#they literally are in a better place now after leaving this site | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 10 months ago

Note

ethan and reader doing a sex tape?? also don’t know if ur comfortable but can you do a full detailed one??! please and tyy have a good day🙏🏻

I am SO SORRY it took so long to write this(a little over a month. I feel like an ass). It's literally 4.4k words, strictly smut with a dash of fluff. I kinda went in on this lmao

Into It - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Your boyfriend convinces you to make a sex tape with him.

Contains: Long ass smut lmao - Oral, m and f receiving, fingering, multiple orgasms, a little ass smacking, p in v, multiple position changes, unprotected sex. (If I missed something, let me know. I'm SO SLEEPY rn)

A/N: If there's any grammatical errors, shh no there's not. I'm struggling to keep my eyes open tbh 🙃

“I don’t know about this, Ethan,” you mumbled, as he helped you take your shirt off.

“No one else will see it but us, babe,” he said, trying to convince you. “People do stuff like this all the time.”

“Yeah, on porn sites,” you sighed, as he unhooked your bra.

“You’re way better than any of the other girls on those sites, baby. Watching you take my cock whenever I want to would be so hot,” he said, running his hands over your newly exposed breasts. You felt a chill run down your spine as his fingertips started to graze over your nipples.

“Fine,” you sighed in defeat, his fingers trailing further down your body, “but if anyone else sees it Ethan-“

Your words got stuck in your throat as he started to rub you over your panties.

“What was that, baby?” he asked, his lips turning to a smile as he watched you squirm. “You were just about to threaten me, I think.”

“Don’t be an ass,” you got out, your breath heavy as he slid your panties to the side. “Can we at least get on the bed?”

“Yeah, baby. I’ll get my phone set up,” he said, as he pulled his hand away from you. He looked around the room as you crawled onto the bed. “Hmm, this might work…for now,” he said, walking over to the bookshelf in your room. “At least while I’m teasing you.”

“What if I don’t want you to tease me?” you asked, a smirk playing on your lips as he turned around to look at you.

“You and I both know you like it,” he said, before turning back around and getting his phone set up. He pulled his shirt over his head after he was satisfied with the angle, the view of your bed perfectly in frame.

You stared at him as he walked around to the other side of the bed. You’d seen him without clothes so many times, but you always had to admire how hot he was.

Once he stood against the side of the bed, you wanted to put on a little show for the video he was making. You got on all fours, your ass sticking up as you started to unbuckle his belt. His eyes drank in the sight, loving the way your body looked in that position. He thought you always looked perfect, but there was just something about the way you looked in that moment that desperately made him want to fuck you even more than he already wanted to.

You unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down his thighs as he kicked them off the rest of the way, leaving him in his boxers as he crawled on the bed with you. You saw how hard he already was, the small wet spot on his boxers from his precum made your mouth water.

You sat on your knees as he leaned in to kiss you, his mouth gently moving against yours, at first. He soon had you pushed back on the plush comforter, his tongue dancing with yours as one of his hands started to roam your body, his touches making your skin tingle.

He trailed kisses along your jaw, down your neck as you whimpered at the feeling. You felt him smile against you before his mouth started to attack your sweet spot.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you said, as he started to suck on the sensitive flesh.

You knew you’d have to cover the mark later, but you didn’t care. You loved the little reminders he’d leave of how good he made you feel.

He moved lower, placing tender kisses along your collar bone.

“You really are going to tease the fuck out of me, aren’t you?” you asked, the desperation in your voice making him laugh softly.

“Patience, baby,” he said, as his mouth made its way to one of your nipples.

He sucked it into his mouth as you gasped, the feeling making your core throb even more than it already was. Once he was satisfied with the attention he gave to it, he moved to the other one, his tongue swirling against it before he started to suck.

He could tell your pussy was craving attention when your hips started to wiggle. He ran his hand gently down your body until he made it to your soaked panties.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he said, as you whined in response. “I’ll make you cum soon, babe. I promise.”

He pulled his hand away as you started to get frustrated, your pouty lips making him smirk when his hooded eyes connected with yours. He shook his head at your expression, turning his attention back to the teasing, his lips trailing between your breasts and down your stomach. You ran one of your hands through his hair as he made his way down your body, him groaning against you as he felt your nails against his scalp.

“You know what that does to me,” he said, as he stopped at the top of your panties.

Your breathing got heavier as you waited in anticipation, hoping he’d just slide your panties to the side and take care of you. That’s not what he did, though, his mouth moving towards your thighs instead. Soft moans were slipping past your lips as he kissed the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, his teeth occasionally grazing against you.

He was so close to where you needed him, his mouth as close to your pussy as it could be before, yet again, he skipped over it. He moved to the other thigh, giving the same attention that he gave to the other one.

“Ethan, please. I need it, baby,” you said, your eyes pleading with his as he looked up at you.

“I have a better idea,” he said, as he pulled away from you and slid off the side of the bed onto his feet.

“Where are you going?” you asked before you answered your own question in your head. He went over towards your bookshelf, grabbing his phone.

“Shit, I never started recording,” he said, his tone serious as you scoffed.

“You’re not teasing me like that again right now, I’m sorry,” you said, your tone defensive as he started to laugh.

“I’m just kidding, babe. I got it,” he said, walking back over to the bed. “You think you can suck my cock before I eat you out?”

You wasted no time after he crawled back up on the bed and laid on his back. You grabbed at his boxers, trying to pull them down. You huffed as you looked at him.

“Jeez, babe. You’re so needy,” he said, lifting his hips to make it easier for you to get his boxers off.

“You have no idea how bad I need to cum, but I need this, too,” you said, as his erection sprang free from his boxers, resting against his stomach as your mouth started to water. He had his phone pointed at you as you sat on your knees and started to stroke him, your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched his face.

You knew how badly he wanted you to suck it, but after all his teasing, this was the least you could do to get a small amount of revenge. His eyes got darker, realizing that’s what you were doing. You didn’t stop though, your hand movements got lazier once his breathing got heavier.

“Baby, please,” he said, “I need to feel your mouth.”

You hesitated for a minute, loving the feeling of having the upper hand as you started to move faster. Once you decided that you’d teased him enough, you leaned down, licking the drops of precum that started leaking from his tip. Just as you were about to take him into your mouth, he stopped you.

“Wait, can we do this on the floor? Like, I’m standing and you’re on your knees? I want it to be easier for you to look up at me,” he said, “Is that okay, babe?”

“Mmm, that sounds perfect,” you said, quickly shimmying off the bed and getting in the position he wanted you in before he even had the chance to sit up. He started to smile as he crawled off the bed, the corner of his bottom lip in between his teeth as he looked down at you.

“You look so beautiful,” he said, putting his cherry red tip in front of your mouth. “You’ll look even more beautiful when your mascara starts to run down your cheeks.”

Your breathing got heavier at his words, his phone pointed back at you as you grabbed his cock, rubbing his tip over your lips. You teased him like that for a few seconds before you opened your mouth, sucking on the sensitive head. His free hand ran through your hair as you started to take him in your mouth, inch by inch until you started to gag.

“Just like that, baby,” he said, as you looked up at him. Your cheeks hollowed as you started to move, your throat tightening every time the tip of his cock made it to the back of your mouth. “So fucking gorgeous.”

Your eyes were starting to water as you gagged, your tears threatening to slip out as he started to add small little thrusts into the mix, making you gag even more.

“Aww, look at you, baby,” he cooed, the tears slipping past your lower lash line. He groaned once he saw how wet his cock was from your spit, so proud of you for doing such a good job. The hand that was loosely in your hair started to get a tighter grip, his hips moving a little faster. “Such a good little slut for me.”

You whimpered around him, the throbbing in your core getting unbearable as you started to move faster. You needed him to cum so you could, and it might’ve made you a little selfish, but if you didn’t get your own release soon, you were going to go crazy.

“Shit, baby,” he said, as your red, watery eyes looked into his, “I’m gonna cum.”

It only took a few more times of your warm, wet mouth tightening around him for his hips to falter, his grunts turning into whimpers as you tasted the salty liquid. When you pulled back, his half-hard cock was connected to your mouth by strings of your saliva and his cum mixed together.

“God, baby,” he said, taking in the sight in front of him as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. He made sure that he got the perfect shot of your mascara-stained cheeks before he helped you up off the floor. “That might be the best head you’ve ever given me…does doing it in front of a camera turn you on even more?”

“I know I didn’t want to do it at first, but I wanted to make sure you had the best material for your alone time,” you said with a cracked voice, smiling at him. “I do kind of enjoy it, though.”

“We could always do this again,” he suggested, as you nodded in response. “Okay, babe. I know you need it. Get that pretty little ass of yours up on the bed.”

You did as he said, your head resting against the soft pillows as he laid his phone on the bed and crawled on top of you to kiss you again. His hand rubbed over your panties; the material drenched in your arousal. You whimpered as your hips started to move at the simple touches.

“I think these need to come off,” he said, running his hand over your hip, his thumb hooking around your panties as he started to slide them off you.

His lips trailed over your jaw again, down your neck, and over your stomach. You were almost scared that he was just going to torture you with his teasing again, but he was moving a lot quicker this time, desperate to take care of you.

You stared down at him as he got settled between your legs. “Wait, how do you want this part to be filmed?” you asked, glancing over to his phone beside you on the bed.

“Hmm, I’ll get plenty of shots of your face when I fuck you…why don’t you just film me?” he suggested, as you picked his phone up, pointing it at him as he started to lean in.

Your breath hitched the second he started to place gentle licks to your clit, your free hand going to his hair. “Mmm, feels so good,” you said, his tongue swirling over your bundle of nerves. His hands were massaging the flesh of your thighs as he held them apart, his mouth starting to sloppily move against you.

You couldn’t decide if you wanted to watch him though the phone screen or not, the whole thing making you even more turned on as you felt one of his hands move up your thigh. You soon felt his middle finger prodding at your entrance before he slid it inside of you with ease, your wetness coating him as he started to move it just right.

“Shit,” you gasped, the feeling making your legs tingle.

He moved his finger for a few minutes before he added his ring finger, a low moan slipping past your lips as he started to press them a little harder against the spongy spot inside of you.

He looked up at you, noticing how quick your chest was rising and falling, your moans getting a little louder as he inched you closer to your orgasm.

He sucked your clit into his mouth as he started to move his head back and forth, his curls ticking your thighs.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you whined, your eyes screwing shut as your hand in his hair started to tremble. “Oh my god.” He sucked harder, the stimulation making your legs start to jolt as your orgasm washed over you.

The sucking on your clit turned into soft licks as he worked you through it, his fingers slowing a little anyway because your pussy was clenching them so hard. Once you stopped whimpering, he slid his fingers out before placing one last lick to your clit.

He sat up as he watched you catch your breath, your hands still shaky.

“Did it feel that good, baby?” he asked, grabbing his phone that you must’ve dropped at some point on the bed.

“So good,” you mewled, your hazy eyes connecting with his as you felt his fingertips brushing against your thigh again.

“How many more times do you think you could cum for me?” he asked, your eyes fully opening as you stared at him, your nervousness obvious to him as he started to laugh. “You know after I cum from head, it takes me a while to cum again. You remember the time we went at it for almost an hour?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling as you thought back to it.

“How many times did you cum in that hour?” he questioned with a smirk, already knowing the answer.

“Four,” you said softly, “We switched positions a lot.”

“Are you okay with us doing that now?” he asked, as you sat up.

“Of course, babe. This is for the little movie you’re making,” you said, the seduction in your voice making him groan.

“Come here, baby.”

He pulled you into a kiss as his hands grabbed your hips, yours running over his chest as the kiss got more heated. He was running through all the positions in his head that he wanted to do, wanting to strategically plan them so it wouldn’t be too much before he had the chance to cum again. He knew that if he went super deep after you’d already had a few orgasms, you started to get really sensitive in those positions, usually tapping out after just a few minutes.

He pulled away to look at you, “How about you ride me first?”

“Okay, babe. Condom or no condom?” you asked, as you pushed him back onto the bed.

“What do you think I want?” he asked, smirking at you.

“No condom,” you said, laughing a little.

He nodded as he bit his bottom lip. “Shit, I almost forgot,” he said pointing his phone at you as you moved to straddle him.

You sat on his thighs for a minute, stroking him as you looked at him. He didn’t say anything, he just kept filming your hand move until you pulled it away. You shimmied up his body, raising up a little as you lined his cock up with your entrance. Once you started to sink down onto him, he kept glancing between you and his phone, making sure it was truly capturing the way your mouth fell open as he stretched you out.

“Mmmm,” you moaned, placing your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself as you started to bounce on his cock. “So big,” you got out, between your heavy breathing.

“So fucking tight,” he groaned, his free hand going to your hip as he helped you move.

He watched your tits bounce as you rode him, your sounds flooding out of your mouth as your nails started to dig into his chest.

“Shit, babe. That feels so good,” he groaned, as you smirked down at him. Ethan liked a little bit of pain from time to time, and you had no problem doing it for him, knowing how hard he’d cum once he’s had enough.

After a few minutes, your bouncing started to slow. Your knees were hurting and your legs were burning, but you felt that familiar feeling starting to build. It gave you enough motivation to chase your orgasm, bouncing even harder than you were before. Ethan’s seen you do this countless times, knowing that you must’ve been close. He moved his hand from your hip to your clit, his fingers rubbing quick circles.

Your ass was slapping against his thighs as you started to whimper, the feeling washing over you like a massive wave.

“Oh shit,” you slurred, drunk off his cock as you tried to keep moving, but it was getting harder to do. His hand moved back to your hip to hold you in place as he fucked up into you.

You slid him out of you as you came down from your high, laying your chest against his as you caught your breath. He felt your hard nipples pressing against him as he sat his phone down and ran his fingertips over your back.

“I hope you’re going to do most of the work for the rest of this, because my legs hurt so bad,” you said, as he started to laugh. You smiled at the vibrations coming through his chest.

“Sure, babe. I have a few ideas, you just need to lay there and take it,” he said, his hand running down your body to squeeze your ass. You moaned at the feeling, your tiredness starting to fade as you sat back up. “You ready to go again?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice still a little tired, “How do you want me?”

“Face down, ass up. Before you get too tired,” he chuckled, “I’m going to get you to hold my phone again for a little bit. I don’t get to see your face that often when I’m deep.”

“Fuuuck,” you groaned at the thought, getting in the new position, and grabbing his phone. Your hips involuntarily wiggled as your ass stuck up in the air, waiting for him to slide inside of you. He softly smacked your ass before he started to line up with your entrance, pushing his cock back inside of you.

You moaned at the feeling, the grip on your hips getting tighter as he started to thrust.

“You take it so fucking well,” he groaned, delivering a harder smack to your ass. He rubbed over your skin to soothe the slight stinging feeling. “You’re so perfect.”

His cock was buried so deep inside of you that it was hard for you to think, let alone form words. He kept saying sweet things to you, your only response to him was your moans getting louder.

He watched your free hand start to claw it the comforter, bunching it up in your hand as you tightly held on to his phone with the other. The coil in the pit of your stomach was getting tighter and tighter as he kept pounding into you. He glanced over to your phone screen, seeing all the hot little faces you were making.

“Shit,” he grunted, as you started to meet his thrusts with your hips. “You gonna cum?”

He looked at the back of your head as you started to furiously nod in response. He went even deeper, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix.

“Watch yourself when you cum,” he ordered, as you whimpered and stared at the phone screen.

Your jaw was slack as your eyebrows knitted together, so close to falling over the edge. He just kept drilling into you, your eyes starting to flutter as the euphoric feeling hit you so hard your entire body was tingling.

“Yes, baby, feels so good” you babbled, as your boyfriend laughed in response at your current state. He loved making you completely cock dumb.

He slid out of you once your walls stopped fluttering before leaning down to place sweet kisses on the red mark on your ass cheek.

“Relax, baby,” he said softly, as he helped you adjust your legs so you could lay flat. “You’ve been doing so good for me,” he praised, rubbing his hand over your back as he sat beside you. “Can you take one more for me?”

“Missionary,” you mumbled into the comforter, making Ethan laugh. “I can’t take much more.”

“I know you can’t. I was starting to get close last time,” he said, “I know it won’t take long if you can handle it.”

“I can, if you help me,” you sighed, your body so relaxed from the multiple orgasms that you were struggling to move on your own.

He took his phone out of your tight grip before he helped you roll over onto your back. Your eyes were so glazed over, your eyes even more beautiful than they normally were.

“Thank you for doing this for me, babe,” he said, smiling sweetly at you as his hands ran over your hips. “I know we’re about to be really busy soon because of exams. This is the next best thing to actually being with you.”

“You better send it to me,” you said, your voice tired as he got settled between your legs.

“The idea of you getting off to this makes it so much hotter,” he sighed, as he pushed his tip in your entrance. “Fuck, I really might not last long. You’re already so tight.”

“It’s okay, babe. Fuck me until you can’t anymore,” you said, rubbing your fingertips across his arm as he made it all the way inside of you.

Your lips parted as soft moans slipped past your lips, his pace a little slower than it had been for the last few positions. He didn’t want to hurt you, and he knew how tired you already were.

“You can go faster, baby,” you said, his hips moving a little quicker as he leaned down to catch your lips in a kiss. He almost forgot about filming, but he wanted to take care of you and make sure that you still felt the love in this, and that he wasn’t doing it just to have the hottest masturbation material for later.

He pulled away from the kiss, sitting on his knees and angling your hips so he could film his cock sliding in and out of you. He groaned once he looked down, noticing a ring of your cum coating the base of his cock from the orgasms he’d already given you.

“God, baby. You’ve already came so much,” he said, his hand running across your stomach as his pace started to get faster. His fingertips grazing against you made you shudder underneath him.

You felt your fourth orgasm of the night building, the slight overstimulation of everything making it so easy for you to cum again. One of your hands snaked down your body to rub gentle circles against your clit, as the other gripped one of your tits, pinching at your nipple as you got closer. You tried to watch him through your hazy eyes, his curls stuck to his forehead and his cheeks a deep shade of pink from all the work he was putting in.

He had his phone angled down to his cock as he felt your pussy tighten around him. Strained moaned were slipping past your lips as he groaned, noticing more of your cum on his cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he said, giving you a few more hard thrusts before he pulled out, shooting it from your lower stomach all the way up to your breasts. “That was fucking amazing,” he panted, as he pointed the camera to all the cum on you before stopping the video. “You okay, baby?”

“Mhm,” you said, fighting off the urge to just fall asleep in that moment as he laid down beside you.

“We really need to shower. We’re both so sweaty, and you’re covered in cum,” he said with a small laugh as you groaned.

“Can I just have a couple minutes to rest? I don’t think I can stand long enough to shower right now,” you said, as you felt his fingers lace with yours, his thumb softly rubbing over the top of his hand.

“Yeah, babe. If you doze off, I’ll wake you up,” he said, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

When Ethan got home the next morning, the first thing he did was upload the video he made onto his computer. He started to edit it, only taking out the moments when nothing was actually being filmed. After he watched the video from beginning to end after he’d finished editing it, he was rock hard as he pulled out his phone to text you.

Ethan: If you ever want to drop out of school, I have a new career idea for you…

You: Oh?👀

Ethan: You should see this video. You’d be amazing in porn😏

You: Hmm, maybe I will drop out🧐

Ethan: Don’t get any ideas though. I’m the only one you’d be fucking.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #smut

677 notes · View notes

beardedjoel · 1 year ago

Text

new habits

part two of new addiction | part one

boss!joel x f!reader one-shot collection

summary: you can’t place the emotion - is joel miller guilty for the rendezvous you two had in his office? you soon get an answer in the form of another late night visit with him.

warnings: 18+! MDNI! non-apocalypse au, boss!joel is a lil mean but not too mean, oral sex (f recieving), dirty talk, unprotected piv, fingering, cum play, squirting, size kink kinda, panty stealing, daddy kink (my hand slipped i swear)

word count: 5.1k

a/n: hellooooo back with another part for boss!joel and reader, i got literally one request for another part and was like yep i’m not tired of them yet at ALL so here we go! time to get more depraved with my fav manager

If you didn’t know any better, it would seem like Joel Miller was avoiding you.

The day after what you’ve been referring to as the incident (the most mind blowing incident) he hadn’t even stopped by the office, spending the entire day out at the construction sites. That was a Friday, so the entire weekend you pined, plotted, and over thought the whole thing. Could it be possible that Joel - the same Joel who had gladly and enthusiastically spit right into your mouth for fuck’s sake - was feeling guilty? He certainly hadn’t seemed it when his cock was shoved so deep in your pussy you could’ve seen stars, so what the hell gives now?

Monday came, and Joel breezed into the office in his typical manner, too busy for anything other than a quick “morning” to you all, grumbling that “there’d better be coffee made” before working on scheduling and blueprints in his office for a few hours.

Just having him so close by, your desk mere feet from his office door, makes your skin buzz. Knowing the things you did in there, the depths of your depravity with him that nobody else in the room could even dream about, makes you wild. You realize halfway through the day you’re practically soaking your panties with just your thoughts alone. You really could stand to get it together, you think as you sneak into the break room for a cup of tea, hoping the calming drink could take your mind off of things.

Suddenly the exact opposite is happening when Joel enters the room, sidling up next to you at the counter, fixing to pour himself a cup of coffee. For a few moments just the potent, rich smell of it hangs in the air between you two and Joel clears his throat a little.

“How was your weekend, doll?” he asks quietly, and when you glance at him in semi-shock, he has a knowing smirk on his face. He’s enjoying this, he knows he’s been making you squirm for days, and is testing your patience.

“Was alright. I had a lot to think about,” you reply, and Joel snorts a tiny chuckle out.

“I’ll bet,” he replies, and before you can even return the favor to ask him about his weekend, his hand is around the mug handle and he’s leaving the room.

He doesn’t interact with you for the rest of the day.

You’re practically fuming as you walk to your car after work, not having heard much else from Joel other than the things he was telling everyone in your vicinity, from upcoming projects to a few housekeeping items he needed done around the office this week. The only respite you’d had was when his eyes lingered slightly on you, legs crossed and stretching out gracefully from your short dress. His gaze had raked over your body in a quick, ravenous glance, and that one look could’ve eaten you alive with how much power was behind it. Only a flash of the man you’d met that night, that was all you got for now.

You don’t know what to do from here. Are you supposed to wait for another note? Or did your last secret rendezvous mean that it was free game to pay him a visit any time you wanted as well? You had a feeling the former was more his style, wanting to be in control, to have the upper hand here. You sigh as you grip the wheel on the way home, knowing there isn’t exactly a handbook for the perfect way to have a secret affair with your boss.

When Wednesday comes around, with Tuesday having had almost the same outcome, you’re practically seething, ready to confront him privately and figure out just what the hell is going on in that twisted mind of his. If he likes playing games, fine, you’d just like to at least be clued into them so you can get some enjoyment from the chase of it all.

Your phone pings in the middle of the workday, and your lips part in shock as you glance down at the screen and see words that make the blood rush inside your ears and your heart jump. A new message from Joel Miller. You’d completely forgotten you’d even saved his number on your first day of work, him claiming he wanted every employee to have it for emergencies. And you have to wonder if what he messaged you for truly was, well, an emergency, just of a different nature. A sly smile creeps onto your lips as you read the words on your screen.

Joel Miller: Feeling awful stressed today. Meeting after fuckin meeting. Think you could help me out with that, babydoll?

Your fingers go flying, not caring just how desperately quick you’re texting him back, all the anger brewing inside of you at him quickly forgotten.

You: Whatever you need from me boss ;)

Joel Miller: How about some pretty photos of you to ease my pain

You swallow hard, sneaking off the bathroom, your heartbeat pounding against your chest as if every single person in this office can read your mind and knows what you’re about to do. You lock yourself inside a stall and try to think quickly of what Joel would want to see from you.

You pull the backside of your dress up, showing off the curve of your ass adorned by a cheeky, red lace set of panties and try to angle your phone in a way that will capture the sexy essence you’re going for, feeling absolutely ridiculous with the way you’re contorting your body to try to get the shot. Next, you put a foot up on the toilet seat and try to get an upskirt shot, placing your free hand dangerously close to your pussy, letting the fingers rest comfortably, spread out along your thigh teasingly.

Fuck. Yes. You’re surprised at just how well the photos turned out given your time constraint and shaky hands. You’ve taken a few photos like this before, but something about these, knowing they’re going to Joel, your heart flutters with anticipation as you queue them up with a message for him.

You: Hope these help until you can get the real thing

When you exit the stall with a shaky breath and return to your desk, he hasn’t answered yet, and you assume with good intentions that he’s just in a meeting, not ignoring your absolutely perfect nudes you’ve sent over.

You tap your foot impatiently, trying to get some work done, when your phone lights up next to you, alerting you to a message.

Joel Miller: So dirty baby. Need to get my hands on that perfect ass

You decide on a bold whim to leave him hanging, let him stew without a response from you to egg him on, only the photos.

Joel’s appearance in the office later that evening shows just how long he felt his day was - his tie askew, the knot partially pulled down to give his neck some room to breathe, and hair mussed from running his hands through it too many times. In some perverted little way, you find the sight of him looking so rough exciting. The more stressed Joel is, the more likely he’ll need to lean on you tonight. When your life got this pathetic, you don’t know, but you have a feeling you could trace it back to the first time you laid eyes on Joel Miller.

He walks through the space, saying quick goodnights to a few of his employees that are finishing up for the day, claiming he forgot something at the office when he went out for his meetings earlier. As he reaches to pass your desk, your heart jumps into your throat, and suddenly it’s so dry you can barely swallow.

An imperceptible nod. That’s all he gives you when he passes, but it says everything you need to know. He needs you tonight.

You wriggle in your seat, the dull ache of arousal coming to your attention between your legs as you start to anticipate Joel’s advances being focused on you in just a few short moments. You impatiently wait out everyone else in the office, practically jumping out of your chair at the last of your coworker’s departures.

Shoulders back. Deep breath. Exude confidence.

The silent chant moves through your thoughts as you approach Joel’s office door and poke your head in the small space where the door was left cracked, slowly pushing it open as you enter. The sight that awaits you, Joel sitting back in his office chair, legs spread, as if inviting you to his lap, makes your knees want to quake.

He hasn’t said a word yet, so you choose not to either, taking careful, bordering on feline-like steps around his desk to where he sits. You swing your leg over him delicately, spreading yourself wide as you settle onto his lap, straddling him. He instantly groans at the pressure of your warm body on him, as if that was all he needed in the world to satisfy him.

“Dressed up today, huh? I kinda like it,” you say, wrapping your fingers around the tie and pulling slightly, nudging his head a bit closer to yours.

“Client meetings for a big project, hate wearin’ this shit,” he grumbles. He reaches up to loosen his tie and pull it off over his head, tossing it on the floor next to his chair.

His lips find your neck, but he’s more reserved today, already knowing he has you right where he wants you. His lips graze the skin lightly, sending shiver after shiver of goosebumps over your body. Playful light kisses press onto the sensitive skin over and over, Joel’s tongue flicking out every so often to taste you even deeper.

“Smell so fuckin’ good, all a man needs after a day like mine, swear,” he says gruffly, barely pulling off of your neck, taking a deep breath of the perfume you’d put on just for him, every single day since you started working here.

“You can talk to me, y’know. What I’m here for, all to take care of you. I’m whatever you need,” you say huskily, already lost in all the touch he’s delivering. He simply lets out a small hum of satisfaction, running his large, rough hands along your back, feeling the curve of it as you arch into his touch.

“That make you all wet, babydoll? Wantin’ that pussy to get all used up by me when I need you?” His lips are on you the second his sentence finished, sucking on your neck lightly before tracing up to your earlobe and lightly taking it between his lips.

“Yes, Mr. Miller,” you reply, barely a hushed whisper. You mewl quietly at his lips’ various movements on you, drawing your hips down onto his lap, trying to find any sense of relief. The dull ache from earlier has been replaced quickly with a full on throbbing on your sensitive clit, making you feel wild with need for him.

“Mmm, so polite, sweetheart. Weren’t so polite earlier, were you? Takin’ naughty photos in the bathroom for me.”

You blush under his words and his gaze, unable to control the slightly burning creeping onto your cheeks at the thought of you taking those photos for him earlier. It had felt wrong, contorting and perching yourself just right to get a photo to help fulfill his little fantasies, and you loved every minute of it.

“Liked what you saw?” you ask, your hips starting to grind absentmindedly against his center.

“Y’know I did,” he says, hands sliding to your ass, pulling you closer so that your movements get more friction. You can feel yourself seeping through your panties already, probably about to soak the front of him at any moment. “Such a tease, those little photos, thought ‘bout ‘em all day.”

“What did you think about, huh? What got you through the day?” you whisper melodically in his ear, trying to be the soothing presence for him that you desire so badly to be.

Joel chuckles, deep and throaty. “Little slut, want to hear me talk about how I love your pussy so bad, don’t you? Thought about it all fuckin’ day, could barely hear a word in those damn meetings.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” you purr, hips grinding a little harder, and you let out a breathy sound. You pinch your lips together, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed at just how shamelessly you’re moving yourself against him. At the least you’re comforted by the fact that you can feel his hard length straining against his jeans as you rub against him, meaning he’s enjoying this just as much.

“Go on, don’t be shy,” Joel says, looking down in between you at the way you’re moving on him. “Kept you waiting a long time, didn’t I, babydoll? Needin’ this cock again so badly.”

You nod as you look at him with heady eyes starting to glaze over with need. “Thought you didn’t need me anymore. Wanted to do my good little job for you.” You whine with a pout, your voice is a low pitched hush, head buried in his shoulder as you continue to get yourself off.

“Doin’ so good, waitin’ on me every moment in case I need ya,” Joel says, and you’re embarrassingly close to climaxing, your soaked panties rubbing perfectly against your clit as you grind on his jeans, the firmness of his cock pressing deliciously against your folds.

“I’m- I’m close…” you whimper.

Joel chuckles again, clearly amused at just how easy it is for you to lose yourself to him. His hands move from where they’ve been kneading your ass through your dress to your hips, and he grips tightly, lifting you up. Your hips grind out into nothing, and you groan loudly at the unexpected interruption in your quickly approaching bliss.

“N-no, Mr. Miller, I- please -” Your entire body shudders down with the loss of the coming climax, your insides feeling like they’re clawing to get the sensation out, but with nothing there to edge it forward, you’re lost. You sigh in desperation, reaching to grip his shoulders and pull yourself back down.

“Nuh-uh, sugar,” Joel tuts with a devious glint in his eye. “Playin’ with you will make me feel better, isn’t that what you want?”

Your entire body shakes as you nod yes, and Joel smirks happily. “Good girl,” he says, “Now what to do with you…” He looks you over, his eyes roaming over your tits now starting to spill out of the top of your dress with the way you’d been rubbing against him, moving the fabric.

“You like dressin’ like a little whore for me, don’t you, havin’ your tits out and everything,” he says, releasing your hips to palm both of them, squeezing them upwards, testing the weight in his hands.

“Want to give you something fun to look at at work,” you say with a little giggle, which Joel returns with his own gruff chuckle.

“Y’sure do,” he concludes, tearing the dress down to reveal your chest to him, and he hisses through his teeth, seeing your bare tits bounce out at him.

“Knew you’d look so perfect,” he practically growls out, immediately going for one of your nipples, rolling it between his fingers. You let out a gasp, your hips defying all logic and moving of their own accord, grinding down on him again as your back arches.

“Lemme taste you, that’ll make daddy feel so much better,” Joel says, eyes transfixed on the way he’s playing with your nipples and your body’s eager reactions to it. You’re not even sure he realizes the new shift in dynamic he’s just introduced, the words flowing out of him so naturally.

“Yes, daddy, taste me, taste me,” you say, echoing him without a second thought. You weren’t sure where it came from, but whatever gets Joel off seems to get you off, if you’re honest. Your cunt is aching beyond control now, the throbbing bordering on painful now, your breath hitching at the thought of his tongue licking the increasingly sensitive spot.

“Be good and get on up there, then,” Joel commands, nodding towards the desk. You sit on the edge, legs dangling and spreading open for him. “All the way back,” Joel corrects, grabbing at your hips and scooting you himself, then placing a hand on your chest and pushing back, so that you eventually end up laying down completely. Joel hovers over you, playing with the hem of your dress, slowly pulling it up.

You writhe and wriggle, strangled little cries coming out of your mouth, unable to take the anticipation anymore.

“Joel…” you whine.

“Haven't even started yet and you’re callin’ my name,” he laughs before his fingers reach the band of your underwear, sliding a finger along it. You cry out again when his finger brushes further down on your mound. You want to slam your fists onto the desk in pure desire-fueled frustration, but you refrain, showing Joel how eager you are by movements and twists of your hips.

When he finally pulls your panties down, the cool air touching your bare sex, you sigh a bit of relief at the coming pleasure.

“Didn’t get to ‘preciate this ‘nuff the last time, sugar,” Joel muses. “Bet you taste so sweet too… fuckin’ divine…” One of his fingers swipes through your slit and you gasp, peering up at him as you watch him slide it through several times to your entrance, gathering as much slickness as he can. He slides the finger into his mouth, tasting it almost pornographically, groaning in pleasure before popping it out.

“Was right, y’know. Ever tasted yourself, babydoll?” Joel asks with an enticing lick of his lips, like he needs to clean every bit of you off that he can.

“N-no, I haven’t,” you answer, too stunned by his behavior and your distractingly aching pussy to think of anything witty to retort.

“Oh, you’re missin’ out,” he coos before repeating the same motions on your pussy, every time he brushes the sensitive bud of your clit it’s own tiny form of torture. He leans over your body, his shiny, slick finger reaching towards your mouth.

“Don’t make me hav’ta ask,” he warns, and you sit up on your elbows and part your lips alluringly, allowing his finger to slide right in. You suck hard with a swirl of your tongue, hoping it emulates the way your mouth had felt on his cock just a few days ago. It seems to do the trick, Joel’s smile growing into a devious smirk as he groans a little.

“This fuckin’ mouth,” he says with a shake of his head, letting his finger linger a few moments longer, pumping it in and out of your mouth in slow strokes. “Such a pretty mouth, but does such dirty things for me, doesn’t it?”

You nod for him before Joel pulls his finger out of your mouth and moves back to position himself between your legs.

“Legs up, just like that,” Joel says, manually lifting your legs so that your knees are bent with your feet flat on the desk, legs immediately falling open for him. He takes a long pause to look at your completely exposed cunt, a burning look of desire in his eyes.

“Poor baby, ain’t ya? So wet and ready with no cock inside ya to ease the pain. You achin’ for daddy’s cock, sugar?” Joel delivers a swift slap to your pussy that sends your hips lurching forward for a moment before he laughs.

Asshole, you think with a little rush of desire. But this absolute asshole is about to make you come, so you decide against saying anything of the sort.

“Mhm,” you say instead. “Need you to use me and fuck yourself better, daddy.” Joel nearly snarls at the nickname leaving your mouth, starting to undo his belt as he lowers his head in between your legs. One hand is gripping onto your thigh while the other steadily works to free his cock from his pants, palming it tightly as his mouth licks a long strip up your pussy. His fingers dip inside of you gathering up your arousal before he brings it down to his cock, spreading it along the lengthy shaft. He moans into your cunt as he licks, beginning to stroke himself as he tastes you.

You’ve never been treated like this before, like Joel is a man hungry for his last meal as he ravenously slurps and licks up every bit of arousal that keeps pouring out for him. His enthusiastic yet gruff reactions and noises start a vicious cycle - you’re so turned on by it that you’re getting impossibly wet, and in turn, Joel laps it up like he’s never tasted anything better in his life. It brings you close to the brink faster than you’d expected, another high quickly building low in your stomach. The tingling sensation starts to overtake every one of your senses and you let out a moan low and deep from your throat.

“Oh, Joel, p-please, I’m so close…” you murmur, your head rolling wildly on the desk as his tongue flicks on your clit and then sucks for a few pulses. “Daddy…” you whimper, and the guttural noise he makes is indescribable before he pulls off of you completely. You cry out, feeling tears start to form in your eyes at the injustice he’s been serving on your pussy tonight.

“Let daddy play with you a bit, it’s half the fun,” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice, and it instantly adds to your frustration just how much he’s getting off on this. The sound of his hand slapping against his own flesh comes and goes, and he seems to be bringing himself close to climaxing along with you.

He brings you back to the edge again moments later with just the lightest flicks of his tongue right on your clit, and as he senses your entire body tensing he stops again, leaving a desperate moan to die out in your throat as you’d nearly reached the throes of ecstasy again.

“Please… I’m begging you, it’s too much, Joel,” you whine. Your whole body is starting to tremble, your hips squirming along the surface of your desk from the throbbing of your swollen, aching heat just wanting him to give you release.

“Little longer, babydoll, be a good girl and keep begging me,” Joel replies.

“Please, let me come, I’ll do anything,” you say, your frown deepening despite the way that you’re also getting off on this, maybe just as much as him. You’ve never had someone give you so much careful, specialized attention like this - taking the time to make you feel this insanely turned on and desperate for them.

Joel puts his face between your legs again while you let whispers of your continued begging along with his name pass your lips over and over until he edges you one more time and you nearly scream, letting out a choked back moan for him instead.

“Music to my ears,” Joel chuckles, and you breathe heavily, then peer down at him with your slick covering his face from the way he’s been indulging himself repeatedly on your pussy and you feel yourself clenching, nearly reaching your climax from the sight of him like that alone.

You nearly feel like passing out at this point, your breathing so erratic and body so overstimulated that you nearly can’t take it anymore when Joel returns to his former position, but this time inserting two fingers, stretching you as he scissors them apart while his tongue works on your clit. You cry out a furious whimper, your body bordering on madness as you feel Joel push deep inside of you with his fingers before pressing right on the perfect, spongy part inside that has your eyes rolling back.

“H-holy shit,” you blurt out, the tension coiling deep in your belly quickly as Joel presses over and over while he works his tongue on your abused clit. His other hand pushes down low on your belly, only increasing the sensation of everything and you’re panting, wild, incorrigible sounds flying out of your mouth.

“Don’t stop, please, please, don’t… let me come this time, I can’t take it anymore,” you manage to say as your body tumbles towards a cliff, your insides clawing for release and escape from this heavenly torture he’s put putting you through. Joel doesn’t stop this time, but intensifies everything - his fingers, his mouth, his warm, large palm pushing down on the bottom of your stomach.

You scream over and over, barely registering the sheer volume of the sound leaving your mouth as you gush and spasm onto him, the tether to reality snapping as you're transported to another place for a few moments, your vision going dark as you squeeze your eyes shut in pure bliss. You’re coming so hard that it seems like it’s never ending, sloppy, wet noises filling the room along with your little sobs. A sudden gush escapes you in the midst of everything, and when you finally come down, only then do you realize the reason everything felt so unreal for a moment, so much.

You can feel the excess wetness on your dress, all over the desk underneath you, and you nearly die with embarrassment at how much of a mess you’ve made because of this man, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind one bit, sliding you forward and wrapping his arms underneath your back, sitting you up and pulling you to your feet. You sway dazedly in your current state, practically useless to speak, think, or move, but Joel seems to be covering those bases for the two of you.

He swings your body in his grip, slamming your back against a nearby tall cabinet full of files that you’d spend hours helping organize, but you tear your mind away from the droll thought and back to Joel, whose cock is now pressing against your slick folds as he lifts one of your legs and hooks under your knee, holding it up.

“Fuckin’ filthy girl for me aren’t you? Squirting all over the place… like the way I make you come, don’t you?”

“Fuck yes, I do. S-so- so good,” you reply, hips bucking forward towards his cock despite the oversensitivity now raging there. He pushes in with one swift stroke, burying himself deep and you yelp at the sudden stretch. You’ve been warmed up plenty, but the sheer size of Joel is still enough to cause a sharp moment of discomfort before your body adjusts.

“I know, c’mon babydoll, you can take it. Want to make me feel good, don’t you?” Joel coos, his voice a little gentler now, urging you along.

You nod enthusiastically for him, grinding forward to take the last bit of him into you until he’s fully seated. He grins wildly, his eyes flashing intensely as he starts to fuck you in earnest, snapping his hips into yours quickly.

“That’s a good girl for me,” he praises as you continue to take his cock over and over, and you’re so full, you can feel everything - him throbbing against your walls as he slides in and out.

“So f-fucking full of you, Joel,” you murmur as you flutter your eyes.

“That’s right, babydoll, y’like my big cock using your little pussy, like it when I fill you up,” he grunts as his breath starts wavering more. Your own body is trembling, another climax building right where Joel’s cock is slamming into you each time he pushes in again.

“Yes, Joel, fill me up today. Don’t pull out,” you beg.

Joel groans loudly, and you feel a rush of satisfaction at the way your words hold so much power over him. You can feel how you drive him wild, in and out of your own private world in his office. The way he steals glances at you, ogles your short skirts and dresses, the cleavage that you show for him, down to right now, when simply telling him to come inside of you has him practically spasming.

“Want me to fill you up with daddy’s come, that it? Like the little slut for me you are,” Joel retorts, his movements more sporadic now as he chases his own climax.

“Only if it’ll help your day get better, Mr. Miller,” you tease with eyelashes fluttering, and Joel lets out a strangled little chuckle, his eyes completely glazed over with lust as you look into them.

“Fuckin’ kiddin’ me, sugar, ‘course it would,” he says simply, letting out a little moan as he feels you squeeze around him slightly as he brushes against your walls over and over.

“Then do it, fill me up, daddy,” you say, and Joel doesn’t need to hear anything more, can’t hear anything more as he thrusts deeply into you and you gasp, feeling him come and fill you up so deeply. You milk every bit of it out of him, feeling your own climax overtake you unexpectedly at the pure power trip you’ve gotten from making him come this hard. You shudder into his cock still inside of you, your own white creaminess coating his shaft along with his cum and you let out a breathy moan at the sight of it pulling out of you a few moments later.

“Sure made a mess, bad little girl,” Joel sucks his tongue between his teeth a few times, chastising you. “Half a mind to make you clean all this up.” He shakes his head as he steps away, but you just smile bashfully at him, still leaning against the cabinet, dripping pussy and tits still falling out of your dress.

“Really gonna ask that from me after all I did for you tonight, baby?” you ask him with a saccharine smile, your voice dripping honey like off your tongue.

“Lookin’ like that? No way in hell. You just stand there pretty and let me get a good look at ya all fucked out like that f’me,” Joel replies, tucking himself back into his pants.

You spy your underwear on the ground, and as Joel follows your eyeline he swipes them off the floor, but tucks them in his back pocket again instead of handing them over to you. After the second time, you can see this is one of his things, and take a mental note to buy some more panties.

“Need to do this more often, don’t we?” Joel asks as he settles back into his office chair, groaning a little as he goes down.

“Absolutely,” you grin.

#barking ferally for boss!joel this has turned into an obsession my friends #fic: new addiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #fic: boss!joel

461 notes · View notes

shalscumbunny · 3 months ago

Note

hi! I was wondering if you could write a fanfic abt yandere! shalnark having his s/o kidnapped (again🌚) and placed in a glass cage? Kinda..like the one Melanie Martinez had in her music video ‘detention’ with the whole performing for other ppl kinda deal?

Glass cage | Shalnark x Fem!Reader

Summary: Shalnark has captured his beloved, but apart from having her all to himself, he can't help but show her off as his beautiful and perfect possession to others.

Pairing: Shalnark X Female!Reader

Warnings: Kidnapped reader, doped and drugged reader, manipulation, glass box, clothing and imposed way of life.

Author’s note: I always mention it in all my writings in English, but better safe than sorry, English is not my native language so it is very likely to find many mistakes and also that I know practically nothing about writing “X character and Y/N”

Sites: AO3

You were poorly unconscious in that state, the drugs and narcotics in your blood made you have a totally altered perception of reality, although apparently, it was only a matter of a couple of hours before you were completely conscious again.

Your breathing was slightly labored and the only thing you saw clearly was that you were still in that glass cage, the second thing you saw through the glass was him.

Shalnark let out a sickly, infatuated smile when your gaze met his, completely enraptured by your image and presence, simply in his eyes you possessed unparalleled beauty, but at the same time you were a fragile and extremely precious porcelain doll, explicitly... HIS LITTLE AND PERFECT PORCELAIN DOLL.

You looked like a doll straight out of the factory, thanks to the fact that he usually chose your clothes, which made you look like a Victorian ballet dancer, extremely docile and graceful, although unfortunately he had to accept certain aspects of you, that he considered to be “factory defects.”

When the drug left your body, you would return to having that “rebellious” and disrespectful attitude, and he hated it, since it prevented him from showing you off to others.

However, the glass cage around you allowed him to show you off to the world as his and at the same time no one other than him could ever possess you, since he was the one who possessed the only key that opened the cage.

“Just one more show… You can rest soon, darling” He said kindly “Now just do what you do best”

Shalnark smiled listening to the expectant murmurs of the people, people who thought that all this was just a kind of dance mixed with theater, people who ignored that there was literally a kidnapped and drugged person in that cage, forced to entertain them.

“Everyone wants to see you, love…”

Minutes later, the stage curtain opened, leaving you in full view of the people sitting in the seats, most of them marveling at the style of your clothing and others by your “excellent performance”, playing a dancer in a cage.

The light had momentarily blinded you when the curtain opened, but soon the record player began to play music, the light melody reaching your ears, making your limbs and body coordinate so that you could start dancing.

You moved with a sensual and soft grace, but it was not that kind of obscene sensuality, Shalnark reserved those types of shows for himself, in the eyes of the spectators, the sensuality of your movements was attractive and innocent, combined with your lost gaze. You really seemed like a doll moved by strings, oblivious to the world, oblivious to people, belonging to an owner who gave them the joy of being able to witness your existence.

Your dance practically hypnotized everyone and that allowed the most discreet and fastest members of the Gen'ei Ryodan to steal at will the cell phones, wallets, rings and other extremely valuable jewelry from the wealthy spectators.

After a couple of hours, the show ended, the loot would probably be distributed tomorrow since Shalnark asked his companions as a personal favor that when the show ended, the place would be empty, that only you and him would remain.

Everything went dark, except for the place where you two were, so Shalnark opened the glass cage where you were lying, carrying you with great care until he finally sat down on an armchair and sat you on his lap.

“You gave a good show today, I'm very proud of you, you're learning to behave” Shalnark's smile was bright and real, his eyes contemplated your existence with absolute adoration

“My head…” You complained between small sobs and gasps

“Don't worry, honey. They're just side effects” Shalnark reassured you by taking your hands and kissing them

“I don't want to be here… I hate being here… I want to go home” You said weakly trying to get out of his grip, although it was completely useless, since your body was not at all able to try to face him

Shalnark sighed rolling his eyes and gently letting go of your hands.

“The same old story again… Can't you say anything else?” Shalnark scolded you as if you were a little girl. “I haven’t spent so many months educating you for you to say such ugly things to me, my love”

You didn’t even respond, you gulped as you saw how Shalnark had already taken the syringe with drugs from the nightstand next to the armchair where you were sitting.

“I don’t want injections, please” You begged between sobs, hiding in his neck like a repentant puppy.

“Then start behaving well” Shalnark said, patting your back and gently sticking the syringe close to your neck.

In a matter of seconds, you began to whimper and complain about the pain as the liquid entered your body.

“There… there… it’s over, Y/n” Shalnark left the used syringe on the nightstand and hugged you with both arms to comfort you “You should be thankful that I always inject you with great care, when I torture people, I usually do it harder and more painfully”

“I want to go home… I don’t want to be here… let me go…” You begged between sobs “I'm not a doll…”

Shalnark sighed in annoyance and frustration, roughly grabbing your face making you look at him face to face.

“I hate it when you behave like that again…” He said in a serious tone “It seems like you never pay attention to me and you only give me excuses to consider punishing you and having you in that cage all the time, is that what you want? To be in the cage all the time? I can do it if you want”

You gulped at the threat, tears running down your cheeks from the fear you felt mixed with how weak your body was, you were afraid of his falseness and cynicism, you didn’t understand how someone with such a sweet and kind smile could say all those things as if it were nothing.

“I love you… I love you more than anyone in this world…” Shalnark said, pulling you closer to him “Everything I do… I do it for your own good… for the good of both of us…”

After his last sentence, Shalnark kissed you softly, cupping your face in his hands, the tips of his fingers caressing your wet, red cheeks.

“Everything I do… is for us…” Shalnark whispered on your lips before kissing you again “The glass cage is your tower… when you learn to behave, I will rescue you from that tower…”

Shalnark kissed your forehead lovingly and then rested his forehead against yours, looking at you completely in love, hypnotized, enslaved and obsessed with your existence.

“And so… you will be my perfect princess and I will be your prince... and we will be together... forever...”

Thank u for reading, I hope you like it and what I wrote is good. 🤍

#hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #shalnark #genei ryodan #shalnark ryusei #shalnark x reader #hxh shalnark #hxh x reader #yandere shalnark #yandere x darling #yandere male #yandere #obsessive yandere #yandere oneshot #yandere hxh #yandere shalnark x reader

57 notes · View notes

tagsecretsanta · 9 days ago

Text

From @littleoldrachel

From @littleoldrachel to @sofasurf

Let your heart be light

“I just don’t understand why you leave it to the last minute every year, Allie.”

Alan’s bedroom is an explosion of wrapping paper in a garish glitter snowman print. Every attempt to manoeuvre it has only cascaded silver glitter into every crevice of the fluffy carpet—or worse, burrowed into Alan’s palms, no matter how many times he’s scrubbed them. Strings of gold ribbon, webs of sticky tape, and an assortment of gifts lie tangled at the centre of the mess, with at least four pairs of open scissors perfectly positioned to do some damage.

The paper he’d thought was so cute when he ordered it online is now haunting him—most disturbing were the trails of glitter that swilled around his shower water earlier. (He also doubts that it fills his rescuees with reassurance when he leaves sparkly handprints on them as he lifts them out of whatever horrifying situation they’ve found themselves in. Although… the little girl who’d asked him very earnestly if he was a fairy since he was leaving such a shimmery trail made the whole thing rather more cute than annoying.)

Still, curse Gordon for encouraging Alan's poor wrapping paper decisions.

“Please, Scott,” Alan wheedles. He hesitates, then pulls out the big guns and widens his eyes to pouting proportions. “I'll never get this done in time without you.”

Scott rolls his eyes, but he does inch forward from where he's leaned against the door jamb, his crossed arms loosening slightly.

“It's ten to midnight. Christmas Day is literally minutes away, Allie,” Scott says, and Alan can tell he's trying to channel Commander Tracy—if only he could contain his fond smirk.

“It'll be faster if we work together!” Alan blinks slowly and deliberately, puppy-dog eyes unwavering.

“Quit trying to be cute.”

“It's a lost cause!” Gordon's voice calls out from the hallway, and Alan is so intent on flinging himself across the room to hide the squid's present from view that he doesn't even have the time to be indignant.

Scott frowns and turns. “Why aren't you in bed?”

Gordon's unruly mop of golden curls appears in the gap. “The mother-henning again, Scotty? Really?”

Scott ignores this. “You're usually first in bed on Christmas. I remember this because you were always the first one to come bounding into my room at four in the morning, shrieking about what Satan had brought you.”

“Satan?” Alan yelps.

“Hey, dyslexia is a cruel mistress!” Gordon scowls. “I liked it better when we were making fun of Allie-”

“I didn't-”

“But if you must know, I was checking on Virg.”

Scott straightens at once, every bit the soldier he once was. (Alan sort of hates it, if he's honest; it feels painful how easily the Commander comes out, even in the one place they are supposed to get to be soft and safe.)

“What's wrong with Virgil?”

“Stand down, soldier.” Gordon yawns so hard his jaw crackles. “Virg is fine. He took a few knocks on this afternoon's rescue, and I just wanted to check he wasn't doing his usual stoic thing.”

Scott frowns. “He didn't mention that in the debrief-”

“Virg hiding injuries? Gee, I wonder where he learned that,” Gordon says dryly, and Alan snorts. “He's fine, Scott. Just bruised and cranky.”

“I'll check in on him in a bit,” Scott says, more to himself than anyone else, and Gordon shoots Alan an exasperated eye roll that has him grinning. Then, Gordon's eyes rove over the disaster site that is Alan's room, and his eyes widen. It's a mark of how tired he must be that he doesn't even quip, just slowly backs away from the mess. “On that note, g’night!”

Alan waits till Gordon's door has closed before he clambers up off Gordon's gift: a truly hideous Christmas jumper decorated with a Santa Claus riding a flamingo float.

Alan's gifts to his brothers are always the most heinous jumpers he can find - after all, what on earth do you give a family made up of billionaires? - and the public loves the annual auction of the jumpers as part of the Tracy family charity drive. He's pretty proud of himself for this year's effort.

“The sooner you help me, the sooner you can go and bother Virg,” Alan says sweetly, holding up the scissors to Scott.

Scott lets out a put-upon sigh, but he's never been able to resist his littlest brother – as Alan well knows – and he takes the scissors reluctantly.

“Fine, but I'm tagging you in on helping Grandma with the lunch tomorrow.”

Alan pulls a face. He adores his grandmother with his whole heart and soul, and yet her incompetency in the kitchen is nothing short of deadly. Still, if it means an end to the scratchiness of glitter on his skin, he'll go for it.

“Deal.”

Twenty minutes later and faced with a wrapped jumper that looks more like a piece of crumpled trash than a gift, Alan is regretting his recruitment choices. They’d massively underestimated the size of the paper they would need and had been forced to attach another sheet at a strange angle to cover the gift, leaving the snowmen oddly distorted.

“I thought you'd be good at this,” he says despairingly, poking at where the wrapping paper has bunched and torn. “Isn't the army big on neatness?”

Scott slaps his hand away. “You're making it worse! I'm just out of practice.” He has glitter smeared in his eyebrows from his constant head-in-hands-exasperation, and it's the kind of ridiculousness that pours warmth into his chest; they may all be public figures, and they may have had their grief made an aching, public thing, but only Alan and his brothers get to witness Scott Tracy being silly.

“Scotty, you have five siblings; how can you possibly be out of practice?”

There's an awkward pause as Alan tries – to no avail – to fold down the corners of the lumpy package. When it finally clicks that Scott hasn't come back with a witty retort (and Alan's tired, okay? Three back-to-back rescues and his brain has turned to soup), Alan looks up sharply.

“I usually get Virg to do mine,” Scott admits grudgingly, and Alan gapes. “He likes it!” Scott adds defensively, shuffling his stance in a very un-Scott-like move. “Says he finds it ‘mindful’ or whatever.”

“Great! Then I'll ask him to do mine!” Alan scoops up an armful of crumpled wrapping paper and tangled ribbon, making to stand.

Scott laughs. “Not so fast, kiddo. Virg may or may not be injured—and even if he weren't, he has a strict deadline for wrapping applications.”

Alan's mouth moves silently, trying to catch up. “How long has this been going on?”

“About… five years?” Scott scrunches his nose. “Maybe longer?”

“And why am I only hearing about it now?”

Scott shrugs. “It didn’t start as a whole thing; I was getting more and more stressed about not being ready for Christmas with all the Tracy Industry stuff, and it was when he was following me around like a shadow because he was worried, and then he just helped… and kept helping.” Scott shifts his weight again and places the next jumper – John’s – in the centre of a fresh sheet of paper. “And then Gordon cottoned on, and–"

“What?!” Alan’s outrage is like the sharp sting of a torn-off scab. “Gordon knows and he didn’t tell me?”

Scott blinks at him. “We all know, Allie. John found out… somehow, because he’s John. Kayo walked in on Virg wrapping all her birthday presents. Didn't you always wonder why the presents we give Virg are wrapped like shit, and ours belong in a gallery?”

“I can't believe there's been an underground present-wrapping operation this whole time.”

Scott grins and shakes his head. “I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out, Mr Built-A-Damn-Rocket-At-Twenty-Years-Old.” He’s folding the paper around the jumper more carefully this time, creasing sharp folds instead of simply rolling it. “Hold,” he says, and Alan obediently presses his hand over where the paper meets. Scott places a tiny square of tape over the join, and Alan frowns.

“We’re going to need more than that, Scotty. You know we can afford more tape if we run out?”

“Do you want my help or not?” Scott says, elbowing him. He does grudgingly place another piece alongside it, though.

There’s a brief lull between them as they focus their efforts on the present, which is looking considerably less Frankenstein’s monster-like than their first attempt, even if they have reams of paper left over.

“You’re right, though, I did use to be better at this,” Scott says quietly. “Someone had to be after mom—well… let’s just say that dad wasn’t exactly great at being there to pick up this kind of thing.”

Alan’s heart clenches, the familiar wounded creature that it is. Scott rarely talks about the time after mom’s death—and usually, only in relation to the impact it had on Virgil (an all-consuming, terrifying depression) and John (vicious intrusive thoughts and anxiety). He and Gordon had been too young to remember things being any different, but with the benefit of hindsight, Alan can recognise how tough it must have been. It’s uncommon for Scott to talk about what that was like for him: the lynchpin to bind them together with too young hands for such a burden. Alan feels a little like he’s handling a frightened animal in the face of Scott’s pain, but he makes an interested noise in his throat, allowing Scott to shift his hands wherever he’s needed.

“It was rough, sometimes,” Scott allows. His voice is soft and his expression distant. “I didn’t want you and Gords and Johnnie to miss out on any of the Christmas build-up stuff – and Grandma tried to be there – but I was only a teenager. Sometimes, even now when I’m wrapping gifts, I can feel that stressed boy, juggling nativity plays and gifts for teachers and Christmas jumper days–" He cuts himself off sharply. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear all this.”

“I do,” Alan says, and the desperation bleeds into his tone more than he wishes. “I do want to hear it—I’m… I’m sorry we didn’t realise how much it was for you to manage.”

“You were four, Allie, I didn’t want you to realise.”

“Still.” His arms tingle with the urge to fling them around his oldest brother, to brush his thumbs under the eyebag-crevices he’s too young to have, to smooth the crinkle of his brow. Instead, he stares down at the paper beneath his hands and swallows. “I wish you talked about it more.”

Scott pauses, fingers hovering over where he’s poised to place the final strip of tape. “I’m trying to. Virg tells me I shouldn’t keep it all bottled up.”

“Yeah well. He’s pretty smart, you know?”

Scott laughs, and the movement softens his forehead and creases the lines around his mouth. It’s lovely. It’s as it should be. “I know.” He sits back on his haunches and the two of them survey their handiwork.

It’s a great improvement on their first attempt, even if all the extra paper ended up bunched and bulky around the edges. Scott ties a ribbon around it lengthways, and Alan slaps on a sparkly bow.

“I think we nailed it,” Scott says, eyes twinkling.

The bow promptly falls off the parcel.

Alan scowls, reattaching it more forcefully—enough that he feels the centre of it click and then a horrid, tinny version of Jingle Bells starts playing. Alan and Scott stare at it in horror as a children’s choir begins yowling over the top of the music, and Alan reaches out to try and stop the caterwauling.

“No!” Scott seizes his wrist, eyes wide. “Don’t make it start again!”

As the final line rings out, the bow plops off the parcel again and Scott’s eyes narrow. “It’s fucking with us.”

“Language!” Alan says gleefully, and Scott nudges him.

“It’s cursed, Allie, I’m telling you—”

“Don’t be silly.” He applies featherlight pressure to the bow this time, but as his hand moves away, the song starts up again. “I didn’t even press it!”

The music plays through once… and then immediately starts up again.

Scott and Alan exchange a look, and then the corner of Scott’s mouth twitches and it’s enough. Alan bursts out laughing – loud, hysterical sounds that frankly improve the awful music – with Scott close behind him. The music chunters on cheerfully in the background, but Alan is warm with sheer delight at the expression on Scott’s face, the way he’s bent double with the force of his laughter, how light he seems for the first time in months.

“You’re right – it’s haunted,” Alan manages, which only sets Scott off again. In the background, the song stutters on way-ay-ay-ay-ay, like some crazy club remix.

“Why – did you get – singing ones?” Scott wheezes through laughter, and all Alan can do is shake his head.

Eventually, as the music grows tinnier and tinnier, Scott staggers up and flings the cursed decoration through Alan’s balcony doors, until it lands with a plop in the pool. He turns back to Alan, grinning so wide and wild that Alan feels giddy all over again.

Seeing his brothers happy fills his heart to the brim, but seeing Scott happy—it’s molten gold flowing into every last crack and chip in his chest, leaving him warm and light and whole. He wants to capture this moment in a glass jar and hold it close on his darkest nights. He wants to lock away this memory and protect it against the future versions of Scott who will be stern and burnt out and beaten down. He just wants Scott to be happy.

It’s an impossible dream. Or at least, an impossible consistent dream; after all, Scott has surely the most stressful job in the world and sends his brothers out into the field every single day without being able to know for sure that they will return. He plays both mother and father, presents the perfect CEO, offers the ideal PR needed—it’s too much for anyone to hold and be happy. Scott is the first to admit that there are always people they can’t save, always situations they can’t control, and always moments that are missed (even if his hypocritical arse won’t accept that itself).

But Alan can start with this—with Christmas. With family and presents and ridiculous wrapping paper. And maybe – maybe – it will be enough for now.

BANG!

Alan jolts awake so fast that black spots burst in his vision as he sits up. Scott is already on his feet beside him, ever the soldier, tiredness cast off like a cloak.

“Whoops.” Their grandma’s voice floats up to them, and the brothers exchange a look before Scott offers a hand to Alan.

“My money’s on a cooking disaster,” Scott says conspiratorially, and Alan sort of hates him for being so awake at this moment.

Alan groans as he accepts the proffered hand, his own free hand rubbing at his aching neck. The two of them had finally fallen asleep around two in the morning, slumping into a messy pile surrounded by wrapping paper and decorations. Alan feels considerably worse for wear as he rubs glitter from his eyelashes, but he allows Scott to pull him from the room in the direction of their grandma’s mumbled cursing.

“What time is it?” he yawns, wincing as his thumb hits a particularly sore knot in his neck.

Scott casts him a pitying look. “You’re too young to be aching like this, Allie.”

“Yeah, Allie. Spare a thought for the old man over here,” Gordon’s voice is gleeful as he slings an arm over Alan’s shoulder and nods at Scott. “And it’s just gone eight.”

Scott flips Gordon off over his shoulder, which only makes Gordon grin wider still. He’s just in swimming trunks and still drips pool water across the corridor, skin cool against Alan’s sleep-sensitive arms.

Their smiles fade as they round the corner to the kitchen, where they see Grandma staring helplessly at the oven – a scary enough prospect on its own – from which black smoke is pouring. The glass has shattered inwards, and a thick, acrid stench fills the air. The three boys freeze for a fraction of a second before Scott and Gordon leap into action, flinging open the oven door and yanking out a charred and blackened unidentifiable mess.

Grandma blinks in confusion. “I was just preheating the oven for the turkey,” she says. “What’s my Christmas cake doing in there?”

Gordon widens his eyes at Alan from behind Grandma’s back, his message clear: DO NOT SPILL THE BEANS. Alan does his best to blink innocently back at Grandma—to pretend that he and Gordon didn’t hide it in the oven earlier this week to avoid having to eat any and risk their stomach linings.

“Well?” Grandma turns to look at Gordon, who quickly schools his features into something bewildered. “Care to explain?”

Thankfully, Virgil chooses that moment to stumble into the kitchen, beelining for the coffee machine. He stabs blearily at the buttons before Scott takes pity and sorts his espresso. Virgil blinks dopily at Scott in response, patting his head tiredly and slinking over to the island stools.

“Morning, Virg,” Gordon says brightly, and Virg grunts something in response.

“I’m very well, thank you so much for asking. And a merry Christmas to you, too!” Gordon continues, and Alan sees Scott bite back a smile.

“What happened to the oven?!” John joins them, pale and sleepy-looking but far more awake than his older brother.

“Someone ruined my Christmas cake—and now the oven is broken!” Grandma says, and her gaze flits to the turkey sitting on the side, ready to be roasted.

Alan frowns. “But how will we roast the turkey now?”

There’s an awkward pause. “Are you sure it’s broken?” Scott asks, crouching to examine the nobs and dials. He twists a few experimentally, and the oven belches out an almighty groan of more black smoke. “Okay! Message received!”

Scott stands and glances over at Virgil. “Virg, can you take a look at it?”

Virgil shoots Scott a look over the rim of his mug. “You want me to glass-blow a new oven door?” Alan had forgotten how sarky early morning Virgil can be and he loves it.

“Virg.”

Virgil downs the remainder of his piping hot coffee and stands. It takes him all of two seconds to declare the oven out of action: “It needs at least three replacement parts, even if the door were reparable,” he tells them, the wonders of coffee returning a sharp precision to his tone. “I can make a version of those parts, but it’ll take too long for today.”

“What are we going to do?!” Alan yelps, flushing as everyone turns to look at him.

“We could… have a barbecue?” Gordon suggests, squinting at the prepared turkey. “We could slice it into strips, set up on the beach…”

Scott snaps his fingers at Gordon, smiling wide. “Yes! Great plan—”

“What can I say? Here to save Christmas,” Gordon smirks, grin only widening when his brothers roll their eyes in unison.

Several hours later, they have hauled the barbecue down onto a quiet strip of beach, with Brains and Virgil talking quietly as they man the barbecue and bicker about the most effective use of space on the grill. Almost everyone else, bar M.A.X and Grandma (who are lounging on blankets on the sand), has been recruited for a game of chicken fight, with the added challenge of battling the current of the tide as it sweeps in and out.

From atop Kayo’s shoulders, Alan takes out John with ease, grinning as his brother falls off Scott like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Grub’s up!” Virgil yells, and the four of them scatter, hurrying towards the shore. Alan can’t help the bubble of laughter that escapes him as Kayo and Scott become entangled and flop together in the foamy edge of the water.

By the time the two of them are back on dry land, everyone else is tucking into their Christmas lunch, appreciative hums echoing across the group.

“There’s sand in my turkey,” John says with a frown, and Scott laughs.

“Better that than Grandma’s special stuffing recipe. Nearly cracked my tooth with that a while ago.”

John rolls his eyes, but obediently chomps down on the sandy turkey sandwich. He’s a little paler and thinner than his brothers like him to be, but his smile is bright and lovely even through a mouthful of chewed bread and meat.

By nine, the sun has begun to creep towards its bedtime, pouring pink and gold across the sky in a beautiful cascade of colours. The smell of barbecued meat blends with the salty sea air, undercut with the coconutty scent of John’s suncream.

The Tracy family shows no such sign of calling their celebration to an end—Gordon and Scott have roped Kayo and M.A.X into a game of volleyball, with the little robot strangely nimble across the loose sand, whilst John, Brains and Grandma alternate between roasting marshmallows and playing increasingly competitive card games.

It’s nothing like the Christmases Alan grew up watching in movies and on TV, nor is it like the ones his schoolfriends used to wax lyrical about.

Somehow, it’s even better.

(Alan thinks that has a lot to do with how loud Gordon’s laughter booms across the beach, how bright Scott’s smile is, and John’s playful smirk that only ever comes out around those he’s truly comfortable with.)

And yet, despite how pleasantly full he feels and how much happiness sings in the air, there’s a weight on his chest that he cannot shift. It prickles with wrongness in the face of so much joy, and Alan feels like he’s dragging their celebrations towards misery as he sits by himself and gazes out at the ocean.

At that moment, as if he can sense Alan’s rising distress (and perhaps he can; Virg has always been weirdly perceptive about these things), Virgil plops down beside Alan and offers him a soft smile. “You good, Allie?”

Alan nods, then leans his head against Virgil’s shoulder, allowing his older brother to tuck him tighter into his side. All his brothers hug differently, but none of them truly envelop him as Virgil does. “Just thinking.”

“Warned you about that,” Virgil murmurs and Alan can hear the smile in his voice even though he can’t see it. His hand comes up to the back of Alan’s neck, and he begins massaging out the knotty tension in Alan’s neck. The relief trickles warm and grateful down Alan’s spine and he sags further into his brother, trusting and knowing that he will be held.

“I wish it could always be like this,” Alan says after a beat or two.

Virgil pauses. “Like this?”

“Like…” Alan waves a hand. “I wish Scott could always be this relaxed. And John could always be here. And we could always be this happy.” A sharp longing ache lodges in his throat, and he has to fight to get the next words out without it catching. “I wish we didn’t have to give up so much to have these moments.”

Virgil is silent for a long time, his grip tighter around Alan. “Me too,” he says at last, and it’s so un-Virgil-like to admit something even vaguely selfish that Alan would pull away to stare at him if he weren’t so damned comfortable. “But Allie—I think that’s also what makes these moments so, so precious. That we know what it is not to have them. That we know what they cost.”

“That doesn’t feel fair,” Alan says, hating the petulance in his own voice.

If Virgil were replaced by Gordon, there would be a quip about life’s not fair and a joke to distract him from the ache of it. Scott would be frantic to try and fix it, and John’s analytical mind would identify all the illogical and untrue aspects of that statement.

Virgil just holds him impossibly tighter still and meets him with an empathy Alan didn’t know he needed. “I know.”

Virgil holds him together as the aching grief of all that has been lost – all that continues to be sacrificed, and all the moments to be missed in the future – spreads and crashes over Alan—

Then all at once, the grief ebbs away like the tide retreating.

Virgil presses a kiss to Alan’s crown. “You good. Allie?” His voice is soft and warm, and Alan knows that he’ll stay as long as Alan needs him to—that he doesn’t even have to ask.

This is what makes it easier for him to nod and mean it this time.

“Want a marshmallow?”

Alan hesitates and nods, allowing Virgil to pull him up and tug him back towards the makeshift campfire. Scott, Kayo, Gordon and M.A.X have abandoned their game at last, and have squished themselves around the fire too, though they shuffle over to allow room for Virgil and Alan to squeeze in beside Scott.

“Alright?” Scott murmurs to Alan, and Alan nods. The prickling fades, tucked between his two oldest brothers, across from the jokey antics and quiet intelligence of his other two brothers, beneath the protective gaze of his sister and grandmother—and under the twinkling light of his mom’s star. He’s so damned lucky, despite it all, to be so loved like this.

“Happy Christmas,” he says softly, and Scott smiles.

“Happy Christmas, Allie.” He ruffles Alan’s hair and Alan laughs.

Christmas may not look the way he thought it would be growing up, and it may be a long time before they get to be together like this again. Another Christmas may be full of injuries or loss, and it may feel harder still to rise above the weight of their collective grief.

But Alan vows that he will do everything in his power to keep giving them Christmases like this, full of light and laughter and love.

For this Christmas is theirs and Alan will hold it tight and precious against his heart.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #tag team secret santa #tag team secret santa 2024

31 notes · View notes

papaver-decervicatus · 4 months ago

Text

Cat/Mouse/Den: Pt. 6, Mouse Trapped

Now it's Mouse's turn in the hot seat after she is captured by Kortac. But, what if getting away is actually the worst thing that could happen?

CW: Obsession, stalking, canon typical violence, intrusive thoughts, unsanitary wound care, misogynistic comments

AN: Hello everyone! Wow, life has been a straight up doozy. Unfortunately, I ended up having to leave where I was because it was not safe and my whole life went on pause for a good 8 months while I was at my previous place. I just wanted to let everyone know how much this community means to me. At my absolute worst, believing I deserved the ways in which I was being hurt, I would look at all the lovely things people have said about my writing. I just wanted to take a moment to say, no one should be hit by a partner under any circumstance. If they tell you it was an accident, it was not if it happens multiple times, especially not if it happens repeatedly in the same way. It's hard to see when you're in it, but I promise you deserve better. No one should have to face public humiliation for how they dress from a partner. No one should be told that their trauma is inconvenient by a partner. If your partner ever says "I do not respect you, I don't even like you," please do not stay to try and make it work. Nothing you do can be enough for those people, but every single one of you liking/sharing/commenting/enjoying this story has shown me that I am enough. I am now safe, in my own apartment, free from that experience. And I want you to know, you all gave me an incredible amount of strength in ways I will never be able to repay you, so I may as well just update the damn story! But enough about me, lets get back to it! This chapter has been in editing for a literal year (whoops!). I hope the length, the angst, and the next two chapters make up for it!

Prev | Pt. 6, Mouse Trapped | 5.1k words | Next

The heavy footfalls echoing closer to her position in the compound throb in time with the blood pooling in Mouse’s wrists bound above her head. She hears them approaching with a certain determination that she’s sure unlike the dozens of other sets, these are determined to reach her. It’s only been three hours inside this dark-lit room in a KorTac black site. Her stakeouts are, at minimum, twice as long. Even so, her contorting muscles ache as she awaits her interrogator with bated breath and low hopes.

She’s gotten out of a lot of things over the years, getting into even more than she can remember. Everyone’s luck runs out, she won’t hold her breath this time. The footsteps stalk ever closer, and every nerve in her body alights in pure prey instinct. She wants to gnaw and chew and bite and scratch at whatever comes through that door, she wants to run or crawl or flee with every fiber of her being. She takes a desperate shuddering breath in and an equally labored breath out as the thundering steps stop somewhere behind her.

She must seem unaffected. Unfrightened. Uncaring. If she has any hope of getting one over on her captor. She will not even entertain the thought that she will get tortured.

The door behind her opens after a series of three, heavy, multi-spring locks, are undone. She can pick them later with the multitool she’s kept on her person, strapped on a hidden thigh garter beneath her pants. Each key has 7 pins, 21 pins total. She can crack one in 15 seconds if she’s smart about it. Locks will take under a minute total, adding that to the 23 seconds that it will take to undo her gear to get to the pick it-

The figure behind her does not move to get closer to her. Instead, it looms ominously behind her. The air in the room gains an otherworldly oppressiveness like the devil himself has just frozen her to her spot in the ninth layer of hell. Suddenly, she feels arctic cold as the locks all slide back into their places.

Trapped. She thinks, chewing at the inside of her lip.

The hulking mass behind her only takes one full step, and its back is now nearly flush with hers. Its head is somewhere much higher than her own. She feels the warmth of another person and she has to fight her animal instincts to get closer to it and beg for salvation.

The figure takes an inordinate amount of time inspecting her holdings, crouching, craning, but never touching, around her confines. She studies the black wall in front of her with serious intent to remain composed. Its uniform smells distinctly of over-sanitation masking any human scent- likely the wearer so often got into bloodbaths that repeated cleanings have made the thing over-saturated with bleach.

She lets out a stutter of breath when one massive hand reaches down to her shoulder. Despite her clothing and the tac gloves, the touch burns and she wants more.

“Guten abend. Wie get est ihnen?” König asks softly.

Only fucking König would ask how a captured prisoner was doing like he was asking his dinner date how her day was.

I’m doing fucking shit, thanks for asking, King. She thinks.

He gets closer, bending down and nearly resting his chin on the opposing shoulder to where his hand dwarfs her entire shoulder blade. He is so close if she were to turn her head, she could nuzzle into the soft fabric of the hood that covers his face and spills onto her form. He is so close, that she can smell the remains of a cherry-flavored cigarette on his breath hidden behind the freshness of stringent aftershave and tea-tree hair oil above the nauseating smell of bleach from his uniform. He is so close she could bite his fingers and taste some of his blo-

“I asked you how you were doing, Maus.” He whispers her name with a false sweetness that makes her stomach flip. She steadies her traitorous heart with a fake huff.

“Hmm,” She hums, tossing her head playfully to the side where his hand is. Her cheek nearly rests on the course fabric of its covering. “I’d be doin’ much better not tied to the goddamn ceiling.”

She expects a sharp backhand for that one, or at the very least an amused refusal. To her infinite surprise, neither happens. The giant devil on her shoulder lets out a gentle chuckle and retracts his body, but not after a gentle squeeze to the sore muscles between her neck and arm.

“But of course, Fürstin.” He says, voice sweet as honey and laced with a smile she can taste behind the hood. She feels a massive hand tenderly embrace itself around her right wrist and she hears the hollow cla-chck of a knife being unsheathed. She stops studying the wall just in time to catch the glint of a knife cutting the paracord used to affix her to the metal hook above her head. He brings the 3 odd feet of now limp rope, along with her hand, to her left hand, but before he does anything “Lean back a little,” he says, and she does. She stops leaning back when her ass hits his thigh and she shudders with just how desperately fucked she is. He ties her right wrist to her still-hanging left wrist, both now not entirely above her head.

He tugs on his handiwork, and seemingly satisfied, he reaches down to put his arm without the knife in the crook behind her knees. He stills experimentally, anticipation practically dripping from his now motionless fingers. “Are you going to be a good girl?” He purrs, holding the knife tantalizingly close to the rope from which she is still hanging. She lets out an indignant puff of air.

“Only one way to find out, my majesty…” She purrs back.

She can feel his diaphragm rumble with a jovial ‘Mhmm’ that fades into a satisfied laugh in response.

In one fluid motion, he cuts the remaining chord and she falls into his waiting arm. With the same grace she so admires on the battlefield, he swoops her into his arms in a bridal carry. She gasps tucked into his warm body. Yet again, his body shakes when he laughs at her little outburst. Her face flushes and once again as he gets onto his knees and gently deposits her onto the ground.

The cold concrete of the floor digs through her tac pants as she sits sideways, König sits cross-legged in front of her. Her tied wrists lay in front of her body. She tries to catch her breath. He looks at her with some emotion she’s never seen in his eyes before, pupils dilated leaving only a thin, icy ring clinging to the bloodshot white. In the dimly lit room, she fails to catch her breath.

He sighs looking at her hands. He puts his own up, palms to her as though promising a frightened prey animal he means no harm before he can pluck it from its trap.

Without a word, he takes her bound hands in his and gently rubs at the purple flesh.

And like a fool who believes in God, she unfurls her fisted hands into open palms facing the stars she cannot see as if in prayer. She doubts God could hear, or care for, her prayers in this futile box of a room with eyes on her the color of God, or at least a cloudless December sky.

If she’s praying by opening a vulnerability to him, it seems König prays back, the way he cradles her hands like he’s sculpting her out of clay. She’s infinitely thankful for his combat gloves in this intimate moment, full-on contact would be all too much to bear in this awful circumstance. His eyes smile as he regards their hands, a satisfied rumble somewhere in the front of his chest as the normal color returns to her flesh.

“You need to be more careful, mein mauschen.” He says, looking at her like a prince looks at the portrait of a long-kidnapped princess. He regards her with the same care as a boy, growing up in a castle, deciding the portrait of a local maid girl, long locked up in a tower, will one day be his bride. His tone is whistful and tacitly anxious. Despite this, the implication of a smile does not leave his paradoxically fire-hot ice-blue eyes.

She is more than capable as a soldier, as a tactician, as a sniper. She has gotten into and out of traps just like this one before, and really, when Gromsko needed cover to patch Reyes up in the field, she didn’t really think about going to help. Out of her depth, she still ran at the chance to abandon her post in the hopes of helping others, a decision that had her snatched and thrown into this little box with the thing she both runs from and to in equal measure.

If it were anyone else, she would yell and spit and cuss about how she can do it. She’s done it on her own. She’s a sniper for Christ’s sake! She’s supposed to do it on her own, she doesn’t need any pity cover. She’s capable. She doesn’t need some surly giant telling her what to do.

“I’m sorry.” Is what Mouse says.

Because it’s not anyone else.

It’s König.

König, who has risked his life to save hers more times than she can count. König who tells her awful jokes in the dead of her shift to cheer her up. König who prays in the shape of her callsign gauged into soft birch wood. König who has never once doubted her abilities as a tactician and a sniper or talked down to her for it. König who keeps her company from far away and promises to always come back.

König who looks at her like she is worth the world, König who treats her like a princess more than an enemy soldier.

König, who she’s set free from this exact position before. König, who may just be her knight in shining armor. König, whose hands have yet to leave her wrists in his quiet supplication, fingers whispering apologies for what others have done.

“Nein.” He tuts, voice soft and reverent, hands now retreating from hers. “I am sorry,” he confidently, if quietly, declares, eyes still affixed to her battered flesh like his stare could undo any damage done. “I should not have let them capture you. It is my fault.”

He’s not her keeper. He’s not her knight in shining armor. Hell, he’s not even her fucking comrade, he’s on the other side of this pointless war and he’s got the nerve to apologize and take blame for her situation? She wants to rip the words out of his mouth, angry and sorrowful all at once that he’s taken any responsibility for her well-being.

Instead of the things she wants to shout at him, she stays quiet. She knows better than to correct her captor, all too aware of the distinct power dynamic in the little interrogation room she’s in. This is still war. He is still her captor. There is nothing to be done here.

She sighs.

“Don’t do anything stupid on my behalf.” She whispers, a sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips, like a trapped animal begging a child not to get attached in case the glue is too strong. After everything, she’s gotten quite the soft spot for the man, she would hate to get his hands messy while trying to free her. (Despite the fact that he’s done so, many times before.)

He chuckles, eyes everywhere but hers. He’s begun to rap-tappa-tap at his thighs with his fingers, a tell she’s come to notice is his way of thinking while anxious.

“It is too late for that.” Their eyes meet and at once she understands.

Because I know you’d do the same for me, her own words echo in her head. She swallows building trepidation rising in her chest like the tide. Just how is he planning on keeping true to such a promise?

“This is quite the mood shift from the last time we saw each other,” she gives a pitiful little giggle to him. At once his eyes alight with some sort of silent battle, a war of wills is waged in an instant. Ice-cold-fever-hot eyes narrow menacingly at her.

“I hate seeing you trapped.” He says, and her heart, whatever doesn’t reside in his chest already, lodges itself thick and pulsing in her throat. Mouse blinks away confused tears, rubbing at her eyes with her sleeved shoulders.

She has nothing to say to that. She thinks about the tears she cried in the shower when she realized his mark in her was fading. She thinks about warming her cold fingers pressed into her thighs all night, imagining instead he was warming her hands. She thinks about his teeth proudly displayed on her neck. She thinks about his hands holding her down. She thinks about the solid expanse of his chest as he promises her the world. She counts every joke he’s ever told her like the faithful count prayer beads. She clings to this idea of him like fog clings to a mountainside, ever-present and yet intangible.

She throws these ideas deep buried into her subconscious, trying desperately to call any sense to mind. Fear settles back into the forefront of her mind, confusion taking a backseat. She worries about how to get out of here- without König getting harmed.

“What’s the plan?” She whispers.

“What? Not going to talk me out of it?” He laughs voice thick with sad irony.

“I’m not looking a gift- soldier? In the mouth.” She sighs.

He looks thoughtfully down at her hands and wrists that he’s still holding. He pulls in a rough breath and it hisses out through his teeth.

“You’re in luck. It’s a shift change. It’ll be…” he lets go of her hands and fully stands. He peers down at her through tragically thick, romantic lashes, he’s very nearly almost charming the way he regards her from on high. Almost being the key term as his stare turns cold and he squints down at her. “Messy.” He settles on. “If you’re coming, don’t delay now.” He holds out a hand to help her up.

And what choice does she really have? Stuck in this room, always minutes away from death, with only one plan of even halfway reasonable escape- she takes his hand.

And they dash.

This is not a thought-out affair like Mouse’s rescue of Konig had been. This is quick, it’s sloppy, and it’s not really romantic. He’s tugging hard on her arm doing his best to make her keep his pace as they dash through empty hallways- occasionally taking an unorthodox passageway to, maybe?, avoid camera surveillance. Konig doesn’t say anything as they twist and turn through the labyrinth, he just picks her up or seizes her shoulders if he wants her to stop. To his credit, it works, and ice-cold adrenaline runs through her spine every time he grabs her with enough force to hurt her if he just wanted to.

But he doesn’t, doesn’t hurt her, doesn’t get sloppy so they get caught, doesn’t do a damned thing except run with her hand in his through the dim hallways, lit exclusively with blood red signs denoting “EXIT”, “ARMORY”, “M-D BA-“ (apparently KorTac does not give enough of a shit about the med bay sign to have it replaced), and anything else worthy of note- which is to say just about jack and shit, respectively.

What feels like miles of corridors passes her in quiet seconds- flashes of what her mind could construe as pictures and memories whirl by, her only true anchor to know where she’s been and where she will be in the direction that Konig pulls her through the labrynth.

He breathes as heavy as an ox when they come to a hallway cut-out in front of a little station where a lone man plays solitaire on the table. He casually picks at his teeth with a knife as he thumbs through his discard pile, nonchalant to the peril he will certainly be in should Konig decide to take exception with the man.

Konig pushes Mouse’s shoulders down so that she’s kneeling, and her bones hit the floor with a heavy clack. Konig shouts “Was is das?” as he yanks her up roughly. The man at the table discards his cards and rushes up, coincidentally leaving his knife on the table.

Betrayed? He’s fucking betraying me? Mouse’s mind races as she tries to think of a single reason Konig would abandon her in the hands of another man, one that sees her as a prisoner no less, and she has half the mind to bite his dick off where she stands in incensed anger. She’s too dumbstruck to even attempt a fight when Konig takes the rope she’d

“Lieutenant. I caught this one escaping.” Konig states sternly to the man who comes over to check the now kneeling Mouse.

The unnamed man looks her over, the arms of a behemoth holding her down, and he graces her with a sardonic grin.

Prey,

I am prey.

“Oh, so it’s this one… If I remember correctly,” the man says, laughing over her trembling form, “she’s quite the war prize.” König’s grip on her shoulders, holding her prone on the cold concrete, tightens just a little.

“She got out of her confines, I’m moving her.” He says with all the authority of a man given the mandate of heaven.

“Say, Colonel,” the man speaks, and Mouse only registers for half a second that is König’s rank before she meets his gaze. Only his eyes are visible from his plain baklava. They look hungry, but not quite the same way König’s ice-cold eyes receive her image. He looks at her like he’s planning on taking one bite. König’s breath stutters as the man comes closer and attempts to touch her face. König yanks her up before he gets the chance, hands pinned behind her back.

“Could I convince you to give me, oh say, I don’t know… half an hour with her? I can’t imagine the ransom or intel would be worth any more than her cu-”

Mouse promptly headbutts the man square in the nose, and blood sprays on the nearest wall as she fights out of König’s grip to get a better chance at knocking the man unconscious. He reaches for a throwing knife somewhere in his pocket and he brandishes the blade towards her face and she almost entirely dodges the quick glint of silver aimed at her neck. She feels a shallow cut on her cheek but she doesn’t stop thrashing. He sputters with rage and tries to say something but only frothed red liquid comes out of his mouth. König laughs mercilessly, still restraining her fighting against his grip, kicking and screaming in barbaric rage at the audacity of this man. Without missing a beat, König grabs the man’s hand with the wildly swinging knife and she hears the acrid cra-ckkk of bone splintering in flesh. He screams in pain and his eyes well with tears streaming down his bloodied mouth.

“She bites.” Is all König says before he plunges the man’s knife between his ribs. He drops the knife and grabs her hand, fingers sticky and intertwined. He looks at her with the most romantic sincerity imaginable, cold eyes smiling after just having killed a man over her honor.

The blood everywhere is almost killing the mood.

The key word is almost and suddenly Mouse is thankful that König’s strides are twice the length of hers because she doesn’t have time to consider the way his thumb gently strokes her hand. The way he was all too happy to kill a man for even considering hurting her. The way his frigid stare thaws for a moment when he looks back at her, suddenly warm like a sunny afternoon in May, enveloping her body like a soft bed of straw, safely tucked away in someone’s barn.

They escape through some back exit and he holds her up by the hips as she scrambles over the chainlink fence with all the skill of a veteran climber. Before she can chastise him for what is obviously a bit more of an amorous touch than is necessary, she hears gunfire behind her as her feet hit the ground on the other side of the fence. Three shots, then one from König, and silence.

He scales the wall and hits the ground with a slight grunt. She can’t hear what he says, the ringing in her ears (whether from the gunshots or his close presence) obscures it, but she gets the memo as he grabs her hand again. They run for what feels like another 2 miles through as the world alights around them. The leaves on the forest floor go from grey to beautiful shades of thousands of different coffees, all with differing amounts of milk to the taste of their owners. The evergreen trees gradually grow greener and greener with every passing moment.

She hears a little twig crack and she stops dead in her tracks. König stops, too.

The coo of a solitary mourning dove sounds. The creature looks at the two starcrossed escapees with an odd knowing before it takes off from the ground, leaves scattering behind its tailwind.

And suddenly, the world takes its first breath in pale, premorning light.

And it’s quiet.

“We’re even, now.” She says, standing in the forest outside of the base. She breathes in the smell of rotting leaves and blood and gunpowder with more thanks than she ever has in her life.

König doesn’t respond. In the morning sunlight, he studies her with a renewed vigor. His worried gaze settles on a bleeding cut on her cheek, the one dripping into her mouth ever so slightly. She licks at the blood idly, his eyes widen and he looks away hurriedly.

He gives an anxious sigh and a curt soldier’s nod.

She watches him with her own newfound sense of dismay as he rifles around his pockets for something.

She stops breathing.

Her heart slides clean out of her chest when he presents the minuscule thing in his massive hand. He holds his- no, her- whetstone to her, in a flat palm facing upwards.

Her breath does not return to her lungs even when her eyes prickle with tears.

Is he saying goodbye?

What little she can see of König’s face furrows more desperately as she stares down at the offending gift like it was a decapitated rat that the cat brought in.

“It’s yours.” Is the explanation he lands on after an eternity of silence. The sun is rising, nothing is certain, they cannot be using whatever fleeting seconds they have wasted on goodbyes. He must know this, he stares at her nearly ready to get on his knees and beg her- for what? She doesn’t know. She thought he would beg for her but the key to that hope died in the shape of that little pouch that holds her soul in it.

“No. It’s yours.” No, I’m yours. Her weak voice wavers, like a leaf fluttering about until it inevitably hits the ground.

She doesn’t give him the time to think out whatever stupid thing he wants to for allowing her to get hurt as she launches herself around his shoulders.

König nearly stumbles backward as her arms wrap around his neck. On instinct, he grabs at her sides to hold her up in the air and prevent them from crashing back into the earth. Even if he weren’t, she’s sure she’d feel like she was floating, locked in a warm embrace like a scar holds the memory of a cut.

She loves him more than she can stand, and as ever cruel and ever-giving Fortune would have it, he is more than happy to hold her up. She clings to him as she clings to the trees she climbs for her vantage points. In the rising sky, she remembers the ravine. She wants to forever be caught in his eyes but not his arms, because she does not know how she will ever be warm again without his embrace. She wants to scream and hit him and cut his chest open instead of pulling away, she wants to enact violence on his person for daring to make her love him, for his audacity in caring for her, for his everything. It would be so much easier if he didn’t care if one of them died if she didn’t have to think about what came next.

She shakes with fury.

She is so sick of following orders. Of listening to men telling her what to do. Of re-tracing the line between duty and desire. Of contextualizing and rationalizing everything she does on the axis of “me” and “my orders”

But most of all, she’s miserable that she can’t break out of her battle line no matter how hard she tries. She wants König to just tell her to stay, to give her the order so she doesn’t have to decide if she wants it, and all the implication of what that means for her fucked up obsession with him. She wants the easy out, she doesn’t want the blame. She wants him to figure it out. She wants him to tell her to stay.

He says nothing, he just breathes deeply, like she is air and like she matters to keep tethered to him. Like there’s anything worthy in her. Like she’s important. It only makes her angrier to think he’s so gentle when she wants to tear through his flesh and climb inside his rib cage instead of being forced to say goodbye.

She gives one last shuddering breath before she unwinds her sore hands from the anchor of his strong shoulders.

“You’ve saved me,” she whispers, wrenching her way out of his equally mournful grasp. He shudders, holding her tighter.

“No, you’ve saved me,” he whispers back into her ear. She doesn’t know what that means but she figures she doesn’t want to know when his massive hand finds the weak spot between her neck and shoulder and starts soothing little circles into it. She thrashes violently against the little spell he scries into her skin. She wants to stay. She wants to go. She wants him. She wants to be wanted by him. She doesn’t know what to do with a heart full of foreign wants and no direct orders to follow, so she thrashes out of his grip with all the ferocity of a mouse about to snap its neck getting out of a trap.

After a moment more of thrashing, he drops her to the ground.

Her fingers linger in his as she untwists her body from his, dancing away in the dying leaves. Their hands are connected even after the embrace. His warmth haunts her the same way the cold side of the bed haunts a widow, his eyes sting the same way a rusty cut does.

With the last of her willpower, she finally takes herself from him but the look he gives her makes her sure he understands: she could never go anywhere that doesn’t end with him. She gave him the whetstone that sharpened the knife that gave her the scar, and now some part of her will always be a result of his action. The blood loss isn’t helping her scattered thoughts and she’s only reminded of her worn-out physical condition when more blood leaks into her waiting mouth, soft lips parted and waiting for him to say something, anything.

“Promise you’ll find me?” She asks, soft and fragile, waiting for the world she’s placed on his shoulders to shrug to the ground and shatter into millions of pieces.

“Always, Mäuschen.” He replies, quiet and reverent, like he doesn’t know how he’s going to make it work, but equally cannot imagine a world in which it doesn’t.

She runs back to her base in the early morning light, sprinting like a nymph on a war-hunt through the trees, escaping an ill-fated encounter with an undesired suitor. Except it’s quite the opposite, she feels her heart beak with every hollow footstep she makes, unparalleled by his own sprinting after her.

She runs away, but her heart stays in his pocket, in the shape of a little whetstone.

She cries the whole way back. When she collapses on her bed after her debrief she imagines his hands messaging hers (and other things…) and his arms pressing her to him like he might fall apart the second he lets go. She thinks about the smell of him- like salty sweat and spruce aftershave and stinging tea tree. She bundles herself into the covers and prays that when she wakes up, she will have wound herself into his embrace and not just some discarded cloth around her body and separating her legs.

Her bed is impossibly big, and she wakes from it all hours of the night, hands not able to reach its edges like they never have before. The sheets are a paradoxical limbo of desperation: simultaneously as cold as a glacier and hotter than a forest fire. She dreams she’s stuck in a burning house until the roof caves from the animated flames and a blizzard pummels her into the wreckage.

From the nothing, two massive hands grip at her fragile sides and hold her up. She stills in the protective grasp of something the size of a mountain, it whispers the sound of a radio in her ear. She sinks into it and wakes gasping, only to realize she’s been asleep for not even half an hour and the dream repeats when she wrestles whatever fitful rest she can out of the nighttime. Each time she wakes up, tears stream down her cheeks.

She cries.

Because she’s not home. She will never be home, not if he’s not there.

Mouse is free to do anything she pleases. Unbound, untrapped, and unburdened, in theory, nothing hinders her.

In reality, she’s already dead somewhere in the trap of cold blue eyes, sharp knives, and strong arms.

It does not matter that she has been the one chased. Now there is nowhere he could ever go without the largest part of her carried with him.

Tag list: @kneelingshadowsalome @sprout-fics @bucca2 @dead-cipher @gallowsjoker @lostagoodcigar @berryjuicyy @haisebo @crowbird

#Navigation -> Cat/Mouse/Den #König #König x reader #König x OC #König MWii #König COD #Char: Mouse

33 notes · View notes

trashogram · 7 months ago

Text

Charliedust

Rates M for sex stuff

I can’t believe I never posted the first Charlie/Angel Dust fic I ever wrote on this site. This after I watched the pilot so like the Husklie Oneshot, it’s old.

* Angel Dust had thought little of Hell’s princess throughout his induction into the formerly named ‘Happy Hotel’. Her perky, childlike personality was worthy of more than a few eyerolls, and her attempts at connecting with him only made Angel Dust draw away in disgust. The spider knew that for all of her cheesy goodwill, Charlie was about as authentic as a woman moaning for more during a violent gangbang.

He came to terms with the reality that he didn’t know a fucking thing when Charlie had laid her life on the line for him. Literally.

It started with an argument, and became something much worse. Explosive, but without the added benefit of Sir Pentious and his incompetence. Angel Dust had been making his way to the exit, not really thinking about what he was leaving behind and whether or not his material goods would be thrown out in his wake.

Charlie had blocked the spider demon before he reached the end of the staircase with Vaggie on her heels. In the end, it was more of the latter yelling at him for being so callous and self-absorbed, with Charlie on the sidelines, staring at him with glassy eyes and upturned brows.

“You are the most inconsiderate, selfish asshole in all the circles of Hell!” Vaggie spat.

Angel managed to get past her with a wave of his hand(s), trying to ignore the nonstop buzzing of his phone. There was nothing in defending himself. Angel wasn’t going to give these broads anything that could help them sink their teeth into his actual flesh. There wasn’t time.

He did freeze immediately upon seeing the exit open up as Valentino had forced his way inside.

The moth overlord’s lips had curled back into a disgusting snarl, and he seemed to hone in on Angel Dust like a hunter. His towering figure moved with homicidal fury that bled into the very atmosphere, characterizing even the billow of his long, luxurious overcoat with wrath.

Angel Dust assumed the position, blind and deaf to everything else, including the spark of recognition in Charlie’s eyes. He couldn’t imagine what he was in for, but Angel would not have been more terrified if he were face to face with an exterminator.

“You have no idea what you’ve cost me.” Valentino was hissing. “And making me come all this way to get you, like a child.”

His arm was outstretched, ready to strike. “I thought you knew better by now, sweetheart. ”

The hand came down, and Angel Dust’s eyes squeezed shut as he waited, unable to refrain from shaking. The anticipation before the hit was almost worse than the impact itself, with all the muscles in Angel’s body seizing painfully.

“ Excuse me .”

Eyes still closed, skin stretched tight over the stiffened muscles, Angel heard the voice of the heir to the throne loud and clear. Peeking out from behind his fingers, Angel could see Charlie as a swath of white and black and blonde. She was standing in front of him, shoulders back and arms slightly raised as though she were preparing to spread them out wide while shielding her one and only tenant.

Charlie continued. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you’re not welcome here.”

—

The depth of her feelings shown later on, after the chaos and the clean up. It didn’t end with Angel being beaten and dragged out onto the curb, but Angel felt as if he lacked any control over his body as he was guided away from the fallout. The hotel was eerily quiet, though he could hear the faint buzzing of radio static and the swish of a damp mop on the ground before the door to Charlie’s office closed behind him.

“I can give you amnesty. Protection.” Charlie had never looked more serious while she took Angel’s hands in hers. “You don’t have to stay in the hotel. There are more discreet places, even in Hell.”

Her horns were receding slowly, and the violent red of her scelera was fading into a softer pink, while the cut on her forehead and the bruises on her cheeks and temple started to darken. A lump had formed in her counterpart’s throat, as he realized the implications of her words.

She was willing to throw away her ambitions, or at least thwart them for an indeterminable amount of time - until she found some other demon open to reform - for his sake. Angel Dust mattered more in this case, as her friend.

Angel didn’t believe he was in love with the demoness, but what he felt for her then rivaled any artificial highs he could recall.

He’d responded quickly, letting her know that he wanted nothing more than to stay in the Hazbin Hotel now that it was his undeniable haven. But self-loathing threatened to consume Angel when it came time to even attempt a ‘thank you’. Fat Nuggets had been a patient audience to bounce ideas off of, and a comfort when tears threatened to spill from the adult film star’s mismatched eyes, and eventually Angel came to terms with what he had to offer.

There were no hurt feelings when he met with the princess in her office, and his questions were met with wide-eyed silence.

“I…” Charlie’s mouth twisted somewhat as she thought. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

Angel felt a small swell of hope, and mirrored the tentative smile on his hotelier’s face and easily accepted her answer. The spider demon reminded himself once again that it wasn’t a big deal if Charlie didn’t want to take him up on his offer, and that there were other ways of showing his gratitude. That she was even considering his proposal was surprising, if Angel was being completely honest with himself.

Yet when he was walking down the hall and back to his room, Angel felt the smile slowly fall away as he imagined the probable rejection coming. He’d only prolonged the inevitable, and knowing that deep down inside made him want to wrap all of his arms around himself and sink into a sullen mood.

‘You can’t thank her enough for what she did, if she doesn’t want you.’ Angel looked at the carpet beneath his feet. ‘You’ve got no talent in anything else. Nothing else is gonna top that.’

With those thoughts following him all the way to his room, Angel’s ego took a few hits; enough to cancel out Charlie’s indulgence.

Charlie had knocked on his door so softly that it almost went unheard. Angel had had to smile at how she had undoubtedly planned for the occasion. Of course she knew where his room was - her hotel after all - but she came in the middle of the night, when Angel was at his most energized.

Seeing her in the doorway, hands clasped together and looking up at him shyly, actually set butterflies in Angel’s stomach. His first impression of her had been pummeled into the ground and destroyed upon her defending him from his greatest threat, but her softness here and now made that impression disappear completely.

Charlie’s lips quirked into a small, lopsided smile as she took his hand and was led inside.

“Oh, Angel!”

He pressed his lips against her skin, mouth just slightly ajar to gently brush her with his tongue. She tasted clean and untainted, with a hint of scented lotion. Her breathless cry of his name made his heart lurch in his ribcage, as Angel distantly noted the novelty of it.

His profession required a lot of exaggerated expressions and vocalizations of ecstasy, exertion and expletives (depending on what kind of audience he was appealing to). It was almost unheard of, however, to have a partner at work call him by name in the middle of sex - which hardly mattered as Angel Dust was already well-known in the industry, and he understood that a bit of illusion and anonymity was required when it came to creating fantasies.

It had been so long since anyone had actually called for him by name, as it had been quite a long time since Angel had fucked for pleasure. Hearing it now from Charlie, responding to his movements with so much sincerity, touched the ex-porn star in a way that he’d been barred from for such a long time.

An electric current went straight to his heart and another shot down to his pelvis, propelling Angel Dust to pump harder. He braced the slim hips of his partner down, sunk into her to the hilt and leaned down to kiss her deeply. Charlie didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him in, moaning desperately into his mouth at the mix of painful pleasure that came with a tap at her cervix.

The afterglow was short-lived when Angel’s thoughts set back in motion. Ifs and Whys plagued him, even as Charlie lay wrapped around his lanky frame, nuzzling her cheek against the fluff of his chest. He hated knowing, deep down, that this gesture was cheap. That he couldn’t communicate how much what she did meant to him like he should.

Eventually, Charlie pulled back to look at him, perhaps to ask how he was and if he was alright, or to ask him why this was his preferred method of caring. Angel Dust swallowed audibly.

“I just wanted ta...” Angel blurted. “... ta show ya how much I appreciated... everything.”

Charlie smiled, gentle and soft as she lingered along the spider demon’s features with her fingertips. She kissed him lazily, and laughed as, after a few moments, he pulled her back in and gently guided her to rest her head against his chest.

#Charliedust #charlie x angel dust

27 notes · View notes

aceofsnacks · 1 year ago

Text

I did a tour of GO filming locations

It was around London, so I didn't get all of them, but the trip has been such a blast I just have to share the pics!

1. St James park: so many birds! And tourists. Which is good because the secret government agents wouldn't be able to feed so many ducks. I saw pelicans too—they were huge and pink and funny!!

2. Berkley Square (they actually didn't film anything here, but still): it's a giant construction site now. The only birds I spotted were parrots, so many of them, at least 5 nests, and loud too. No sane nightingale would ever come there, this much is true. But the song is referenced on one of the bench plaques <3

3. The Ritz / The Criterion: they both look nothing like the restaurant in the show (maybe the Criterion changed since 2019?) But both are fancy! When my rich uncle leaves me a giant inheritance and I find my 6000 year soulmate, I am so taking them out there, just you wait.

4. The Globe: this is my favourite theatre now!!!Macbeth was magnificent! And the standing tickets were so worth it: actors were down in the crowd and interacted with everyone! I got some of Macduff's blood on me! (Can't get this anywhere else :D) The Globe is closed in winter, so I'm already planning to buy tickets for next year.

5. The Bandstand and the-place-where-Gabriel-was-running: after marinating on Tumblr for so long I felt shocked seeing the word "bandstand" on a physical sign in the park. Like, put up a warning at least, my heart needs to be prepared?? The actual bandstand was at the same time smaller and bigger than I expected. Also those red bits—apparently they were there the whole time; I was imagining it black and white for some reason.

Also I met another crazy fan taking pictures of the bandstand in the rain, and I remember thinking, they have to be just as crazy as me xD

6. Tavistock square (where they switched bodies): the filming crew must have moved the benches around, because the square itself is so tiny and you can only match the scene background if you stand all the way back in the bushes. Surely there must have been a better way.

7. Crystal palace: just as I suspected, you can't see the dinosaurs from the bench because of all the trees in the way. The dinos are hilarious though, they look more like🗿and not like 🦖. In the show Warlock seems to have written a rude word on the teleosaurus info card, how dare he!

8. Tadfield (Hambleden, really): I thought, it's just two hours from London, easy day trip, in and out, what could go wrong. Cue to me stumbling over muddy fields in the dark surrounded by menacing sheep and regretting everything. The village is cute and English and has literally three streets and a post office and nothing else. And sheep.

9. Bonus round, my take on Aziraphale's bookshop xD "Seducing women? I think you've got the wrong shop!"

10. Bonus bonus round, food! (am I or am I not the ace of snacks after all?) An oyster recipe from Marcus Gavius Apicius' cookbook (Rome, 1c CE, stumbled upon it in the museum of Reading), and Eccles cakes (soooo sweet they don't calm people down but give them instant diabetes)

And that's it!! Thank you for reading all the way <3 Here is a secret snack 🍎

#Good Omens #Crowley #Aziraphale #London #real life #good omens filming #good omens 2

64 notes · View notes

hetalianskywalker · 8 months ago

Text

Day 2: The Bakery

Pairing: Merman Jesse x gn! Reader

Summary: Something odd is happening on the island 501st are staying on.

Author’s Note: Mermaid AU! Jesse is a little cheesy at the end. He be good at flirting for the rest of the fic though. I just love me some cheese.

Warnings: Nothing I can think of

Word Count: 898

Prompt: The bakery is built of seashell studded stone, sitting several meters out from shore and buffeted by ocean waves. The owner can’t set foot on land.

Prompt 3205 by deepwaterwritingprompts

Jesse watches as the townspeople take rowboats and canoes to the seashell studded house several meters out from the town. They bring all sorts of items to trade from different kinds of food to clothes; everything a person could need. They leave and head back to shore with fresh pastry and bread.

The Mer should go back to the others. The 501st has stopped on this island for a few days before heading to the next battle site. However, he had spotted an ancient Mer shack from the main deck of their battleship. They had been told about these places a few times by their Mer trainers back on Kamino; they were made to be temporary places of shelter during a storm for any Mer who was too close to the surface.

Most were long abandoned, but this small town seemed to be using this one as a bakery. He finds he can’t fight his curiosity any longer and swims up to the small dock in front of the door. Jesse shifts into his human form as he jumps up on it. He places his helmet under his arm and knocks.

“Come in!?” You call out, sounding both surprised and preoccupied. Jesse slowly eneters and his stomach growls at the divine smells.

“Sorry I wasn’t expecting….” You pause, now looking at him. “A Mer.”

“Well, you’ll find many of the citizens of Mandalore would disagree with you there.” He jokes and you relax somewhat, but your anxiety was palpable.

“Well that’s stupid.” It’s Jesse’s turn to be surprised as he looks over your pastries. “It doesn’t matter if you were made with kaminoan alchemy. You quite literally have to be the same species as your prime.”

“I mean some of us came out as sirens and selkies.” He teases as he walks closer to the counter. Your shoulders relax at this point; he watches a soft shy smile grace your face.

“I believe those have all been considered Merfolk for the past few centuries.” You laugh before slowly handing him a cinnamon roll he was eyeing like he hadn’t eaten in forever.

“But I- ” You shake your head.

“On the house, soldier.” You flirt as you finish closing up shop; you can feel his eyes on you as he gobbles his treat down.

“So you live here too right?” Jesse asks as you gently lead him to the door.

“Yep. Thankfully this has two stories.” You lean against the doorframe as he stands on the dock.

You both stand quietly in the shadow of your house, protected from the last rays of the setting sun. You look at your old village and then back at the curious Merman. You know what he wants to ask; every outsider asks for the same story.

“I stood up to a monster that was passing through our town. In response, after finding out my family had died a few years ago, cursed me to never walk on land again or I would die. I apparently had nothing else to loose. He then threw me into the ocean. The people rallied behind me and found a solution…” You lovingly patted the house behind you. “I was the town’s baker by trade and so it made sense to…”

“Make it a bakery.” Jesse finishes in awe before it changes to something far more sad. “So you have been stuck in this one house for…”

“A few years.” You nod, shifting uncomfortably from the pitying look you always received and looking away at your feet.

“It’s better than being dead though.” You jokingly add to try to lighten the mood.

“And I thought Kamino was claustrophobic.” He says with the same joking air, but the empathy touches you. You gently look up at him with a soft smile.

“Thank you…”

“Jesse.” The Mer grins one of the brightest smiles you have ever seen. “I’m Jesse. I probably should have said that at the beginning.”

From then on, whenever his battalion was stationed nearby, he came to visit you. Occasionally, you even got letters all the way from the capital island of Coruscant when he was on leave.

However when it was announced that the Jedi Order were traitors and the war was over, no news of Jesse came. Many days were spent pacing and worrying before a soft knock echos through your small home.

“Hey, babe.” You are running for the door at the familiar exhausted sound. You throw the door open and you both almost plummet into the water with the force you hug him with. Jesse laughs, spinning you around.

“I’ll explain later, but we need to leave.” Jesse says quickly, setting you down. You look up at him confused.

“But I can’t…”

“You can never set foot on land again and we can find a way to break that curse eventually.” He softly rests his hands on either side of your face; his desperate eyes holding your gaze. “But if you’ll have me, I can make you a Mer.”

“Yes.” There is no hesitation. The man you loved and your freedom, even if it is different from what you had imagined, are too valuable to pass up on. “I love you.”

That bright smile captivates you for a long moment. “I love you more.”

“I love you most.” You both laugh when you say it together as you start your new journey.

#star wars #jesse tcw #jesse x reader #star wars: the clone wars #mermay #clone trooper jesse #mermaid au

19 notes · View notes

ca-suffit · 8 months ago

Text

neilcfreak hasn't been seen in the fandom in a *long* time, so kind of fucking weird and obvious that nalyra gets a bait ask (which she knows is a bait ask) saying it *must* be bullying that caused it and listing every way neil was a good person. where tf has neilcfreak been much in the last year? besides a few months ago when she was trying to cover up for white fandom. nobody cares about u girl, nobody is rly sending these asks about u except ur own friends (or u lol).

anyway who wants neilcfreak's racist receipts :)

last year, ao3 was getting called out for never following up with their promises made in the wake of BLM 2020 to better protect users against racist harassment. neil and a black user commented on the same post, the black user replying to neil's comment u can see above of "if u don't like it make ur own site lol."

this white user (futureevilscientist) then random af pulled the asks out and tagged the black user at the start of the post to talk all this shit AT them fsr?

then later, neil shows up herself.

this is the part u cannot *cannot* say is not racist. neil is directly replying to a reblog of *someone else's main post* and placing full blame for a "call out post" on the *black* user.

she then pulls out her white jewish shit to speak over the main topic, which is racism / antiblackness.

playing oppression olympics can be done by any marginalized group but it usually works the best for white ppl because white ppl get the most sympathy when doing this (u want the most shining example, how often are we talking about white gay oppression in this fandom above racism / antiblackness, which is the *actual theme* of the show...or even gay oppression through a black pov, since u see louis experience that constantly. how much are we told that this show is rly about white gays and nothing else?). ppl assume whiteness is more innocent by default so will pile more on a black user for "being aggressive" towards a *white* jewish user without needing any proof. that's what neil was counting on here. she also then had a bizarre, loud breakdown on her account for extra assurance she'd be seen as "the real victim" (for making a stupidly racist comment in public). ohh yeah weaponize those white tears girl. she then "quit" tumblr for a while and when she came back, as mentioned in the linked post above, she had to again mention "drama" for good measure. "remember how I was bullied off this site u guys :("

white fandom was all over her dramatic distraction posts btw (nalyra commented on them too, so she is v aware this happened). v few people reached out to the black user or cared about the shit they were dealing with.

these white fandom ppl *never* have any receipts of bullying either, they just *say* it happens and flock to give hugs so it looks like lots of support is happening for a real "issue." but it's not real. everything they do is meant to manipulate u. this nalyra ask is still doing that.

when ur told what to think about someone or u can't find evidence of things happening beyond what anyone, even a group of ppl, *tells u* is happening then u need to rly remain suspicious of the reality of it.

these are asks that the black user got after this stuff happened. so now we've created a new issue from nothing and we're not talking about racism or how ur bullying a black user over literally nothing anymore. now it's suddenly all about poor neilcfreak and her white jewish identity and victimhood from a big, bad black fan. she's gotta make this all make her look like the real victim to cover up how embarrassed and stupid she felt for being called out on saying racist shit.

this is why white ppl need to understand these abusive techniques and get on ppl's ass when they pull this, not just leave it up to black and brown ppl to do. white fandom will cry all the white tears possible and claim ur talking over a white jewish person, being antisemitic. it's an attempt to emotionally manipulate u, keep talking (think of how often claims of antisemitism are used to shut down anyone being pro palestine, it's the same shit). this is racism. this is weaponizing an identity to cause harm to a black person cuz u were caught saying racist shit and want to deflect. if neilcfreak wasn't a huge racist she'd have *also* called this out and told ppl to stop doing this on her behalf. that would require her pulling her head out of her ass first tho and not sending these anons herself prbly.

I was looking for a different receipt to end on but found this instead, so let's talk about this too since we're here

here's neil after this shit went down, trying to make anne rice all kinds of marginalized identities so ppl can excuse her abusive shit too. she never said she was queer and she never identified as trans. u can't just label ppl shit because stuff they said sounds "close enough." she did enough harm as a cishet white woman can u all fuck off already with wanting to find more excuses for never wanting anyone to criticize this piece of shit.

good riddance, wretched bitch.

#interview with the vampire #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #amc iwtv #iwtv 2022 #fandom racism #neilcfreak

19 notes · View notes

eyitzme · 3 months ago

Text

ᵗᵒʳⁿ ᵖᵃᵍᵉˢ ;; ᵈʳᵈᵗ

Summary: You can tear a page out of a book for countless reasons. The book can have things you don't want to read about, things you don't want others to know, or you simply felt like ripping it out. Whatever the case is, it's impossible to act like the pages were never there. No matter what, there will always be something to prove to you that there are pages missing, and the chances are that you'll know exactly why they're missing. Or, Ace Markey thinks about moments in his life relating to his childhood best friend, Min Jeung. Word Count: 427 A/N: My laptop can only work when it's being plugged in because the battery is dead. I have to use my mom's old one for now, but the fan gets turned on the moment you open it and it bothers me. Anyway, on a note that actually relates to this, this is the first chapter of a short multi-chaptered fic I started working on after Chapter 2's final episode because I started liking imagining Min and Ace as best friends, and them being childhood best friends made it even better. They literally are that in my heart, and you can't convince me otherwise. You can just take this as an advertisement to read this on other sites because Tumblr isn't the best place to post multi-chaptered works. If you're interested in reading more, the links to where you can read it in places where it will eventually have the other chapters will be provided at the end. And don't forget your daily clicks!

the future marks a path unknown to us. pebbles poke at my feet, while thorns poke into yours. we will still walk side by side. do you remember?

The first time Ace Markey met Min Jeung was on the first day of first grade.

Ace didn't want to go to school. He had no friends there. In his first grade class, he already knew were going to be some people from kindergarten, but he didn't like any of them, and none of them liked him. Everyone else there were strangers. With so many people telling him not to trust strangers, it made it hard for him to understand why he was being put in a place with so many of them for so long.

Ace's first grade classroom had desks arranged in rows where there were two desks were pushed next to each other. They were placed randomly to help give the children an opportunity to talk to someone they might never have seen before. His desk was next to a stranger. The first thing he noticed about her was that she had really long hair, and some of it was falling over her eyes. He had immediately wondered if she had ever gone to a barbershop before and if he could introduce her to his. She always smiled when he told her his first opinions about her.

His first words to her were a simple, "Hi." He had decided that the new girl couldn't be that bad and was trying to get someone to play with at recess. He had no one else, so he might as well take advantage of what the teacher had tried to do.

The girl looked at him with really bright purple eyes. They looked so unnatural that, back then, he thought they looked weird, and it was good her hair was starting to cover them up. "Hi," she said.

"My name is Ace," he said. "What is your name?"

"Min," she said.

"Where do you come from?"

"My country?"

"No, school."

"Another town."

"You moved here? From where?" Ace had never moved before, but he saw it a lot on TV shows. His past self could never see himself leaving his home to move into another one down the street, let alone leaving the United States of America to live somewhere else entirely.

"I can show you on a map."

"What is a map?"

Min gave him a look he never saw anyone have before. She was suddenly interested in her school supplies. Now, Ace knew Min had thought he was stupid, but back then, he didn't know what he did. All he did know was that he wasn't going to be playing with anyone at recess today.

Short chapter, but that's really how they all are. Anyway, if you want to read more, you can read it on Wattpad or AO3! Please note that the rest of this work will have spoilers for Chapter 1 and Chapter 2. It's just this chapter that didn't have it. If you would rather read more on Tumblr, just ask me for the next part. I won't constantly be updating this on Tumblr though, especially with my laptop deciding it lived a long enough life, so it's up to you to keep asking for new parts. Still, if you got this far, thank you for reading!

#drdt fanfic #ace markey #min jeung #childhood besties

9 notes · View notes

titleknown · 3 months ago

Text

KAIJUNE 2024 #1: BLACK HOLE SUN

You know, that's the thing about the apocalypse. Everyone always acts like it's the end of the world.

The word apocalypse doesn't mean the end of all things, it means a revelation, usually of how fucked shit is. But everyone thinks it's all nuclear winter in the Mojave and Thunderdomes. It's weird how noboody ever gets beyond that. The utilities still work, infrastructure's found a way, most states are intact, hell I'm fucking baffled how the fuck they did it but the Internet Archive people and their fuckoff convoy managed to even keep the net up, even if we only can stream in 480p.

It's just a new normal of city smashing fucking god-monsters we can't do shit about but try to nudge off and clean up after their mess. Everybody knows a guy who knows a guy who got their house smashed by King Diamond or The Twist or whoever. Like politics before, but more literal this time. After the kaiju came out, it wasn't societal collapse but a long, long string of fuckups and failures like global warming on acid while things just... keep happening.

I think it's because the poor bastards are scared of the truth, after the revelation, life continues. Mostly. But sometimes... well, I was paid to write this article about Black Hole Sun, and by fucking god I'm going to write it!

The thing got its nickname from the fact that we kept finding small towns that were fucking gone. Like, not levelled to rubble, not burnt to ashes, just fucking gone. Where there was a place, there was only dust. We figured it was a predator, picking off the weak one by one, and we found a pattern, a spiral shape, so we figured we'd intercept it, take some photos and leave.

The first sign we should have left was the sound. Usually the wake of a kaiju is very loud from everything else running away or very quiet from everything else being dead. But here, it was just... well, the closest I could compare it to was like a whale speaking in tongues, and the tongues were the old-testament kind. The crew swore they could hear it saying something something, but they'd been drinking. Probably a bad idea near a kaiju site, but if you've seen enough shit you know why it sounds reasonable.

Then we saw the environment. It was on a shitty mostly dead highway as it is, but things were just... less there. I know I'm a fucking reporter, I know I do this shit for a living and was even robbed of a fucking pulitzer for it, but I don't know shit better to say what it was like than that it was less. Everything was less itself, colors less, shape less, mass less, everything was just less!

A lot of the shit crumbled to dust when we touched it. I tried to smoke it. I wish I didn't.

It walked up on us when we were asleep. The sound was the first sign, or rather, the absense of it, a silence that rang out loud as a scream. Like it swallowed up the sounds it left behind as it came, like a boat through it's own wake. Most of the crew made it, god bless 'em, two of 'em didn't. It wasn't the ones that were drinking, no, it was if you were close enough, you were gone. Not crushed, not eaten, gone, no rhyme nor reason for why they were the two taken.

I got pictures, of the flat wastes of nothing and the phantasmogoria of the damn thing eating the world it left as it moved, and god if the fucking paycheck wasn't gratifying, but that didn't capture what it was like to see it, not really.

Grandma once said that you could see the Gods emotions on their faces better than you could people's faces, they were too big not to see. Everyone at the time thought she was a mad old bat, but now, I think I get it. When you deal with kaiju as long as I have, you can see their feelings, too tall, too lheavy for this world.

And looking at that thing, I saw that it felt nothing. Not that it didn't feel anything, that it felt only nothing.

I don't know what it wants, I don't even think it wants anything except nothing, but god fucking dammit I hope we can find to fight back, or else...

-DW Devlin, reporter

---------------------------------------------------------

Ability Notes: they do have the ability to create massive storms of hawking radiation and localized, extremely powerful beams, but most of the time they don't really need to. Most things not only die but are simply unmade just by it walking forward and existing in the viscinity.

Bonus Trivia: They have nothing to do with Liquid Miracle, and the reason for their existence is more akin to what happens when a Ligottian law of physics dreams. Strong will and togetherness can resist its unmaking, but that is rare, and rarer still is the will that can push it back.

------------------------------------------------------

So, after being delayed for months upon months, Kaijune 2024 is finally here! In October! Better late than never (I lie to myself!) And it was this fucker who probably caused a huge chunk of the delays! The core idea was simple, paper mache orb with legs, but then I complicated it with the nightmare of attaching said legs and also doing stuff by twisting the paper I used for it to give it texture that made it a nightmare to paint. But I think it came off well.

And also, because at least one person I showed it to was confused by how I made it, it's wildly labyrinthine and dumb.In that all the Kaiju of Kaijunes 2023 and 2024 are actual physical props I made and kitbashed,

Then I took photos of them, using wargame terrain from local game stores as the equivalent of miniature sets, and then did some heavy photomanipulation to fill out the "sky" and do wacky Shenanigans with the lighting. Complex, but I think the results end up gorgeous.

...And, in that grand (exceedingly late) Kaijune tradition, this character and all related narrative elements are under a CC-BY 4.0 license, as long as I, Thomas F Johnson, am credited as their creator. Have fun!

#kAIJU #kaijune #my art #my writing #horror #black hole sun #black hole #monster #kaijune in october #kaijune 2024 #existential dread

8 notes · View notes

dasher85 · 2 years ago

Text

Elucidation

Alhaitham x reader | y/n | you

Slow burn

Part 3

[ When Alhaitham is pressured by the arranged marriage he refuses to deny his feelings any longer. ]

-------------------

[ A week later ]

You were in bed, having a slight fever, having no appetite to eat anything except for some chicken porridge that your mother cooked earlier today.

'Ah. I forgot it was today…' you finally remembered that you need to go to the research site today to take one last recheck about a certain symbol. Knowing that Alhaitham would probably be joining you, you didn't know how to inform him that you're not able to literally go out today.

The door suddenly opened after a few light knocks and you nonchalantly responded to the noise. In utter surprise you didn't expect to see the person who was just inside your thoughts.

"I took a few pictures of the symbols you mentioned". He casually placed the envelope by your room's study table.

"Sorry to trouble you" You casually pulled the covers a little higher only to leave your head. Not that a man has ever entered your room except for your own family members. So it felt a little strange.

You thought he would be leaving right after he sends in the pictures that you never asked him to do in the first place. However, just like how he visited you at the hospital bed, he did all the same even when he's in your own bedroom right now.

"No need to accompany me, I'm alright. My mom will check on me every once in a few hours"

Unlike that time, you managed to properly mention that he didn't need to be here. After all, he usually just likes to do a lot of things on his own.

He placed down the book he had bought along with him and somehow averted his gaze towards you.

"I've been thinking…"

The way he pauses his words mid sentence sometimes takes all your attention towards him.

"...do you find it uncomfortable to have me around?"

That question in particular somehow increases the level of your headache. Why is he suddenly curious about your thoughts after all the days you've spent together with him?

"That's a heart dropping question. Is something troubling you?" You managed to slowly reply back.

He sighed, indirectly indicating that he wasn't satisfied with your reply.

"That's not… you're not answering my question"

"Not at all. I just thought you have other important things to do. So it's alright to go whenever you want, I don't want to take any of your time just to be here."

He nods, without replying a word and continues on reading his book as if he hasn't asked a serious question.

"I'll visit you later tomorrow. Get some rest"

He informed you almost whispering but you still happen to hear him. You finally opened your eyes after the door was closed only to notice that the sun was already setting. He's been there for hours.

[ Two months before your appointed marriage date ]

"Be careful!"

He quickly took hold of your arm, before you could make the wrong steps.

"Thank you"

You mumbled before quickly steading yourself. If you fall again this time, you'll probably be completely engulfed by the desert sands. Not to be found or worse buried alive.

Just like any other time, somehow the Acting Grand Sage still got the time to accompany your research trips despite his current important position.

He was appointed like a year ago for that grand position but you never felt it was anything too special. He's still the same person you knew back before the both of you graduated. It's just that you do think it's surprising that he would reschedule his work just to accompany you.

After all, the research site you're visiting today is not included in his list and yet without actually confirming as usual, he came earlier at the main gate waiting for you this morning.

"Why are you suddenly interested in visiting the site today?"

You finally question him, after the path was much better than before.

"I just want to accompany you" He simply replied as if not particularly interested to share his thoughts.

"Mhmm… I see" and yet you still made an attempt to return a reply which you usually didn't bother to do.

He suddenly stopped on his tracks before fully turning around to face you and you stopped too, following his actions thinking there was danger up front.

"Do I make things difficult for you?" His facial expression was just as calm, it doesn't even match with his question.

You looked at him with eyes widened, unable to understand why he would say such a remark.

"No… I was just curious about what interest you about this particular ruin because it's not listed in the list you wrote before"

He quietly stared back at you as if he has nothing to comment but won't move either and you felt like it's the first awkward situation you've ever had with him.

"Nothing in particular. I just thought you'd get in trouble if I wasn't there to help you"

Does that mean he is just indirectly saying that you're weak and incapable of adventuring alone? Or does he simply care about your safety? You couldn't decide which option was the actual truth. Knowing him for a few years, he doesn't really care about other people unless it's necessary for his own good.

"Yeah, thanks I guess… I'll make sure to learn a little bit about basic martial arts or jog everyday to improve my stamina as well. So you won't need to accompany me as much next time." You nodded with a confident smile.

He heaved a sigh as if he's frustrated about something you have no idea about. Surely, the only thing you expect is he's just annoyed about your answer. Perhaps your plan wasn't considered good enough to him.

"Y/n you surely think…"

Why is his voice suddenly laced with concern and distraught? It's barely distinguishable but you're not in a position to question him even if you notice it too well.

"... I'm not a better option?"

'Oh no… are there any poisonous mushrooms in here?' you secretly thought but clearly you remember there wasn't any in the desert and yet you couldn't help but feel troubled by his weird questions. It’s as if he’s drunk or confused by a poisonous mushrooms.

"Honestly, I wouldn't mind if you'd still want to accompany me. I would feel much better if you were able to but I never want to hinder you from your own schedule."

He finally turns around and starts walking just like he usually does. At least you're now relieved that he doesn't keep asking these questions anymore. Perhaps you're just not used to seeing him talking with such emotion.

The greenish coat he wore, sways along with his unhesitant stride. You always wonder why it never slides down from his right shoulder when it was barely hanging. It's been a year and yet you never once mention it either. At least these things about his outfit really ease your thoughts away from his previous questions.

After walking out from the ruins, you finally confirmed that you've got everything you needed for the report. At least for today, it was all good. As you both were on your way back, it begins to drizzle.

“Hmm... we should get shelter”

You nodded but wasn’t the least worried because you expected the rain to stop soon. He on the other hand has already starts rushing his way to collect nearby dried logs and tree brunches. Although he didn’t explain much about his plans, you only quickly followed his actions and collect some as well.

"Tired? Here."

He hands you a bowl of meat stew just cooked by the campfire that you both struggled to start because the rain suddenly came pouring minutes after. The journey to Sumeru city is still far and since it was getting dark and the rain only got heavier, pausing the journey would be the best option.

You’ve come prepared for the journey but you never once got caught in the rain whenever you're out for research. Today was probably quite unlucky when it comes to the weather.

"I should've walk faster"

You quietly muttered as you looked towards the dark skies away from the warm meal on your hands. It seems evidence that the rain won't stop anytime soon.

"Cold?"

He questions instead, ignoring your remarks.

You shook your head and continued spooning the meal, eating it while it's still warm. The both of you didn't open up any conversations afterwards. At least the moment didn't make you feel uncomfortable or a sense of awkwardness. Perhaps you're used to this type of silence whenever you’re with him. Just serene.

He went on flipping the pages of a hardcover book while you rack your brain to write a draft for the upcoming research report. The rain was still pouring and the campfire at the center is the only source of warmth.

"Alhaitham…" you glanced towards him who was seated opposite you.

You rarely ever called him by his name because there wasn't any reason for you to talk to him in that way, however the question you're about to ask was quite important.

"...are you interested in becoming my bridesman for my wedding?"

You can already guess that he'll instantly reject but it's better to ask than never. He dislikes such events after all. Celebrations and events only means tedious for him.

"No."

You laughed, feeling entertained by his quick simple answer. As expected, he probably wouldn't even attend your wedding even if you gave him a stack of wedding invitations.

"As expected. No matter, I wouldn't want you frowning all day while standing there either"

You jokingly expressed your honest thoughts as you finally returned your gaze back to your paperwork. Seconds after that, you heard him closing his book, zipping it inside his bag and he quietly went inside his sleeping bag facing the other side where you can’t see his face.

'He's definitely annoyed by my laughter' you thought as a small smile appeared on your lips, not even feeling bothered by his attitude.

The next morning, you woke up and prepared to start packing your stuff. The acting Grand Sage was already awake, expressionlessly reading a book, he was all prepared for the journey way earlier than you. Strange, it was still early but he was already done?

You thought he doesn't like waking up too early because he usually came to work a few hours before lunch time.

However upon a closer look, you noticed the book he's reading was upside down and his eyes weren't even moving. He's just blankly staring at it, barely even blinking as if in deep thoughts.

'I better not disturb him too much. He was probably unable to sleep at all' you secretly guessed and went on folding your sleeping bag before packing it inside your bag.

"Let's go. I'm done."

"Oh…" He unhurriedly kept his book inside his bag before standing up to join you.

You couldn't help but smile that he didn't even notice anything until you called out to him. Certainly it's either he's too tired or he's just thinking about something important.

[ One month left ]

"Is being the Acting Grand Sage taking its toll on you?" Usually you won't ask these questions to him because you know he'll always reply with an annoying answer, so you just prefer to keep things unspoken. However he's slowly becoming a little too serious at times or somehow deep in thoughts. So, you’re just concerned about his mental health.

"Really? Do I look tired? It's just your imagination"

Just like that you already regret asking the question.

"Fine, I won't ask anymore" you smiled, not particularly bothered and started to stack up the books you've just read as a reference.

"Where are you going?"

'Strange. Why is he curious about that?' you thought as you met his gaze.

"Not sure, I haven't done any planning. The main point is to exit this suffocating library. I need to take a break…" you paused feeling a little hesitant to ask him but you did anyway.

"Why do you ask? Do you want to come along?"

Unexpectedly he stood up, instantly towering over you. Little to no reply he only nods. You let out a chuckle secretly enjoying how all these years he never actually wanted to join you whenever you're not out for research activities. He won’t even bother asking you before, that’s just how much he doesn’t care.

It was the first time he ever walked side by side with you, especially at Sumeru city. The stall owners greeted you as you frequently buy groceries from them, some students gave you a quick nod displaying a gleeful smile when they saw you, and some of your friends would also greet you as you walked past them. Occasionally some would want to converse a little more with you but seeing the person beside you made them rethink otherwise…

If someone were to compare the both of you, it was like between sunshine and dark clouds. He was all frown while you're just giving out a calm happy expression.

"You have many friends. Do you often spend time with them?" He suddenly spoke over your shoulder.

"Not really, I barely talk with them except with my best friend, you know her. But somehow, people tend to come around" you explained, already used to the commotion surrounding you.

"I feel like going to the Grand Bazaar, maybe I could see a performance or see some interesting things. Just sightseeing" you voiced out your plans before opening one of the bazaar's main doors.

He didn't question and followed along with you.

---------------------------

#alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact alhaitham

124 notes · View notes