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vivwritesfics · 24 days ago

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Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Two

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Chapter One Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

The Beast. An awful nickname, one nobody deserved. Admittedly, Charles knew little about her. He knew little about the current Formula Two drivers in general, but knew nothing about The Beast. Still, he doubted the nickname was fitting.

He couldn't help but look into her. Max pressed kisses along his shoulder as Max did his all important research.

"I don't like it," Max mumbled as he kissed across Charles's shoulder. "Sounds dangerous."

Charles waved him off and continued to read, learning what he could about you. A good racer, that was clear. Vicious, adrenaline driven. Like Max, Charles couldn't help but think. But then he scrolled down.

'The Beast attacks fellow F2 Driver, 'Ollie Bearman'.

You had attacked Ollie. Why had you attacked Ollie? Charles clicked on the video and let it play.

It began, just after they'd gotten the muzzle back over your mouth. Ollie was on the floor, hand bleeding hand protectively in front of his face. His blood dripped through your muzzle, dripped from your mouth. You looked positives feral as you stared down at him. A terrifying sight.

But you couldn't be that feral, right? They wouldn't keep you in Motorsport if you were that dangerous.

Max grabbed his chin, forcing Charles to look away from his phone screen. "Charlie, promise me you won't go trying to adopt this one like you did Oscar and Ollie," he said, blue eyes staring into Charles's.

Cupping his cheek, Charles leaned forward and kissed Max's nose. "I can't promise anything, Max," he said and settled down against them.

Max released a sigh. He laid down next to Charles and wrapped his arms around him, unwilling to let him go. "Charles, please," he said, suddenly sounding so serious. "Promise me you won't go near her."

He didn't reply. Max laid awake, aware that Charles was awake, too. Awake, but not talking to him. "Charles," he tried again. But Charles moved further away from him.

***

The lock slid into place and you were left in the dark hotel room, food in front of you. "Tomorrow is a big day," your handler (manager, she preferred to be called. But she really was your handler) called through the door.

You knew that, knew how big the next day was going to be. A chance to drive for Ferrari, in the place of Carlos Sainz. It would be your only chance to drive for Ferrari, you knew. There was no way you weren't going to fuck it up.

You ate slowly, thinking too much. The collar was still around your neck as you ate, and you were hyper aware of it each time you swallowed. It had always been tight, a warning to behave or deal with the consequences.

Your muzzle was on the bedside table. God, you hated that thing. It had been too tight for years, stained with blood. Your blood, Ollie Bearman's blood (you felt bad about that one. Ollie didn't deserve it, and you hadn't meant to bite him. He really was the sweet pup everybody saw him as. He just got caught in the crossfires of you and Théo Pourchaire), the blood of others.

Your food was finished, plate empty. Moving it to the door, you raised your hand and knocked. It was pulled open as you hopped back and looked at your handler. "How're you feeling?" She asked and she shrugged your shoulders, picking at your skin around your nails.

Your handler walked further into the room. She shut the door, put the plate beside your muzzle on the bedside table, and grabbed your hairbrush from your bag. "C'mere," she said and sat on the bed.

You did as you were told and came to sit in front of her. She brushed through your hair, humming as she did.

She was the closest thing you'd had to a mother. Ever. Kind and caring, making sure you actually took care of yourself. She cooked for you, brushed through your hair, used your shock collar when you put somebody else in danger.

You sat there, your eyes falling closed as you listened to her humming. You wouldn't hurt her, couldn't hurt her. She was all you had in this world.

She got you into bed before you could fall asleep. Your finger hooked beneath your chock collar and pulled, but it was so damn tight. A whimper left your lips and you struggled to fall asleep.

A Ferrari driver. You were going to be a Ferrari driver. It wouldn't be forever, but long enough. Maybe after this you could give up this dream that wasn't your own. You didn't know what else you would do if you were to give up this life, but you wanted to find out.

***

The entire Ferrari garage was anxious. Fred was anxious, the engineers were anxious, the social media team was anxious. Charles was anxious.

You were anxious.

Charles's research the night before hadn't prepared him for the first sight of you. His knee had been bouncing as he waited, thumbs tapping across his screen as he texted Max. Max was panicking, he knew. He didn't trust Charles, didn't trust him to protect himself in front of the driver nicknamed 'The Beast'.

You didn't deserve that nickname. After seeing the video of you attacking Ollie, he still didn't think you deserved the nickname. It was too close to somebody else he knew, to the way they were before someone showed them what love was.

You and Max were one in the same. He remembered when Jos would force Max to wear a muzzle, back when they were in the lower divisions. But that wasn't because Max was a danger. No, that was to keep him quiet, submissive in front of Jos.

If he could help Max, then he could help you.

But then you walked into the garage. The Ferrari shirt was on your body as you strode into the garage. Nothing looked out of place, nothing but the shock collar and the muzzle. It didn't look right on your face, biting into your cheeks and obscuring what he was sure was a gorgeous smile.

The woman who followed you into the garage introduced you, told everybody else your name. They all knew your name, but they were going to call you 'The Beast'.

For a moment, Charles wondered why you weren't the one speaking. But then he realised, you couldn't speak with the muzzle as tight as it was. He stood up and walked over, holding his hand out towards you.

You looked towards the woman that had followed you in. She gave you a nod and you finally placed your hand in his, shaking it. Good dog, he almost expected the woman to say to you.

You dropped his hand but you kept staring at him. You knew who is was. Charles Leclerc. The Prince of Monaco. Ferrari's golden boy. You had raced against his brother the year before. Arthur was smart enough to stay away from you. It didn't stop him from giving you a polite smile whenever you walked past.

As Charles tried to speak to you, and got answers from the woman behind you, your manager, your handler, he could feel eyes on him. Max, he knew immediately.

Max couldn't concentrate on whatever Helmut Marko was saying to him. He didn't care, anyway. Not when Charles was standing so close to somebody called 'The Beast'. Admittedly, the video made you look so much worse than this. The video didn't show you trembling like you were now. It didn't show you cowering behind the woman that followed you into the garage.

But he had seen the bite marks on Ollie's hand, had seen the damage you had done. You could so quickly do the same thing to Charles. He edged away from the Red Bull garage, stopping himself from running towards the Ferrari garage. His body was ready to go at a moments notice.

"Is the muzzle necessary?" Charles asked as he stared at you. You hadn't looked away from him, your eyes hadn't left his gaze.

No! You wanted to scream. Please, please, please get it off me!

But you couldn't say it. Couldn't speak with just how tight the muzzle was, wouldn't speak even if you could. But you couldn't trust yourself, you knew. If the muzzle was taken off, you couldn't stop yourself from lashing out, from feeling like that was the only way to protect yourself.

Your pathetic whimper got to him, though. His gaze softened and he reached towards you.

Immediately, Max was moving towards the Ferrari garage. "Fuck," he hissed as he ran.

Charles unlatched your muzzle. The way you were looking at him, looking so sweet and innocent, he couldn't help but pull the muzzle away.

The muzzle hit the floor, and you lunged for him.

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melminli · 1 year ago

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phone time

summery - you and satoru have been together for a long time now, like really long. next week marks your nine year anniversary, actually, and your friends think that it's a bit weird that you two are not doing anything special on that day.

contains: fem reader, fluff/crack, utahime being in your business, gossip, meimei hate, suggestive joke at the end

"we were thinking about going shopping with mei mei this weekend, you want to come with us?" utahime asked you as you stepped into the living room after leaving the kitchen. it took you a second to answer her, as your attention was focused on the tray in your hands. you really didn't want to risk one of the three cups of hot coffee spilling over and doing a mess. as well as getting a third-degree burn.

when the tray finally touched the small table, you got around to answering. "i don't know. i've been spending too much money lately." you admitted, making yourself comfortable on the soft carpet. sitting across from the sofa also helped the conversation flow more smoothly. "i would still come just to hang out with you guys, but you know i don't like meimei that much..."

shoko was about to add something when gojo interrupted her. "you can just take my card, you know. and meimei isn't much of a talker anyway. you should go if you feel like it." he suggested from his position on the pastel pink armchair. "you can also go to starbucks together. they should have pumpkin space latte on the menu again now that it's fall."

you thought about the proposal once more at his argument while holding your cup in your hands. the girls on the other side sent disgusted looks to the man. even though he spoke in their favor, they weren't really interested in hearing his input. "and why are you still here? i thought you told your crusty boyfriend to leave for a few hours." utahime complained to you.

"and i did." you replied and sensed the mean looks he gave you when you didn't correct her after she described him as crusty. you just shook your head to signal him that she didn't know what she was talking about. "weren't you gonna meet up with suguru?" you asked him, looking in his direction.

i can't believe i'm getting kicked out of my own place. he leaned a little deeper in his seat at that thought, but didn't really mind since it was you who asked him to. he wasn't really authorized to participate in girl talk and was, to be honest, a bit butt hurt about it. he would do anything to participate in a session. "we are. that asshole is running late, so i would be very grateful if you ladies could show me some mercy and let me wait inside since it's like two degrees outside."

you raised an eyebrow at his wording and spoke up with a grin after taking a sip. "what's the matter, elsa? can't handle the cold?"

satoru just rolled his eyes. "i can't wait until it starts snowing. doesn't it ever get boring? making the same jokes over and over again."

you pretended to give his question serious thought until you finally answered. "no, not really."

utahime watched the interaction between you with a furrowed brow. "i can't believe you two are a couple." she finally said, abruptly changing the subject. "you just don't act coupley at all."

shoko disagreed. "what does that even mean? they've been together for like forever."

it felt a little strange to gojo that she was kind of supportive of your relationship right now. she wasn't really, but it felt that way to him, and he was happy about it and agreed with her. "exactly. that is a heavy accusations you're throwing in the room, that i'm not going to tolerate. i would literally die for my girlfriend, which is like the bare minimum, i know. but still." he spoke in a completely serious voice.

you hummed in support of him. "yeah, i mean men are meant to die in war anyway, so it's good that you know."

there. you guys were doing it again. "that's what i'm talking about. nothing about how you behave with each other is romantic in the slightest way." she said, a little disappointed. "i've also never seen you kiss or heard that you're going on dates. i mean, do you even have anything planned for your anniversary?" she continued to enumerate, getting seriously worried.

you didn't take her worry serious since you did all these things in private. you just preferred it that way. "we live together, and we spend a lot of quality time together. just because we don't call everything a date doesn't mean we never do anything as a couple." you retorted, and satoru supported what you said with adding period. "i've been a little lazy lately due to it getting so cold again, and i don't feel like doing anything extravagant because it just mentally exhausts me on top with work. so we'll probably just chill and have some phone time in the evening." you answered her question about your anniversary. maybe you would get satoru a little gift like flowers. yeah, he liked getting flowers. you mentally made a note to look on the internet for some with a nice meaning.

shoko repeated questioningly. "phone time?" somehow, she imagined it to be something very strange.

"yeah, you know." satoru began, although the two had no idea what you two were talking about. "lying in bed. scrolling on social media - mostly tiktok. showing funny or stupid videos to each other and laughing about it."

you raised an index finger to add. "or cat videos." you reminisced about some silly trends in the past. "i kind of miss dabloon cat..."

so the two are just some sort of ipad kids.

"that's pretty weird, actually. you two are weird." said utahime in conclusion, not knowing what else to say.

you just rolled your eyes as you took another sip of your coffee. "last time i checked, you were single."

a sigh escaped her at the remark. "well, i can't argue against that. my dating life has been drier than a desert lately..."

at that, a slight giggle escaped satoru's lips, reminding you all that he was indeed still present in the room. "you know what's not dry after i - "

"satoru."

"what? just because she doesn't see us kiss doesn't mean that we don't do it."

#female reader #jjk satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #fanfic drabble #utahime iori #shoko ieiri #crack fic #jujutsu kaisen #satoru x you #x reader

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katyaromanoffpetrova · 3 months ago

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Is this the end? (part III)

Katya is new at SHIELD. When she messes up during her probation, she thinks Fury will send her away. To ease the pain, she distances herself from Nat.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 4.8k • Warnings: angst, mentions of self-harm and (sexual) abuse (both not detailed) •A/N: The final part!! Sorry it took me over a month to finish... Hope you enjoy! Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

"Another lap! Keep going! Keep going!"

Katya's head still spun from the psychological tests they drowned her in this morning, and now they had her doing a military physical test in the Maryland afternoon rain. She completed the obstacle course in record time—as expected—and was now running laps around a muddy track with her lungs burning in her chest.

"Come on! I've seen kids go faster than that!"

Katya clenched her teeth, refraining from yelling anything back to the stupid woman in the middle of the track, with her stupid stopwatch and her stupid clipboard. There were two intimidating looking SHIELD agents, one at the south gate and one at the north, with pistols strapped to their legs, that wouldn't appreciate an outburst like that.

She knew for a fact that she was going twenty percent faster than the fastest human being. Twenty percent smarter, twenty percent stronger, twenty percent faster. At least, that's what she was told. Who knows how true that all was.

There were more things she didn't know about herself than she did know. This morning's tests had proven that once again.

Besides the puzzles, the riddles, the IQ tests, the personality test, and the lie detector loyalty test—the one SHIELD knew she could beat if she wanted to—there was the shrink, the therapist. Katya hated them. Always pretending to understand what she felt, the sympathetic look, the invasive questions; those people could never help her. She didn't want their help.

But answering their questions was a part of this weird test day that she didn't fully understand, but she felt she had to behave for.

So she acted like nothing the shrink said bothered her, talked around things, and tried to fight off the pit of despair in her stomach when he asked her the most basic questions.

"Where were you born?"

"I don't know."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"No idea."

"What are the names of your parents?"

"Couldn't tell you."

Lucky for her, Katya didn't have time to dwell on them like she usually would. She was ordered to put on sports clothes and shoved in the back of a SHIELD van right after the interview ended. And now she was here, trying very hard not to think about them again as all the laps she ran blurred into one.

Instead, she tried to figure out what this testing thing was all about. Because last night, she was still one-hundred percent convinced she would have to leave SHIELD. No doubts. Her bags were packed. She had made peace with it.

But then they pulled her out of bed at 6 this morning. First to put her in a room with all these tests; figural reasoning, logic-based reasoning, situational judgement. And now to test her physical fitness. All stuff to determine how good of a spy she'd be.

Why?

Katya mulled over that single question on the journey here, to this SHIELD training facility.

Why would they be testing her if they were sending her off?

That question spun around and around in her head. It was there as she climbed the rope net, there as she crawled through the mud—inches below barbed wire, there as she dashed across a slim beam, and there as her feet splashed tirelessly in the puddles on the oval track.

She still didn't have a solid answer.

She didn't dare to think about the positive answer.

Nothing in her life had ever turned out good. Her stay at SHIELD—it had felt finite from the start. Too good to be true. She was a tool, one that was meant to work and function. Worthless if it didn't. There was no way SHIELD was going to keep her if she didn't function. The organizations she was a part of before didn't. Why would SHIELD be different? Even here, there must be no space for leniency.

No, they were definitely going to throw her by the side of the road like trash.

Or—and this possibility started to claw at Katya's heaving chest with terror—they were selling her again. Back to the Russians. Back to whatever party wanted to have her.

Katya hadn't noticed her rhythmic steps had started to falter until a loud voice called across the field.

"Come on! Don't stop! Keep going!"

But she was heaving now, panic slashing through her body when she couldn't catch her breath. She stumbled clumsily, her heart racing in her chest. The ground rushed towards her.

They were making her go back to Russia.

"Hey! Petrova!"

She wasn't gonna let them. Another life of abuse, of torture. She couldn't do it. She wouldn't do it.

"Are you hearing me?!"

She'd die before going back there. If she was going to be handed off, she was going to make a run for it. Either she'd make it out alive, or they'd shoot her dead. A win either way.

"Are you hearing me? I said: keep going!"

Katya abruptly shot up, her eyes spitting fire as she turned around with newfound energy. "Shut up!" She screamed, so loudly her aching lungs burned. "I'm trying! Can't you see I'm trying!"

Her supervisor blinked a few times, her thumb frozen on the start/stop button of the old-fashioned stopwatch. She didn't look surprised as Katya glared at her. That must not be a good thing.

Immediately knowing she fucked up, Katya turned around again and ran off as fast as her numb legs could carry her. Through the mud, through the soppy grass, with no real destination in mind. There was no way out of this fenced complex, but she didn't stop until she collapsed against the wall of an electricity cabin, black spots dancing across her vision.

Tears burned behind her eyes. Her breath came and went in short bursts as she tried to fight off an even intenser panic attack.

Everything was officially over. Yelling at her supervisor definitely closed the book of a life at SHIELD for good. And it was all her own fault. Her fault for not being good enough, and that was a completely new thing for her. She'd always been the best.

Katya turned her face up to the sky, the cold raindrops refreshing on her burning skin. She used them to ground herself, counting them one by one to gain control of her panicked body.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine.

Strangely enough, she longed for Natasha. The woman had no clue of her panic attacks, but Katya suddenly felt a strong need to have her by her side, helping her through this one.

Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two.

Her chest ached, but not because of her lungs this time. She would have to say goodbye to Natasha again soon.

Thirty-three, thirty-four.

Her tears mixed with the rain. All her emotions surrounding the redhead were a confusing mess. Where her whole life and future felt unsure and scary, Natasha was the center of calmness. If Katya thought of her, she felt strong, safe, able to do anything.

Thirty-five, thirty-six.

Natasha brought up emotions within her that Katya hadn't felt in ten years. Genuine happiness, affection, purpose, but most of all, that incredibly dangerous four-letter word.

Thirty-seven, thirty-eight.

But there was also fear, and guilt, and anger, and grief. One minute, Katya was confident of what she felt and wanted. The next, she was sure everything was doomed and nobody ever loved her.

Thirty-nine, forty.

"Petrova!" A voice called from the distance. Katya turned her head away from the sky, squinting through the rain. "We're done for today! Let's go! We're leaving!"

Forty-one, forty-two.

This was the end. But her life at SHIELD was doomed to end the day it started, so what did anything still matter?

~~~~

She didn't apologize for her outburst when she got into the car. The concept of a genuine apology was foreign to her. Nobody had ever said sorry to her. Not for touching her, not for beating her up, and not for starving her to death. So she never apologized either.

Rain, sweat, and mud dripped from her body onto the leather seats and the floor mats down below. Katya felt disgustingly gross, if that was even a thing. Her socks were wet, she stank, her skin felt gross, and her nails were black with mud. It only added to her emotional misery.

She wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Her life had known very deep lows, but this must be one of the most painful moments of all. Right when everything was at the tips of her fingers, it fell out of reach. And that happened while she looked and felt like a drowned rat.

Shivering and shaking, Katya crawled out of the car an hour later, eager to take a shower.

She decided not to wait any longer. After getting clean, she was going to pack her bags and leave. She had waited long enough. This had dragged out long enough. If they weren't going to make the decision, then she would, walking out of the best thing that ever happened to her.

"Fury wants to see you in this office."

That sentence should have instilled more fear into her than it did, but Katya felt physically nothing as she nodded once, turning to the lifts to freshen up before facing the most important man of the Western world.

"Right now."

She stopped and turned back to her supervisor, raising her eyebrows. Some dried mud cracked on her forehead. "Can't I shower first?"

"Now," the woman ordered, striding off with big steps.

Katya suppressed a scoff, sighing deeply as she dragged her feet to the elevators. What a way to get fired. She didn't blame the people that shuffled away from her in the elevator this time. In the reflection of the doors, she caught sight of herself and completely understood their disgust.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Those were not the first words Katya had expected to hear from her boss when she stepped into his office, but she hadn't missed the hint of amusement in his voice and in the glint of his eye. She couldn't blame him either.

Awkwardly, she pushed her damp hair behind her ears. "Maryland rain, sir," she answered stupidly, too paralyzed to come up with anything better.

Fury scoffed a laugh, rustling through the papers on his desk. "You better not drag any of that on my carpet."

"I'll try not to," Katya answered, standing even more still.

It appeared Fury had no rush, because he kept searching for something in the silence that settled into the room. She hoped he couldn't see her anxiety. Because despite her acceptance of the future, Katya's heart pounded in her chest with nerves. She hated it. There was only one emotion that could persist after all this:

Hope.

Her mouth opened before she could stop it.

"Before you send me away, sir, I would like to say something, if I can."

Blankly, Fury looked up. He couldn't be thrilled about an interruption, but Katya took his sudden attention and silence as a yes. She cleared her throat and felt the corners of her mouth turn up.

"I just want to say thank you. I know it wasn't generosity that allowed me to stay. It wasn't pity either. I don't know what it was. But you gave me an opportunity to become better, to turn my life around… and that means more to me than you'll ever know."

Now, she was ready to leave. Thanking him was the last thing on her to-do list before she could peacefully go. He was, after all, the first man who had ever protected her.

"Who said anything about sending you away?"

Katya blinked—once, twice—trying to grasp the meaning of his words. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the world started to spin.

Fury sighed, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. "I had Romanoff storm into my office on Monday. She's very… protective of you. Said I had no reason to doubt you. That you hadn't lied about anything. Was she wrong?"

"No, sir," Katya answered on autopilot. Her brain was numb, too confused trying to understand what the hell was going on. She was only half aware of what he was saying.

Fury calmly studied her. "I assume she told you that the mission was a test? A test of loyalty."

Katya nodded once. It had felt so unimportant when Natasha told her that. She failed her mission, test or not. End of story.

"See, I can never be certain of the choices someone makes until they are in a life or death situation," Fury continued. "When you joined our fine organization, you were locked up, literally chained to the floor with nowhere to go. It's easy to give up your loyalty that way."

His leather chair squeaked when he sat up straight, folding his hands together on his messy desk. His one eye pierced her skin until it stared straight into her soul. Katya had never felt more like a kid.

"So, I wanted to see if you'd do the same thing again. If choosing to join SHIELD was just a way to save your own ass, or that you really wanted a second chance."

A drop of rain water trickled down Katya's temple and cheek.

"The easy way out would have been to surrender to Hydra, convince them you joined us with the goal to spy on us and report back later. But you didn't. You fought for your freedom, for your return to us."

Part of Katya was hurt and furious that he put her through that. That he emotionally broke her by letting her believe that she messed up. But the bigger, rational part of her completely understood. Fury wasn't the director for nothing. He made smart choices—hard choices—in order to keep his organization safe.

She wouldn't have trusted herself either if she was in his shoes. She had all the odds against her. Russian, a spy. She'd killed dozens of good guys, grown up brainwashed and indoctrinated. She'd been physically, mentally, emotionally and sexually abused her whole life, making her the most unstable, traumatized person on the planet.

The only reason she was standing here was because of Natasha. And because of that small, tiny spot in Fury's heart that was soft for lost, broken people like her.

Fury picked up the iPad in front of him, swiping and tapping on it until he started to read from it. "See, today, you gave me the best scores I've seen since Romanoff did the same military course. In dry weather."

Surprised, Katya's lips parted. Her performance today didn't feel like anything special.

"You ran multiple track records forty minutes in. You're stronger than the strongest guy we have, you are more intelligent than most of the scientists we have down at the lab, with zero mistakes on the tests from this morning. Your aim is impeccable, and your situational judgement is excellent." Fury lowered the iPad, pointedly looking at her. "I would be extremely stupid to let a good spy like that walk out of my building."

Katya could hardly hear anything over the pounding in her ears. She was shaking so violently she feared she was spraying drops of water everywhere like a wet dog. "What are you saying?" She asked, suppressing the hope in her voice.

"That I'm taking a big leap—no a huge leap, by making you an official Agent of SHIELD, but I believe that you won't break my trust."

Katya squared her shoulders, ignoring the huge wave of relief that crashed into her. "I'll be the best, most loyal spy you've ever had."

Something flickered behind Fury's eyes. A smile? He reached for the drawer of his desk, pulling something out. "Somehow, I don't doubt that."

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed something on the far side of his desk. Curious, Katya took a step closer, stretching out to see what it was.

Her own face stared back at her.

Katariina Alina Petrova. Level 1.

"Welcome to SHIELD, Agent Petrova."

~~~~

Katya pulled her knees tighter to her chest, closing her eyes and enjoying the hot water that cascaded down her body. It wasn't only cleansing her skin, but her heavy soul, slowly washing away all these months of insecurity and tension, revealing the person that she forgot existed underneath. It felt freeing, like a rebirth.

Another violent tremble shook her so badly that her teeth clattered. For this reason, she had to sit down to shower. It started once she realized she was safe, shedding her muddy clothes on the bathroom floor. First, she'd thrown up her lunch in the toilet and nearly fainted, and then the trembles started. It was just her body's way of getting rid of all the tension.

Katya didn't even mind it. She was too ecstatic to be bothered. Her sobs bounced off the tiled walls in relief, in disbelief, in happiness. She sobbed until her lungs hurt. It felt so good.

There was only one person on her mind who she desperately wanted to share the news with. The only reason she hadn't stormed over there immediately after getting her SHIELD ID was because of the way she looked and smelled. And because of the way Katya had been treating her these past few weeks…

It took an hour for her body to calm down enough that it was safe to stand up. Katya got out of the shower on shaky legs, made herself look presentable, and then snuck to the kitchen. Her stomach felt queasy, her throat raw and dry. She chugged a whole bottle of water and stuffed a sandwich down before stealing something out of the special cabinet.

Even the hallways of SHIELD HQ felt different as she walked through them. She saw things she'd never seen before because she had been too anxious, too focused to see them. She'd never fully taken in all the details, because why would she do that if she wasn't sure that she could get to stay? Like a foster kid that didn't dare unpack their clothes until a few months later because they weren't sure if their foster parents would want to keep them.

Katya sat outside, by the river, on one of the only recreational benches that were placed there. HQ was built on such a small island that there wasn't much space around it. And all the space that was there, was used efficiently. Agents that wanted to go on a stroll in the fresh air had to cross the bridge.

But Katya wasn't looking for exercise. She was looking for a quiet place to drink. Was that a smart idea on a sensitive stomach? No. Probably a very bad idea. But even though she felt on top of the world, the reality of her actions also came down on her in this sudden clarity of emotions.

She'd treated Natasha like shit. Avoided her, yelled at her, ignored her. And the redhead had deserved none of those things.

Katya's heart ached when she thought about it. She couldn't help how dark things got when she fell into a depression like that, but it didn't mean she shouldn't take responsibility for her actions. It wasn't an excuse to behave like she did.

But it was so, so hard to talk about. Emotions, feelings, they weren't supposed to be spoken about. They were supposed to be hidden. She was supposed to be stronger than those raging feelings in her body. Look where it brought her if she gave in.

Katya shook her head strictly and took another sip of vodka. Those were toxic thoughts. Things they programmed her with. She was human, and humans had feelings, and feelings were meant to be felt. What she was about to do went against everything she was taught.

She was going to apologize to Natasha.

By the time she managed to muster up the courage to knock on Natasha's apartment door, she'd finished half the bottle of vodka. It had done little to nothing to ease her nerves. Her hands still shook as she pushed her ID deeper into the back pocket of her jeans and fiddled with the cap of the vodka bottle.

Katya was prepared for anything. If Natasha wanted to slam the door in her face and yell mean things at her, then she deserved that. Honestly, she expected it. Anything slightly better than that would be too generous.

Her heart threatened to burst out of her throat when she heard shuffling on the other side of the wooden door. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she should just send a text message. But before she could actually bail, the door swung open.

Natasha froze in place, her eyes widening. "Kat," she breathed in surprise. It must have come out different than she wanted to, because she shifted her weight around and added a more casual, ''Hey.''

She must have seen the difference in Katya's demeanor right away, right when she laid eyes on her. The dark war flag had been taken down for one of surrender. Usually, it was a shame to wave a white flag. But in this case, it was bravery.

"Hey," Katya answered with a trembling half smile, avoiding Natasha's gaze in a way that was meant to be nonchalant. Stupidly, she hadn't thought of what to say. Who the hell came up to give an apology and didn't rehearse what to say first? "I have something for you."

As disoriented as she was, Natasha took the bottle of vodka without thinking. When she held it up to study it, Katya realized what an incredibly stupid gift it was, and how she deserved a slap in the face for this terrible attempt at an apology. It's just as soon as she was in front of Natasha, all the words left her brain.

"Yeah, sorry, I drank half of it," Katya said sheepishly when she saw the odd look on Natasha's face. "I needed some courage to come talk to you.''

Her vulnerable confession came as a surprise to both of them. Natasha's expression visibly softened while Katya fought the urge to run away or make a joke to cover it up. She'd never felt this uncomfortable, but she rooted her boots into the floor and refused to give in to it.

Natasha turned the bottle over in her hand, reading the label on the back. "Where did you get this?" Katya was grateful she didn't comment on her confession.

"The kitchen."

The redhead's head snapped up. "You stole this?" Her eyes flickered left and right into the hallway, the blood draining from her face. She looked afraid. "Kat, one foot wrong and you're out—"

"Yeah, I wouldn't worry about that anymore." With a sly smile, Katya pulled her new SHIELD ID from her pocket and held it up.

The rest of Natasha's scolding words died in her throat. Her mouth closed, and she slowly raised her free hand to take the ID. It was obvious that Katya had surprised her. So many different emotions crossed over her face but they were gone too quickly to nail down. She was too hard to read. Even for Katya right now.

"When did you get this?'' She asked distractedly, reading the words on the very plain, very boring ID. Katya's headshot wasn't even pretty. They took it right as she came out of the isolation cell, when she had barely seen the sun in weeks.

''Two hours ago?'' She nervously chewed on her lip. She couldn't tell if Natasha was happy about it. What if she didn't want her to stay anymore after this week? Oh gosh, what then?

But then, right as Katya couldn't take it anymore, a smile broke through on Natasha's face. ''Well, shit.'' She gave a disbelieving chuckle, her green eyes sparkling proudly as she looked her childhood friend in the eye. ''Congrats. I knew you could do it.''

Katya felt tingly all over. The first person to believe in her wasn't herself, it was Natasha. For a long time, it was only Natasha. It made her want to hold her chin up a bit higher, and try a little bit harder. For her.

''Thank you.'' She ignored the heat in her cheeks as she stuck the ID back in her pocket. Receiving compliments was an art she didn't master, so she covered it up with a joke. "A lot of people aren't going to be happy with this decision."

Natasha scoffed cockily, stepping aside to let Katya into her apartment. "Screw that. You belong with m—us now. I always knew, but now it's on paper too." She shrugged her shoulders after she closed the door, placing the vodka on a cabinet to the side. "Or on plastic, I guess."

Puzzle pieces fell into place. Peace settled over Katya like a warm blanket in the winter as she looked around Natasha's plain apartment. This was her home now. She was officially safe. She had friends who had her back. She belonged somewhere. She could breathe.

The emotions were so overwhelming. The urge to curl up into a ball on the floor and cry happily was so strong. Twenty-three years of living and she finally had a place in this world.

"Natalia.''

Natasha was already looking at her, but Katya felt the need to say her name, to make sure she was listening. That she knew something serious was coming. Uneasily, the blonde shuffled in her spot, staring at Natasha's stomach instead of looking into her eyes. She wouldn't be able to say what she wanted to say.

''I'm sorry.'' Her throat felt tight. The words were hard to get out. But Katya pushed them out and threw her heart at Natasha's feet. ''I really thought Fury was going to send me away. I tried to make it easier for myself by distancing myself from you, to try and make the heartbreak hurt less. It was stupid, and unfair, and I hurt you, and I'm really sorry for that."

She sucked in a shallow breath. That was the most open she'd been her whole life. But it felt good to get that off her chest.

"It was stupid," Natasha said. Shocked by her bluntness, Katya forgot her nerves and looked up. "Stupid to think I wouldn't follow you out that door if you left."

Katya quickly shook her head, refusing to acknowledge the weight of those words. "I would never want you to give all this up for me. It's the reason I didn't come to find you in the first place.''

''Looks like I don't have to give up anything now.'' Natasha looked so sure about her decision that Katya didn't even try to argue any more. She just observed the woman standing in front of her. The one she didn't deserve in every lifetime.

"I'm sorry, Talia. Again. I fell into old habits."

"Don't beat yourself up. You're already forgiven,'' Natasha said softly. She glanced at the floor, sliding her hands into her back pockets. ''I also want to say sorry, for the way I reacted when I found you in the shooting range.'' She shook her head, as if she disapproved of herself. ''That could've been done way better. I was just—you scared me.''

Katya mirrored her depressing mood, shame washing over her in waves. She was so far away from that state of mind right now, that it was hard to understand why she wanted to dig that knife into herself to begin with. ''That was the first time somebody was there to stop me,'' she muttered, immediately beating herself up over saying that when Natasha's face saddened further.

''I'm sorry.''

Katya shook her head. ''I don't want you to feel like you have to keep me alive or something.''

''I don't feel like that,'' Natasha answered with conviction. ''But when you ever feel that urge again, will you come to me?''

''I can try.''

The redhead nodded once, then straightened up and took the vodka from the cabinet. ''Enough of the heavy stuff. We should celebrate. Have you been to the roof?'' She asked mysteriously, a smug sparkle in her bright eyes. And just like that, the conversation was over and they were all good again.

''No…?'' Katya answered warily.

Natasha smiled, swinging the door open. ''Let's go then, Agent Petrova.''

Katya chuckled as she passed through, watching Natasha take a big swig of the liquor as they walked down the hallway. ''You do realize you're going to be stuck with me forever now, right?''

''It's the only way I wanted it.''

#katandnat #katyaromanoffpetrova #forgotten ghost series #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!oc #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow #mcu #marvel #wlw #angst

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the-roo-too · 4 months ago

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morrow lily x reader; non-idol au

warnings: mean girl lily; mentions of underage drinking

getting into your dream university was a struggle, one that you expected. growing up, money was always tight and you were used to having less. never complaining, only accepting what you could get. that taught you to be grateful and kind to others, two important character traits you’d always be thankful for.

the only way for you to get into that prestige school was by getting a scholarship. at first when you were notified of the opportunity, you were overjoyed. it meant you could fight for your dreams, something you’ve worked so hard to achieve. there was nothing that could ruin it for you.

until you met lily. one of your three dormmates. lily jin morrow, the daughter of some sickeningly rich people. maybe if you grew up visiting auction houses often, you’d know who the morrow family was. to you, it was just another name in the crowd, people like all the others. to everyone else, the morrow’s were one of the most influential families in the whole south korea.

she grew up without every worrying about money, something you were kind of jealous of. sadly, she also was unreasonably mean to everyone less fortunate. going to a prestigious school like yours, she probably didn’t expect to meet people like you.

enough about your one dormmate, you still had two others! one of them was nakamura kazuha, a lovely girl on a sport’s scholarship. her family could easily afford the school but she was accepted specially into the football’s team. kazuha was the girl you were fortunate enough to room with. despite being absurdly spoiled, much like lily, she was a true sweetheart.

the last girl, lily’s roommate was yet another girl from an awfully rich background. an english major, pham hanni, the funniest girl you’d ever met. she joked a lot that if her parents would let her, she would do comedy major. hanni was the perfect game buddy when you were busy after studying the whole day. she and kazuha would absolutely smash you in mario cart any time they could.

then again, lily wouldn’t ever join you. she wasn’t outright mean or anything, but you could feel that distance she forcefully tried to keep between the two of you. when she found out you were in the school on scholarship because you wouldn’t be able to afford it, she made a point to keep away from you. avoiding you between classes, stopping her conversations when you were in the room. she never said anything too bad to your face, but you had a feeling she did talk being your back.

lily never thought she was a bad person per se. she just didn’t like people who were below her league. growing up in luxury, she was just used to having everything her way. getting randomly assigned roommates was bad enough, but one of them was awfully pretty to top it of? it’s not like lily was against any type of love but the idea of coming out in college…

just thinking about it made her head spin. when she looked at you, she couldn’t help but think about how pretty you were, even for someone her family would consider below her. she thought that you looked good in those stupid sweats you liked to wear on colder mornings, but you’d look so much better in one of hers. that thought didn’t sit well with her. of course people would notice if you wore her clothes. why did she even like that idea? thinking you were beautiful was one thing, but thinking about you like that…?

maybe because it was the first time lily found herself liking a girl, or maybe because she never before liked someone poorer than her, she didn’t know how to behave around you. the easiest way out was of course to avoid you.

talking shit to her roommates made her feel better too. they were like her, they should understand.

“i just don’t understand how we got roomed with her.” she mumbled while rolling her eyes and sitting down on your dorm’s couch, next to hanni. kazuha was currently on practice and you were wherever. she didn’t care at all, according to her at least.

“she’s nice actually.” hanni responded finally. she liked lily a lot, the older girl was normally super nice but whenever she was moody, she’d feel the need to shit talk about something. usually you. “i don’t know why you’re so mean to her always.”

“y/n? i’m not mean to her!” she huffed in response. “we barely talk. i could be mean to her, but i avoid her.”

“sure. that makes your case so much better.”

then, they both turned their heads as the doors to the dorm opened. in came kazuha, clearly tired after practice. she had her gym bag slung over her shoulder and her phone in her free hand.

“hey girls.” she greeted them both, cheerful as ever despite having probably ran miles during the practice. “y/n just texted me that she’s finishing her shift in the campus cafe, do you guys want anything? she offered to bring some coffee.”

hanni could hear her roommate scoff at that. “that’s lovely actually! ask her to get me lemonade please? i think that nice boy is on duty with her today and he makes it the best!”

kazuha wiggled her eyebrows at her friends before notting that down. “and you, lily?”

“i don’t want anything from her.”

“gosh, stop being so stubborn!” hanni groaned and punched the older girl’s shoulder. “she never did anything to you.”

“if she’s so rich she wants to buy me coffee, why is she here on scholarship?”

“can’t you just appreciate it when a girl does something nice to you?”

kazuha shook her head in disapproval before sending the text. “don’t bother, hanni.”

“i don’t know why you guys like that girl so much.”

“she’s nice. unlike you.” hanni stood up and walked closer to kazuha. “wanna play mario in your room? just take a shower first, you kinda stink.”

the japanese rolled her eyes but a small smile appeared on her face. she nodded her head and the two went their ways, leaving lily to sit on the couch all by herself.

aside from gossiping with her friends, the one thing lily loved was going to parties. it was just yet another chance for her to dress up and let loose.

imagine her surprise when she saw you out of all people, at a party in the senior’s dorms. how were you even invited? why’d you look like you were having so much more fun than her? how could you look so good?

then, kazuha noticed her. lily knew her and hanni would be here, so that wasn’t much of a surprise.

“hey, lily!” the japanese pushed through the sea of bodies, a red cup in her hand. “good to see you.”

“you thought i wouldn’t be here?” kazuha rolled her eyes subtly before shaking her head. “exactly.”

“never mind that. how are you?”

“i just arrived.” lily glanced at the cup before taking it from her roommates hand. “alcohol? i didn’t take you for someone who drinks underage.”

before kazuha could reply, she the liquid quickly and wincing. “no- i don’t drink. just some tonic.”

“ew. that’s why it tastes like shit.”

“have you seen y/n?”

lily followed the japanese girl’s. you looked good, even she could admit that. “i didn’t think she’d be here.”

“i think chan invited her. they’re friends, you know?”

“oh. right.” lily placed the empty cup on the counter. she wouldn’t use it again anyway. “she’s friends with everyone, isn’t she.”

“y/n is actually nice.” kazuha glanced back at you, but you weren’t standing in that spot. she quirked her brow in surprise before resuming her speech. “you should give her a chance.”

“i don’t like poor people.”

“why?”

the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “yeah, why?”

lily winced as she heard your voice. there you stood, in that ravishing dress. she turned to you with her neck mocking smile. “y/n.”

“lily.” you acknowledged her with a nod of your head. sensing the shift in the air around you, kazuha decided to head back to her friends. she didn’t want to be a witness to whatever went down.

lily leaned on the counter, scanning you up and down. “i didnt expect to see you here.”

you glanced down at the cup you were holding before taking a sip and humming. “chan invited me.”

“tonic?” she pointed to the red solo cup.

“nope.” you gave her a small smile and took another sip. “some cheep bear. it’s kinda disgusting, but one has to let loose somehow, right?”

“let loose?” lily chuckled quietly and moved closer to you. you felt almost uncomfortable with the sudden proximity. “did you know underage drinking could get your little scholarship cancelled?”

your cheeks turned a little red at her comment. she wouldn’t do that to you, right? “come on, lily��”

her hand suddenly landed on your waist. “you’re so pretty in that dress, you know?”

“hmpf.” you tried to move away from her, but her hand was keeping you in place. “i thought you didn’t like poor people.”

“i don’t.” she leaned even closer. so close in fact, you weren’t sure if your cheeks were red from embarrassment or from how close a pretty girl was to you. “but you’re a little different. you’re so annoying.”

“what-“

“but also so beautiful. i could maybe fix you.” before you could say anything else, she lightly kissed your cheek. stupid rich people. her breath didn’t smell like alcohol when she leaned in though. “shhh, don’t talk baby. you didn’t like me being mean, right? i’ll play with you a little then.”

so that was a couple months ago. now, you and your girlfriend of two weeks were sitting on the couch in your dorm, kazuha and hanni on the opposite side of you. lily had her face buried into your neck as she slept, the ‘l.m.’ necklace she gave you after your first date adoring your skin.

“can’t believe that’s how she got you. you like them mean, huh y/n?” hanni wiggled her eye brows at your and your cheeks turned uncomfortably red.

“i thought she was a little annoying…”

“excuses. i knew you two would end up together. speaking of which…” kazuha turned to hanni and reached out her hand with a knowing look. “you owe me 10$.”

“huh?” with a baffled expression, you glanced between your two dormmates.

hanni groaned loudly before reaching into her pocket. “i was betting you’d end up with chan…”

“you guys were betting on us?!”

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sapphire-dreamsky · 11 months ago

Text

on top of a hill with you, the sky was lit in shades of red and gold

pairing: ryomen sukuna x reader starring: ryomen sukuna | reader settings: alternate universe | sukuna is a student studying at jujutsu high | sukuna is somewhat behaving | sukuna is confused with the new human traditions, someone has to help him adjust | sunshine x grumpy trope

Sukuna tilted his head to the side as fireworks began their journey in the sky as singular strings only to fall down in a multitude array of red, purple and gold. After being sealed for more than one century, he missed a lot of human inventions. One of them included fireworks.

Upon knowing that, (name) also known as that 'brat' (affectionally, not that Sukuna would ever admit to it), took it upon herself to bring Sukuna to see the fireworks on top of a hill overlooking the sea. She claimed that the fireworks launching by the harbour were far more spectacular than those being released near the school. He deserved the best of shows. Or so she claimed. The girl seemed to always be conveniently forgetting that he was a murderer, a merciless sorcerer killer. And yet, her gaze never faltered from his red ones. She held her head high when everyone else was bowing to him in submission, praying that he wouldn't chop their heads off for every word that escaped their mouths. Everyone walked on thin ice around Sukuna. Despite his vow to not kill anyone, he was still feared amongst sorcerers. And he liked to keep it that way. Until that foolish brat came along, dared to smile sweetly at him, naively introduced herself as his new classmate as if he was a mere human sorcerer attending Jujutsu High and not the King of Curses masquerading as a student for the sake of his own entertainment and to cure his boredom with the people of this generation.

To him, the fireworks were nothing spectacular. They were just overrated explosives meant to look pretty. A way for humans to break from their routines of 9-5 by celebrating another incoming year filled with 9-5 shifts again. Another year to live by society's rules. There was truly nothing glorious about celebrating a new incoming year that will be filled with the same lifestyles even when (name) claimed the opposite.

"We make New Year resolutions before the clock turns to 12 00. On a piece of paper, you write your wishes for the next year. Come on, Sukuna! Is there anything you want to add on your bucket list?"

Sukuna pondered over the question for a minute. There was nothing much that he didn't do on a whim. Anything he wanted, he made sure to get within the next minute or hours if it was a long process.

"Kill everyone?"

(Name)'s mouth gaped open. Her eyes were comically wide open. For a minute, Sukuna thought he finally struck fear in that foolish human.

"You can't wish that! It needs to be a positive change!"

That girl was truly weird. She didn't scold him for his 'New Year resolutions'. He might have been a bit creeped out by her trust and faith in him to be honest.

"What should I wish for then? There is nothing I cannot get in this world."

"Well, I cannot tell you what to wish. It must be something you genuinely want."

The conversation was changed soon after. However, he did see her scribbling something on a yellow post-it note with her red coloured pen. He saw a faint "2024 resolutions" written on top of the paper. He only shook his head. Foolish human.

And now, as the fireworks exploded in the sky filling the darkness with some colours, he turned his head towards (name) only to notice that she had her eyes closed, head bowed with hands in a praying position. 'She must be making her New Year's Resolutions.'

A moment passed before another firework broke down in the sky. This time, it was a golden one. He watched as the colours reflected on her skin. She would look beautiful in gold. And red. Like a firework in the sky, the vision of her dressed in a white shiromuku with an innocent grin gracing her face as her eyes twinkled with happiness, was quick to appear and quicker to fade.

As if on cue, (name)'s eyes slowly opened. She turned her head to the side to look at Sukuna.

"Did you make a wish Sukuna?"

He turned his head away from her to look at the fireworks once again.

"Yes."

A red and golden light lit up the sky.

"Let's come here again next year, (name)."

Happy New Years everyone! I pray that 2024 brings you health, peace, happiness and prosperity.

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna x reader

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hazbininlove · 9 months ago

Text

Hopelessly Devoted - Chapter 3

-About 5.5k. No real warnings in this chapter!

Charlie is more or less freaking out at the moment. She received news a week ago that Esther would be coming back down to assist with the Hotel and would be bringing a guest. Now today is the day of that visit and she feels like nothing is ready. Everything in the hotel feels out of place and she doesn’t know how to fix it.

“Charlie, you need to relax,” Vaggie says, coming up to her and placing her hands on Charlie’s shoulders. Charlie grabs at her own hair in frustration.

“I can’t, Vaggie! Esther didn’t come into the hotel last time and I just want it to be perfect! And she said she’s bringing someone else! What if it’s Sera? What if it’s Michael?! WHAT IF IT'S GOD?!”

“Charlie! She’s not bringing God to our hotel! And I doubt she’d bring Michael here! He’s probably the last person who’d ever willingly down here.”

Charlie groans and slumps into Vaggies hold. “What am I gonna dooooooo-“

“Do about what?”

“Ah!” Charlie jumps out of Vaggie’s hold and looks to the entrance where her dad is standing. His eyebrows furrow in concern.

“You doing alright, apple pie? You look uhhh kinda tired,” he inquires.

“Dad! Hi! I could really use your help right now! Esther is coming down any minute now and he’s bringing someone and-“

“Esther!” Her dad yells, his hands now gripping her arms. “She’s coming here?! Today?! Now?!!”

“Ooooh I see I forgot to mention that,” Charlie replies sheepishly, laughing awkwardly to herself. “I knew I was forgetting something.”

Lucifer’s hands let go of her to grip his own hair, knowing his hat off his head. He starts pacing as he freaks out.

“Oh hell she’s coming here. I haven’t prepared anything. Nothing has felt right! I haven’t even had the time to fix up my wings. My WINGS!”

He yells, and his wings pop out behind him in the largest form Charlie’s seen from him in months, knocking over a painting as he does so. “Satan’s smelly asscrack! They’re a mess! How the fuck am I supposed to impress her with this disaster?!”

“I don’t think Uncle Satan would appreciate that comment,” Charlie mumbles, trying to defuse the situation.

“He’s an ugly sweaty fuck! He can handle a few insults in his name!” Lucifer yells back. He pauses, groans, and rubs at his temples. “Sorry, apple pie. I’m just nervous and didn’t mean to yell. Satan definitely deserves it though.”

“Aren’t the two of you supposed to be twins or something?” Vaggie asks, approaching the two of them. “Isn’t that why people confuse you two so often?”

“Aha, no, you know all those pictures of a red dude with horns that people think is me? That’s Satan. He’s just such a damn menace that of course when shit goes sideways, they think he’s the actual devil which then confuses people and- you know what? It’s a whole thing. The point is, he smells like shit half the time I see him and I think he does it on purpose.”

“Dad, I think we’re off track again. Why are you freaking out about your wings? And can you please make them smaller before you break anything else?” Charlie asks.

Sheepishly, Lucifer does just that, letting them get smaller until they’re at a more appropriate size indoors. He snaps his fingers to fix the things he knocked over and continues pacing as he fiddles with his hands.

How does one explain to their daughter that he has an inside joke of sorts with his soulmate and now as part of proving himself to her again, he has to behave like a duck during mating season and impress her.

Shit, had Esther even meant that literally? Knowing her humor, she probably did, though she definitely expected more than just that as an apology. He wasn’t entirely sure how to apologize either. He’d told her everything the week before. Of course, just because he explained and apologized doesn’t mean she had to forgive him. And he knew one apology wouldn’t make up for several millennia apart, due to his own actions, but he really didn’t know what else to say or even do to make it up to her.

It just stressed him out more that he couldn’t think of anything to do about this. He couldn’t lose her again, not when he finally had a second chance. He’d been struggling to sleep for the past week just thinking about her. Her beautiful dark blue eyes, her wavy black hair with the streaks of white, the rich blue on the underside of her beautiful wings. Lucifer feels his heart beat a little faster at the thought of her bright smile aimed at him, eyes crinkled at the end in pure joy and those cheek marks on the corner of her mouth so high they almost look like they’re reaching her eyes.

“It’s nothing Char,” he replies to his daughter. “I just want to look my best when she arrives. And you said she’s bringing a gues- Who the fuck is she bringing?”

“We don’t know, sir. We can only assume it’s another angel,” Vaggie answers for her, likely stopping Charlie from panicking again.

“Oh fuck me! It’s probably Michael! It’s definitely Michael,” he replies, hands in his hair again as his eyes start to turn red and his voice sounds almost layered. “She talked about him so much last time, it probably is him. That fucker probably did mess with her head. She said she doesn’t love him but someone with Stockholm Syndrome probably wouldn’t admit they have it!”

“Okay!” Charlie claps loudly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here! Vaggie’s right. We need to relax and think things through. I doubt she’d bring him of all people here. So let’s just focus on one thing at a time! Like cleaning up the lobby!”

Lucifer looks at his daughter with a blank stare and snaps his finger. A burst of gold sparks from his hand and sweeps around the room, cleaning up any dust and straightening out paintings and chairs alike as it goes.

“Can I go back to panicking now?”

“No!” Charlie yells, grabbing her dad and leading him towards the elevators. “We’re going to go get ourselves looking presentable!”

Vaggie watches in amusement but also concern as her girlfriend drags her whining father out of the lobby. Looking around the room, he definitely did a good job of cleaning up and saved them a good amount of time. Especially after the disaster left in the wake of Charlie’s own panicking.

She’s thankful that her and Charlie’s relationship isn’t as complicated as Lucifer’s and Esther’s. She feels bad for them. Knowing what she knows now, it all seemed like a “right person, wrong time” situation. And who knows how long those two even actually spent together before Lucifer had fallen.

The books she read aren’t exactly clear on how long between Lucifer’s creation and the creation of Eden took place. Lucifer is older than Earth, that much she knows, but how much older remains a mystery to everyone except the man himself, and she isn’t sure if asking is appropriate.

And to an immortal being who’s been around for as long as he has and still looks like a relatively young adult, how does time pass for him? Sinners remain the age they died at, but was Lucifer like Adam, Lilith, and Eve? Was he also created as an adult? Were the older angels created as children and then raised into adulthood before the aging stopped? Looking at a picture of Lucifer and Charlie, Lucifer looks the same age now as he did then. Now that Charlie’s older, he looks like he could’ve been a teenage father.

Had Lucifer and Esther had thousands of years between their creation and the Earth’s creation to spend together, or had it just been a few short years together before their forced separation? It doesn’t really matter, at the end of the day. They seemed to be the first and most functional of three pairs of soulmates ever made.

Like Esther had said the day before. The first attempt to recreate them ended in disaster with Adam and Lilith, Eve… No one in heaven had seen Eve in thousands of years and Adam never cared to talk about her besides when insulting her. The only pair that seemed to want to be together was Lucifer and Esther, and even they weren’t actually together because of the miscommunication between them that caused eons of loneliness for the two of them.

No wonder God never made more soulmates. The more Vaggie thinks about it, the more her head starts to hurt. She walks around the lobby instead, making sure nothing was out of place even with Lucifer’s magic.

A knock on the door alerted her to a guest. Vaggie paused, looking over to the bar where Husk had paused in his own polishing, and stared back at her.

“Try to keep the drinks to a minimum, please,” she says to him. He rolls his eyes but continues wiping the bar as she walks towards the door.

Before she can reach the door, a swirl of shadows lifts from the ground, and she curses to herself as she sees Alastor appear from it. She’s practically sprinting and he shifts his eyes to look at her, smile stretched impossibly wide, as he grips the door and pulls it open.

”Welcome, dear guests, to the Hazbin Hotel,” he says, greeting the two at the door.

There is Esther, smiling softly in greeting, with a taller man beside her. His skin is ghostly white like Lucifer’s, but his hair is black like Esther’s. It’s a bit longer than Lucifer’s, falling more into his face and curling around his neck. His suit is impeccable, white pants, black coat, and gray waistcoat. Along the shoulders of his coat are black pads lined in silver with intricate designs. His eyes are dark gray, bordering on blue closer to the pupils.

He looks like royalty, carries himself with an air of importance, but his eyes look soft and his expression is easygoing. It takes Vaggie a few moments before his appearance clicks in her mind.

This is Azrael, the Archangel of Death, the Virtue of Patience.

He’s rarely seen in any of the spheres of Heaven. He, like Raphael, spends most of his time on Earth. When he does return to Heaven, he passes through the spheres and says his hellos, but typically spends most of his time on Primum Mobile with the other higher ranking angels that aren’t ruling over a sphere like Sera.

If he spends any time in another sphere, it’s likely the first sphere where the majority of the winners reside, or in the third sphere where he was created, Venus, just as Lucifer and Esther were.

Well, Azrael is certainly better than Michael in terms of who would stress Lucifer out the most, but Vaggie isn’t holding out much hope. Esther had mentioned that Azrael was likely to visit, but she hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Especially since it’s only her second visit.

At least she could say that of all the virtues or archangels to bring, the Virtue of Patience would probably be the best to deal with all the chaos the people of this hotel were capable of causing.

Both of their wings were tucked away and out of sight, which was probably for the best both to get them through the door and so they wouldn’t take up too much space. They likely planned on spending a good amount of time there, if that was the case.

Vaggie bows to both of them, nervous at the sight of one of Heaven’s strongest angels. Azrael doesn’t fight, might as well be a pacifist, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable. The Seven Capital Virtues all have more power than most beings besides God himself, and even they aren’t the top of the hierarchy the way that the Seven Deadly Sins were down here in Hell.

“Welcome! It’s an honor for you to visit us,” Vaggie says. She may not live in Heaven anymore, or agree with everything they do, but even she knows the Virtues and the Archangel of Death deserved her utmost respect. Esther visiting had been a shock, especially since Vaggie had never seen her so she didn’t know her importance.

“Please, no need for all of that,” Azrael replies. His voice is light, almost airy, but strong. It’s so different from Lucifer’s rich and smooth tone of voice. Lucifer, despite his awkwardness around his daughter, talks in a voice that is loud and boisterous when he wants it to be, like he’s demanding attention. Azrael’s voice sounds more like a soft breeze, calming and comforting.

She supposes when it’s your job to console the souls of the dead and guide them towards their final resting place, a comforting tone is probably for the best.

“I assume you know who I am?” Azrael asks, taking a step into the hotel after gesturing for Esther to enter first. Vaggie nods, not sure what else to say. “I don’t get to say this often, but it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He holds his hand out for her to shake, and she takes it. His grip is just as soft as his voice. “It’s nice to meet you too, sir.”

“None of that. Azrael is just fine,” he replies.

Behind them, Esther is greeting Husk and Alastor. Vaggie wants to warn Esther that staying away from Alastor is for the best, especially considering Lucifer’s hatred for the other man, but there’s really no nice way to say that.

Lucifer’s not going to be happy when he sees both a brother of his that he hasn’t seen in eons suddenly here, and Alastor around the love of his life.

Today’s gonna be a shitty day in hell, that’s for sure.

“Well, where is our lovely host? I’ve been dying to meet my little niece,” Azrael says, looking around the lobby. Esther chuckles behind him.

“The puns will never stop with you, will they?” Esther asks him, a knowing smirk on her lips.

“Not until my last breath,” he teases back. It’s then that Vaggie realizes he’s been making references to death. It’s not something she expected, but knowing how Lucifer acts, she can’t say she’s entirely surprised that the weird jokes run in the family. “Now, my niece, please?”

“Right, yeah, she actually just went upstairs with her dad a few minutes ago, so they should be down shortly,” Vaggie’s replies. She wants to offer to go get them, but the idea of leaving them alone with Alastor sounds like a bad idea. Especially knowing that Husk is likely too drunk even this early in the afternoon to do anything about it.

Something in Azrael’s eyes flash at the mention of Lucifer, and his smile tightens just a bit. It’s not a good sign in Vaggie’s eyes.

“Samael is here as well? How splendid, I’ve missed the little one,” Azrael says back. Vaggie sees Esther roll her eyes at the nickname. It appears Lucifer’s height is a running joke. “My workload increased drastically when my fellow angel of death fell. Of course there are others but Samael was always a joy to work with.”

“You know he prefers to be called Lucifer,” Esther scolds him. Azrael pats her gently. They don’t look alike, besides the black hair, but they act almost like siblings.

The way Lucifer and Esther were created, to be practically married, and the fact that they’ve known each other for thousands of years, Vaggie wouldn’t be surprised if the other Virtues did see her as a sister.

Azrael hums but stays silent on the subject. Instead he chooses to move around the lobby. He goes to the bar to greet a stressed looking Husk as Esther approaches her.

“It’s Vaggie, correct?” She asks and Vaggie nods. “It’s nice to see you again, dear. I apologize for not mentioning Azrael’s visit. He likes surprises and once he has it in his head, there’s no stopping him.”

“Yes ma’am. It was definitely surprising, but I think that’s because I tend to forget that Charlie’s dad was also a high ranking angel.”

“Technically, he still is,” Esther replies. She smiles down at Vaggie, her eyes warm despite the dark cool blue color they have. “He may not be allowed in Heaven anymore, nor is he a Virtue as he once was, but he’s still one of the oldest and strongest of the angels.”

“How interesting,” Alastor says, approaching them. “One would think we’d see more of this strength you speak of.”

“If that was the case, you’d be wiped from existence with the way you like pissing him off, asshole,” Vaggie replies to him. She pauses for a moment to look back at Esther and apologize for her language, but the angel doesn’t look upset at all.

“Well, I suppose some good came from our king’s reclusive nature then!”

Alastor’s eye twitches but he says nothing more, thankfully.

Even after the battle against Adam, Vaggie knows that was nowhere near Lucifer’s full strength. The man was once a Virtue, an Archangel who answered directly to God, and a Seraphim, the highest rank of the angels. He wasn’t called God’s favorite angel for nothing. With all the power Lucifer was given upon his creation, being called the favorite almost felt like an understatement.

Not that there weren’t angels stronger than Lucifer, but Vaggie read about the fall. Lucifer wasn’t just tossed out of the gates like Charlie’s story makes it seem. Lucifer fought, and he fought hard. Michael may have led the charge against him, and been the one to throw him and Lilith towards hell, but it took several angels, mostly Seraphim, to finally weaken him.

Lucifer truly was a terrifying being, even before becoming the first sin.

“I hope you know you have nothing to worry about, dear,” Esther says to her as Alastor walks away. “If he’s anything like he was before, he’s never cared much for power.”

That much is obvious. Alastor didn’t call him a recluse for nothing. Lucifer has made it clear many times that he doesn’t care for sinners or want to truly rule them. The only times he shows off his powers is when he wants to show off for Charlie or do something for her.

“Now, tell me about the hotel, dear. Any new arrivals?”

Vaggie sits with her on the couches as she discusses the details. She’d prefer Charlie to be here, but she won’t keep her waiting either.

They haven’t had any new guests. Half the sinners were scared another attack would come from Heaven and wanted to avoid it. A few cannibals wanted to but really only for the promise of more angels attacking so they could eat more angels. Rosie had taken those few back quickly enough.

Vaggie wasn’t going to mention the cannibals to her, though she did mention their dilemma.

“I see, so an announcement should be made then, to confirm the end of these exterminations,” Esther decides.

That would require either Vox or Katie Killjoy, neither of which Vaggie wanted to deal with or felt Esther should have to.

Before she can respond, the elevator dings. Before she turns, she notices Azrael’s attention now off of Husk and turning towards the elevator as well.

“Okay, we’re ready to get this plan done!” Charlie says as she exits the elevators! Lucifer is behind her, messing with his clothes and patting himself down to make sure nothing is out of place.

“Uhh, Charlie?” Vaggie says, loudly enough for Charlie to hear her. Charlie looks to her, catches sight of Esther, and her eyes go wide.

“Oh shit she’s here already!”

“Where?!” Lucifer calls from behind her, his wings once more popping up. He doesn’t make them as large as last time, but they definitely look a bit better compared to minutes before. They puff up behind him, shaking a bit like a rattle snake’s tail, though clearly more from anxiety than warning.

Vaggie’s eyes shift to look at Esther, who’s covered her mouth a bit and looked away from the display, though based on the way her cheeks are raised, she’s trying to hide a smile.

“Well isn’t this a marvelous display?” a soft voice says. Vaggie turns to her other side where Azrael is standing now beside her, a smile on his face just as before. “Wonderful display of wings, brother.”

“A-Azrael? What are you doing here?” Lucifer shuffles closer to the door of the now closed elevator.

“I do believe Esther mentioned my desire for a visit. I simply couldn’t pass up the chance when she mentioned her plans to return so soon. It’s not often I have a moment to myself after all. But enough of that, this must be my niece, Charlotte, correct?”

“Yes! Hi! I’m Charlie! Um- Uncle?”

Azrael chuckles at Charlie’s stammering and approaches them. It’s at that moment that Lucifer moves forward, eyes narrowed and wings spread high and wide to cover Charlie behind him.

“What are you doing here?” Lucifer repeats, his tone much harsher now compared to his panicked tone before. Esther moves forward now, stepping between Lucifer and Azrael calmly.

She steps closer to Lucifer and grabs one of his hands. “Listen to him first, please. Don’t be rash.”

“Don’t be- You want me to believe one of my brothers just suddenly wants to visit?! Out of the goodness of his heart?!”

“Lucifer-“

“It’s fine, dear,” Azrael says, cutting Esther off. Lucifer’s eyes narrow further at the term of endearment. “He has every right to be suspicious. Our siblings, myself included, have let this go on for far too long right under our noses. And after the last time he saw us, it’s only fair he should be worried.”

Lucifer looks at Azrael with suspicion as he continues.

“Worry not, dear brother, I have no ill will. My intentions were solely to express my apologies for not being aware of this massacre of souls.”

Lucifer’s wings lower a bit when Esther’s hand tightens on his own. He looks at her briefly before looking back at Azrael and rolling his shoulders, allowing his wings to fully disappear again. Esther sighs in relief in front of him and gives him a comforting smile before moving completely out of the way, giving them the full view of Azrael.

It’s Charlie who looks between the three of them before coughing and offering them a seat. Both men nod and Charlie guides them back to the couches where Vaggie is still sitting.

“Thank you, my dear. It truly is wonderful to finally be able to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances but I suppose there’s no better time than the present,” Azrael says to Charlie. She lights up a bit as she sits beside Vaggie, and motions for him to sit across from her. Esther sits beside him on the couch, and Lucifer looks conflicted before taking a seat beside his daughter, his scowl clear and directed at his brother. “I’m sure you’re aware, but I am Azrael, one of your father’s older brothers. You may call me uncle if you’d like!”

Lucifer’s scowl deepens but says nothing as Charlie squeals in excitement and bursts with questions towards the older man. Vaggie is grateful that Azrael just happens to be the Virtue of Patience, because she isn’t sure any of the other Seven, especially Michael, would’ve lasted as long as him or answered as many questions.

“Babe, slow down. How about we talk about the hotel,” Vaggie suggests. Charlie takes a deep breath before rushing to go get her poster presentation that she’d apparently made especially for this.

She goes into detail about how she understands the number of sinners is greater than the number of winners which is why redemption would help even out the numbers and keep Hell’s population more steady. Azrael and Esther nod along as she speaks, taking in all of the information she presents to them.

“My biggest concern is that so far, we’ve only redeemed one person, and we had to watch him die for that to happen. Does that mean every sinner has to die and just hope they’ll be redeemed?”

“That’s hard to say,” Azrael replies. “Little is known about this, or that redemption was even possible. It shouldn’t be a surprise though. Father always says there is time in one’s life to repent for their ways.”

Charlie nods, happy that someone agrees.

“However,” Azrael continues, “it’s hard to say exactly in the afterlife. There’s a reason I never realized what was going on. I am fine tuned to the lives of living souls, and it is my job to guide them towards their afterlife, whether that be Heaven or Hell. Once they pass either gate, my connection to that soul is lost. They are not meant to die again in their afterlife. They are meant to remain where they are, whether that be punishment in Hell for their sins, or reward for their good behavior in Heaven.”

“But we can change that! We can give sinners a chance to repent in their afterlife,” Charlie replies. Azrael nods, but his face grows a bit more serious.

”I will be honest with you, dear child. This is new territory for all of us. We have yet to see if the souls of the dead can receive a retrial that does not require a second death. But if those from Heaven can fall,” Azrael says, his eyes shifting briefly to Lucifer beside Charlie, “then I have no doubt those from Hell should be able to ascend. I ask that you remain patient as we all navigate through this new discovery.”

Charlie nods along and Azrael smiles brightly at her. He stands, patting down his clothes to remove any wrinkles and offers his hand to Charlie.

”Now! I would love to hear more of your plans to entice sinners to the idea of redemption and a tour of this lovely establishment of yours! Let’s go, I believe your father needs a break from my presence and I would love to hear more about you without his glare on my head,” Azrael announces, already walking towards the elevator with Charlie who’d taken his hand. Vaggie follows after them, confused and a bit entertained by the man’s behavior.

“Now hold on a minute,” Lucifer begins to say, before he feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks over his shoulder at Esther who is smiling at him, and nearly forgets his worries. “Esther, I don’t know how I feel about this.”

”Do you believe I’d bring anyone here that would harm your daughter?” She asks in return. Lucifer pouts a bit but shakes his head. “He’s been very excited about this trip to meet her. The other Seven have wanted to visit as well but Azrael convinced them not to overwhelm you.”

“I think I would prefer Ramiel. Or Raphael. Or Uriel- Or, really anyone but Michael,” Lucifer replies. “Ramiel definitely would be preferred though.”

“Funny you should say that. Uriel and Cassiel send their regards, by the way. They say they love and miss you, and that they will be sure to judge you themselves should I choose to forgive you.” Esther laughs when Lucifer throws his head back and groans. “Ramiel managed to convince them not to, though Michael… Well you know how Michael is. He is hopeful, though he has his concerns.”

“Michael can shove his concerns up his own ass,” Lucifer mumbles to himself, though he smiles finally when Esther laughs a bit at his words. She moves her hand down his arm until it stops around his forearm just below his elbow. He instinctively curls his arm and moves his other to hold her hand on his arm.

“How about you give me your own tour?” She asks him, changing the subject. “I didn’t get to see the hotel last time I was here.”

Lucifer nods and guides her through the hotel for his own tour while his daughter shows his brother around. He’s still wary of it all, but he knows Esther is right. She wouldn’t bring anyone that would hurt them, and Azrael is the least likely, besides Raphael who’s dedicated his life to saving lives, to ever start a fight. Had it been Michael, Lucifer isn’t sure if he could’ve been stopped from attacking him on the spot. He at least has much fonder memories of Azrael.

He guides Esther through the hotel, showing off some of the different rooms such as the parlor, kitchen, or the more recreational areas he added himself simply because he could upon the hotel’s reconstruction. He puffs his chest in pride as she looks on, impressed by the hotel’s amenities.

He vaguely motions towards Alastor’s radio tower, not keen on taking her there, and she doesn’t question his reasoning, thankfully. She seemed to have caught onto his distaste.

Instead, towards the end of their tour, he leads her towards his own workshop. Not his room, he knows she won’t appreciate that level of forwardness, but he knows his new growing collection of rubber ducks will amuse her.

It’s not something he’d typically show off to anyone, and he’s sure under normal circumstances this isn’t something you’d show to someone you were interested in dating, but Esther wasn’t just anyone. This was something so much more than dating.

Part of him wondered, after Hell’s creation, if maybe they were meant to be separated. If humans were allowed to choose their partner, why couldn’t he? It had bugged him for so long. Part of it was what led to Charlie’s creation if he was being honest. But then he’d think of Esther, of her beauty and kindness, of the warmth he felt just when her eyes were on him, and he thought being bound to someone like her was the greatest gift his father ever gave him. He doesn’t regret Charlie, not in the slightest, even if he wishes Charlie’s mother could’ve been Esther, but sometimes he thinks his greatest punishment wasn’t his fall, it was the loss of his other half.

He’d give up everything if it meant another chance with her.

He leads her into his workshop, grinning proudly at the wonder in his eyes at the sight of all his rubber ducks.

She moves further into the room as she lets go of his arm, rushing towards the ducks in the rooms and grabbing at a few.

“Lucifer, what is all of this?” she asks as she chuckles, holding a rubber duck in her hands to inspect its design.

“My rubber duck collection,” he says, laughing to himself as he picks one up. “This isn’t even half of it.”

“Where are the rest?”

“In my manor,” he responds. He sits at his desk and watches her inspect another duck. “I think I made at least one a day for years.”

”That… doesn’t sound very healthy,” Esther says, lowering the duck in her hand and approaching him.

”No, I don’t think it was,” he responded, a melancholic smile on his face. “But they were something that comforted me when I felt like everything else was falling apart. Lilith left, can’t say it was without warning. She was getting tired of my moping and there was really nothing either of us could do about it. The friendship was already falling apart after Charlie’s birth. We tried to get along, we’re still friends, I think, but she didn’t want my hatred for Hell to affect Charlie. Charlie and I weren’t always close because of it. And for a long time, I felt more alone than ever. So I started making these to take my mind off things, and it helped.”

Esther is silent as she kneels in front of him, a hand on his knee in comfort.

She looks at him with those beautiful dark blue eyes, hair falling into them, and he reaches out to move her hand behind her ear.

”Why ducks?” She asks, voice just above a whisper.

”They reminded me of you,” he replies, pressing his forehead against hers. “They were something we created together. I used to create these beautiful projections of them for Charlie when she was a little girl and she loved them. They felt like a little piece of you here with me.”

Esther’s hand that isn’t on his knee moves to his hair, moving through the short hairs on the back of his neck.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you. I’ll admit I wanted to sometimes. I thought maybe it’d hurt less if I just erased the memory of you, but then I’d think of your smile and everything hurt a little less. I’d think of the times we spent together, of how blissful everything felt with you by my side, and I couldn’t forget you. And then Charlie was born and I wanted her to have a piece of that happiness.”

He closes his eyes as his hands comb through her hair, enjoying the feeling of her’s in his own.

”You truly are something special, Lucifer Morningstar,” Esther says to him. He chuckles lightly and lifts his head to place a kiss on her forehead.

“Only because of you, Esther Eveningstar,” he replies, lips still pressed against her skin.

He never wants to be apart from her again.

————————————————————————

Apologies for any typos. My sleep schedule this week has been lacking to say the least.

Another character introduced! Learning about Azrael was fun for this. When I read he was from the “third heaven” I panicked a bit because it didn’t seem to fit with Dante’s spheres of paradise, but then I remembered that he and Lucifer(Samael) are angels of death, so having them all from the same sphere felt fitting! I was originally going to have Ramiel be the first to visit, as the Virtue of Kindness, but decided on Azrael instead because I thought Patience would be the best for Lucifer to be reintroduced to.

Anyways, at this point I feel like I can’t post a chapter unless I include a drawing at the end. This time I I decided I wanted to draw an idea for Lucifer’s look when he was still the Virtue of Humility. The Story of Hell shows him in a robe and still with his hat. I’ve seen people say his eyes were blue before his fall, but as his name means “the shining one” I feel like gold is more fitting. I also headcanon that his halo didn’t take the shape of a snake until after his fall, with the apple being added because of his actions, and as he took on a more demonic form, his appearance shifted as well. His eyes shifted to red, and when in his demonic form, his irises shift back to gold, but now with red sclera.

I’m not entirely happy with this drawing but, I didn’t want to hold off on posting the chapter so here it is!

Taglist: @dreamcatcher62 @art3misa635 @cimadreamer

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer reader #lucifer morningstar hazbin hotel #lucifer x oc #hazbin hotel lucifer x oc

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edgeray · 8 months ago

Text

One Hell of a Butler Pt.5

Reverence (Arlecchino x Fem! Reader Blurb)

A/N: Should I be working on this? No. But I just thought of this and I *needed* to write this. I did get a little lazy at the end but hopefully it's okay? Wanted to spoil you guys a little with a bit of spice ✨. Also. @megistusdiary. I lied. :) (you do get to fuck her now). Me while writing this: Do I want to be with Reader or be her. Oh, wait. 🤭 Series Masterlist Content Warning: Very suggestive. Not smut though.

To be quite frank, you were uncertain what would come with having a demon as your butler; in fact, you weren't even sure if this contract would be viable or if the demon would accept it: you half-expected for Arlecchino to scoff and turn the other way, maybe even grant you death for such an insolent offer. A demon serving underneath the human? How absurd. Why would any demon go to such extent for something so obviously below the species of demons? For their prey, for something they would eat, nonetheless? Though, perhaps you summoned no ordinary demon, or perhaps you were no ordinary human. Whose to say you weren’t an exception? Though, you didn’t want to flatter yourself. Pretension came with consequences of course.

Still, nothing could have prepared you for what Arlecchino would be like.

You shouldn’t be surprised by her… quirks, to say, as you assume all demons are sentient enough to have their own distinct personalities and whatnot. You were certain that Arlecchino’s behavior didn’t quite match that of a demon. Or perhaps, she didn’t match your expectations of a demon. Regardless, it was hard to imagine your butler as a demon.

Demons were meant to be cruel. Sharps claws that destroyed everything in its wake, fangs that ensnarled anything it could get a hold of, a tongue so vile that it spits venom with each utterance, piercing red irises fitting for a being of hell, and powers and abilities unfathomable to humans. Demons are unhuman, even, unworldly to you, or they should be. So why does she act with a familiar…intimacy? Were all demons like this? Well, they are beings of sin… lust is not completely out of the realm of possibilities, is it? Perhaps it came with being a demon.

Though, you can’t quite imagine a demon behaving like she has. In ways that go beyond amorous suggestions, with tenderness that can’t be associated with sensuality. The damn, sly creature is always looking for an opportunity to touch you, though, at least shew warrants some restraint and tact when doing so. Helping you dress even when you never call for her, her eyes always wander your body–always looking, but never touching (excessively, that is). She’s ever so sickeningly sweet with her words, often spilling flatteries from her lips that near your head. Doing things outside of your orders, though always making sure they aren’t detrimental to you. Whether they be subtle, courteous acts, ones that you are perfectly capable of doing yourself (like holding a door or helping you slip in your shoes); or more evident gestures. You recall the numerous times she has wordlessly slid a cup of the coffee in the dead of night as you hunch over a desk. The coffee is always prepared in the way you’ve preferred the most: with the meticulous process you typically do, which she could have only learned through observation.

You’d think she was treating you like glass, like a fragile little human that may break from anything just because she is much more invulnerable than any human, However, you discover that she rarely thinks of you as such. Sure, she could easily kill anyone that crosses you with less than a snap of a finger, but she’s not above doing nothing and just watching you eliminate those damned vangrats yourself. (She says it was because she adores the cold fury on your expression.)

Even at your most vulnerable, underneath your covers surrounded nothing but remnants of the past and your persistent fears, does she hold you, but not in a coddling manner. Only just enough to remind you of the present reality, lacking the consolation someone more intimate would offer. She does not wrap her arms around your form even after your request to stay, and for that, you’re grateful. You must proctor the line between butler and master, but even you can feel your resolute trembling the slightest amount, making way for leniency of her otherwise impudent actions.

Her icy touch burns across your skin, igniting a fire you thought had long died. You almost hate it, if you didn’t long for it so much. Perhaps it’s the demon’s effect on you, breaking you down and slowly willing you underneath her. Well, you refuse to allow that to happen, denying the possibility you would submit to anyone–anything–before you achieved your goal.

You’d demonstrate to her who was in control; despite her undeniable superiority in ability, you were the one using her, not the other way around, and she’d come to remember it.

You make good of that promise today, a day like any other.

When you were stirred awake this morning, sunlight streaming from your bedroom window as she gently combs her dexterous fingers through the strands of your hair. Your eyelids fluttered before your vision was greeted with the angelic image of her, her pale skin and snow white hair framed in such a delicate manner by the golden rays of sun, making the soft upturn of her lips seem to radiate. Always, in your drowsy and yet-conscious mind, do you think that you would like to be met with this sight every time you rise.

“Good morning, my Lady,” she says, just like the morning before, and the morning before that. She brushes the stray hair strand away from your face and you let her. On the nightstand is expectedly a tray of food, breakfast already prepared for you by her.

“What is it?” You inquire, just like every morning, only because there’s the fascinating spark of brilliance in those black abysses.

You rarely pay attention to her words. You hardly care about the origins of whatever gourmet food she’s made (once you inquired her about how she learned to cook, her reply is only that she learned with past ‘clients’), the movement of her red lips far more delectable to you in those moments.

She reminds you that you have a meeting with one of your clients in the afternoon as you eat, making you internally sigh. People.

She helps you into appropriate clothing for occasion, and of course, she teases you. Nails scraping lightly against your bare hips, fingers hooked around waist, fleeting touches on your sides as she prepares you (sometimes you wonder if she does it for her eyes or for the event). Your client proposes discussing business in a private room of some high-end restaurant–one of those that served you a nine-course meal (though you were sure Arlecchino could create something far more appetizing, you had no good reason to deny the offer).

Arlecchino sits besides you as the two of you engage, dismissing her presence as just a ‘bodyguard’ in front of your client. The two of you exchange information, discuss with the faked pleasantries ‘dignified criminals’ had to uphold, and soon enough, your meeting soon comes to a close. The last dessert has yet to come, and the conversation has shifted from something of business to what would be the criminal underground version of gossiping. As you do, you feel something snake up your thigh, and it is the familiar iciness that tells you it’s your butler’s hand. You can’t break your attention away, though the tightening grip around your glass is enough to scold Arlecchino.

The ever infuriating butler that she is ignores the visible signs of frustration, fingers towards your inner thigh which makes you clench your wine cup even more. A swirling heat coils in your stomach and your heartbeat spikes. Your skin suddenly feels flushed, warmth pooling inside underneath your skin that only grows with every stroke over your clothed leg. At one point, your breath hitches when she digs her nails in, not forceful enough to break skin but it’s a prickly sensation.

You grind your teeth under a placid face. You’ve long grew tired of her misbehavior.

It’s when you decide that you can no longer be so lenient with her. After you and Arlecchino return from the meeting, you’ve excused yourself to your room and ordered her to not disturb you for as long as you remain there. You use that time to relieve yourself from the swelter that overwhelms your thoughts, which are only filled with visions of red-crossed pupils and sharp, frigid touches. By the end of it, you’re left more irritated than satiated.

It’s before evening when you call her to your office. You sit perched on top of your desk, one leg crossed over the other as you lean back languidly over the wooden surface, waiting for her.

“Arlecchino when you agreed to the contract what was it that you agreed to?” You ask her suddenly, before any greeting or command. The abrupt inquiry seems to have caught her off guard, but she answers without deliberation.

“I agreed to serve you and only you as a butler, faithfully and loyally without any objection or hesitation.”

You narrow your eyes, the impatience tethering with fury in your voice. “And what does being my butler entail?”

“Fulfilling your every wish and need at any expense, including myself.”

You press your lips into a tight line, pleased with her response, but it’s not enough. “Exactly. Kneel.”

You love the look of her eyes as they widen in shock, her mouth parted slightly. It’s a command you’ve never given before, and it briefs her on nothing of your intentions. “My Lady?” She inquires with a bit of hesitance, daring to feign daftness, but from the intense flaring of her red irises, you know quite well that she’s heard you.

You click your tongue irritatedly. “Did you not hear me? I said kneel before me.”

Arlecchino kneels, her knees digging into the carpeted floor as her lower legs lay flat though you can tell from the slow manner it’s uneasy to her. Good. Standing up from your sitting position, you stroll towards her before stopping only just a few inches away from her. You lean down, grasping her chin in your hand, forcing her to look up at you. This action is almost familiar to you–you wonder if she remembers how akin it is to her touches before. Your eyes bore into black pits, which stare intently, but you can practically feel that underneath your fingertips, behind the composed expression, is something boiling under her skin, like a hot, seething flame. The glare in her eyes are cutting, and you’d be frightened if you weren’t well aware of you and her's positions.

Here, you think she looks like a demon. There is nothing gracious about her now, none of that muddling affection that lies underneath her actions and words. She stares at you with something you wouldn’t describe as indignation, but nonetheless, you can tell she covets defiance against your order. In this moment, you can’t help but admire how pretty she looks, looking up at you like a reverent god. You’re grateful she doesn’t squirm–if she did, the splitting grin you’re trying to hide would spread across your face, tearing apart the commanding aura you’re trying to maintain. You take pride in this position, almost giddy from it, but you know better than to tease a gnashing dog.

“I grow tired of your shameless advances. Do you take me for a fool just because I am a human? I may be dangling my soul for you, but do not dare look down at me,” you remark with a cutting tone, contrasting your sharp words with the gentle caressing of her chin with your thumb, before pulling your hand away.

Your other hand finds its way in her white locks, nails digging into the demon’s scalp as you grip a handful of the hair tightly. You let go of her chin, and rely on the tug of her hair to keep her head tilted up on. Your now free hand moves to your pants, undoing the button as you observe the thick swallow she forces down and the small twitching of her form. Her own nails dig into the carpet underneath her. But, what is most visible to you is the soft flushing of her cheeks.

“When you contracted with me, you submitted to me. Isn’t it a new low, even among demons, Arlecchino? Submitting to a human. Even then, however, this was always what you wanted, wasn’t it? The provoking touches, the whispered words, the little tricks. I’ve seen them all. You serve under me, so satiate my need, Arlecchino.”

Tugging her strands lightly to guide her head in between your legs. You look down on her, the wicked grin and gleeful glint in your eyes no longer discreet. “Take it, like the sinful creature that you are.”

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fic #genshin impact x reader #genshin arlecchino #genshin impact arlecchino #arlecchino #genshin fics #edgeray.blog #edgeray.writes #arlecchino smut

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be-my-ally · 7 months ago

Text

The Seatbelt Sign is On

A Big Bunny Vignette.

Bunny wants to get tied up, so uh, here we are. Playboy!Reader x 76/77 Elvis - this little plot-less smutty fic is set between The Lisa-Marie & Crash Landing. Although I think it could be read as a standalone. This is pretty much totally unedited, so apologies for any typos.

warnings: 18+ 18+ 18+. Light bondage. No safewords or anything but it is clearly pretty ssc**. Oral, and penetrative sex (p in v), slight overstimulation.

75-77 elvis x playboybunny!reader (established relationship - here's the link for the rest of the series)

wc: 4.2k (miss concise smut is back baby!!)

** ((Spoiler: Elvis does say he has scissors in case she needs to be cut out - but he’s pretty much just holding her down with some ribbon and a seatbelt.))

Elvis often climbed up the stairs with his last burst of energy post-show - happy to collapse and settle in or onto the nearest chair, sometimes not even making it to his bed, taking in the precious hours of rest before the next stop. It meant that even though you were spending a serious number of hours with Elvis, it didn’t leave a whole lot of time that he was lucid or awake enough to actually spend it with you.

You’d worried it was you, to start with, but you’d heard the guys whispering about him lately. About his lack of interest in the girls he flew out to meet him, or the ones waiting back home for him. You’d watched Sam looking you up and down a little smugly in the middle of the conversation as if saying without a word that there was a lack of interest in you too. The rumours that he couldn’t get it up at the moment followed raucous retellings of salacious events from years before that you were sure were heavily embellished if they’d even happened at all. But, despite what they would gossip about, you never would describe Elvis as lacking in some way, and certainly not out loud. Sure, he didn’t always (or even often) have the energy to be intimate with you but when he did he was as considerate and, usually, as fun as ever.

Sometimes though you couldn’t help but feel like it was just…a bit bland. You still blush when you think about those first few flights on Big Bunny, meeting him in next to nothing for that rehearsal. Nothing has really come close in a long time. He certainly wasn’t behaving in the same way, and you felt a little like maybe you had become too comfortable together, or like a married couple or something. A distinct lack of excitement together.

The issue, you thought while brainstorming ways of keeping it interesting, was that despite how brash and forward Elvis could be, he ultimately became quite shy and almost too respectful towards you while you were alone. You knew enough about how his brain worked to know that part of the appeal of the opposite sex was, for him, the perceived softness and ability to at least perform an act of gentle innocence. He could be brazen and arrogant while ordering you to dance for him, to roll his latest dirty film acquisition, yet when he had you alone he’d be almost apologetic, gentle. You didn’t want him to be mean to you, but maybe a little less of the…desperation. If he could just take a little more control again.

It was at the end of a run of shows, Elvis tired but with it, when the answer came to you. He’d been carefully kissing the inside of your thighs, where you lay, still fully dressed on the bed of the Lisa-Marie when you’d moved your hands onto his head in an attempt to impatiently guide him. He’d tutted at you, immediately pulling away from your fingertips trying to bury themselves into his longer hair.

“No, no, no, keep your hands outta the way, baby, gotta let me work.” He returned, but a kiss to a sensitive crease sent your leg knocking into his shoulder. It’s been a while. You can feel his grin even as he pulls away again to look up his lashes at you.

“I told you you gotta stay still, I need my hands for this, can’t be holdin’ you down.” You’re not sure the noise that came out of your mouth could be heard by anything but dogs but he laughs, shaking his head, “What m’I gonna do with you?” You wiggle a little, and there’s a clunk of metal hitting the floor. You both turn to look, and your wide eyes meet his calculating ones.

“You can. You know, if you want.” He stares at the seatbelt now trailing on the floor for a moment longer before responding, turning bashful;

“Uh, well, I don’t know. I wouldn’t wanna pin you - I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable… I was really only jokin-“ He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead.

“El- it’s ok, really, I think I’d like it.”

“I didn’t, uh, I didn’t - do girls, do ya, do ya, uh, really like that kinda thing?”

“Uh-huh, I think so, or well, maybe not every girl, but I like the sound of it, all tied up and ready for you, just having to take whatever you wanted to give me? Doesn’t that sound good to you too?” While you were talking you could see him looking at the belt, gently stroking your wrist as he considered the proposition, he swallows. You can tell he likes the idea.

“You’d… you just, you’d just let me know if you want out right?” You laugh at his nervous questioning;

“Lord Elvis, what’s running through that mind of yours to do to me that I’d want out?” He shrugs, glancing at the clock.

“Well, not today, baby, gotta be ready for the show in an hour, ‘m gonna, gonna freshen’ up.” And with a pat to your side, he headed to the bathroom, leaving you there.

You realised you might have made an error in judgement bringing it up just then, just when he’d started to get going now you were left with your panties twisted to one side, skirt hitched, alone on the bed with the plane seemingly whizzing past any prospect of an orgasm today.

——————————————————————

“We’re uh, going to Denver, you know, for the uh, burgers.” You pull the headset from your ear, as if blinking at it was staring at him and he would offer you more explanations.

“Oh, yeah… sure, ok.”

“Well, don’t ya wanna come too?” He sounds offended at your noncommittal response, but you don’t really. Truthfully, you still didn’t quite feel like you were rested from the tour yet and you knew it was only a matter of days before you’d be up all hours of the night and day and running ragged after him again. But, he made that dejected sort of hopeful hum that made you cringe at the mere thought of not agreeing to his plans.

“Of course I do - I’ll uh, I’ll be there just as soon as I can.” It’s silent on the other end, and then,

“We’re leavin’ now, so hurry.” Of course he was.

It didn’t occur to you until much later that he didn’t want to go to Denver at all, and definitely not for the burgers - you’d heard Joe ringing from the comfort of Elvis’ fancy car-phone to make sure someone, presumably a pretty Miss Colorado of some sort, was home. Assuring them down the line that Elvis couldn’t come to the phone right now, but if they made sure they were at the airport he’d be there in a few hours for a flying visit. Somehow, you were able to listen to this - your legs nudging his, and his nudging Joe’s, without the slightest jealousy - just a mild sympathy for this girl desperate for the crumbs he was willing to lay. It would be much later that you would realise Denver had nothing to do with this girl either, that it was all an excuse for you. You’d realised there was some kind of ulterior motive to a lesser extent though as soon as you were, quite frankly, shoved into the bedroom as soon as you had boarded.

“Elvis! I’ve got a job to do!” He shakes his head, grinning at you and standing in the way of the door,

“Nu-uh baby, I been thinking about what you said last time.” You didn’t expect that.

“Oh?”

“Yes ma’am, and you’re right.” You really didn’t expect that,

“Oh! Well I can’t say I’m surpr-” You yelp as he pinches your side,

“‘Nough of that, on the bed! I got ‘quipment.” You pause your stride towards the bed, looking at him grinning with his hands on his hips, it was all a bit sudden.

“Um, I didn’t, I mean, I’m not su-” He grins at you,

“I thought you were Miss Confident?” He gets that sly look on his face, his eyes narrowing and crinkling in their corners, “You know… I’ve been readin’ up and I don’t know if I oughta be worried, liking this kind of thing is listed in the DSM you know…” You gulp, your stomach twisting a little, feeling a flush rise up from your chest to your cheeks.

“Jesus El - I’m not the one with equipment! I just like a little…I’m an adult, and I know what I like and I think it’s unfair of you to say that kind of thing, especially when I know what you’ve been up to, and you know Hugh - Elvis stop laughing at me!”

“You’d have thought I was secretly sending you off to the nuthouse baby, the way you were carrying on then,” He manages to get the words out past his giggles, “ ‘s just a bit of ribbon, honey-bunny.” You both feel the rumble of the engine starting up, “C’mon we’re on a time limit.”

“Well, if you’re - if you’re sure…” You bite your lip in nerves.

“Where’d my conf’dent l’il bunny go huh? C’mon baby, ‘s no worries - you’ll like it .”

“Are you - you know what you’re doing?” His mouth gapes a little, wide-eyed.

“Of course!” He looks genuinely offended, for a second before grinning, “I got good at knots in the army don’t you worry.” He winks at you as he salutes, his feet knocking together and you giggle, your tension relieving itself.

“I’d be more reassured if you’d been in the navy.” He swats at you,

“ ‘M better than any of them boys playin’ out on their little boats I tell ya, now hush and let me work here.” Your breath catches again, “don’t worry darlin’ I saw this in a uh, blue movie, don’t ya worry, I know how you like it.”

That did little to calm your nerves - his reassurance that he knew what he was doing too often led to some kind of mild disaster. “Well, ok, but - you’ve got, you’re prepared, right? You got some scissors or, something, haven’t you? In case you hafta get me out quick?”

Elvis puts the bag back onto the bed, holding three fingers up - but his solemn face belies the comedy of the action; “I swear, swear to you, I’ll get you out if you want to be. Not gonna let anythin’ happen to my best bunny.” You look into his eyes pausing for a moment and nod, lying back on the bed. He situates himself between your legs, bending to place a feather-light kiss on the corner of your mouth,

“Aren’t you gonna…?” You shake your wrists at him and he huffs a laugh, his breath fanning over you,

“Gotta get you worked up first baby, ain’t no fun if you’re not ready to wriggle and jiggle around, is it? Now, hush,” He whispers against your skin, “let me work my magic.”

He might not have been focussing his energy through his ‘healing hands’ this time, but you couldn’t deny he did have the magic touch, he barely had to brush his fingers over you, press a thigh against your side, and you were gone from the world, levitating above the bed, above the plane, into the sky above. You’re embarrassingly quick to turn on, making out with Elvis enough to make you squirm. After a minute or so he presses kisses against your clavicle, open-mouthed while his fingers fumble with opening the buttons that stretch from your neck to your thighs, almost immediately shoving his hands around the waistband of your tights and he tugs hard enough that there’s the tell-tale ripping sound of the nylon falling apart - if you’d been more conscious of it you would have rolled your eyes, somehow you never seem to be able to keep a pair for long around Elvis. As it was you were far too distracted to care, relieved simply to be divested of the fabric and you lift your hips to let him roll them off - throwing the destroyed fabric to the corner of the room. His hand supports your back as you lean forward, pulling your arms out of your dress, immediately wrapping them around his neck once you were free.

He’s all-encompassing, someone else might find him smothering, the way his arms seem to be everywhere all at once, caging you against him. But you can’t get enough. Your underwear ends up somewhere, god knows where. You’re reminded again of that revelatory first time when he’s biting nibbling kisses across your chest, tiny pink bruises sucked onto your soft skin, Elvis’ hands pawing at you in that somehow hot clumsy way. He tweaks a nipple and your back arches to meet him, you don’t know when your eyes closed but you open them at the sudden loss of any sensation,

Elvis is sat back on his heels, assessing you, rubbing your thighs firmly. He nods with satisfaction at whatever he sees, reaching up the bed for the ribbon and tugging your wrists towards him. He kisses your pulse, and you wonder if he can feel how it jumps. He tuts when the ribbon twists, wrapping it around several times and looping it over and under before finishing it off with his best attempt at a bow. You make eye contact with each other, and you open your mouth to tease him about it, but he stops you with a pointed finger, his eyes alight.

“Don’t say a word.” You swallow your words, playfully snapping at his finger instead, and he laughs, holding your newly tied wrists above your head as he leans down to kiss you again. It’s somehow dirtier this time, whether because you just feel that way, or because he doesn’t take his time, biting your lip and pushing his tongue into you; forcefully mapping out your mouth. He works his way down, sucking a small, darker bruise on the underside of your left breast, you wonder if it was intentionally close to your heart. You tremble, wriggling against him and after a moment he evidently grows tired of pinning your wrists, his long arms not able to keep them pressed flat while he works down your body and he looks for a way to secure them better.

“Well, I guess we didn’t think this through, honey, it’s not the right kind of headboard, so I s’pose you’ll just hafta keep ‘em there.” He presses your newly tied wrists against the pillows, fingertips brushing the velvet of the headboard and your back arches with the effort of keeping them there. His breath tickles when he returns to his place, and the air over the sticky wetness of your inner thighs makes your arms involuntarily attempt to come back down to hold him in place. Elvis tuts at you, leaning back.

“’S no good. You’re wriggling around too much.” He stands up, his hands on his hips to assess your predicament. He sits back down and peers down the side of the bed. “C’mere.” He hauls your body up and you wriggle up with him until you were high enough up the bed that your back was now supported by one of the cream-golden reading cushions and he was able to pull the seatbelt across your stomach.“Keep your hands there.” He pats them at the top, and you grip the top of the headboard as best you can. “Where was I?”

You’ve lost all ability to speak, simply too turned on to comprehend what’s going on. There’s the barest hint of sweat beading above his eyebrow and glistening on his dark, longer, sideburns. Your hands twitch to cup his face and you whine in frustration, unable to reach where he kneels between your legs, your fingers clutching the dusty top of the headboard, desperate not to ruin the game. He grins, tongue running over his teeth, and you thump your head back against the hard cushion,

“Elvis, c’mon.”

“I’m havin’ fun now, baby,” He sing-songs it delicately and you shiver, “Gonna get you so worked up.” His thick hands grasp your thighs, fingertips digging in, “C’mon, bunny, open up for me.” You have no idea if the growl that comes from his mouth was intentional, or if it just had the unintended side effect of your legs immediately spreading, your breath hitching. He leans in and you feel yourself tense, hairs pricking with the tension of the moment, desperately anticipating his next move.

Elvis is clearly not unaffected by the sight of you - his breathing much harder than before and it tickles as he gently kisses your inner thigh, his pouty lips open. The very tip of his tongue ghosts across your skin, and you shudder at the sensation, aching for him.

“Elvis you’ve gotta - you’ve gotta touch me.”

“I am touching you.” His fingertips continue to dance, and you try to squirm a little, the seatbelt trapping you in place.

“Nooo. Properly.” He chuckles,

“Properly” He teases with a shake of his head and you whine again,

“Ssh, shhh, I’mma take real good care of you, bunny, just relax baby,” He firmly rubs at your thighs, as if he wasn’t the reason you were squirming. You let your head roll back again, suddenly distracted as he teases you by the sight of yourself in the mirror at the end of the room, the dark mahogany of the wood-covered room and the dim light reflecting off of the creamy ceiling putting you into a soft-glow focus. You can barely see yourself beyond him, he takes up the majority of your view, and though the concept is hot to you, fully clothed as he was, it left little to look at - just your twitching tied wrists, above both of your bodies, really visible.

Finally he’s kissing across your bare skin and you’d forgotten somehow, impossibly, in the time since you’d last been together like this, just how good he was at this. You’re already so sensitive, you can feel the cooling dampness in the air, and yet it still comes as a surprise at his first kitten licks how responsive you were to him. He presses one hand against your thigh, fingers leaving bruises from his tight grip, holding you totally open to him. Elvis leans back a little, grinning at your attempts to grind on nothing, and you might be ashamed at such a wanton display in the morning but right now you just need the pressure back. He spreads your slick folds with his flattened tongue, moving his fingers in to keep you spread open so that he can lick up to your clit, sucking on the little nub and sending you shuddering.

Your legs are the only part of you able to move, and you wrap them around his, now thicker, waist holding him against you until the movement of his talented tongue and fingers make them kick out. For some reason, even though he wasn’t doing anything new, being secured down like this was making everything feel ten times more - like someone had turned your sensitivity up on a dial. He tongue-fucks into you, and it’s so hard to keep your hands where they are, writhing around as you were, desperate to hold him in place - gain better purchase to grind against his clever, talented tongue.

The singular focus he dedicates to this task always reminds you of that first time and having him so committed only adds to your enjoyment. Elvis renews his efforts, suckling like he needs you for oxygen, and the warm wet pressure builds until finally, you’re shuddering over the edge of orgasm, legs spasming and your back arching as much as it was able to do so - and the tension of the seatbelt across your body - pinning you down far more than you would usually be held, has you electrified, adding to your startling passion. You pant, trembling as he leans back, it’s scandalous how he smiles at you, catching his breath, lips glistening with your slick and you try to form words to tell him how earth-shattering that vision is, but you struggle from the sheer anticipation of watching him stand up.

“El- Honestl-El, how’d you, it’s so good. You need, I need you -“

You cut yourself off, panting, as Elvis finally, finally, slips out of his lounge pants and jacket. His tanned hairy chest unveiled itself, a perfect trail leading down to his hard cock, its pink head poking out, glossy with his precum. You shudder, and he grins at you wildly for a moment, before seemingly focussing on the task at hand, clambering back atop you. He mutters the same thing he always mutters as he presses himself into you,

“Y’re good, y’re a good girl, bunny, swear it - y’re so, fuck, so tight.” It probably shouldn’t make your chest glow so much. He presses a hand on your stomach, just below where the seatbelt pins you to the bed - holding you in place for him to get himself situated. The firm pressure is almost enough to tip you over the cliff again. You realise you’re babbling, muttering pleas when Elvis kisses your sweaty cheek, hushing you. He jerks his hips once, twice, in time with your gasps before he growls, evidently incapable of getting the angle right and you suddenly feel yourself being tugged down the bed, hands leaving the headboard and seatbelt scraping your skin until you were lying mainly flat, mostly immobile.

“That’s it, that’s - that’s better - that good for you Bunny?” He doesn’t give you time to respond, laughing to himself, “ ‘course it is. You’re like one of them kids toys, what’re they called, those, those, slip n’, slip n’ slides. So fucking wet down here.” You nod frantically in agreement, stuttering out that you were fine, it was all good - but please, Elvis, please, just move.

It’s a strange sensation, being unable to use yourself to get leverage, and it feels almost objectifying. Lying there just to be used, but you liked it, and Elvis took advantage, pulling and tugging to exactly the pace and angle he needed to chase his own pleasure. You plant your feet, when you manage to get purchase, able to use your thighs to your advantage a little. You can feel the edge rising, but before you get there Elvis stills, his mouth agape, sweat beading at his forehead and eyebrow, upper lip aglow with it, and you feel him pulsing. His hand comes down to stroke between your folds, as he slowly pulls out, and you shake your head - it was almost too much, but he hushes you,

“Shh. Wanna see you go again, it’s only fair - ’n’t that the reason I got you all tied up like this.” You tremble, and he presses his thumb against you, it’s filthy, the viscous mix of your fluids. Elvis deftly rubs your clit, and your body shakes through the waves of orgasm until you squirm away from his fingers, completely overstimulated,

“El- El, that’s that’s enough, I can’t - fuck, that’s too much - too much,” He laughs at you, stroking you a final time as your legs twitch. You lie there panting for a long while, and Elvis gets up before you do, cutting the ribbon off of you, not bothering to deal with the knots that had tightened as you struggled, and heading to grab a drink from the little dressing table alcove at the end of the room while you caught your breath.

The ribbon had done pretty well at keeping your hands together, he’d done them up tight enough that they’d laid fairly flat and untwisted, but still, when you rubbed your wrists there was a light mark and the hint of soreness, especially around the outside edge of your forearm. You unbuckle yourself, sitting upright slowly.

Clearly, there’s a reason people don’t usually use seatbelts like this. The rough edge of the nylon had rubbed you where you’d wriggled around, the lines criss-crossing, while the heavy weight of the gold buckle had left indents - several of which you were sure were going to bruise. You didn’t mind that so much, pressing a finger into the darkest of the marks.

“Good Lord Elvis, I look like I’ve been whipped or something!” He glances back at you in the mirror where you’re now fully upright, brushing your fingers over the pink marks. He points a finger at your reflection,

“No chance in goddamn hell. Nope. There’s not enough space - don’t you go gettin’ any ideas now, li’l girl. Absolutely fuckin’ no.”

---------

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#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #be-my-ally #elvis x oc #elvis x reader #big daddy elvis #elvis fanfiction #big bunny #big bunny vibes #elvis x playboy reader #elvis x you

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heart-2-get · 10 months ago

Note

A bondage story with power exchange and then wholesome cardiophilia aftercare would be sooo cute and like what if it was about princesses or something :’)

this is my first time ever writing anything like this! it turned out to be a lot more about the power exchange than the bondage or cardiophilia, but the ending is soft and sweet and hopefully focused just enough on the heartbeats to be good! enjoy!

“N-nineteen!” Alexandra cried, tears welling along her lash line and spilling down over her cheeks. Her skin was so warm and flushed she was surprised they didn’t just evaporate into thin air on the spot rather than drenching the satin sheets beneath her as the sound of her mistress’ hairbrush striking her skin cracked through the air.

“Good girl,” Celeste purred, gently caressing Alexandra’s angry, welted skin with the back of the hand that held the brush. “You’re so close, sweetheart. Just one more. Do you think you can take it for me?”

Alexandra nodded, yelping as she felt her mistress’ other hand slip up along her spine and fist in her curls, yanking her head back sharply. She didn’t need to be prompted to know what the tug meant.

“Yes, your highness,” she choked, breathing a sigh of relief as the grip on her hair eased. “Anything for you.”

Without any time or warning, the hairbrush came down on Alexandra’s backside one last time, pulling a shrill keen from her throat and causing her to sag into her mistress’ lap with a broken sob as she choked out a raspy twenty. She bit her lip to stifle any more cries, afraid to earn herself any more swats. She’d already gone from fifteen to twenty by squirming and protesting; if nothing else, she’d learned her lesson.

“There we go, we’re all done with your punishment,” Celeste murmured softly, setting the hairbrush aside and smoothing her palm over Alexandra’s inflamed skin, drawing a soft mewl out of her sub. She gripped the other woman’s cheek firmly, carefully pulling it aside, watching Alexandra’s slit part just a little along with her buttocks, strings of slick clinging to her swollen pink folds. “It looks like you enjoyed it. I knew you would. No matter how much you protest, you always get so wet when I spank you.”

Alexandra shuddered as she felt her mistress’ fingertips skirt along her cheek before slipping in the wetness between her thighs. She couldn’t help the wanton moan that slipped out when one of those fingers sank deep into her tight, needy pussy. It felt so good but it wasn’t nearly enough and she earned herself another hair pull as she arched her hips in a desperate attempt to take the finger even deeper.

“Not yet,” Celeste tutted disapprovingly. “You don’t want me to have to spank you some more, do you?”

“No, my lady,” Alexandra warbled hurriedly. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll behave.”

“Good.” Celeste worked her finger out half way and slowly thrust back inside, her knuckle dragging against the other woman’s g-spot in the process. “You know you’ll be rewarded soon. I just want to play with your sweet little cunt a little before I let you come. You know how much I love splitting you open on my fingers.”

Alexandra did know and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t absolutely love being stretched open and toyed with. Though she and Celeste were of equal stature in their respective kingdoms, behind closed doors she loved feeling small and precious and filthy and used. It helped to loosen something inside of her chest, the knot that began to form when she’d been in charge for a little too long without an outlet. Letting Celeste take the reins gave her brain a chance to click off for a little while and she relished the time they got to spend together.

“Who does this pussy belong to?”

Alexandra moaned as a second finger joined the first, scissoring open inside of her, stretching her exquisitely around the intrusion.

“You, your highness.” She clenched around the invading fingers and was rewarded with a caress down her back. “All of me belongs to you.”

Celeste hummed contentedly, her fingers curling and gently bumping her sub’s cervix, causing stars to explode behind Alexandra’s tightly closed eyelids. She teased the moaning, mewling woman for another moment or two before pulling her fingers out, gently patting Alexandra’s thigh.

“On your back and spread your legs for me,” Celeste ordered, watching as Alexandra hurried to obey. Her eyes tracked the other woman as she circled the bed and she gave her sub a few moments to settle in before getting to her feet. Moving to the foot of the bed, she took a moment just to admire the sight before her. Her sub looked beautiful with her breasts heaving, nipples pebbled from arousal and legs spread wide to reveal her soaking wet, glistening cunt.

“I bet you’re going to taste extra sweet after all the abuse your poor little ass took,” Celeste murmured as she climbed onto the bed and crawled in between Alexandra’s thighs.

“Yes, please, your highness,” Alexandra begged, her heels digging into the mattress.

“Use your words, my sweet girl,” Celeste encouraged her sub. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want your mouth on me.” Alexandra swallowed thickly, moaning softly at the mere thought of it. “O-on my pussy. Please, my lady.”

Celeste chuckled softly, situating herself low on the bed, her face mere inches from Alexandra’s folds. “I can’t help but give you what you want when you beg so pretty.”

Without another word, Celeste leaned in, her mouth closing around Alexandra’s clit. She smiled as Alexandra’s hips rolled of their own volition, bringing her clit deeper into Celeste’s mouth, making it that much easier to swirl her tongue around it. As she suckled on the swollen little nub, her fingers found Alexandra’s opening again, sinking inside just as easily as they had before. She was rewarded with a gasp and cry from her sub and she encouraged the other woman with a broad sweep of her tongue over her folds.

For the next several minutes, Celeste worked Alexandra into a fervor. Alternating between licks, sucks, and nips to her clit and deep thrusts of her fingers into Alexandra’s hot, wet pussy, Celeste coaxed her toward an orgasm. She could tell when Alexandra was getting close, knew just by the way Alexandra’s core spasmed around her penetrating fingers and the way her body writhed, chest heaving with shallow, desperate breaths.

“I’m going to come, your highness,” Alexandra gasped breathlessly as Celeste sank a third finger into her waiting cunt, stretching her to her limit. “May I please come? I-I can’t hold it much longer!”

Celeste hummed, her mouth otherwise occupied, and edged Alexandra for another few seconds before lifting her head, never once missing a beat with her fingers, continuing their quick, maddening thrusting.

“You know that’s not how we usually do things,” she hedged, her thumb coming up to take over teasing Alexandra’s clit. “But since you took your punishment so well, I think I can be persuaded. Ask me one more time, princess.”

Alexandra whimpered, squeezing her eyes tightly shut to hold back the tide of her climax. “Please, my lady, may I come? You feel so good inside me. Please!”

Celeste drove her fingers in deep, stilling them inside as her thumb continued to rub Alexandra’s clit. “Come for me.”

A heartbeat or two later and Alexandra was arching off the bed, her hips jerking as her thighs quivered, pussy clenching tight around Celeste’s fingers. Celeste could feel the intensity of the orgasm as Alexandra rode it out and she relished each and every gasp and shout that tumbled from the other woman’s lips. She murmured soft encouragements, rubbing Alexandra’s g-spot with a fierce precision that kept wave after wave of pleasure rolling through her sub’s body. She lifted her free hand and splayed it across Alexandra’s belly, pressing in deeply to calm the savage bucking of the girl’s hips.

As Alexandra’s orgasm finally started to subside and her body collapsed bonelessly against the mattress, Celeste was treated to the frantic fluttering of the artery running through Alexandra’s belly beneath her hand. It stuttered a little when she carefully eased her fingers out from inside Alexandra’s spent and dripping pussy and Celeste couldn’t help but grin at the sensation knowing that she was responsible for the strain on her sub’s heart.

“You did so well,” she praised as she propped herself on her elbows before slowly rising to her knees, looking down at Alexandra’s exhausted form, her sub’s chest heaving as she desperately tried to catch her breath and calm her racing heartbeat.

Celeste shifted, shifting backwards off the bed and rising, meeting Alexandra’s gaze. “Don’t move just yet, sweetheart; I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared into the ensuite bathroom for a minute, returning a short while later with a warm, wet cloth and coming to kneel between Alexandra’s thighs once more. She made quick work of carefully cleaning the other woman up, wiping away the slick and saliva that was quickly drying along her folds, and tossed the cloth aside as she finished up.

“How are you feeling?” Celeste asked as she made her way around to Alexandra’s side, crawling in next to her and gently laying a hand on her belly.

“M’good,” Alexandra murmured sleepily, her words slurring a little as she drifted in the blissful void between subspace and lucidity.

“Do you need anything?”

Alexandra shook her head, her half-lidded gaze falling on Celeste. “Can we just snuggle?”

“Of course,” Celeste said softly, lying down next to Alexandra and slipping a hand under the other girl’s shoulders, pulling her in close. “Come here, princess.”

She kept still as Alexandra shifted around a little before finally settling with her head on Celeste’s chest. Celeste smiled, carding her fingers through Alexandra’s hair, knowing the other woman could hear her slow, steady heartbeat. She slipped her hand over Alexandra’s ribs, pressing her palm to the special spot beneath her sub’s breast where she knew her heartbeat was strongest. Alexandra’s heart rate was still on the high side, but Celeste knew it wouldn’t be long before it slowed down to a much more relaxed pace.

“You’re so beautiful,” Celeste murmured, dipping her head to press a kiss into Alexandra’s hair. “My good girl.”

“All yours,” Alexandra whispered breathily.

Celeste hummed, her palm pressing a little more firmly against Alexandra’s heartbeat.

“Your heart and soul belong to me,” she agreed. “And mine to you.”

Alexandra made a breathy noise of acknowledgment. It was the last effort she made before her breathing evened out and Celeste knew she’d fallen asleep. She could feel Alexandra’s heartbeat settle into a slow, steady rhythm beneath her hand as sleep claimed her and she was content to simply hold the other woman close. After all, Alexandra’s heart was a precious gift that had been given to Celeste with the utmost trust and she would treat it with all the love and care in the world for as long as Alexandra let her.

feel free to request something!

#cardiophile #cardiophilia #writing #cardiophile stories #female heartbeat #power exchange #wlw #f/f #heartbeat k!nk #heartbeat k1nk #princesses #d/s

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myocsfanfictions · 1 year ago

Text

South Side Story

Shamelesse Fanfiction Season 1

Desna Hills has come living in the Southside of Chicago four years before. Taken in by Kev and V, Desna is close friends with the Gallaghers. Let's see how this Southside story unfolds.

MASTERLIST

<< Previous - Next >>

Chaspter 9

“Babe?” Veronica’s voice as she opened the door got Desna's attention. She was frying a couple of eggs. “Coupons?”

Desna nodded her head, “Pretended to jog, got the one ones on 53rd Street, they are on the table,” she said, gesturing towards the sheets of paper.

“How did it go?” She asked, amused as V let out a laugh.

“That’s always so much fun,” Veronica said, sitting on the chair with a big smile. Sometimes, they did that, and both of them were with the Gallaghers. V would usually go with either Ian or Lip, and she flirted with the guy who delivered food in shops so that the guys could steal some goods. Desna would leave the house early in the morning with Debs to steal the sheets of coupons from the front house.

The Gallaghers needed help arriving at the end of the month. V and Kev, on the other hand, didn’t have problems, so Veronica would always do things to help the family, like helping them steal or letting them borrow their things. That made Desna like Veronica even more.

“What about Kev?” The woman asked, taking the newspaper and turning the pages.

“Still asleep,” Desna said with a snort, “Butt in the air,” V laughed again. Just then, Ian opened their back door to put a bottle of juice next to V.

“Thanks, handsome,” she said, giving him the coupons. Desna waved at the boy as he went out.

“I’m sorry about Kev and me,” Veronica said, making Desna giggle as she put the eggs on two plates.

“About what?” She asked, walking towards the table.

“We are loud,” V took a breath, “And not subtle at all.”

“That’s no problem,” Desna assured, “You are in love,” Desna said, starting to eat her breakfast, “Sex is part of it, and with the chemistry that you have, it’s just inevitable.”

She knew well what it meant to have someone close with whom she felt a connection and attraction so great that it was almost impossible to stop her from touching him, holding him, and kissing him. She envied what V and Kev had on some level, knowing that she’d never have it with Lip.

“I don’t want to give you the wrong impression about this kind of stuff,” V said, but Desna shook her head.

“Nothing you do could give me a wrong impression,” she said honestly, squeezing V’s hand. “If anything, I’d like to be like you.”

V leaned forward to give her a sweet kiss on the hair, “Thank you, babe.”

Desna loved her relationship with both Kev and V. They knew how to be over the top, but that was just their character. Desna could not have asked for better guardians.

Her day went on. Desna went to school, took an English test, and set with Ian at lunch.

“So, will you ever make one?” Ian asked from next to her as she was finishing the sketch of a shirt on the pages of a notebook.

“I can’t see,” she reminded him before shrugging her shoulder. “This is just a hobby.”

“You fix my ripped shirt, alright,” he said encouragingly, and a smile appeared on her face.

“I don’t know,” she said, “And what should I do then?”

“Sell them?” Ian answered.

“Where?” Desna asked, and Ian shrugged his shoulders.

“Don’t know. But wherever it is, can I get a share?” Ian said with a smile making her laugh.

“Hey, I’ll do all the work!” She complained.

“But I gave you the idea,” he said back. She looked at him fondly, before leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Only because you’re sweet,” this made him chuckle. Then, they stood in silence for some moments.

“How are you?” Ian asked suddenly, “Yesterday you were pretty shaken up…”

Ian had told her that Frank had attached him because Mr. Jackson had hit him after what happened at Karen’s house. Desna was sure he had questions, like everyone else in that house who was not V or Lip, after the way she behaved.

“I’m good, Ian,” she answered, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t of any help.”

But he shook his head, “Don’t worry, really…” he said, “Lip wanted to go to talk to you, has he?”

Desna nodded her head, thinking back at how happy and relieved she had been as she had seen him in her room.

“Then Karen came to look for him,” Ian chuckled bitterly at her words, and she moved to look at him when she felt him shake his head.

“What?” She asked.

Ian took a breath. “Karen is a whore-“

“Ian!” Desna exclaimed, surprised.

“And I do not understand why he’d let you go and keep her,” his words made her look down. Lip was, in fact, acting with Karen as if she were his girlfriend. Bringing her home, cuddling before everyone—he had never done that with her…

“Because he likes her more,” she muttered, feeling her mouth going dry, “Probably he just thinks I’m good for fuck,” Ian turned to look at her, observing her expression that probably was giving away the awful feelings that she had inside of her.

“Then he’d be an idiot,” Ian said before kissing her cheek, to which she gave a small, sad smile.

“Or maybe, I am…” she said, scoffing, leaning back on her chair, “I mean, he told me from the start what he wanted. He wanted to fuck, not string attached, none of this shit,” she ranted, “What was I expecting from him?”

“So now is your fault?” Ian protested before shaking his head, “Listen, Lip knows very well how to be an asshole.”

“Don’t tell me about it…” she muttered just before her cell phone went off. Desna frowned as she went through her bag. Her ability to never find her phone was like a superpower.

As she finally found it, her brows frowned, reading the name that had appeared on the scream.

“It’s Steve,” she said, looking up at Ian.

“Steve?” Desna was quick to press the green button, “Hello?”

“Des, hey,” Fiona’s voice came from the other side.

“Fiona, what’s up?” She asked, looking up at Ian.

Fiona took a breath, “Did you, by any chance, have seen Frank somewhere?”

“Frank?” she asked, making Ian frown. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t leave the house yesterday. Why? What’s happening?” Desna said as Ian moved closer to try to listen.

“I can’t find him,” she admitted, her worry was evident in her tone.

“I… I’m sure he is alright,” Desna tried to say. Frank could be anywhere by now since he usually drank until he couldn’t even find his ass with his own hands, “At the Alibi?”

“I tried,” she answered nervously, “Kev said that he drank and went away. I’m very worried, Des,”

“He is probably sleeping somewhere,” which happened other times. Then, he’d probably appear out of nowhere looking for beer.

“No, this is strange,” Fiona said through the phone.

“Why?”

“It’s last Friday,” at her words, Desna's eyes widened. The Disability-check, Frank Gallagher would never miss fresh money. It never mattered where he was, he would always show up for his disability-check.

“Oh, shit…” Desna muttered, looking at Ian, who, by the face, must have listened to his sister, “Alright, Ian is here with me; we’ll find Lip and come back home.”

“Thank you, Des,” Fiona said, letting out a heavy breath.

“We’ll find him,” Desna assured her before ending the phone call and standing up alongside Ian.

“Let’s find your brother,” Desna said.

“Okay, I go right, you go left,” he said, pointing in the direction he was talking about.

“Alright,” she nodded before starting to run through the corridor, hoping to find Lip as soon as possible and not find him busy in any activities she really didn’t need to know anything about.

As she passed by, someone grabbed her by the arm, making her stop to meet Iggy Milkovich’s face. “Hey, where are you running to?” he asked with a smirk, his eyes traveling towards her chest.

“I gotta go,” she said, trying to pull her arm back from his grip, “Can you let me go?”

“Would you blow me again if I do?” Desna’s eyes widened at his words, “That mouth works magic, and you’re gorgeous as you’re at it. Did you know that?” She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. The way he was smirking made her uneasy, “I’d like to see it in person again,” but she was finally able to free herself from his grip, shoving him away from her.

“Stay the fuck away!” She exclaimed, making him let out a low chuckle; as he got close again,

“Be very careful,” he said, “We don’t want the school to know,” Desna’s breath got stuck in her throat.

“To know what?” she whispered, but then Mikey Milkovich's voice echoed in the alley.

“Iggy, leave Sweetcheeks alone,” he yelled, “We have to fucking go!”

Iggy chuckled again as he passed by her to walk towards his cousin.

“To know what?” she asked again, but he only smirked before disappearing into the crowd. What did he mean? Desna hadn’t liked those words at all, especially the way his eyes looked at her. She felt nervous all of a sudden, and her heart was beating loudly in her chest as she kept asking herself what he meant by those words.

“Des!” Ian’s voice made her turn. “Found him!” Ian and Lip were making their way toward her, avoiding other students. Desna took a breath and put her hair behind her ears to try to calm herself down. Once she felt ready, she made her way toward the Gallagher brothers.

“I’ve already explained him everything,” Ian said stopping in front of her.

Lip frowned, “You alright?” Desna turned to look at him, nodding her head.

“Yeah,” she said, her throat feeling very dry. "Let’s go find Frank.”

*****

Tag List: @th3h0nkz @aunicornmademedoit

If you liked it, please leave a ♥️ and reblog!

#shameless imagine #shameless fanfiction #shameless smut #shameless #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher x oc #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher fanfiction #lip gallagher #fiona gallagher #ian gallagher #carl gallagher #debbie gallagher #liam gallagher #frank gallagher #smut

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fanfichubcircuit · 6 months ago

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Cowboys and Chems || Ghoul X Trans!Masc reader

He’s here. Your cowboy is here. You don’t see Cooper often what with both of you traveling. He had his bounties and you had Chems to sell, but you always had a way of running into each other.

You’re sitting on your bike keeping the motor going in case you had to split soon. It wasn’t like you had been well behaved in that dive bar, but you were itching for a fight today and you got nothing to show for it. Which either meant no fight or someone would show up with friends.

“Well I’ll be.” His voice is honey on a hot day, and when you turn to him that million cap smile is lighting up his scarred face. “Pretty Boy’s in town. Didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Well if it ain’t Coop.” You leaned over your motorcycle. “What could I do you for, Mr. Howard?” You winked. Your smile quickly faded at seeing the girl with him. A pretty vault girl. Venom’s at your lips before you could stop it. “What’s up with Bug Eyes over there?”

She looks appalled, but Cooper waved her off. “Now now Darlin’ there’s no need to bite at friends. She’s helping me with a job.” He walked over to you casting a cool shadow over you. “What say you and I exchange a proper hello?” But it’s not really a question.

You glance around. The Ghoul always draws eyes wherever he goes. Men kissing in a town like this might cause problems.

“Come here Cowboy, lay some sugar on me.” You grabbed his coat lapels and dragged him close.

Luckily, you loved problems more than your buyers loved chems. You could make all the drugs in the world and you got hooked on adrenaline and danger. Maybe that’s why you fell in love with Coop in the first place. He gave you plenty of both.

His lips are dry and cracked and his teeth find your lip immediately. You let him bite you his fill before tipping his head back. He could pretend to be a predator all he wants, but he gave his softness away every time you pushed for it. He tastes like shitty Radaway, but you don’t care. His mouth is soft and warm and yours. Only ever yours.

After what was far too long to get away with in public you pull back. “Hope he didn’t take all your caps on that batch.”

Cooper just smiled down at you. “Doesn’t matter. I know you’ll take care of me.”

You nodded. “Always.” You finally separate to pull out a set of vials for him. “You gonna need some stims too?”

He nodded. “It’s a big fish.”

You shuffled around in your bag nudging the vials of testosterone aside to pull out the packs. “Always is with you. Just don’t break your fishing pole reeling it in. I still need it.”

Cooper let out a laugh. “Yes, Sir.”

You pile the items together and he started counting out the caps. Before you two became more than friends you used to give him a discount as part of a deal for not bringing you in. And when he started flirting with you you gave him an even bigger one figuring it was worth the ego boost. Nowadays he won’t let you take anything below full price.

You’d been confused at first but he had just scowled. “What? You think I can’t take care of my man?” You never argued it after that too warm and melted by the phrase.

Your voice is hushed as you look over the girl again. “Don’t tell me I gave you a soft spot for Vaulties.”

His eyes land on your leather jacket blue and faded. You had already told him how you had stitched it together out of your old suit. But that was years ago. And no one around now knew what you were once. No vaultie had the amount of scars you did.

“Nah Darlin’. This is about old scores.” He looked wistful.

You nodded and looked around. There was some mean bastard starting you down. He looked even more pissed when you gave him a shit eating grin.

“You have fun fishing Cowboy. Come back to me?”

“Always.” His smile was soft. Then the walls were back up and he was the fierce hunter once more. “Alright Vaultie. We’re going!”

She’s gone.

“Sonofabitch.” Cooper sighed.

He ran off your laugh ringing in his ears.

As heavy footsteps closed in on you your hand found your tire iron. “Now sir I’m a taken man.” You dodged the sloppy punch he threw. “But I don’t mind dancing if you really want to!”

#cooper howard x reader #trans!masc reader #period typical homophobia #no beta we die like men #based off an oc of mine #fallout

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awesomefringey · 1 year ago

Note

I know fans and especially old-day larries are sick of him and his tweet was the last straw but what if his larry denial wasn’t meant to be denial more like him telling us to stop making everything he does as a larry sign and make theories about literally anything? It isn’t that long when you, tumblr larries, were calling out twitter larries for this, for spreading literally every rumour and making theories of it because those twarries literally take everything as a larry sign. ‘Oh, Louis was staring at one vip box yesterday, there must’ve been Harry!’

‘There was some mysterious shadow in one of the vip boxes watching the show, that must’ve been Harry.’

‘Louis is talking to someone in the van, it must’ve been Harry.’

‘Lottie posted video from zoo and this voice sounds just like Harry so it’s definitely him behind the camera!’

Oooor did some called out Gemma when she named larries mental after some of them were constatly harrasing her in comment section in literally every post with “💚💙” and expecting her to out them?

I don’t want to excuse him for how he behave especially when it comes to dragging that kid lately and pretending to be the father of the year but as long as I’ve seen him being in a great mood lately, his smirk after Umbro 2.0 or playing 7, what if he didn’t to deny larry more like to tell some of fans (twarries) in very unfortunate way to chill because not everything is a sign.

Oh, I totally get your point. It was my instant reaction. Louis must have mocked the “constant conspiring” which is super annoying and exhausting for so many of us in the fandom.

The thing is, it is one of the reasons many have left before.

I’ve seen wonderful people access the fandom with big eyes and amazement until they fell for big Twitter accounts who continuously posted about how Louis and Harry are communicating to us and how they’re warning us, screaming for help, how an end is on the horizon… and then, nothing happened.

I’ve seen these fans being emotionally drained by the victim narrative because they wanted to help but didn’t know how. I’ve seen some needing a break for it, others eventually realizing that all the “communication” was bullshit and how that must mean everything else must’ve been too.

If I could change something about our fandom, it would be the idea that Louis and Harry will be forever victims, okay AND if people could stop babying them, that’d be great. But both creates an environment in which we can’t criticize them ever, even when it is very necessary. (Thinking of the very short notice Asian Leg cancellation and zero personal words from Louis.)

#ask #fandom experience

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yazzwrites6962 · 21 days ago

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Liability ♡ Shuntaro Chishiya

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Shuntaro Chishiya x GN!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Author's Note: UNEDITED! I'm still pretty new to writing/Tumblr. Apologies for any mistakes! I don't own any characters/images.

Genre: Angst with a pinch of fluff

Summary: The reader begins to feel conflicted about their relationship/friendship with Chishiya after he betrays Arisu. Through a mix of resentment, confusion, and lingering attachment, the reader grapples with Chishiya’s twisted and subtle displays of care.

Word Count: 1111

Warnings: Angst, OOC Chishiya, manipulation, mentions of injury/self harm, moral ambiguity

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"How could you do that to him! There had to have been another way." Chishiya does not look back at me. He leans against the guard rails of the balcony, observing the ongoing party below. The breeze makes his hair swing lightly across his face. I have never felt more wrong about someone in my life. "He trusted you."

When I first came to the Beach, almost immediately, I befriended Kuina. She was bright, funny, caring, and had so much depth to her. Yet, she was a two-in-one deal with coldhearted Chishiya. At first, I didn't like him much, but over time we grew closer. I confided in him about life before the Borderlands, and he seemed to listen so intently. He told me about plans and strategies. Eventually, he recruited me into his little idea to steal the cards and escape the Beach. I was originally meant to be the one who stole the cards, but when Arisu and Usagi came, the plans changed.

"Trust is a dangerous thing here." Chishiya said plainly. "This place is about survival. You are behaving irrationally." He takes a deep breath. He's so calm, and I hate that about him. Where I once felt so much admiration, I felt fury.

"That would've been me." I say, my voice trembling with hurt. He would've sent me in there, and I could've been killed. His head turned to look back at me. My eyes couldn't help but fill with tears upon seeing his expression. He looked at me with such indifference. Why did it hurt so much? Why did I care so deeply about how he felt towards me.

"Yes. It would have been," It stings. It burns my heart. I wish I could make him understand the feeling betrayal that festered in my chest, but it seemed Chishiya didn't have the capability to feel anything. I hate the plain expression on his face. I just want to punch it. "But it wasn't. Arisu played his role. That's all there is to it." Chishiya's eyes scan my body, and a small smirk plays at his lips. "Unclench your fists. Don't go hurting yourself now. What's done is done."

I had barely even realized how tightly my fists were balled up. My nails dug into my palms, leaving little red marks and scratches. I unclench my hands, not because he told me to. It's because the last shred of faith I had in him crumbles away.

"I really thought you cared." I choke out, ready to turn away and leave Chishiya standing alone on the balcony. Not that he cares about my presence. Did he ever? Did all the things I confided in him about mean nothing? Was it all a ploy? Am I really only one of his pawns too?

"I do." Chishiya says plainly, his arms leaving the railing he leaned on. "I care about surviving. I care about efficienty. I care about success. I care about the things that will matter."

"Do I matter?" I'm not sure why I ask this. It feels like a pointless question. Why do I care so much about his feelings towards me? "Was I really only a pawn to you this whole time? Like Arisu?"

There is a silence that fills the air as I search Chishiya's face for any sign of emotion. I hate his stupid face. I hate the smug look he always has. I hate now neutral his eyes are. I hate him so much in this moment.

"You were." He exhales. I can hear my heart shattering as the words roll off his tongue. Before the tears spill from my eyes, he continues. "There is a reason, Y/N, that you were not the person in that room today." He adds. "It was not entirely necessary for me to change the plan so that Arisu would take your place."

His words hang in the air as I process what he's saying. I'm not sure I entirely understand what he's alluding to. I wish he would stop speaking in such cryptic riddles all the time.

"What are you saying?" I ask, wishing I didn't sound so weak. The words were nothing above a choked whisper. Chishiya sighs, seemingly irritated to have to explain himself further.

"Using Arisu was efficient and convenient, but if I had wanted to, I still would have sent you." So, he didn't want to send me in? Why? There is a flutter in my chest: The revival of my broken heart. The hopeful feeling is nauseating.

"...If you wanted to..." I am conflicted. I'm still hurt from Arisu's betrayal, but a feeling of joy washes over me. "So, you do care about me?"

"Caring is a luxury. I've observed that you let your feelings drive every decision you make. You're reckless. It's a miracle you have survived this long." Ouch. "Yet, I do want you to be happy, Y/N. I do not wish ill on you. Your trust in me is foolish, but it is not something I have wanted to break."

"Why didn't you tell me about the real plan?" So many questions swirl my mind. When did he decide that he didn't want to break my trust? When did he begin to care about my happiness? "Is my trust in you one-sided?"

"You would not have gone through with the plan had you known. This was in your best interest. I am aware of how stubborn you are, so I made the decision for you." He opens his arms, his gaze locked onto me. "Come."

Despite the red flags and warning bells sounding in my mind, I approach him, burying my face into him as I wrap my arms around his torso. I had never seen Chishiya give anyone a hug before, and there was not a chance I would miss this opportunity. His arms pressed around me in a firm, but gentle embrace.

"You are a liability." I hear Chishiya sigh. "A liability I want to keep alive. At least for now." His arms release me, and he pushes me back out of his personal space. "Okay, that's enough."

I still feel the sting of betrayal. I still feel hurt. I still am not sure if I'm nothing more to Chishiya than a pawn. Yet, there are little actions that show his humanity. Small words that lead me to believe that he cares about me. At least to some degree. I will always be wary of his intentions in the future.

Just like that, I was back to Chishiya, like putty in his hands. Ultimately, I don't mind being his liability for as long as he will let me.

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