your eyes would roll back, lips tighten as you focused on the feeling Luci was providing. Focused on the sensations, of being so full, so sticky wet, so wanted. But Alastor was still watching, the sight of Luci blocked from his view as he enjoyed every little twitch of your mouth, every whimper.

It wasn’t jealousy, it was something more personal that stung Luci. While he couldn’t actually discern the looks you two gave each other, Luci felt very much the odd man out. But, he considered his position. Literally. He was leaning as far from your body as he could. He remembered the way you said Alastor’s name. Alastor had showed him exactly what to do, albeit in his usual obnoxious, showy fashion.

Sitting up, Luci adjusted your legs and slotted himself between them. Alastor leaned back, relinquishing your focus. Both of you looked at Luci though as one of his hands came to enclose your throat.

Alastor was almost impressed. Almost. You brought both hands to wrap around his wrist, glancing to Alastor behind you.

The words came out of Alastor as half warning, half instruction, “If he needs you to stop, he’ll tap two fingers twice on you, wherever he can reach.” Lucifer nodded, eyes not meeting Alastor’s. He kept them on your face, watching for any sign of distress as he tightened his grip. The way your muscles clenched around him earned you a hiss.

He began to move again, the new position causing his stomach to rut against your returning erection as he buried himself in you. More clenching; He tightened his grip more.

“Are you sure he isn’t hurting?” Luci asked, your eyes closed and nails digging into his wrists.

“Nonsense. Can’t you feel him? Or does he just grip me like that?” The cocky expression made Luci unconsciously clench his fist on your neck. A gentle tap tap snapped him back to you. He loosened up again, his eyes large and apologetic.

You unconsciously tightened your own grip on his dick, grinding up into him for more friction. Your body had finally relaxed, pleasure freely flowing from where you and Luci tangled together. You closed your eyes, the pressure constant on the veins to your head. Blood flow restricted just enough to lower your oxygen levels and raise the nitrogen oxide in your body. It resulted in a dizzying feeling, maybe there was a primal panic that caused your body to feel heightened pleasure. You didn’t feel scared, or in danger. You felt —— ah there it was. You felt weak. You felt docile. You felt like you existed purely to give pleasure and the idea turned you on. In every day life you’d never allow someone to use you, to push you around. You were anything but subservient. That’s why it was so enthralling now. It was so strange a sensation. And to give yourself so fully to the king of hell, the originator of all sin? You groaned, head rolling back.

Luci watched your head loll, drank in your groans and gasps and felt himself get dizzy too. More. Say his name like you did Alastor’s. Praise how well he fucked you. Reward him. Love him.

He pulled out suddenly, his head leaving you for the first time since it managed to fit in initially. Luci put both hands on your hips and directed you to roll onto your stomach. He pulled your ass up, knees bent. You crawled up enough to rest your forehead on the crook of Alastor’s leg, one lazily outstretched and the other bent under him slightly. Luci wasted no time pushing back in. He leaned over you and pressed his hand into your back, forcing your chest to be slightly crushed into the bed. He pulled out and slammed back into you, tearing a yelp from you as he hit deeper than he had before, stomach lurching into your chest with the impact.

He stopped, unsure, until he felt your hand reach under yourself and rest at the junction of his knee and calf. His other hand came to your right hip, and he used it to keep you from sliding up the bed. Letting his eyes close again, he focused on the feeling of you around him. His crotch and thighs were covered in oil and cum, his balls tight against him. Every drag out of you made his body jerk back into you with need. It felt so good, too good. He needed more. He pressed hard into you, oversized tip of his cock opening parts of you never before reached. He made shorter thrusts now, ensuring he bottomed out every time. It was too deep, too much of a stretch. Your moans slowly devolved into screams, the pleasure mixed with a soft burning.

You could feel him spreading open your body, soft walls helpless to resist his raging member. The feeling of your silky boy cunt sliding along his cock, your tight hole gripping him, was driving him mad.

You were screaming. Actual, pleasured screams, threatening to alert the entire hotel to your activities. Wails that started shrill and dipped into a gutteral cry filled the room with every thrust of Lucifer’s frenzied hips.

A tiny part of your brain felt embarrassed, a dying animal shrieking into Alastor’s thigh.

An ever shrinking part of Lucifer existed too, the piece of him too preoccupied with your two fingers on his leg to enjoy you. It got smaller and smaller, no longer a blockade to his pleasure, but a safety net allowing him to walk the tightrope of sadism.

The radio’s volume dial rolled, smooth jazz now blaring and drowning out your painfully pleasured cries. Alastor was fine with allowing someone to take care of your needs at his permission but strangers had no business enjoying your sounds.

As Luci became lost in the sensation of your body trying to suck him in whole, his hand on your back began to press down. Your breaths got shorter, it got harder to expand your lungs fully.

Face turned and drooling onto the fabric of Alastor’s pants, you started gasping out his name, “Luci! Nngh Luciiii, Lucifer.”

Your lips dropped his name and it fell like lead into his thoughts. He fought the urge to close his eyes again as he felt his orgasm building. He watched your flushed skin jump beneath every punishing thrust, his name a spell you could now barely whisper, not enough breathe to scream. Your upper body was entirely buried into the mattress. It felt like your back might snap with Luci’s loss of control. You kept your hand on his leg, ever ready to tap out.

The yellow of his eyes turned red, just like the skin of your ass where his hip bones chaffed. “You take me so well, kitten.” He ground out, “Daddy’s gonna cum.”

Alastor’s eyes glowed a blood red from the end of the bed, a wickedly devious grin across his face at the opportunity before him, he looked up at Luci and said with a commanding tone, “Cum.”

Luci was already over that peak when his eyes flew up to catch Alastor’s, it was too late to stop his orgasm. He was helpless to disobey, despite his now desperate desire to never cum again. With a moan, and a hiss, he pressed your body fully into the mattress. Your body now flush, he waited until his cock stopped jerking his long overdue seed into your bruised ass.

Luci lied on top of you even after you were full to the brim with his cum. It was already forcing its way out around his softening cock when he managed to roll off of you and onto his back.

Staring at the canopy of the bed, he felt two emotions rise to the surface. First, concern. He turned to you, and you gave a weak thumbs up.

Second, rage.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Fuck you.” He looked to Alastor, who was grinning as he pet your head, whispering something to you.

“Little late for dirty talk, your highness.”

Lucifer growled, but Alastor’s palm pressed against his forehead and pushed him back down to the bed.

“I sleep on the left. I’d prefer you on the right.” he gently moved your head from his lap, “Beside me, my dear. A darling barrier.” Alastor didn’t look at Lucifer, just slid off the bed and walked into the en-suite bathroom. “No outside clothes under the comforter.” Alastor called from the bathroom before the sound of rushing water poured in.

You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath. Body sprawled out on the massive bed like a starfish.

Lucifer turned onto his side, hand caressing your arm. “Are you okay, kitten? I didn’t mean to lose myself like that.” He felt shame, like he had done something terrible. “And— I didn’t help you finish. That’s pretty shitty.”

But it fell away when you smiled back at him, “I feel great. Sore, but great all the same.” You let your fingers clumsily lace with his. “I really like you, Luci. And I don’t need to cum to enjoy myself. You can always try again, ya know?”

Lucifer felt his face grow warm, but couldn’t press you to clarify what exactly that meant before Alastor scooped you up and carried you to the bath.

There was a moment where he was alone, noticing the radio was back to a tolerable volume, the water splashing softly out of view. He felt out of place, like he had accidentally walked into a stranger’s home. He wasn’t sure what to do next, where to go from there when Alastor’s head popped back into the room, annoyed, “Are you coming or not? Those are clean sheets.”

༻Masterlist༺

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no-144444 · 2 months ago

Text

opposite's attract, right?- g.russell

Day 19 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: you have a pretty bad track record when it comes to being forgetful...

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You were one to forget things, everyone knew that. You’d forget your phone in almost every room, you’d forget where you put your shoes everyday, well, you’d forget your own head if it wasn’t glued on. People sometimes teased you about it, telling you that it was abnormal to be so forgetful, you’d ever had boyfriends break up with you over it, saying you were too much. George didn’t seem to mind. Obviously, yes there were certain occasions where it would be great if you two didn’t have to run around the house to try and find an earring, or your wallet, or whatever, but he wouldn’t trade the bright smile you give him every time he finds something for you, for the world.

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One: forgetting keys

“Baby!” you called out to him.

“Yes, my love?” he answered, coming down the stairs.

“Do you know where my keys are? I just can’t fucking find them and-”

“Do you remember what you were doing when you last had them?” he asked, having a method of making you remember.

You shook your head. “I could’ve sworn I put them in the bowl after coming in from work last night…”

“Where was the last place you remember having them?”

“My car,” you shrugged. “But I could’ve sworn I brought them in.”

He sighed and slipped on his shoes, going out to your driveway and finding your keys on the passenger seat of your car. “Found ‘em,” he smiled.

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned. “I’m sorry.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, placing the keys in your hand. “It’s alright, just don’t forget them tonight, yeah?”

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Two: forgetting a skirt

You rushed around the hotel room, quickly trying to gather all of your belongings before you left for the paddock. You were wearing some outfit that Tommy Hilfiger had sent over for you to walk in wearing, and you actually liked it this time.

“Baby?” George smiled as he watched you jump around the room trying to find various items. “Missing something?”

“Yeah, do you have my watch-?”

“Baby, look at yourself,” he chuckled.

You turned to him. “Is this your weird way of telling me I look good? Thanks?”

He snaked a hand around your waist and held you close. “Baby, you look gorgeous, but I think you’re missing an item of clothing.”

Your mouth dropped open. You ran over to the mirror to find that you in fact had forgotten to put on your skirt over the black tights you had on. You’d even put on your jacket and everything, getting completely ready to leave the room.

George laughed heartily behind you, snapping a picture to post on his story later.

“It’s not that funny,” you mumbled, pulling it on, your ego less than intact.

He placed a hand on your cheek. “It’s hilarious, sorry baby.”

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Three: forgetting an entire suitcase in the airport

“Babe, where’s my bag?” you questioned, coming back from the bathroom. To be fair, you were both pretty seasoned travellers, considering he was an F1 driver and you worked as a mechanic. He looked around his bags and his heart dropped. “Did someone take it?”

He groaned. “Where was the last place you had it?” You bit your lip. “I think back at security…”

He chuckled again, getting up and stretching. “I’ll go find it.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, slightly embarrassed by your own forgetfulness. “Thanks baby."

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Five: forgetting where you put pregnancy tests

You sat excitedly, waiting for George to come home. It had been a shitty weekend for you, spending most of it with your head in a toilet. After a week of non-stop nausea and vomiting, your friends finally convinced you to take a pregnancy test… and it was positive. Honestly, you were elated. George and you had been married a year, and you weren’t actively trying, but you didn’t exactly try not to. You knew he’d be happy, since he’d always wanted kids, and you knew how well he treated them, considering his ‘uncle duties’.

The door opened and a heavy sigh came from his lips. “Baby, I’m home!” he called out to the house. It had been a pretty good weekend for him, p4 in the race wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t where he wanted to be. He wanted to be at home with you, testing out his sneaking suspicion. Since you’d gotten sick he’d thought about the very real possibility of you being pregnant, which honestly, made him ecstatic. He wanted to be a dad, of course, but more importantly, he wanted to be a dad and have you as the children's mother.

“I’m in here!” you called back, searching around for the tests. You could’ve sworn you put them somewhere here…

He rushed in, pregnancy tests in hand. “Is this real?” He asked, beaming.

“Fuck! I left them out in the hall?” you pouted.

“Baby, we’re pregnant?” he asked, excitement rising.

You nodded, a bright smile spreading across your face. “Yeah baby, we are.”

He cheered, jumping up and down with you in his arms. He was going to be a dad. You were going to be a mother. What more could someone ask for?

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi

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sitepathos · 2 months ago

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so I just finished the post about ic reader was in a coma(?) kind of thing, and it got me wondering what or how he would react when he wakes up and suddenly everyone is all affectionate with him and he trys to decline the actions but he can't do much cause it's been awhile since he'd last physically moved, or something like that.

Thoughs?

Oh and I love this series, please never die, live a long healthy life😄

Had another question just like this, so hopefully this satisfies both. Note: this will allude to character feelings in future chapters. Read at your own peril.

Alfred enters your new room just like any other morning, blended breakfast in hand, when he sees you moving.

“Alfred,” you say when you notice him.

That’s enough for him to drop the trey and rush towards you, bringing you into a tight hug, afraid you’ll go back into that state if he lets go.

You’re stunned as the normally composed butler lets out soft weeping and begs for forgiveness.

He fills in the gaps in your knowledge, that the family had found you just after being shot and had you brought to the manor to receive treatment and that you’ve been in a vegetative state for over a month now, all of them taking care of you.

You’re shocked, of course. Both at surviving a gunshot to the head and the Waynes actually gave a damn about you.

When he says they felt so guilty at how they’d treated you, it made sense. They weren’t doing this out of the goodness of their hearts, but because they’d feel guilty if they didn’t.

You go to say as much when the door opens and Bruce walks in, who stops mid step upon seeing you now awake.

“Y/N,” he says in disbelief. “My baby boy.”

The sight of him pisses you off. You’ve lived in this place for years and it takes you almost dying for him to give you a second glance.

You go to stand up, eager to go back to your room and finally leave Gotham, not caring that you’d have to find a way to graduate, when Bruce and Alfred stop you.

“Where’re you going, baby? You need your rest!”

“My room,” you spit at him. “I’m getting my stuff and finally going home.”

“But this is your room,” he responds, making you now realize that all your belongings have been moved into this extra large bedroom. “And you are home.”

“No, this place isn’t home. It’s never been home and it will never be home. Goodsprings is my home and now that eighteen, I can go back to my house.”

First, Bruce is shocked to hear that you’re eighteen. For god’s sake, you’re so small! You’re even smaller than Tim!

Second, you plan to move out of the manor? He knows that they haven’t been the best family, but to move on the other side of the country?

He tries to convince you to stay, to recover from this awful ordeal, to let them make up for the years of mistreatment…

But you made it clear that you want nothing to do with them and that you believe they only did this because they feel guilty and they’ll go back to ignoring you.

It’s only then that he realizes the depths for his mistake. That you hate them so much that you’ve planned to get away from them for years.

He didn’t think he could feel lower than he has been ever since the accident, but you proved him wrong. He actually wants to curl up and die.

You make it clear that you’re leaving right now and there’s nothing they can do to stop you. You’re eighteen, after all.

That’s when something in him snaps. He wants you to stay here and he’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

He pulls Alfred out of the door and locks it, making you yell from the other side, saying that he can’t keep you in here.

He knows what he’s doing is wrong and that he has no right to make you stay, but he doesn’t care. You’re his firstborn and he’ll keep his family together, no matter what it takes.

He and Alfred call a family meeting in the room and fill them in on recent events.

At first, they were elated to hear that you’d finally awakened and they could talk to you. That quickly faded when they said you hated them and that you’d planned to leave them.

They agree that you can’t leave and they’ll all work together to get you to change your mind about them and want to be a part for the family.

Bruce went back up, thinking that the could appeal to you using whatever father-son relations that may be left.

That plan quickly died when you said he wasn’t your father, but a sperm donor and how your Momma made a huge mistake allowing him to sleep with her.

He stands there, taking insult after insult, watching as your face turns blood red from anger and eyes start treating tears of rage.

He wants to make it up to you, but knows that right now, he’s only going to make things worse, so he sends Dick up.

“Hey, baby bir—“ you cut off his greeting by throwing a heavy book at him that misses his head by half an inch.

“Fuck off, asshole,” you growl, practically foaming at the mouth.

He tries to calm you down, saying that he knows that he hasn’t been the best big brother, but—

Again, you cut him off, saying that he was a big brother to everyone else because he cared about them and that he made it clear you weren’t a little brother to him and that he’s not your brother. He’s nothing to you.

Ok, that stung a bit, but he’s determined to make amends!

“Everyone makes mistakes, little bird, and we’re ready to fix ours.”

You reward him with a backhand to the face and he takes that as his sign to leave.

Jason comes in, trying to think of something to say that won’t earn him a pimp slap like Dickhead.

“Look, kid, I get that you hate us. Really, I do.”

“Unless the next words out of your mouth are you saying I can go, get the fuck out.”

He knows where you’re coming from; for years, he despised Bruce and the others, but he learned to let go of his anger towards them and be a part of the family. And he wants that for you. It’s not safe out there and you could get hurt again.

But, when you say for him to go to hell, memories of the night Joker killed him resurface and his eyes flash that damn Lazarus green.

This causes you to tackle him, sending you both to the floor, and you wrap your hands around his neck in an attempt to strangle him.

He could get out this easily. The hold isn’t strong and you’re still weak from not moving for a month and even if you had recovered, you’re not trained in combat like them.

But he lies there, because he can see the rage in your eyes and as he listens to the hate in your voice as you hurl insults and threats at him, does he finally understand just how much he failed you.

He’s accused Bruce of replacing him with Tim and everyone of forgetting about him because he was too angry, too careless, and too brutal for Batman’s methods.

But because he was so pissed at them, he did the same thing to you. If he had just pulled his head out of his ass, he would’ve seen how they were treating you and taken you with him.

But he didn’t. And when you two met for the first time, he gave you a black eye because he thought you were just some brat Bruce was trying to replace him with, instead of a victim.

He’s only freed from your “hold” when Steph and Cass rush in, the two girls separating you two and pulling him out of there, closing the door when you start throwing anything you can get your hands on.

Tim’s been watching everything unfold since Bruce went up there using a camera he place in there when you were first moved in there. It was him that told the girls to go in there and rescue Jason when it looked like he had accepted to meeting his end by your hand.

He knows he has nothing say will get a better response from you and he’s never been good at emotions. That’s Dick’s specialty.

But he knows how to observe, to find ways to improve hopeless situations into his favor.

And that’s what he’ll do. You’ll eventually say something he can use to make you calm down and try to get you to give them a chance to prove themselves to you.

And if that fails? Stockholm Syndrome will eventually kick in and that’ll be the perfect chance to strike.

Finally, Damian comes in after an hour after Jason’s rescue.

“Oh what fresh hell is this,” you wonder as he closes the door behind him.

“Hello, brother. How are you today”

As he expected, you go into a rage, spitting insults and swears at him.

Only when he pulls out you Mother’s pen do you stop, completely shocked at seeing him in possession of it.

He understands why you’re acting like there’s an active bomb in the room instead of him. The last time he held this pen…

He brushes the memory of the even aside. That won’t do him any good here.

“I’ve been holding onto it for you since the accident. The others wanted it placed in the vault, but I insisted I could protect it.”

You swipe it from him and he allows you, knowing that pen means more to you than anything. After all, he remembers how you responded when he took it.

Looking back on it, he should’ve respected you for standing up to him like that, not knowing what would happen to you.

“I know my past actions are reprehensible at best, but i hope you will allow me the opportunity to make amends with you, brother.”

When you two first met, he hated you because you were a threat to what he believed to be his birthright. And when he realized you were untrained in any form of combat or self defense, he deemed you an embarrassment to the Wayne lineage.

But after living with Father and his siblings, learning what it means to be a real family, he knows he has something the others never will: a brother bound to him by blood. Someone he’s connected to at the genetic level.

“We’re not brothers,” you say. “We may share DNA, but we’re not brothers. You made that clear when you gave me this scar.”

That scar will serve as a permanent reminder of his mistake. How he hurt someone he should’ve cherished. And he’ll spend the rest of his days trying to fix that mistake and make you see him as a brother, as someone you can trust, as someone you can love and be loved by.

You may have broken free of being held captive in your mind, but now you’re in another prison and your “loving family” are the wardens. And they have no intention of letting you go. One way or another, you’ll take you rightful place in the Wayne Family.

#asks #yandere batfamily #from gold to mold

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sshadowritestoriess · 2 years ago

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hello! could you write something with zen echo and ramattra (sorry if that's too many characters) with a human reader who kisses them even tho they don't really have a mouth, I'd like to know their reactions

Kissing robots is so good <3

Kissing Zenyatta

Kisses aren’t a display that surprises him, really!

It might have been pretty anticlimactic the first instance that you had press your lips to his faceplate, a gesture of which he gently leaned into and remained patiently still, until you pulled away

But he would still sometimes entertain you with a prized “oh!” as if he hadn’t expected it

He only apologized the first time for not being able to return the favor the same way, but he was delighted by receiving such a human affection! It pleases him immensely that you would demonstrate this kind of love as if he were human

The best he could do to reciprocate was to press his forehead against yours, lean carefully into your touch, or nudge his jaw against your cheek

He’d be ridiculously gentle doing these things, highly aware that he was of metal and that humans bruise quite easily.

When you would kiss him where he would have a mouth, he liked to respond with a verbal “mwah!” or other kiss sound

You both would also have a habit of blowing kisses to one another as well. He loves pretending to catch yours, and would feign placing it on his cheek before signing “I love you” with his hand

But he also liked to take your hands in his and press your knuckles to the nine lights of his forehead, feeling the warmth of his glow against your hands in his own means of returning the gesture

Sometimes he even asks for kisses, very politely. It’s hard to refuse (but why would you?)

Kissing Echo

Considering her face is just a hologram, you both occasionally forget that and share an amused moment when trying to kiss each other

Sometimes it’s definitely on purpose though! Feigning a kiss upon one another’s mouth with sweet smiles, and an especially elated giggle from Echo

Your one-sided kisses always make her gasp, an expressive look of joyous surprise on her face that leaves her mouth agape

She finds it so interesting, curious, and will lift to you her hands and turn her head from side to side asking “Can you do that here? And what about from here?”

So it’s not really a one-and-done— if you kiss her, you’re gonna end up doing quite a couple. She loves it very much

She doesn’t seem bothered that she can’t truly kiss you back, and if asked she’ll tell you “I think there’s something just as special about pretending!”

And it’s true. The make-believe gestures of affection are something very unique to her that may as well be real in its own way

Just because she couldn’t kiss you doesn’t mean she wasn’t. It may not be the same, but it felt no different than if she could. And it was fun, and worth her reactions

She could never bore of your kisses, nor tire of returning them.

Kissing Ramattra

Ramattra, on the other hand, would somehow end up shocked by your kisses every single time without fail. Subtly flinching as if you’d accidentally surprised him

He’d make a disgruntled noise after your display, but he’d never ask you to stop. He would, however, make sure now and again that you didn’t think he was going to be able to suddenly kiss you back one day

Sometimes he’d mutter something about “human gestures”, but it was hard to discern if it was bringing him offense or not. But again, he never told you he didn’t like it— and he was pretty open about telling you the things that brought him unease

It was more like he was just tolerating it for a while, but he’d eventually begin appreciating it

While he can’t kiss you, he does have a similar gesture that brings him a lot more satisfaction when you attempt to do the same

His specific model can summon a very brief vibration from behind the “mouth” of his faceplate, an old discreet means of communicating that uses the gentle buzz as something similar to Morse code. The pulses produce no sound, but emits a small encoded wave between omnics— like sending a text directly into someone’s mind

It wasn’t a language any human could decipher, but he’d press his ‘mouth’ to your neck or cheek and speak a quick note of affection there, anyway.

You seemed to understand it was loving. And when one day he’d tucked his face into your shoulder and his faceplate pulses ticklishly against your skin again, he was suddenly ecstatic when you leaned your throat against his head and hummed quickly, in the same rhythm he did, mocking his gesture

So, technically, you were telling him you loved him back by repeating his ‘message’, and you had no idea.

He wouldn’t admit a thing to you, but you could tell it made him pretty happy.

And while he preferred his version of “kisses” to yours, he would never turn down your ways of showing him that you loved him

#overwatch #overwatch2 #headcanons #fluff #kisses #ramattra overwatch #ramattra #reader insert #zenyatta #echo overwatch #echo #echo x reader #Ramattra x reader #Zenyatta x reader

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years ago

Note

"kabukimono... i'm really flattered, but could you please stop trailing after me like a lost puppy? it's exhausting."

He has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

The eccentric thinks to take a step back — granting you the space you so desperately long for — but he can’t. He’s frozen, the soles of his feet stuck to the ground. There’s a surge inside his chest. A dull ache that has him wanting to scratch at his perfect skin if it meant distracting him from the pain within.

Apologies stumble from him, quiet and rushed. You don’t depart from him right away, much to his immense relief. He knows it’d agitate you further if you walked off and he still acted as your shadow. He can’t help himself, it’s an instinct, the same you humans have and act on all the time. If you’re hungry, you eat. If you’re thirsty, you drink. For him, if he sees you, he must follow.

Would you believe him if he confessed this? That basking in your presence is as essential to him as breathing is for you?

How can he make you understand when he barely grasps it himself?

You sigh, heavy and tired. He can’t help but wince when you close what little distance remains between you both. He watches with wide, doe-like eyes as your thumb comes to brush against his lower lash line. There’s a glimmering sheen on your skin when you pull away.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you implore, and he tries. Tries to give you what you ask for, what you want. He always does. “I’m... I’m sorry. It’s just been a stressful past few days is all. You’re fine, just— I worry about you, y’know?”

“You worry... about me?” He repeats the foreign concept back to you. He would’ve had an easier time believing you if you confessed to being an Archon in disguise or if you told him the sky wasn’t real.

“Yeah. If you’re always hanging out with me, then you’re missing out on making a whole lot of other connections. There’s plenty more out there for you to see.”

The puppet thinks your argument is sound, yet he can’t abide by it. “But I only want to see you.”

He says it so sincerely too.

“T-This is what I mean! You need to be careful when saying stuff like that. You might give someone the wrong idea.”

You turn on your heel and start back down the path to your abode. He watches your retreating figure with a tilted head, ruminating. You humans make less sense the more time he spends among you. He meant every word of what he said, so it’s beyond him why you’d think he didn’t.

Just when he’s trying to remember the best angles to see in through your windows while remaining hidden are, you stop, glancing at him from over your shoulder.

“Are you coming? There’s gonna be a thunderstorm tonight, I can feel it in the air. I don’t want you to be without shelter.”

He tries not to break out into a run to catch up with you. Elation soars through his artificial veins — the ease in which you can ruin or rebuild him should be frightening. However, he isn’t scared in the slightest. Whichever of the two you choose... so long as it’s brought by your hands, he’ll happily accept any fate you mold for him.

#he is BABY ... although a creepy one at that #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere x reader #interactions #my stuff #answered #Anonymous

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sehodreams · 11 months ago

Text

sex money feelings die - second visit

first visit ↬ second visit ↬ third visit

WC: 1.5k

TW and Tags (permanent for the story): rich client!Anton x stripper!reader, smut, fluff (?), a touch of angst for the moment, inexperienced reader, fingering, kissing, lots of silly conversations.

Summary: Working at a night club was difficult in many aspects, your sleep schedule was messed up for life, your feet were more used to high heels than sneakers and you had to lie about where you went to work those nights. Still, even with all those cons, you didn't hate your job, you had more than enough to pay your bills, feed your brother and save money for his college. However, what happens when your boss makes you do the one thing you asked to never do.

Mondays became the new Fridays.

Anton had completely stopped booking the VIP room for him and his friends and disappeared until Monday came, the girls were sad at first, missing his expensive champagne and pretty face, but since his friends didn’t stop coming and they also brought their own drinks to share they quickly got over it.

Shotaro was elated to have now two big incomes in the week instead of just one, and every time he saw you around, he patted your back as if he was congratulating you for making the right choice.

You don’t know how right was to accept his money, the first time you told yourself you deserved it as compensation for all the stress he caused you, but after the fourth time you had started to feel bad receiving the wad of cash when all you two did was talk and sometimes drink, and you didn’t even drink with him, you just made sure his glass was full while you talked about recipes you had tried days before, how clients had treated you during the week, or maybe some gossip you heard around.

And he always kept the conversation flowing so smoothly that, before you noticed, you had started to talk about things you wanted too, from the simplest dish you had tried in your infancy to the coat you had seen when you were window shopping at the mall.

‘’I can buy it for you’’ he answered when you described the long black coat you saw that weekend.

You denied, ‘’It’s okay Anton, it’s not that I can’t, but there are more important things I could buy with that money.’’

‘’Like what?’’ he seemed sincerely curious about what else you had to do with money instead of buying yourself something truly wanted.

Saying you could buy your brother more practice books was impossible, you hadn’t talk about that kind of personal aspects of your life. Also, you asked yourself, would he be able to understand you? You saw the gold earrings he had on each of his ear globes, drops shiny enough to know they weren’t fake like the ones you bought yourself in the little fairs you visited when you had time, and you didn’t dare to even guess the price, because you were sure they costed enough to pay at least four months of your rent.

‘’Like food or, I don’t know, pay my bills, I don’t feel good wasting too much money on myself.’’

‘’Why would it be a waste to buy yourself something you want? Of course, those things are important, but gifting yourself things you want too.’’

He wouldn’t understand you at all. You couldn’t tell him how a two thousand coat was not something you could gift yourself, you had a mouth to feed, a student to maintain, and when you were young you never appreciated how much your mother did for you, but now that you were on her shoes, you understood why she collapsed after so many years taking care of you two without thinking about her own health. You couldn’t even afford fruit when you were young, you would be happy if you had a fried egg in your lunch, and now you decided that eating two fruits a day was a better decision than buying some piece of cloth that your brother wouldn’t find useful at all.

‘’I shouldn’t, I have to think about the future, I don’t know what could happen tomorrow.’’ You saw his glass half empty and tried to fill it again to avoid his eyes on you.

Minutes passed and the uncomfortable silence that you had forgotten about after so many times together came again, making you shrug in your spot, wishing you hadn’t talked about that. He seemed to deeply think about something while slowly nodding and sipping his glass full again, and before you were about to change the subject to something one of the girls had said about him, he interrupted you.

‘’What I give to you is not enough? Should I give you more?’’

‘’Anton in first place I don’t know why you give me so much money, you could have any girl in this place, you don’t have to put up with me.’’

His hand found yours and, caressing the back of it to calm you, he sighed.

After so many nights talking until Sungchan called for you, he had learned many things about you, how you enjoyed sweets a lot, how you always had a praise for the people you worked with and how you never recognized how special you were.

‘’Can I ask you a favor?’’ You, tired of hearing that phrase, like always, stayed silent until the other person said what wanted from you. ‘’Could you treat yourself a little better? I don’t think you realize what you do, but you talk as if you didn’t deserve nice things, and I’m not here to lecture you or anything, but it’s painful to hear how you say things like waste, or put up, and I thought that, after all the times we were together, you would notice that, for me, you would never be someone I have to put up with, I’m here because I want to, and because I think your company is as valuable as what I pay for, to not say more.’’

The tenderness with what he said it made you blush and, grateful for the room to be so dark and your foundation so good, you let him hold your hand.

He chuckled when your smokey eyes met his, seeing you so shy with just a grasp of his hand after knowing how bold you could be was a charm he didn’t expect from you, and when he saw how your ears betrayed you, all red and obvious even with the dim light of the place, he found himself as lost as when you took off your robe and showed him your pretty set of lingerie.

The occasion never repeated, you two strictly talked and got to know each other, so he never received another of your shows again. Kind of sad, but he didn’t mind, seeing your soft face and hearing your voice was enough to keep him satisfied the whole night.

However, he thought about you a lot more the next days, sometimes he thought about calling your boss and asking for more of your time on random days, but he didn’t want to scare you away when you were getting so close. For him, you were just like one of those stray cats he had seen around his elite school when he was younger. His friends and he would sneak some food a couple of times, and they would instantly run away from them and hide if they weren’t careful enough, and even if with every encounter they would warm up and occasionally accept to be petted, just the action of one of the immature boys, like putting too much pressure with their hands or being too loud, would be enough to make them run away, and would have to start all over again.

Your eyes met his and, holding all his desire to give you a kiss over your nude lips, he focused his attention on going back to the conversation.

‘’So, what do you say, will you do me that favor?’’

You hummed with a smile, you were tired of favors, but this was the first time you didn’t mind that someone asked you for one. ‘’I’ll think about it.’’

Testing the waters, he pulled the hand he was holding and gave it a quick but delicate peck. ‘’Knowing that you will think about me later it’s enough for me.’’

Not believing his cheesy line you scoffed, ‘’I’ll think about what you said, not about you.’’

‘’Well, just so you know, I’m always thinking about you.’’

Your laugh brought him joy again, whipped with the sound of it, he always left feeling victorious if he made you laugh during the night.

He kissed your wrist this time, and you didn’t pull your hand away, so he felt he had advanced a big step with you after so many nights.

‘’Why don’t you come Fridays anymore? The girls miss you’’ you changed subjects, like you always did when Anton, or made you uncomfortable, or made you too comfortable.

‘’And you? Do you miss me?’’ he replied kissing your index finger.

‘’Sometimes, your champagne is better than your friend’s’’ you had no idea how it tasted, but it always smelled good, so you decided it wasn’t exactly a lie.

He was exhilarating, hearing how you wanted to see him more was something he had waited for so long. ‘’I’ll make sure to bring two bottles then.’’

You let him hold your hand until you were called, and that night Shotaro gave you a check. ‘’Too many bills’’ he said.

Anton had given you a raise.

first visit ↬ second visit ↬ third visit

#riize x reader #riize smut #anton x reader #anton smut #riize hard thoughts #riize hard hours #riize imagines #riize fluff

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burreauxwrites · 11 days ago

Text

“LOATHING” - (joe burrow x oc)

CHAPTER TWO - “pinkie promise”

word count: 2k

warnings: angst, cussing, a bit of fluff if you look hard enough.

winnie practically skips towards the school cafe; she’s absolutely elated. tryouts were a success and she ended making the team as the libero. she’s excited beyond belief, and she can’t wait to tell her friends. but as she heads that way, something, or someone stops her.

“ugh…oh my god…it’s you…” emma sneers.

of course. the chippy blonde who always had to get her way somehow.

at first, winnie looks around in confusion. surely they mean someone else. she points at herself as if to ask “me?”

“yes, you,” emma scoffs, folding her arms, “that little stunt you pulled the other day with joe was not cool.”

raising an eyebrow, winnie shrugs. “what stunt? we hate each other’s guts right now,” she explains, laying out their dynamic at the moment, “me cussing him out isn’t a stunt.”

she can’t believe she’s explaining this to some…girl. anyone can see the fact that winnie wants to strangle joe, and vice versa. they are not happy with each other, which is an obvious thing.

“well, i think you should speak to my man nicely…” emma threatens, though is it really a threat? to winnie, it isn’t; in fact, she’s willing to engage in some banter.

before winnie can get a word in, someone coughs behind her. she turns, and sure enough, it’s joe. and to her surprise, he’s not glaring at her or saying something snarky. he seems rather annoyed with…emma?

“what’s going on?” joe asks, rubbing his forehead slightly as he looks between winnie and emma.

winnie watches as emma points and laments dramatically, whining about how she was being harassed and this, that, and the third. if she hadn’t been so annoyed, winnie would’ve found it comical almost. after all, she barely even got to get a word in.

“look,” joe says, looking at emma, “just…leave it alone. it’s no use stressing yourself over this.”

“but she was mean to me! and you!”

“i really don’t care. leave her alone.” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

truthfully, joe has no idea why he’s coming to winnie’s defense. he’s not really fond of her right now. he doesn’t expect to be fond of her. but it’s something about the way she was being treated, he supposes. he could recall those days in middle school all too well when people made fun of winnie. it’s almost…like some sort of weird deja vu thing. and well, he can’t help but act on it.

joe and winnie watch as emma storms away, pouting as she slings her bag over her shoulder.

confused, but slightly grateful (she guesses), winnie looks at joe. “what the hell was that about?” she questions, having so many things that she has to ask.

“what do you mean ‘what the hell was that about’?” joe grumbles, folding his arms. “i defended you. she was bothering you. wasn’t she?”

she can’t just…lie. she was being a pain. “i mean, yes,” winnie exhales, “but that doesn’t mean i couldn’t handle it by myself.”

joe chuckles, partially in amusement and partially to hide his shock. he’s never taken winnie as the defensive, “i’ll kick your ass” type. at least…not the winnie he used to know. back then, she was docile, meek, she couldn’t even hurt a fly, even if she wanted to.

“so what i’m hearing is, you’re not thankful for my help.” joe looks at winnie for a response.

ugh. how was she supposed to answer that? say no? yes? she was thankful that he got emma to go away. very thankful for that. but she’s still aggravated with him. beyond belief. she’s still hurt. he’s been nothing but mean to her.

“i could’ve lived without it.” winnie murmurs.

“bullshit,” joe derides, shaking his head, “you would’ve started crying the moment her voice even slightly picked up. or at least…the old winnie i know would’ve.”

winnie notices his voice softens a little at that. the old winnie. she doesn’t want to admit it, but it does warm her heart knowing that there’s some part of her that he remembers.

ja’marr brought up a good point of trying to reconcile with joe. but winnie has no idea what to say or do. the past few interactions they’ve shared has left them more and more annoyed. though at the same time, maybe it’s a risk that’ll be worth taking. if the two of them become friends again, then that’s fine. if not, then that’s also fine.

“i um…gotta go. my friends are waiting for me,” winnie mumbles, looking at joe, “but…i want to talk with you. after school.”

intrigued by this offer, joe hums. “about what…? i have important stuff to do later, and i can’t waste time.”

“oh my god, just meet me at the entrance to the library, okay?” winnie sighs in exasperation, throwing her hands up. she walks away, muttering under her breath “he’s so fucking difficult.”

and now joe is stuck with two decisions. he can just not speak with her and live on with his life. he doesn’t really have any strong desire to speak with her. but by judging her tone, she really needs to tell him something; either that, or some other thing. and he’s curious.

the thought of reconciliation doesn’t exactly cross his mind, but he doesn’t think he’s opposed to it. in fact, it’d make him a bit…joyous.

he shakes away the thought, going on about his way. he doesn’t have time for such frivolous affairs anyways.

——————————

with a sigh, winnie stands in front of the entrance of the library. she doesn’t know what on earth she was thinking. there’s no way joe will actually want to speak with her. at least she doesn’t think he will. the two are currently absolutely pissed off with one another. very…very pissed off.

suddenly, she hears footsteps coming her way. and it’s actually joe. he doesn’t look thrilled, but it’s something. at least he showed up. she honestly expected him not to.

her gaze softens slightly as she looks at him. “you came…”

“not by choice. ja’marr practically forced me to,” joe clarifies, his tone cold as he folds his arms, “so you can thank him later for that.”

oh…right. winnie nods, her eyes hardening once again as she looks away. of course he didn’t want to do this. he really wanted to be anywhere else but here.

the both of them walk into the library; it was essentially empty. there were a few other students checking out books or looking for sources for various reports. they situate themselves on a cozy couch in the corner.

silence fills the air for a moment as the two stand there. this is awkward. god, why must this be happening? it’s

“i saw you made the volleyball team.” joe chimes in, not looking at winnie.

she nods. “yeah,” her voice is soft and almost a bit tender, “i did. i would ask if you’re proud of me, but…obviously i don’t think you care.”

care? well, he can’t say he does per se, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised. he’s known her for a long time, but she’s always hated sports. she was a nerd, and still is, but now she’s on the volleyball team? it’s a bit impressive, he guesses, but that’s not exactly the point.

“i’m more surprised than anything,” joe chuckles, leaning back against the couch, “i always thought that being athletic was never your thing. you always preferred reading and other stuff like that.”

“fuck you…” winnie groaned.

“you wish.”

“absolutely not.”

joe laughs, a bit of a hearty laugh. the disgust on winnie’s face was comical. he’s always gotten a kick out of annoying her. the way her nose scrunched and her lips formed a small pout. it was…oddly adorable. ugh, he’s getting all mushy and stuff. gross.

meanwhile, winnie is deep in thought. does she address the hatred that’s currently between them? or does she take things slow and try to form a somewhat amicable conversation first? does she tell him about her crush she once had (that is, if ja’marr hadn’t already told him)?

after some thought, she opts for the first option. but what about their dynamic does she even start with? she’s primarily hurt about the overall abandonment of their friendship.

“joe…,” winnie starts, looking over at him. she doesn’t know what to even say, other than one thing.

“why?”

confused, joe looks at winnie. “why what?”

“just…why?” she murmurs, her eyes filled with sadness.

“we made a promise,” she continues, her eyes burning with tears, seeing his face.

“we promised to still be friends. to never ever forget each other and our bond. and now look at where we’re at,” she rambles, blinking a little, “you almost act like i don’t exist! and then when you do, you treat me like shit! you treat me like i’m nothing to you! and you know what makes this all worse?” she whispers, her voice on the verge of breaking, “you meant the absolute world to me.”

joe’s gaze slightly shifts. it becomes tender, worried even. the girl that was his best friend is crying. all because of him. but what does he say to this? he let’s out a huff, shrugging.

“stuff happens…”

winnie exhales in disbelief, shaking her head.

“really? stuff happens?” she hisses, the sadness in her eyes turning to rage. “you know what? you’re right, stuff does happen. but i just want you to know,” she says gently.

“i was ready to give you my heart.”

“i know…”

“oh…so ja’marr told you,” winnie crosses her arms.

joe gives her a nod. “yes. he did,” he confirms, looking at winnie, “you’re stupid…”

“stupid for not…telling me.” joe finishes.

winnie nods, looking down. “well…i can…kind of agree there,” she admits. even though she was moving, she still should’ve taken that chance and share her feelings, even if nothing came out of it.

with her tear stained sleeves, she sniffles as she dries her face. “i was worried that you’d hate me. but i guess i don’t have to worry anymore. you already do hate me.”

joe sits in silence for a moment. he didn’t know how to explain it, but he doesn’t hate winnie. and he wants to tell her that. but obviously, he’s kind of at war with his pride. it’s a weak move to pull back and act like all the stuff he’s said to her lately doesn’t matter. but it does. it’s tremendously hurt his friend, the person who he stuck with through thick and thin (and vice versa).

he responds in the best way he can, placing his hand on her knee. “hate’s a strong word.”

winnie cracks…a small smile. joe used to say that when she’d rant to him about the people who pissed her off. “so…you loathe me then?”

“hm…no.” joe shakes his head. he sighs, looking at winnie. “i…i’m sorry, really,” he says, reluctance but truth in his voice. he’s realized that he’s kind of new to this amending friendships thing, “i uh…i guess i wanted to seem cool and stuff.”

“but, you did it at the expense of our bond…” winnie frowns, “i understand wanting to fit in and stuff. but we had something. years and years, we were friends. best friends.”

joe sighs. “i know. and it was so idiotic of me to destroy that,” he nods. “i don’t expect you to forgive me, but…i truly am sorry.”

hmm. now she had to make her choice. she could easily hold a grudge against joe for life. be bitter and depressed about it. but there was something in the bottom of her heart that couldn’t let her be angry.

with a breath, winnie gives a small smile. “i forgive you,” she nods, watching joe’s face shift to relief, “but…if you do something stupid, i’m never talking to you again.”

“oh, you wouldn’t do that.” joe laughs.

“wanna bet?” winnie raises an eyebrow.

“depends on how much money we’re talking.”

the both of them chuckle for a moment, leaning back and taking in a bit of quietness. it’s nice, knowing that there’s a chance to fully rekindle their friendship. winnie looks at joe, her face gentle. “seriously though. you promise to not fuck up again?”

joe nods at her, “of course. i promise.”

“pinkie promise?”

joe looks down at winnie’s small finger; he can’t help but reminisce on all the promises they’ve made. again, far too many; but this one is different. he chuckles, linking his pinkie with hers.

“pinkie promise.”

——————————

not a super long chapter, but an angsty one. BUT they’re friends again…for now ;)

#joe burrow x oc #joe burrow #joe burrow fic #joe burrow lsu #lsu!joe #joey burrow #joe brrr #angst #angst with a happy ending

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rambheem-is-real · 1 year ago

Text

Hurts So Good Part 1

pairing: Varadeva

warnings: NSFW in part 2

This one shot got longer than I thought so I'm splitting it into multiple parts, based on this post

It’s over. Deva has rescued Krishnakanth’s daughter from the Khansaar soldiers. There’s a surge of relief that at least this once, he was able to protect her. He can’t forget the look in Aadhya’s eyes from the day she went to the market and he had stayed holding onto the pole. How can he tell her, this stranger, about the promise he made to his mother? How can she know what he’s capable of?

Deva hadn’t realized until he blasted the trucks open, that the men were from Khansaar, and that the shipment had the Salaar’s seal stamped onto every container. His own seal, staring at him after almost a decade. Not that seeing it earlier would have stopped his attack.

Amma wanted him to keep Aadhya safe, Deva would keep Aadhya safe.

His whole life had revolved around one word for the last few years: Amma. Her word might as well have been the word of god, not that he believed in one anymore. She did her best to protect him from falling back into old habits, strict as she was. He had heard the whispers from the women when he killed Vishnu: Kaateramma koduku. Rakshasudu. The woman doing tattoos had painted a devil onto his arm after seeing his future. At some point, those names started to feel literal, and only Amma had been able to calm him down. She had made him promise to never use violence again, unless she explicitly told him to do so, and Deva had not broken that promise in seven years. He looks over at her, the mother that hadn’t so much as given him a loving glance in years.

Amma is looking out of the window, avoiding his gaze, as always. He smiles to himself. Whatever happened, he hadn’t broken their promise.

The next second, their car explodes, and Deva loses consciousness.

Deva wakes up in darkness. He takes stock immediately of the chains threaded through his wrists, and the ones tying his ankles to the floor. There’s a gag in his mouth and a blindfold around his eyes, preventing him from fully seeing where he is, but he doesn’t need to. He’s been in a cell like this seven years ago. This time it seems like they’ve taken precautions.

Well, of course they would, because he would’ve told them how dangerous Deva was.

His traitorous heart starts beating faster at the mere thought, and Deva tries in vain to conjure back images of him holding Amma at gunpoint. You can’t feel that way about him anymore, Deva tries to think, but he knows it's useless. His corpse could be brought back to life at the mere mention of that man’s name. Sometime in his childhood, Deva had given him his heart, and never found a way to get it back. The scars running down his arms are both a blessing and a curse, keeping Deva from forgetting the boy he once would’ve destroyed the entire world for.

He estimates it’s about an hour before he hears footsteps, multiple sets.

“Leave us.” There’s a quiet order, before only one set of feet walk into his cell, the rest fading away.

Deva knows in his bones who it is, recognizes the melodic tone of the steps. Just hearing his voice had simultaneously elated and terrified him. Not for himself, of course he wasn’t scared for his own safety. He had come to fear the power that the other man had always held over him.

It was for this man that he had stained his hands red, that he had killed the Ghaniyar leader in a fit of anger, just because he had dared to lay hands on his Sulthan. He can’t disappoint Amma again, he can’t break his promise to her. He doesn’t want more flashes of men dying by his hands every night, he doesn’t want to go back to being that monster. But for Varadharaja Mannar, Deva knows he would kill again in a heartbeat.

There’s a few beats of silence.

“I told you I never wanted to see your face again.” That beloved voice, now cold as ice. Deva can recall too well the anger on Varadha’s face when he had first issued the order to Deva, seven years ago. He stays silent. “Or did you not know, that it was the Khansaar cargo you disrupted? Bilal certainly seemed to think so.”

There are calloused fingers on Deva’s face, tilting it this way and that. He thinks Varadha might be trying to see any differences, the results of age.

“But the fact of the matter remains: You broke the seal you yourself imposed. The punishment for that in the Nibandhanam is death.” A glimpse of a memory, of his own hands writing out the consequences of tampering with the Salaar’s seal. “And for what?”

The fingers suddenly tighten, pressing hard enough to bruise Deva’s cheeks and jaw. “All this, for a girl?” Varadha hisses. “Is she your lover? You couldn’t pick anyone other than Krishnakanth’s daughter?”

Deva’s lips twitch. He understands more what this is about, now. As possessive as Deva is about Varadha, only he knows that Varadha is worse about Deva. The other man had only been calm his whole life because he never worried about Deva, due to some childhood belief that Deva was invincible. He wants to laugh at the thought that after all these decades, the only threat Varadha decided existed to Deva and his feelings for Varadha was a lady that couldn’t even yell at a bunch of unruly school children to shut them up.

Deva knows Varadha sees the smile when he hears a sharp intake of breath from above. He’ll let Varadha come to any conclusions he wants. If he thinks Aadhya is important to Deva he might keep her alive, to use her as a bargaining chip. He doesn’t have any romantic intentions, but Varadha doesn’t need to know. He only genuinely feels bad for Aadhya. She had come to India to disperse her mother’s ashes, to respect her last wishes, and had gotten mixed up in whatever Deva and Varadha’s relationship now was.

Friends? Not anymore. Enemies? Not when they were each other’s weakness. They were just somewhere in between, where the bad memories were outweighing the good.

Deva’s head is yanked up by the hair. “I knew it,” Varadha spits. “You love her? You chose her?” Over me? is left unsaid, but Deva hears it anyway.

Varadha seems to realize that Deva can’t respond, and yanks the gag out of his mouth. Deva knows what he wants: an explicit rejection.

“Leave her alone,” Deva says, voice rough from disuse. It’ll sound like a confirmation that he loves Aadhya, but Deva doesn’t have to lie for it. He could never blatantly lie to his Varadha.

There’s silence. Deva counts the beats in his head, trying to figure out what Varadha will do next.

Finally, Varadha speaks. “The court wants you dead, for breaking the seal.” It’s a complete sidestepping of the Aadhya issue, and the sentence is uttered with barely suppressed heartbreak. Deva hates deceiving Varadha like this, but he has to keep Aadhya alive no matter what. Amma would be disappointed otherwise.

“But you know as well as I do, that I can’t do that.” The fingers are on his face again, this time ghosting over his lips. “We’re too intertwined.” A pause. “Or maybe you’re fine, now that you have a girlfriend.” The bitterness is back. “But you’re still my weakness, my Salaar. So what now?”

The fingers press more insistently on his lips, and Deva doesn’t know why he does, but he lets them fall open a little.

“What now,” Varadha trails off, as he sees. There’s a breath, and Varadha slips his thumb right into Deva’s mouth. They stay frozen together like that, until Varadha straightens. “Oh.” Deva hears the smirk in his voice as Varadha says, “I know what I want.”

tags: @deadloverscity @sada-siva-sanyaasi @sambaridli @sometimesbrave @just-a-lazy-person @vijayasena @mad-who-ra @umbrulla @jitterbugbetty @chocolate-1-0-1 @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @sinistergooseberries @tulodiscord @varadevaficrecs @hum-suffer @nini9224 @varadevlawyer @susi-r8here

#salaar #varadeva #salaar fic #varadha being the clown he is about deva #deva being somewhere between scared and h word

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pugh-bug · 5 months ago

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No.42 Chapter 9

Art Donaldson x reader slow burn

Second to last chapter….enjoy!

Part 8

——————————————————————

Art pulled away to breathily ask ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ You resisted the urge to play with his hair to answer. ‘I didn’t think I was your type.’ Art’s face was a picture, you’d never seen him scoff before. He rubbed his face in disbelief, almost cartoonishly.

‘Why’s that so surprising?’

Art gathered himself quickly, brushing his hand over yours. ‘I thought I made it obvious.’ Oh this sweet boy, he had no idea - your turn to scoff. With your free hand you pulled Art, by the back of his neck, close to your face. ‘You should have tried harder.’ You whispered in his ear.

‘I won didn’t I?’

He didn’t wait for you to challenge him, Art’s lips were back on yours in an instant. He couldn’t get enough of you, he found himself wondering if he could ever feel as much as he felt right then and there for anyone else. I’d he’d ever feel so full of need for another human being that wasn’t you, his roommate and best friends honorary sister.

‘I want you to know…’ Art whispered in between your feverish kisses. ‘That we can stop at any time…’ Another even longer kiss. ‘I don’t expect anythin-‘ You pulled away, sporting a quizzical look due to the sizeable erection pressing against your knee. It had been there a while. ‘Would you not be devastated?’ It took all your strength not to grin as you palmed him through his shorts. ‘Completely devastated…’ he practically purred in your ear, adjusting his hips to feel more of your touch.

RING RING

You were going to fucking kill Liam.

‘Yeah?’ You answered, slightly out of breath. Just as you were about to use the classic ‘this better be an emergency’ he told you it was. He needed you to help him, he’d sprained his ankle playing too hard on an injury. No- it wasn’t a sprain he’d broken something…

As you listened to the panicked woes of your friend, Art frowned. He waited patiently for you to get off the phone and explain why on earth he had to stop what the two of you were doing for Liam. Of all people. The second you hung up he was fiddling with his watch.

‘Why did he ask you?’ It was hard to ignore the bitterness in Art’s voice but you tried. ‘You don’t drive. How are you gonna take him to the hospital?’ That was logic you just couldn’t argue with. ‘And there’s really no one at Stanford that can drive?’ The bitterness was growing wings, taking flight. What was left of the mood from earlier had quickly disappeared.

You failed to mention that Liam was in love with you, it was irrelevant to his ankle anyway. ‘I know you and Liam aren’t getting on right now but we can’t just leave him sat there stranded and in pain.’

——————————————————————

Art reversed into the priority space, sighing as you opened the door. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, let alone you, that he had a distinct feeling Liam was lying and that he’d invited just you for a reason. He hoped he was wrong.

‘Y/N- and Art…’

Liam was sat on the floor of the empty gymnasium, clutching his leg looking lost. ‘I brought Art so he can drive you to the hospital!’ You yelled, rushing over to him whilst Art lagged behind.

‘Who were you playing?’

Art gestured to the empty gym, eagerly awaiting Liam’s response. He was challenging him.

‘No one, was just practising my serve.’

The two looked at each other, resembling bullies on a playground sizing each other up. You felt embarrassed for them both. ‘Art, maybe you should go drive the car to the entrance?’ Art didn’t miss the elation in Liam’s face at your suggestion but he obliged all the same. He didn’t want to watch Liam limp for half a mile, even if he did think he’d become an arse.

The gymnasium smelt like stale sweat, not a pleasant scent to be trapped with. There was a slight echo, since it was empty, that was a bit eerie for your liking. Liam was beaming as he watched you help him to his feet. He was heavier than he looked. ‘You look happy for someone in agony.’ Art’s thoughts coming out of your mouth.

‘It’s easy to be happy round you, you’re probably my favourite person.’ He was edging towards dangerous territory and Art would be back any moment. Change subject change subject! ‘We’ll stay with you at the hospital, so we can drive you home after.’ Liam’s arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, for support. ‘I know you said it could be broken but I think it’s just a sp-‘ and then he kissed you with lips that tasted of warm lucozade…

You leaned back so rapidly Liam almost fell to the floor. ‘Why did you do that?’ But before he could answer, Art was honking his horn. Maybe it was best he didn’t answer, you didn’t feel like talking about it.

——————————————————————

‘Right,’ Art announced, as he parked the car at the hospital. ‘Everyone out.’ You’d felt Liam’s eyes on you every moment of the journey but you’d barely spoken a word. ‘I think Y/N’s gonna Uber home.’ He suddenly announced. What?

Looking utterly confused, Art turned round in his seat to stare at the two of you. ‘What? Why?’ Liam sighed, just loud enough for you hear, as he passed you his phone. He’d called you one, he was giving you a way out. He wasn’t going to make you sit with him all night after he’d kissed you, he was misguided not cruel.

‘Okay…’ you mumbled, trying not to picture Art and Liam arguing over nothing in your absence. ‘See you at home yeah?’ Art looked at you blankly as you got out of the car. You’d text him some context later.

——————————————————————

‘Liam kissed you?’ Patrick was trying not to laugh as you filled him in. ‘And you and Art almost shagged because of my infinite wisdom in all things love related but Liam just cockblocked you?’ You nodded. ‘And then you got Art to drive the two of you all the way to the hospital and then left him there and got an Uber here?’

‘Yep…’

‘What a bitch.’

‘Me or Liam?’

‘You! But also Liam, he has…issues.’

‘Yeah…’

Patrick reassured you that you hadn’t let Liam on, which you knew already, and that Art had no reason to be annoyed at you. He was just in the middle of telling you about his equally weird night when Art arrived. ‘I’ll leave you two alone.’ Patrick whispered, retreating to the kitchen to snack.

‘I’m really sor-‘

Art rushed over to hug you. Tightly. ‘Thank you.’ He mumbled into your shoulder, smelling distinctly of hospital detergent. For what? ‘For making me realise how important you are to me.’ Your heart rate was rapidly thumping, almost escaping from your chest trying to reach his. A sudden dampness hit your eyes as you hugged him back, never wanting to let go. ‘I’m still confused…’ you mumbled into his shoulder, before pulling away.

‘Liam,’ Art sighed, brushing a hair out of your face. ‘He pretty much asked me to choose between our friendship and you. I chose you.’

Masterlist

Taglist: @gatorgirl007 @imblushingrn @soy-garbage @blahhucantmakeme

#art donaldson #challengers art donaldson #challengers #mike faist #challengers art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fanfiction #art Donaldson x reader #art donaldson friends to lovers #art donaldson x you #art Donaldson series #challengers x reader #no.42 #pughbug

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firefirefruit · 1 year ago

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Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Four

Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Four: A Cyborg, A Skeleton and A Lot of Limbs Walk Into A Shop…

You’ve always liked early mornings. Those moments where everything remains silent, untouched, and it feels like only you can drift across the earth like a ghost. You love to be the first witness of the sun stirring from its own slumber, where you can sit down and think and think and think and know that the day still hasn’t started yet. You’re relieved because you know you’re not wasting your day. This is just the entrée to the main course.

With a cup of coffee pressed against your red-hot palms, you lay against your workbench and admire the mild light that filters through the door. Your eyes slightly drift across your studio, taking in the heap of unrestored mess made from yesterday. You let out a pent-up sigh... Well, at least you’re getting some help with that.

From a distance, you pick up on the faint form of Gramps ambling towards you, making you almost smile in greeting – almost. Because as you strain your eyes harder, you realise that there’s another person who’s towering beside him, silently listening to the excitable one-sided conversation made by your old man.

Much to your unsurprise, it’s him.

You observe him silently, tapping a thoughtful finger against your mug.

Huh. He’s still wearing those hilts by his hip, you notice. Any other wielder would opt to throw those empty carcasses away by now.

Somehow sensing you, the marimo cocks his head and his eye naturally falls onto yours. His golden earrings dance in the morning light like a flickering flame, making sound only gold can elicit from a breeze. The light brushes across his closed eye, uncovering the deep white scars of his history, and for a split second, you begin to wonder about them.

From a distance, he narrows his piercing gaze with a questioning brow, and undeterred as you are, you stare straight back at the green-head.

Without breaking your gaze, the two men near you, and Gramps being as oblivious as ever is still completely lost in his own line of conversation.

“And that’s why Kotetsu, from eons ago, favoured the ores from the Rippling Ground rather than the—"

“Good morning,” you interrupt, deciding to offer relief to the marimo from your babbling old man.

Gramps beams at you, waving a calloused hand in greeting. He turns to the marimo, having to dramatically crane his head up to look at him. “I told you she’d be awake.”

“I haven’t started on the swords, if that’s why you’re here…” you curiously state, cocking your head at the samurai.

As Bull-Head opens his mouth to reply, Gramps interjects giddily.

“I invited him here.”

Oh, well that figures. You know your Gramps sees something in this guy, but you don’t really get what it is.

You take another long look at the scarred marimo, which he returns with an expressionless countenance.

“What?” He gruffly snaps.

You smirk a little, walking towards your forge. “Did you fall out of bed? Your hair’s sticking up.”

You don’t need to turn around to see it happen – you hear the man hiss to himself as he pats over his head aimlessly.

“I met the others by the dock,” Gramps Sukiyaki informs with a little grin on his weathered face. “Funny bunch, they are!”

You can’t help but smile at his elated demeanour; it seems like the Straw Hats are definitely improving his mood in these days. You can’t help but like the fact that they’re all most certainly clinically insane.

“Raya!” Nami shouts from the field, jogging with Chopper on her shoulder. “We brought a few more of us than expected, I hope that’s okay!”

Chopper apologetically grins at you as they enter through the wide door. “More like - we couldn’t stop them from coming…”

You push off from your stool and smile at the two, shaking your head. “That just means more helpful hands!”

Three odd figures begin to file in after Nami and Chopper, excitedly looking around the studio with freshly intrigued eyes.

“Woah! Luffy wasn’t lying about this place,” the metallic man exclaims wildly, stomping through your workspace like a kid in a candy shop.

“Yo-ho! This energy…this soul - I can feel it in my bones!” The…speaking skeleton…grins, clambering along inside with the robot.

Clang! Rattle!

“Don’t just fucking walk in before introducing yourselves!” Nami yells, her hand steaming from a fresh beating.

“Hello, I’m Robin.” The dark-haired woman smiles at you, gazing at the rack of freshly made weapons besides her. “Wow, you’re very talented.”

Disoriented from the bombard of stomping guests, it takes you a second to register her words.

“Oh…uh – thank you. I’m Koz—” You immediately halt, swearing intensely at yourself at the blunder you were about to make. “I’m Tenguyama Raya.”

In an instant, Robin’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before she tries to compose herself.

Shit. Shit. Shit, you think. Did you accidentally ruin your cover just now?

“Nice to meet you,” the cyborg weakly interrupts, a robotic arm clutching at his swollen back. Nami hovers behind the two wounded crewmates, animalistically breathing against their necks. “I-I’m Franky.”

The damaged skeleton sweats anxiously, side-eyeing Nami who’s growling at him under her breath.

“I-I’m Brook.”

All of this sounds like some kind of joke: A cyborg and a skeleton walk into a shop…

“We heard you needed some extra hands,” Robin explains, crossing her forearms in the formation of an ‘X’.

Consecutively, an army of limbs sprout up from the ground like baby tree saplings, slowly taking shape as pale, wriggling hands.

“What the fuck?” You shout loudly, jumping away from a hand that crawls past your feet.

Robin laughs at your reaction. “I ate a—"

“Yeah, I can see that!” You excitably exclaim, crouching down to watch the assembly of hands picking up your scattered belongings. “This is so efficient for make-shift manufacturing assemblies! Not to mention the amount of work you could do at the same time…I’m envious…”

A skeletal hand slides in front of your eyes, making you yelp out loud and lose your footing.

“What the fuck?” You repeat again, arms fearfully flaring up with fire, about to kick whoever’s zombie-ass that was.

Brook yelps like you do, putting his hands in front of him.

“Ho-ho, I’m surprised I wasn’t the one who scared you first!” He flashes his teeth in a forced grin, making him look more constipated than friendly.

“I’m so sorry -- you took me off guard,” you stammer, frantically looking around at the crazy bunch of people who’ve entered your shop. You thought Luffy was too much too handle, but it seems like his whole crew is, too.

As you begin to stand, your eyes accidentally brush past the skeleton’s hip on your way up – wait, what is that? A purple cane? But… its makeshift tip looks similar to of a hilt…the grooves, the slight contour line that divides the top from the rest of its body…

You wildly point at the foreign object, the words not able to come out of your mouth.

Everyone looks down and gapes at what you’re gesturing at.

They gape up at you in bewilderment.

“What is that?” You finally demand, completely taken by this cane.

“Ah, this?” Brook points at his purple cane.

With a quick swish and twang, his bony fingers curl over the hilt and he unsheathes…. frankly, a masterpiece.

His glinting sword hums in the most harmonious, bone-chilling tone you’ve ever heard from a blade before as he proudly presents the sword to you.

“I call her the Soul Solid – my grooviest instrument yet.” Brook dramatically poses and flashes his cane-sword hybrid in the air.

“It’s…It’s…” You stutter, your eyes shining in admiration. “It’s a work of art.”

It’s so wacky and so groovy, and it harmonises with the wielder so perfectly, and you just love it.

“Hold on, you like that skeleton’s walking stick more than my blades?” The green-head marimo stomps over while growling, looking completely pissed off. “Just what type of swordsmith are you?”

You ignore him, bashfully moving closer to Brook with your palms stretched open.

“May I hold her?”

“Hey, don’t ignore me!” Marimo yells, flaring his nostrils furiously.

“Of course…but…if only I could see your panties first, Miss?” Brook replies sweetly, fluttering his empty eye-sockets at you.

Crack! Rattle!

“Didn’t I make things clear enough before?!” Nami yells, karate-chopping Brook on his vulnerable skull.

“I-I’m sorry…” Brook whispers and hands you his sword, fading into the background of his crewmates. Chopper anxiously follows him with a carton of milk clutched in his hoof.

“Amazing craftsmanship! I wonder who made this, this handiwork doesn’t ring any bells…” You say more to yourself than to anyone in particular, observing the make of the metal and the customised grooves on the hilt. “She’s in perfect shape.”

“Cool. Whatever. Who cares. When are you going to remake mine?” The marimo hisses, making Nami hiss back at him like a cat.

Suddenly, you hear Robin gasp like she’s being choked. All of her helpful hands wilt and merge into the floor, smashing all of the items that were safely in their grasps.

“Robin! What are you doing?” Franky shouts, lunging forwards to catch a glass orb before it shatters from impact.

You swivel your head around to look at Robin, and almost immediately, anxiety consumes your chest like wildfire.

“Robin, are you okay?” Chopper exclaims, running towards her.

Robin’s eyes are consumed with shock, her mouth slightly open. She turns to you, a new hand blossoming in between where you two are standing.

The hand morphs and flutters out like branches on a tree, but instead of holding leaves, it's holding--

“How…do you have this?”

The glossy cube glints in her graceful grasp. Obsidian and violet in shade, the text is only half-way crafted across its surface.

It's your poneglyph.

Immediately, Gramps Suki draws out his blade.

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synthwavecryptid · 5 months ago

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I took a shower and after my last post I had so many sad thoughts about rabbit Dutch while I was in there so now I’m making them yalls problem so don’t go into the read more unless you also want to have brainworms about Dutch’s scrambled egg mentality and mommy issues

Like it’s not as uncommon as folks think for new parents to struggle to bond with a new baby, usually through no fault of their own. Being stressed or overwhelmed can impact it, as can preexisting conditions, and postpartum depression is brutal.

Just. Dutch being resigned to the idea he won’t have any offspring with Hosea, a little sad about it even when he himself doesn’t know if he wants any in the first place, suddenly getting his world upended with a gift he’s on the fence about.

Absolutely heartsick over it being a cryptic pregnancy, so he never had the opportunity to come to terms with it, to get attached and start looking forward to it, not even the chance to make a choice if this is something they can or want to do. All of that taken away, replaced with a sudden surprise that isn’t necessarily bad, but not necessarily good either. Doesn’t help that it’s just the one kit, not the two or three or even four that’s standard. He should be excited, over the moon even, but instead he’s tied up in shock, some fear, and the strangest sense of failure. So overwhelmed he can’t quite get around to connecting with that elation he knows has gotta be buried in him somewhere. And then that just… snowballs to proper postpartum, bless his heart.

He does get better (mostly), loves Arthur so much it hurts sometimes, but that really scrambled his mental state and he never really gets over it. Probably made him an awkward, hot and cold parent for a while; adoring and engaged and all about it for a bit, then hands-off and a little frigid and borderline dissociative for a bit, and then repeating with adoring. A cycle he’s aware of (because I’m sure he and Hosea have had rows about it before), but he just. Doesn’t know how to stop it, or fix it.

Which makes me double sad thinking about how maybe a combination of things, including Dutch’s erratic temperament, possibly pushed Hosea away in Arthur’s teen years. Brought Bessie into the picture, a genuinely lovely lady who maybe Hosea could have more kits with, give Arthur some half siblings, because if it worked once it may work again (despite the fact that after Arthur, Dutch’s heats never took again). But that just puts another nail in the coffin of Dutch’s multifaceted mommy issues, because now he sees himself as a further failure and will act out to compensate.

Cue Dutch bringing home John, this scraggly ass orphan, ostensibly because saving a child from a hanging is the right thing to do, but also because he has Dutch’s coloring and Hosea’s hare attributes and Dutch wants to make a statement. Wants to be the big Robin Hood putting his finger up to the law, but also wants to prove he can still grow their family, still has worth as Hosea’s doe. He’s a little unconventional but that’s no reason to look elsewhere.

ANYWAYS IDK IM INJURED OVER THEM

#SO MANY BUNNY THOUGHTS SO LITTLE TIME #these people love each other very much but they are also all very flawed people #they’ll figure it out. Probably. ideally

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little-peril-stories · 10 months ago

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The Queen of Lies: Trust and Treachery

Story Intro | Content Warnings | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

Contents: police, lady whump (sort of, ish, not exactly but ????), guy whump, guns (drawn but not fired)

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 4100 || Approx reading time: 17 mins

Trust and Treachery

Teaser: “I’m serious. They’re still looking for her. Isn’t anyone going to talk about that? Or am I the only one who’s worried?”

The tales were told over endless cups of tea, as night fell and deepened to the blues and purples of midnight: Will’s time in prison, including details Bree herself had not heard and which made her eyes fill with tears; Bree’s side of the story, and how she had run away from Baden and taken Will with her; Colette’s summary of her time spent in a “safe place” about which she gave no further information; and Jamie Wardrew’s account of shutting down all Iustitia aecum operations and hiding out with the mostly silent other man, who was called Geoff. They had reunited with Colette once word got out that a thief had mysteriously escaped from prison—and posters with Will’s face on them appeared all over the city.

“You idiots should have skipped town fucking weeks ago,” Will said more than once, but there was no vehemence in his words. In fact, he was almost glowing. For most of the conversation, he twitched, bounced, and shifted in his seat, incapable of sitting still—except for his hand, which, despite how often he pulled it away to talk animatedly, always came back to rest upon Bree’s.

Now, his thumb stroked the back of her hand in a gentle, comforting rhythm. “You doing all right?” he murmured in her ear when the others were distracted.

Bree hummed a confirmation that she was, but exhaustion settled over her, brought on by the hours of talking and digging up of painful memories.

Oh—and the residual worries, of course, about when the inner circle of Iustitia aecum would come to their senses and throw her out. After all, what kind of woman would marry a man like Baden Hatchett? And how could she ever be trusted?

“You sure you’re okay?” Will asked.

“I’m just tired,” she told him, and he squeezed her hand.

“Don’t look so worried,” he said. “Everything’s okay.”

But alongside the joy of the reunion, a heaviness clung to the air, and when she glanced at the others, she found that they would not meet her gaze.

***

The next morning, waking in a bed that seemed emptier and colder than it should have, Bree found that Will was not beside her. She could hear him, though—one of several voices that drifted in from the kitchen, hushed and serious.

Frowning, she sat up, trying to catch what was being whispered into the stillness of the early morning.

“Gotta decide what to…”

“If we start up again…”

Bree slipped out of the bed, stifling a gasp at the bite of the cold floor against her bare feet. At the door, which Will had left ajar—had he snuck out, trying not to wake her?—she paused, nudging it slightly to let in more sound.

“I’m serious. They’re still looking for her. Isn’t anyone going to talk about that? Or am I the only one who’s worried?”

Dread, barbed and brutal, tore through Bree’s chest. They weren’t merely talking about IA business. They were talking about her.

“Colette,” Will’s voice said stiffly, his earlier elation gone, “she doesn’t want to go b—”

“Stop twisting my words. I didn’t say she wants to go back. But if they find her, they find us. You can’t tell me it didn’t cross your mind, too.”

“Okay, fine, it did, but—”

Bree closed her eyes. Was that the reason he’d held out so long before giving his name? Fear that her very presence would lead Baden right to him—and that she would buckle under pressure and reveal his name to the entire constabulary? Destroy everything he’d suffered so keenly to conceal with a single witless utterance?

“I mean,” Colette went on, “does anyone else really believe that mad constable’s just going to give up? He’s insane.”

Silence met her words.

“I didn’t think so.” How could she sound so fearless? How could her words be so calm, so steeped in cool, unshakeable logic? “I think you’d all better listen to me about this. Because I get it, we all want to get back to normal, get back to business, but as long as she’s around—”

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor made Bree jump. Furiously, Will snapped, “Don’t you even fucking think about saying what you’re about to say.”

“God, will you let me finish? I’m not arguing that we ditch her somewhere. She’s lovely. God knows how someone like her ended up with someone like him. And—just wait, for heaven’s sake! I’m not a monster. But we need a plan, and we need to make it now, because Hatchett wants you and her and as long as that’s true, we’re all in trouble.”

“She wouldn’t fuck us over like th—”

“Are you even listening? That’s not what I—”

Jamie’s quiet voice cut in. “Okay. Both of you. Shut up for a second.”

“Alpha, you know I’m right.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Will said, his voice acidic. Something warm flickered in Bree’s chest. Even with his brother speaking now, he was standing up for her. “We know. You’re always right. You’re so fucking smart—”

“Will!” Jamie snapped. “Shut the fuck up. Listen, for once.”

“You’re taking her side?”

“I’m not taking sides,” Jamie said tightly. “She—”

Too loudly—enough that if Bree hadn’t already been awake, she would have been jolted out of a dead sleep—Will said, “If you say she has to go, we’re about to have a big problem.”

“Just—”

“She has nowhere else to go,” he said. “Her parents are dead, too. And she can’t go back to Hatchett. She can’t. I’ll fucking die before I let that happen.”

Barely audible, some of the coldness faded from her voice, Colette said, “Oh, Will.”

Bree pressed her hands to her mouth, her heart trying to tear itself free of her very chest.

“And I—I—”

Neither his brother nor his friend interrupted, yet Will’s voice trailed off, the thought unfinished.

Geoff grunted, “You what?”

“I just can’t do that to her, all right?”

Did he mean it? Every word? He did, didn’t he? He wouldn’t let her go back to Baden, even if it meant going against the family he’d only just found again.

“Okay,” Jamie said. A mere breath after him, Colette said the same. “Okay. It’s not going to come to that. But let’s make a contingency plan, all right?”

Will mumbled, “The fuck is a contingency?”

“A just-in-case plan,” Colette said quietly.

“Just in case of what?”

Bree’s throat tightened again as Colette responded, “Just in case things go sideways. In case he catches up with her.” She paused. “With us.”

Jamie, from the sound of it, continued, but Bree silently pushed the door closed again and backed away on trembling legs. Her heart pounded as she went over the conversation—the argument—the inner circle of Iustitia aecum had just had about her.

For a few painful seconds, tears prickled behind her eyes. No matter where she went, she was never good enough. Breanna certainly hadn’t been. Now, it seemed that Bree was not, either—not for her own failings, but for the peril she brought in her wake.

No.

She swallowed her tears and took a breath. So Colette and Jamie were wary. Weren’t they right to be? But Colette had said it herself—it wasn’t Bree she didn’t trust. It was Baden.

But Will trusted her. Even if the others were reserving their confidence for now, he had faith in her. And he was willing to go against the others to prove it.

So, there was only one thing to do. She was going to have to prove it, too. That she belonged here. The she was one of them. That she deserved every ounce of that hard-won faith.

***

Of course, proving herself to IA was easier said than done. Bree opted not to mention what she had overheard, and Will didn’t bring it up, either. In this, she was almost relieved; he was spared the unenviable task of admitting that he’d been talking about her when he thought she couldn’t hear, and she was spared the indignity of facing everyone else’s mistrust head-on. No, she decided, it was much better to carry on as if she were none the wiser, and do what she could to weave herself into the delicate IA web.

Evenings, she determined promptly, provided ripe opportunity to find common ground with the others—particularly Colette and Jamie, who seemed to be the ones who had filled the bookshelves until they bowed in the middle. It was when the fire burned hottest and brightest; when everyone gathered without speaking of gangs or thievery; when she could read amid the soothing sound of crackling embers. The threadbare chairs did not provide nearly enough room for everyone to fit, but sitting on the floor with her book made Bree feel like a child again. Will, pressed against her side, didn’t seem to mind, either, and that made it all the sweeter.

Tonight, in a move that made everyone else’s jaws drop, Will was thumbing through Romeo and Juliet, which Bree had finished reading. He wasn’t reading it in earnest, however.

“The hell does this all mean?” he asked, cackling to himself. “You trying to tell me any of this makes sense to you?”

Bree blinked herself out of her current book and looked up to meet his amused gaze and unimpressed smirk. “It’s an old story. Once you know what to expect, it makes sense.”

But Will just shook his head, dictating lines he found perplexing or droll. “‘Such comfort as do lusty young men feel…’” He burst into a laugh and, reading on, found another that had him howling. “‘An open-arse, thou a poperin pear…’ What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You would find all the rude bits,” said Colette with a roll of her eyes.

“‘Some consequence,’” he went on, ignoring her save for a grin, “‘yet hanging in the stars, shall bitterly begin…’ Well, he sure sounds happy, doesn’t he? ‘Give me my Romeo, and when I shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars…’ No one else thinks that’s a weird thing to want? No? Just me? All right. ‘I have an ill-divining soul…’” He scoffed and pushed it away. “Why can’t he just write like a normal person?”

Shaking her head, Colette asked wryly, “That’s your expert literary opinion, is it?”

“Pretty sure you’d find most reasonable people would agree with me.”

“I rather think you’d find,” she shot back, “that most intelligent people would not.”

Will snatched a cushion right out from behind Jamie’s back, eliciting a surprised yelp, and threw it at her head, howling with laughter when it struck its target squarely.

And grunting a loud, “Ow!” when she hurled it back at him.

“Leave her alone,” Bree said, laughing, laying a hand on his arm to prevent him from launching another attack. “Maybe you should try reading it. Who knows? You might end up liking it.” She paused. “Though it is very sad.”

“Right. It’d take me a month just to get through the first chapter.”

“It has acts and scenes,” Bree said, pointing to the heading on the page. “Not chapters.”

“See? I’m already hopeless.” But he didn’t look hopeless or even terribly annoyed as he closed the book and peeked over at Bree’s. “Can’t believe you finished it in a few days. What are you reading now?”

Bree showed him the cover, and Colette, peering at it, too, piped up again. “Oh, you found my Ovid.” She heaved a long, dramatic sigh. “It’s nice to have another intellectual around for once.”

Biting her lip, Bree tried not to look too satisfied with this remark.

Will brandished the cushion again, prompting his brother to take it out of his hands and return it to its previous place, supporting his back. With his physical ammunition confiscated, Will merely said, “You’re fucking hilarious, Colette.”

“I just finished the story of Orpheus and Eurydice,” Bree said to her, talking over him.

Geoff and Jamie had been watching in silence, the former quite apathetic toward the topic of fine literature and the latter baffled that Will was engaging with it at all. Now, his long-suffering-elder-brother expression changed from faint amusement to outright hilarity when Will demanded with a groan, “What the hell kind of names are those, now?”

Rubbing his face, Jamie answered, “It’s a myth, Will. Ancient Greek.” He looked over at Bree almost apologetically. “I really tried, you know. He used to sneak away instead of going to school. You think this guy ever did anything he was told?”

Throwing his brother an obscene gesture, Will just asked, “What’s it about?”

Bree was about to answer, but Colette said, utterly straight-faced, “It’s about an idiot who can’t follow simple instructions.”

The group burst into gleeful laughter, celebrating how Will had set himself up for the joke. Bree took his hand.

“No, it isn’t,” she told him. “It’s about how love is sometimes stronger than reason.”

With another vulgar gesture at the others, Will leaned toward her and laid a kiss right on her lips. Bree blushed, but there were no huffs of disapproval, suspicious glares, or scandalized gasps. Instead, teasing whoops spread through the room.

“You give her one of those bite marks in front of me, and I’ll smother you in your sleep,” Colette said primly as the titters faded, and Jamie choked on his tea.

“Oh, shut up,” Will said, and even though even his face flooded as red as Bree’s, he nearly fell to the floor with laughter.

Maybe, Bree thought with a smile, winning over Iustitia aecum wouldn’t be as difficult as she thought.

***

“You know, I’ve never seen him care about any of Colette’s books before.”

Bree jumped and stifled a squeak at the sudden voice behind her. She’d offered to fetch some water from the well, and she’d been quietly humming to herself—certainly not expecting anyone to overhear her less-than-impressive musical talents—so the appearance of Will’s brother was not one she was prepared for.

“Sorry,” Jamie said, smiling a little ruefully upon seeing that she was startled. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“It’s all right.” She resisted the urge to press a hand against her pounding heart, figuring she already seemed jumpy enough to his eyes—jumpy, silly, and in over her head. “I didn’t hear you walking up.”

Jamie’s laugh, to her ears, was sardonic and abrupt—almost uncomfortable. “Well. We’ve had some practice in being stealthy over the years.” He nodded at her arm, free of bandages now but still marred by an unsightly scab she suspected might leave a scar. “You need some help?”

“Did Will send you?” she asked charily.

“No, actually.” He took the full bucket from her hand and replaced it with the empty one he had brought with him. “We can share the job. I’ll carry two back, you carry one.”

“Thank you,” she said, uncertain of where to go from there as she filled the last bucket. Was he going to be the one to confront her? Bring up Colette’s fears? Demand proof of her loyalty to the Iustitia aecum creed?

“Will didn’t send me after you,” Jamie said. “I wanted to say…” A strange look crossed his face—a happy one, but mixed with sadness, too, and perhaps even a touch of bemusement. “I’ve never heard Will…I don’t know, ask questions like that before. About books, I mean. Like he actually cared.”

A warm glow blossomed in Bree’s chest. “Really?”

“Definitely not.” He leaned against the side of the well, eyes fixed on the cloudy sky. “You know, I was… When we didn’t know what had happened to him, all I could do was hope we’d find him again. And I knew if we did, he might be different.” He laughed. “I didn’t think that this was the kind of different we’d be getting.”

Bree’s eyes burned with uninvited but admittedly gratified—and somewhat triumphant—tears. “Is that…” She swallowed. “That’s a good thing, right?”

He glanced at her now, seeming to notice the shine in her eyes, though he did not mention it. “I think so.”

Bree turned her face away for a moment to blink away the sting.

“You look familiar.”

Almost automatically, she said, “Well, maybe you saw me about town with Baden,” although now that he mentioned it, there was something about his face, hailing from a time long ago—more than just his striking resemblance to Will.

He clenched his jaw. “I can tell you for sure that I have never once been close enough to that fucker at any moment to see your face that well.” The flat hatred in his voice made a shiver run down her spine.

“Um…” Eager to move on from that thought, Bree said, “Perhaps before that? School, maybe?”

But he shook his head—the age difference was a bit too big, they determined, and he had likely already been working by the time she was in the schoolhouse, too poor for a governess.

“My maiden name is Cooper,” she said, thinking back and racking her brain for the answer, and as his expression changed to astonishment, the image struck her, too: a quiet boy with threadbare clothes, wind-chapped cheeks, and tired eyes—a boy she’d never seen again after a fateful winter’s day.

Or so she’d thought.

“James,” she gasped at the same time he said, “Cooper.”

“You worked for us!”

“Your dad’s a huge prick.”

Well, there was no denying that. “He was. He’s dead now.” She gazed at the man in front of her. Was it really him? The boy from that day?

The day her father had turned out all the servants, every single one—and one boy had fought back.

She hadn’t thought of him in years. It was painful to remember, those early days of her father’s broken business, his rage, his humiliation. That day in particular was one she preferred not to recall. All those people, thrown out in the bitter winter, hopeless and weeping and cold...

But a boy called James had tried so hard to stand up for them, shouting and railing, demanding some semblance of justice for the servants who were losing their livelihoods. As he always had, to everything and everyone, Silas Cooper had responded with violence—beat him and hurled him out, right into a snowdrift.

“He was horrible to you,” she whispered. “I’m—I’m so sorry—”

“You ran out,” he said, and she nodded. Bree had raced outside, determined to stay her father’s hand, and wound up with a handprint on her cheek. “I remember that. You…” He paused. “Thanks.”

Reeling at the revelation that her story and Will’s had been threaded together for so much longer than either of them had known, she pushed up her sleeves, close to sweating from exertion and awe. “I…I can’t believe it.”

“No,” Jamie said, equally stunned. “It’s a damn small world.”

They stared at one another a few moments more, Bree fitting his careworn face over the time-misted features of a sixteen-year-old boy with fire in his eyes—the same fire she had seen blazing in Will’s so many times before.

Suddenly, those eyes widened.

“Breanna?”

It took Bree a moment to realize that it was not Jamie calling to her—nor would that be the name he would use even if he was.

Gasping, Bree spun around, letting the bucket slip from her hands and spilling frigid water over her boots.

“Curt,” she whispered. The wonder of the moment, blazing hot and beautiful, vanished; every ounce of it sucked away, leaving nothing behind but cold, scouring dread.

He flew forward, so fast she only managed a panicked step backwards before he reached her. “It’s you.” Hands on her arms, pinching tightly. Eyes wide. Voice rasping. “God, Breanna—” Grip tight. Too tight. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Please let go,” she said, half-dizzy. Frantic thoughts spilled through her mind, melting into the noisy, discordant symphony of Curt’s voice, rapid hoofbeats, and distant thunder. No. This can’t be. “I’m…”

But he was talking, clinging tight, talking, talking, talking, gesturing to the officers behind him. “Quick! Go get…” Not happening. This couldn’t be real. But he was holding her hand, lifting it, examining the scab on her arm. “Breanna, what happened to you?”

“Nothing!” He can’t be here. She tried to wrench herself free. She had to get free. Where was he sending that other constable? “Curt, you’re hurting me.”

Where’s Will?

What if—

“Don’t move!”

Bree froze her struggles, but the order was not for her.

“Who are you?” Curt demanded, his eyes on Jamie. “Breanna, is he with—is he with them? Is he keeping you here against your will?”

“No!” Bree tried again to pull away. Still, he wouldn’t let go. Why wouldn’t he let her go? “Curt, leave him. Please. He didn’t—”

“You’re hurt.” Curt’s voice was dark, his gaze flicking between her arm and Jamie’s frozen form. “That miserable bastard hurt you. The one who got out.”

“No,” she said. “Listen, please, Curt, he didn’t. He didn’t. Let me go, and—and—leave him, Curt, please. Please—”

But Curt was only half-listening, it seemed; he was no longer even looking at her, and when he spoke, he merely repeated, “He didn’t let you go and leave.” With his gaze trained on Jamie’s, he stared, slow recognition leaching into his face. Realizing he had seen those features before. Realizing who else that ruddy hair and those strangely hued eyes belonged to.

Forming his own twisted narrative from the face he saw before him and the cry for help he thought he’d heard.

He cursed softly, and Bree cried his name, desperate for him to look anywhere but at Jamie’s face.

“What did they do to you?” he hissed.

“Nothing!”

“You’re lying to me,” said Curt furiously. “Again. After everything. Aren’t you? That bastard is here somewhere. I know he is. Who is that—his bloody twin?” Finally, he looked back at her. “Where is he?”

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look, don’t…

If she looked back at the townhouse, if she gave away the headquarters of Iustitia aecum, then it was all over—when it had barely even begun.

Don’t look back.

But she did.

She did, just in time to see a figure with red-brown hair fling open the door and start to run before a pair of brawny arms grabbed hold and yanked him out of sight.

Two furiously screamed names escaped before Will’s voice faded into strangled silence.

“Bree! Jamie! N—”

“That way,” Curt said, following her gaze. Following Will’s cry. One of his fellow constables hastened toward the townhouse, boots clicking maddeningly along the street.

And then he jerked his head toward Jamie and said, “Arrest him.”

Something shattered.

Perhaps it was the sound of Will’s voice being cut off. Perhaps it was the sight of that constable bolting toward the townhouse, all because her treacherous eyes could not do as they were told. Perhaps it was the cold fury in Curtis Lenton’s voice. Perhaps it was the way Jamie Wardrew did not move a muscle.

“No!” She thrashed against Curt’s grasp, and in his shock, he let go. “Curt, for the love of god, don’t do this, please!”

She made it three steps away from him before he captured her again.

“Why are you fighting me?” he asked as she pounded her fists against him. “Breanna—please! I’m here to help you! I’m going to get you away from these people!”

Tears, heavier and hotter and more painful than any she had ever shed in her life, blurred her vision. Her limbs trembled and, after a moment, gave out, for Curt did not listen. And he did not let go.

“Hey!”

All the officers froze.

“There’s no one there,” Jamie said. His words were calm. He had not run, and he still did not, even as the third officer approached him with his revolver drawn. But his arms, held in the air, trembled.

For one of them had the sleeve pulled up—baring the Iustitia aecum sigil for the constables to see.

“You’re too late,” Jamie said. “They’re already gone. You won’t find anyone else.”

Lies, Bree thought dizzily. A distraction to confuse them? Slow them down?

“Who are you?” Curt snarled again. “Where is the thief who escaped?” To the one he’d sent to the townhouse, he repeated the order to go, and the man obeyed.

“Forget him. He’s gone.” Jamie looked away from Curt’s glare to stare into the barrel of the other constable’s gun. His gaze met Bree’s for only an instant when the man reached him and wrenched his hands behind his back. “I’m the one who’s in charge of Iustitia aecum. I’m the one you want.”

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