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defectivevillain · 3 months ago

Text

wicked irony

pairing: Joe Goldberg/Reader

The reader is not a woman. Otherwise, no pronouns are used and race is ambiguous.

The end of class doesn’t seem to come fast enough. But finally, finally, everyone files out of the classroom. A few of the students send Joe lovelorn gazes, but he only has eyes for you. And you only have eyes for… the bookshelves around the room, apparently. It’s horribly ironic, Joe thinks, that you’re so blatantly restless and disinterested. You’re barely even looking at him. He thinks he loves it.

Joe is underwhelmed and unimpressed with the wide majority of his students, and this semester is no exception. At least, until he reads your first paper…

word count: 7.9k | ao3 version | joe playlist

Warnings: stalking, kidnapping, threats/blackmail. gory imagery.

Sigh. I have a weakness for charismatic and popular characters being frustrated and intrigued by the one person who isn’t affected by them. (cough cough, Felix fic, cough couch, Finnick fic, cough cough, this one…)

This fic is Joe/Reader centric. Again, the reader is either masculine/male or nonbinary. They’re written to not be a woman, basically. I especially love the idea of Joe breaking his pattern and falling for a super queer-presenting person and falling HARD. Come on, we knew this was coming.

I have almost zero canon knowledge. I’ve never actually watched this series—I’ve only seen Trixie and Katya watch it. Canon does not exist to me.

Joe has finally escaped his past. He’s creating something of a life for himself in London. Here, he isn’t Joe Goldberg, obsessive stalker and murderer; instead, he’s Jonathan Moore, literature professor at Darcy College. It’s a humble life, compared to what he had before. Surprisingly, he’s starting to enjoy it.

Except… his students aren’t the brightest. Joe isn’t sure what it is—if he’s distracting them, or if he just isn’t that great of a professor. (The mere thought amuses him. He knows he isn’t the problem.) Ultimately, though, no one seems very engaged in his class. And, even worse, hardly anyone has a grade above a C.

Joe sighs as he reads through another mediocre essay, red ink littered across the margins. He shakes his head in annoyance and writes “D” in the top right corner, before adding it to the pile of graded papers. It’s abundantly clear to him that this semester’s batch of students are just like the last group: unmotivated and incompetent.

Joe grabs the next paper, taking a deep breath and preparing himself for more mediocrity. He’s so accustomed to skipping over the introduction that he nearly neglects the thesis. Joe thinks he’s seeing things at first, but there it is: a well-constructed thesis. He reads through it once, twice. It’s not bad.

But Joe’s not going to get his hopes up, so he continues reading skeptically. It only takes him another paragraph to acknowledge that this student is a good writer. Perhaps even a great one. He only feels more satisfied with each additional page he reads. By the time he gets to the end of the paper, his heart is nearly racing. He’d been waiting for something to ruin it, but nothing happened. That essay was… quite good.

Joe goes back to the first page and stares at the heading, scrutinizing your name at the top of the paper. It bounces around his mind even after he grades the paper and attempts to put it back in the pile; even as he takes it back in a few minutes to read it again.

He soon finds himself looking forward to his next class. You haven’t left his mind, despite the fact that he has no idea what you look or sound like. Regardless, your name lingers in the back of his mind as he carries on with his day, crafting lesson plans and responding to the occasional email. And he finds himself distracted with contemplating just what you could look like.

During his next class, he finds himself actually paying attention during attendance, if only to put a face to the name. You’re near the end of the list, and it takes every ounce of restraint he has not to speed through the list and just call out your name.

Finally, he gets to you and says your name. You raise your hand. His chest lurches as he looks at you, everything clarifying and blurring around you. It’s such a nonchalant gesture. Hell, you didn’t even care to speak. “Welcome,” Joe says before he can stop himself. Your lips are pulled into an awkward, completely ingenuine smile and you nod. You seem confused at the thought of him welcoming you when he didn’t do the same for the other students; and annoyed at the brief attention the remark garners you. Joe updates the attendance, fighting off the urge to smile for some reason.

He can’t fight off his curiosity for long. Twenty, then thirty minutes pass. And he reaches the brink of his patience. His lectures are meant to be interactive, but the majority of the class doesn’t care to participate. You aren’t necessarily vocal, but you’re clearly listening, at the very least. And Joe finds himself eager to hear what you have to say. He asks a question. No one answers. And he lets the room descend into a tense and uncomfortable silence.

Joe looks at you, sharing something of an apologetic grimace. You stare for a moment, before slowly raising your hand. It’s hard for Joe not to acknowledge you within the millisecond, but he waits a few moments before calling on you to make things seem more authentic.

Your answer is nearly perfect. You cite direct evidence from the text in your assertion, referencing multiple implicit themes present from the beginning of the book. Joe nods and thanks you for your answer, internally satiated with the knowledge that his preconceptions about you were correct. You’re brilliant. This class is probably too easy for you.

He manages to exercise inordinate patience and stop himself from keeping you after class. Instead, he resigns himself to a night spent searching for anything and everything he can find on you. Joe’s actually looking forward to it. He wants to learn more about you. You’re clever; you’re undeniably attractive; and you’re entirely unaffected by his machinations. (Joe wants to eat you alive.)

He’s never felt this way about someone before. And his previous infatuations had all been women. That doesn’t seem to matter, though, does it? The feeling he gets in his chest when he looks at you is undeniable. And within the next few classes, he’s surrendering to the urge to get you in a room alone with him.

“Stay behind for a moment?” Joe asks you near the end of one class. He allows his eyes to wander across the room as he asks, making sure his voice is just loud enough for the other students to hear.

“...Sure,” you agree hesitantly. Joe knows he’s left you virtually no choice—asking you in front of the entire group. He did that on purpose, of course. You almost seem to recognize that, as your eyes flit about in recognition of the spotlight he placed you under.

It’s horribly ironic, Joe thinks, that you’re so blatantly restless and disinterested. You’re barely even looking at him.

He thinks he loves it.

Joe takes the proffered opportunity to study you, amused to find that you’re wearing sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. A lot of his students dress up—probably to impress him, he thinks to himself wryly—but here you are, wearing what he can only imagine to be comfortable clothing that you practically threw on. Your hands fidget ever so slightly in your pockets as you explore the room around you, showing no indication of even noticing his presence. Joe studies you for a while longer before finally saying your name to catch your attention.

It’s gratifying to see the way you almost force yourself to drag your gaze towards him. Your eyes meet his and, for a moment, Joe just stands there. Every word he means to say falls to dust on his tongue as he looks at you. You look so fucking bored, as if you’d quite literally rather be anywhere else.

Finally, Joe thinks to himself. A challenge.

He taps his fingers against his desk a few times in faux restlessness, seeing your eyes track the movement. “How’d you like the book?” Joe asks after a few moments. He doesn’t even really need to ask—he knows exactly what you thought of it, because you had written about it rather transparently. Somehow, he still wants to hear your answer anyways.

“It was a book,” you respond vaguely. And Joe feels a genuine laugh crawl out of his throat. He’s just as startled by it as you are.

“That’s a diplomatic way of putting it, yes,” he agrees. You were the only one to genuinely analyze the rhetorical style and consider how it impacted the story. You were the only one to find fault with the author’s pretentious language and shitty metaphors. “I must admit, I was impressed with your essay,” Joe continues. He reread it several times. He closed his eyes and imagined you sitting in the library—or perhaps even in your apartment—writing the paper, a concentrated expression on your face. He stood outside of your building and stared up at your drawn curtains, envisioning you typing away on your laptop. But you don’t need to know that.

Truthfully, when Joe began looking into you, he was annoyed to find that you have little to no social media presence. The few accounts you have are private. Joe had to do a bit of work—and, even then, he doesn’t have nearly as much information as he should. He’s forced to actually pay attention to your answers now.

“Thanks," you say, seeming surprised as you blink at his compliment. He’s broken out of his thoughts.

Joe doesn’t bother responding to your gratitude. “You’re doing well in this class,” he states instead. You’re the only person with an A. Joe has earned himself something of a reputation on campus for being the strict and exacting American professor with rigorous standards. Yet here you are, passing his class with ease. He would be annoyed, if he didn’t find you so intriguing.

You don’t seem to know what to say to him. Joe continues speaking. “What program are you in?” he asks, despite already knowing the answer. Communication. Transfer student. Perfect GPA. Peer tutor at the writing center on campus.

“Communication,” you respond, unknowing of his internal dialogue. Joe hums, pretending that information is new.

“And how do you like the program?” he continues, secretly a bit entertained by your short answers.

“It’s good," you respond. And wow, you’re giving him absolutely nothing to work with. It’s almost amusing. Joe feels his lips quirking at the edges. You’re not even trying to hide your disinterest. It’s fascinating.

“Just good?” Joe prompts you.

“I’m enjoying it,” you answer. There’s an awkward, tense silence for several long moments. Joe doesn’t make a move to break it, and neither do you. Then, just as he begins to think he’ll have to keep it going, you continue speaking. “Did you need me for something, Professor?” you eventually ask.

Joe’s almost impressed that you had the courage to say that to his face. He was convinced he would have you trapped in conversation for a few minutes longer. It appears he’s underestimated you.

“I was just curious about you,” Joe admits. You have no idea how dangerous his curiosity is. He is going to pick you apart. (And, if he’s feeling particularly merciful, he’ll even put you back together.) “Your writing is quite well-developed. I wanted to inquire about your career goals, see if there was anything I could do to assist you.”

“Oh,” you say. You’re shifting your balance ever so slightly as if uneasy. Your backpack’s on your shoulders still, as if you’re going to just bolt out of the room at a moment’s notice. You really don’t want to be here, do you? “Well, thank you. I appreciate that. I don’t think I’m going to be pursuing literature, necessarily, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

Damn it, you are good. You buried your disinterest in faux gratitude. Joe was almost fooled for a moment. He’s suddenly scrambling to find something to say, something to force you to stay in this room, if only so he can pick you apart more—

But you’re already walking away, taking the opportunity you’ve created for yourself to escape. Joe stares after you for a moment, almost in disbelief. He hardly got anything out of you. You pretty much brushed him off and continued on about your day. You threw him off for a fraction of a second, long enough for you to get away.

Did that really just happen?

Joe must be getting rusty.

Joe is quickly learning that you’re a bit of an interesting case. You’re a lot different from the people he would usually go after. He’d almost venture to call you reclusive, because you’re not one to go to parties on campus or hang out with friends very often. You’re independent, which he would ordinarily appreciate—if it didn’t make tracking you down so damn difficult. You’re an unobtrusive presence on campus, clearly content with fading into the background. And your efforts work rather well for you, it seems. Of course, you can’t fool Joe. He would never be bored by you. Anything and everything you do just fascinates him. You’ve been fixed in his sights since that first paper you submitted to him weeks ago.

This fascination is how he finds himself walking into one of the humble coffee shops on campus, pretending to look at the menu when he’s really tracking you down. He knows you tend to come here after your Intercultural Communication class on Wednesdays—and, after a few moments, he finally spots you. You’re nestled in one of the booths in the corner of the room, typing away on your laptop as usual. That’s one of the least surprising things he’s learned about you: you’re rather studious. He didn’t even need to glimpse into your apartment window to learn that, although he did anyway.

Joe feels himself moving before he can stop himself. A few steps and he’s standing at the edge of your table, waiting for you to tear your attention away from your busywork. It takes a few seconds longer than he’d like, and he eventually abandons his patience. “Fancy seeing you here,” he remarks.

You finally look up from your laptop screen, your eyes briefly finding him. “Professor Moore,” you say, momentarily startled by his presence. “What brings you here?”

“Just stopping by for some coffee before my office hours,” he answers with a slight smile.

“…Well, I should leave you to it, then," you say smoothly. You predictably don’t take the bait—the reminder of his office hours—and instead practically dismiss him. His hand twitches at his side. “It was good to see you.” Liar. You look so uncomfortable. It only makes Joe more persistent.

“Nonsense, I can spare some time for my best student.” Joe waves off your concern, before promptly leaning down and taking a seat in the booth across from you. You’re stoic for the most part, but a flicker of surprise and bewilderment passes across your face. Joe resists the urge to smile at the sight, instead focusing on you.

“How’s your paper coming along?” he asks. You look suspicious and wary. Damn it, that’s right. Joe’s not supposed to know that you started that, is he? Finding the password to your school account had been far too easy, though. From there, he was free to browse your many assignments. And Joe devoured them all—especially the ones for his class. (God, that sounds pathetic, even for him.) “Don’t tell me you haven’t started it yet,” he adds jokingly, jabbing at your quick work pace. You’re at least a few weeks ahead of the course schedule. He can’t bring himself to be irritated by it.

“I have some ideas, but nothing concrete yet," you answer.

“Good, good,” Joe says. “And what are you working on now, may I ask?”

“Something for my Digital Activism class,” you respond. Joe looks at you expectantly and you continue. “We have to pick a digital activism movement and use content analysis to determine its efficacy.”

He sits for a bit, watching you continue to ignore him. He’ll occasionally take a sip of his drink but, otherwise, he’s unabashedly staring. Either you’re particularly good at ignoring him, or you just haven’t noticed. Joe gets the feeling it’s the former.

“I have to get to class,” you announce at some point, closing your laptop and slipping it into your backpack. Joe almost laughs. You’re not getting out of this that easily. Absolutely not. Not again.

“Are you going to Winslow Hall?” Joe asks. He knows you are. Even if he hadn’t checked your schedule—which he did—he would be able to come to that conclusion. The college isn’t huge, so a lot of the liberal arts classes are in the same collection of buildings. “I can walk you there,” he offers politely.

“...Okay.” You’re clearly displeased with this turn of events, and confused by the gesture. Joe doesn’t give you any time to retract the remark, instead putting his jacket on and waiting for you to do the same. You’re sneaking suspicious glances at him every few moments. Usually his charismatic attitude isn’t met with such disregard and wariness. It’s a strange departure from the past. Then again, he’s sort of reinventing himself here in London. (Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself.)

Joe heads out of the coffee shop with you, walking at your side and taking note of how you almost seem to shrink on yourself as passersby stare at the both of you. No doubt they’re wondering just who you are—Joe hasn’t earned a reputation for being particularly social. And he has quite a few admirers across campus. You’re almost wilting under everyone’s gazes, your hands fidgeting with the straps of your backpack restlessly. You probably haven’t realized, but your somewhat alternative appearance is only making you stand out more when next to him. It’s kind of funny.

“Here we are,” Joe announces after your rather uneventful walk. “See you in class tomorrow,” he says, letting a charming smile slip onto his face.

“Bye,” you say with an awkward, strained smile. He’s caught your genuine smile from afar—this tense pull to your lips is the furthest thing from it. It’s like you’re determined not to let your guard down in front of him. And within moments, you’ve already entered the classroom—as if you’re fleeing from him.

In the coming weeks, as the semester starts to wind down, Joe decides to adjust his curriculum slightly to make the final assignment a partner project. It’ll boost some of the slackers’ grades—assuming they actually put in the work. But he knows that’s not the real reason why he’s giving the class this work. The real reason is sitting in the back of the class: you. Inexplicably, Joe wants to observe you speaking to someone else. He wants to see how you act when you’re forced to speak to someone else, to a peer. How will it differ from how you speak to him? Are you naturally wary, or is he special? He’s smirking at the thought.

This partner project is how Joe currently finds himself in between the bookshelves of the campus library, subtly peeking through the gaps in the books to look at you and your partner. He’s hanging on to your every word, regardless of how mundane or unassuming it may be. There’s something positively captivating about you. (And this feels like it should be a blow to his pride, somehow. Joe has watched people before, many times. He’s never sunk to such depths: watching you do virtually nothing as you complete your schoolwork.)

Then again, you’re not a particularly scandalous or public person. This is the best he can do. You like to keep to yourself, after all—spending hours in your apartment with your eyes glued to your laptop, or your phone, or a book. Joe shakes his head in annoyance, forgetting himself for a moment.

“What do you think of Professor Moore?” your classmate asks curiously. Joe suddenly snaps back to attention, feeling himself lean forward and peek through the gaps in the bookshelves to study the look on your face. That was rather fortuitous.

You’re frowning at the question. “I’m not sure,” you say after a moment. The fluorescent lights of the library hum in impatience. Joe breathes slowly. “He kind of gives off serial killer vibes.”

Joe is sure there’s a huge chunk of context he’s missing, but he still has to duck below the shelves to hide himself as he laughs. Oh, you have no idea. His shoulders are shaking with mirth. It takes concerted effort for him to reel himself back in.

“How?” your classmate asks, clearly thrown by your honesty.

“I don’t know,” you say hesitantly. You’re acting a bit uncertain, but Joe gets the feeling you’re just pretending for your classmate’s benefit. After all, you’ve made little effort to hide your skepticism whenever he speaks to you individually. “He fits the demographic. White man, conventionally attractive. Kind of emotionless.” Conventionally attractive. That’s not even a compliment—it’s just the truth. But it somehow satisfies Joe anyways.

“I guess," the woman responds, clearly unconvinced.

“Why do you ask?” you question her.

“Just wondering,” she shrugs. “He seems to talk to you a lot.”

Joe can see your eyebrows furrow from his position behind the bookshelves. You don’t exactly look pleased at the thought. “I don’t think so,” you say to your classmate. You don’t have anything else to say on the matter, supposedly, because you turn your attention back to the project.

This is fun, Joe thinks. Surprisingly so.

Unfortunately, you soon part ways with your classmate to return to your apartment. Joe follows you on the way back, annoyed at the knowledge that he’ll never get another chance like that again: one to hear your honest, unfiltered opinion on him. At least, not without asking you directly. Your words ring in his ears, even after he returns home that night and gets ready for bed.

The next few weeks are par for the course. Despite his best efforts, he can’t quite seem to get you alone—save for your regular visits to the coffee shop. But that’s not enough for Joe, and he knows it. He needs so much more. He needs to sink his claws into you, rip your rib cage apart until he can finally see that damn heart of yours. And then maybe, just maybe, he’ll finally understand you.

He’s… not doing well with this whole “reinvention” thing. Ah well.

It isn’t until one early afternoon that his resolve finally starts to weaken. Joe’s sitting in his office, scrolling through his inbox when he finds an email from you—buried between the bureaucratic nonsense sent from the university and automated notifications from the grading system. His heart jumps unpleasantly, until he sees the headline of the email: “Class Tomorrow.” That doesn’t bode well. You’re probably not going.

Indeed, as he opens the message and skims through it, his eyes find the important parts: “sick” and “absence”; and then, “apologies for the inconvenience.” Despite it all, you’re formal and polite. He appreciates the fact that you notified him of your absence: so many of his students will ditch class without warning. It’s nothing more than a common courtesy, but somehow, it’s still rather rare. He has an attendance policy on his syllabus, but it is often ignored. Joe shakes his head and returns his attention to your email. Then he reads it again. And a third time.

He scoffs at himself. What the hell is he doing, reading a simple email over and over again? Is that really the best he can do? Joe sighs and refocuses his thoughts on the remaining emails sitting in his inbox, fighting off thoughts of you.

As it turns out, rereading your email is far from the best thing Joe can do. He can do much better, like stand outside of your apartment and look through your windows. His eyes explore the scene: the tissue box and unusually cluttered table near your couch, the somewhat exhausted look on your face, the uncharacteristic lethargy to your movements. You look kind of miserable.

You must have a fever, because you’re only wearing a tank top and shorts. Joe doesn’t think he’s seen this much of your skin before—this fall hasn’t been a particularly warm one, so he’s used to seeing you in sweatpants, jeans, sweatshirts, sweaters… He is absolutely not used to this—was not prepared to feel this uncomfortable stirring in his gut, this horrible restlessness and urge to get moving, to do something to distract himself from whatever this is—

Joe rubs a hand over his face and takes a slow breath. Get a hold of yourself, he admonishes himself. He continues studying your apartment from his vantage point, finding that, even in the throes of your sickness, you’ve still kept it relatively clean. That’s admirable, if a bit foolish. You head to your couch and throw a blanket over yourself. Joe watches as you drift off, checking his watch. It’s not very late yet—you usually go to bed later. You must be rather fatigued.

Joe eventually leaves, if only because the night air is getting uncomfortably chilly. He spends the rest of the night grading and preparing for his next lesson. He wonders when you’ll get better, when you’ll return to his classroom. You’re not the type to miss lectures, Joe can already tell. So the fact that you’re absent is… a bit worrying. Or, it would be worrying, if he were the type to get stressed about things like that.

Days pass, and Joe is forced to settle for your occasional emails—and the glimpses of you he catches from outside your apartment building. You’ve missed three classes at this point, interspersed across a week and a half. He isn’t sure whether to expect you today. You didn’t send an email like normal, but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

The universe almost seems to be poking fun at him, because as he settles at his desk and muses, you walk through the door. “Back in the land of the living, hm?” Joe asks in lieu of a greeting. You sigh and place your backpack down, getting to your seat. He takes in your appearance, finding that you look worn out but still marginally better than before. He hopes you took those antibiotics your doctor prescribed.

“For now,” you respond with a tired smile. You look exhausted. Joe doesn’t realize he utters that thought aloud until he hears you respond. “I know,” you say. Another student would be embarrassed at the thought, but you don’t seem to care.

“Well, don’t go falling asleep on me,” Joe says teasingly, if only because social etiquette demands it of him. Secretly, he wouldn’t mind if you fell asleep. The thought of your wariness and skepticism slipping away, leaving you entirely vulnerable…

“No promises,” you huff as you get your laptop out, entirely unaware of the dark turn his thoughts have taken.

“Let me know if you need any assistance with catching up,” he offers. You both know you won’t need it.

“I will, thanks,” you respond amicably. Your attention is focused on your screen for a moment, your eyes shifting ever so slightly as you read something. Then you blink and look back up at him. “I watched the lectures, so hopefully I’ll be okay.”

“Ah, very good,” he smiles. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine, then.”

Soon enough, the other students begin to file into the room. He allows them a few moments to get settled, before diving into today’s shorter lecture. Joe had allocated some time at the end of class for the partner projects, if only to make things easier on himself. Now, he won’t have to sneak around in the library to hear your conversation with your classmate. (Although, last time was certainly interesting in its own right.)

Joe fights with the urge to stare at you the entire time, instead letting his eyes wander across the room as he subtly eavesdrops on your conversation.

“Are you feeling better?” your classmate asks.

“Yeah, sort of," you answer her. “Just tired. I got the analysis done before I got sick, though.” Of course you did, Joe thinks. Of course you did.

“Well, let me know if you need anything," she says, in a voice dripping with concern and something more… intimate. Joe feels an ugly feeling settle at the pit of his stomach.

“Okay, thanks,” you say blankly. Jesus, you’re a brick fucking wall. She’s clearly flirting with you. Either you’re oblivious—which Joe somewhat doubts, given the perceptiveness you’ve exhibited in the past—or you’re just uninterested. It’s intriguing. Almost impressive, actually.

As the two of you continue to work on your project, Joe catches bits and pieces of your conversation—interspersed between his unfortunate lapses in attention as he’s forced to answer a few students’ questions. But then the class is ending and you’re leaving. He can’t quite stop himself from staring after you as you go, nor can he convince himself to stop going to that coffee shop every time you go.

He finds you there the next day, in the same booth you’re always in. Joe is almost ready to think you’re doing this on purpose. You’re not even making it difficult. The same time, the same place, the same day of the week… Come on. He thought you were a bit of a challenge. Joe slides into the booth across from you, settling into the seat that is starting to become his.

“Hey, Professor,” you say, not even looking up from your screen.

“You can call me Jonathan, you know,” Joe says with a bit of friendly inflection. He very nearly slips and introduces himself as Joe. Something about you makes him want to be honest with you, if only to provoke you into some sort of reaction.

“I’d rather not,” you respond seamlessly, a pinched expression on your face. Usually, that would be more than enough for a student to fall at his feet. He almost frowns, but manages to resist the urge. Perhaps he needs to try a different tactic.

“Is your schedule settled for next semester?” he asks instead.

“Yeah,” you confirm casually.

“What classes are you taking?” he asks. It’s like pulling teeth. Are you doing this on purpose?

“Just communication classes,” you answer. “And a history class, I think. Some gen-ed, I don’t remember the name of it.”

“Exciting.” He raises his brows, willing you to look at him. You spare him a momentary glance, before returning your attention to your schoolwork. Is whatever you’re doing really more intriguing than he is? He almost wants to be offended. Almost.

“Not really,” you dismiss the remark.

He sits with you silently for a while, just watching you write. Joe has to admit, he’s stewing a little bit. You’re not even giving him the time of day. But his patience starts to pay off, as he catches you sending him confused glances.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, finally addressing him. You close your laptop screen and give him your full attention; and Joe gets a sudden rush of adrenaline.

“Pardon?” he manages to ask, his tongue feeling slightly thick in his mouth.

“Why are you doing this?” you repeat yourself, gesturing to the two of you and the coffee shop around you. “Sitting here, asking me these questions.”

“I want to get to know you," he answers immediately. That is the complete truth, for once. Unfortunately for you, that desire is far from harmless.

“Why?”

“Is it really so hard to believe?” Joe counters instead, tactfully avoiding the question. He lets a charming smile rise on his lips. The gesture only seems to disconcert you.

“Yes, it is,” you answer flatly. “What’s your endgame?”

Bold of you to assume he has an endgame. You’re absolutely right, of course. He absolutely has an endgame. He always does. “I’m just making conversation,” Joe says innocently.

“Okay.” You’re clearly unconvinced.

“It’s getting late,” Joe observes, casting a pointed glance through the dark windows at the front of the shop. “I’ll walk you home,” he offers.

“No, it’s okay,” you deny him. You’re too smart for your own good. “I’ll be fine,” you say. And oh, you really, really would be. You would be so much better off walking home alone. But that’s just not in the cards for you tonight.

“I insist,” Joe says firmly. You’re silent, clearly annoyed but sensing he isn’t going to relent. You know he’s got you trapped now. He shrugs his jacket on and watches you do the same, waiting for you to gather up your things before heading out of the coffee shop.

The two of you are quiet for a few minutes. Joe has his hands shoved in his pockets and he’s walking ahead of you, anticipating what’s to come. He can’t say he’s been this excited before. But you’re different from the others.

“You seem like you know where you’re going,” you say suspiciously.

Shit. That’s a harsh reality check. “I assume you live in one of the residence halls on campus." Joe thinks quickly. “Am I incorrect?”

“The dorms are back there,” you point out, glancing behind you momentarily before returning your attention to him. “And you’ve been walking ahead of me.”

“I take long strides; I’m tall," Joe justifies.

“You’re not that tall.” You roll your eyes. “And I can walk quickly, so it’s not that.” You seem completely convinced, confident. You’re difficult to throw off, almost unshakeable even as you unknowingly approach a line you can’t come back from.

“You don’t seem to trust me,” Joe eventually remarks, after sensing that your doubt is still very much present.

“I don’t,” you agree.

“Why not?”

“You don’t make sense to me," you admit. “You’re… I don’t know.” Joe waits patiently. He’s curious to hear how far you’ll go. “You’re elusive. You’re constantly acting, pretending. I’ve never seen you look authentic.”

“A professor has to act a certain way, you understand,” Joe says somewhat dryly, secretly a bit annoyed by your stubbornness. You’re treading on thin ice and you don’t even realize it. His hand is twitching at his side.

“Sure,” you acquiesce. “But you’re always acting. Even when you think you aren’t.” That’s… more accurate than you could ever know.

“I see,” Joe says.

“You act like… you want something from me,” you continue, studying him for a moment. “And I have no idea what it is.”

“Maybe I just want your company,” Joe replies.

“That’s not enough,” you respond far too quickly.

“Why not?” He asks.

“Don’t pretend to be offended now,” you scoff, shoving your hands in your pockets. You look very restless and apprehensive, your eyes flitting around him as if waiting for him to make a move of some sort.

You both walk in silence for a few more minutes.

“I don’t know anything about you, you realize,” you continue. Joe’s so surprised to hear that remark that he just stares in disbelief. “You’re hard to track down. Practically nonexistent on university websites. It’s like you just… appeared.”

The irony of that statement isn’t lost on Joe, but it will certainly be lost on you. Because you’re just as difficult to track down. Getting to this point—spending time with you, alone and unguarded—took him practically the entire semester.

“What do you want to know?” Joe asks, because he’s nothing if not charitable. His heart is roaring in his ears. Things don’t typically go like this. He’s not supposed to be the one being interrogated.

You shrug helplessly. “I don’t know. Something, I guess. Something to prove you’re an actual human being, not just an empty husk.”

Damn. Damn.

“Did I hit a nerve?” you ask. Joe blinks and there’s an entertained quirk to your lips. Another blink and it vanishes. “Whoops,” you say carelessly, clearly not very bothered by it.

“You don’t seem very apologetic,” Joe notes calmly.

“I get the feeling you’re not that great of a person,” you say.

Jesus fucking Christ. Joe genuinely freezes for a moment, forgetting to walk alongside you. This entire interaction is giving him whiplash. Joe is so used to dominating the conversation—steering it at his will, until he gets exactly what he wants. But here you are, casually demolishing his plans and laying him out to dry in the same breath. Is he really so predictable, for you to take a simple glance at him and break through all of his defenses? Surely not.

Joe shakes his head and catches up to you. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone,” he eventually says. That’s about what a normal person would say in this situation, right? Sure.

“Yeah, you’re probably not used to hearing that, are you?” you huff. You’re smiling now—honest to God, smiling. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you smile so genuinely before. What the fuck?

“You realize I have control over your grades,” Joe says, the statement leaving his lips before he can think it through. It’s… not the best response he’s crafted, but he supposes it’ll do.

You don’t seem the least bit affected by the implicit threat. “Are you really threatening me?” you ask, clearly amused. “Everyone else in your class is failing. Tanking my grades would only reflect poorly on you.”

You’re perceptive. Super perceptive. And yet you have no idea just how much danger you’re in right now. And yet you’ve never even noticed the persistent shadow following you across campus, lurking outside your apartment. “You’ve thought this through,” Joe remembers to say.

“Not really,” you dismiss the thought. “Just saying. Besides, it’s near the end of the semester.”

“It is,” he agrees. Somehow that remark is what ushers in the finality for him. You’re right: finals are next week. His class doesn’t have a final. With the end of the semester, Joe won’t have an excuse to see you regularly anymore. He’ll track you down at that one coffee shop, lurk near your apartment, sure. But that’s not enough for him.

“You almost sound disappointed,” you notice. Because of course you do.

“Competence is increasingly rare these days,” Joe says. The night air almost seems to warn him after that comment, rustling through his hair and sending a persistent chill through his bones.

“You do have something of a reputation for being a stickler, don’t you?” you murmur.

“No one here knows how to write,” he huffs.

At that, the air between you falls silent once more—complete with a tangible, stifling tension. Your eyes flit about restlessly, never seeming to settle on any one thing for long. You’re steadily avoiding his gaze, as if meeting his eyes will confirm your suspicions. (It certainly will.) Joe allows it, if only because the sight amuses him.

“This is me,” you then say, as the two of you stop in front of a nondescript building. It’s not you—you don’t live here. Your building is down a block or two. Joe just arches a brow.

“You don’t want me to know where you live?” he asks casually, before he can stop himself. Joe’s getting closer and closer to crossing that same line he knows he can’t come back from. But damn it, what else is there to do? Moving to London, adopting this new identity… none of it quelled that visceral, manipulative desire in his chest.

“What do you mean?” you ask slowly, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Joe has a choice to make. He can play dumb, let the conversation fall to silence and allow you to walk into that building you certainly don’t live in. He can turn his back, pretending not to see you sneak out of the building minutes later and head to where you actually live. He can give you that small mercy.

…or…

“You don’t live here,” Joe asserts. You’re frozen in front of him. He finds himself satisfied to know he provoked a reaction in you, no matter how small. He can’t quite give up the game now—he’s just getting started. “Come on, then,” he says, putting a hand on your shoulder and steering you away from the building.

“Where are we going?” you question.

“To your apartment,” Joe answers.

You look unsettled, genuinely nervous. Joe feels a smirk rising on his lips before he can hide it. He grabs your forearm and leads you out of this building, heading down the sidewalk and towards your apartment building. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” you say at some point.

You’re going to wish you did. “Not exactly,” Joe settles for saying, when he senses you’re still waiting for an answer.

You stare at him for a moment, before stiffening. You almost seem to find something in his eyes. “I can walk without your assistance,” you snap, trying to break out of his grip. Joe just tightens his hold on your arm. He’s never been this close to you before: close enough to see the streetlights reflecting in your eyes, the unnerved pull to your lips, the tension stretching across your shoulders.

“Don’t be difficult,” Joe says patronizingly, if only to irritate you a bit more. You look furious at the remark and he smiles, continuing to lead you towards your building.

“Should’ve trusted my gut,” you mutter quietly, talking to yourself.

“You should’ve,” Joe agrees, ushering you into the lobby and guiding you to the elevators. With the elevator’s arrival, he leads you into the elevator before finally, regretfully, removing his grip. Upon pressing the button for your floor, he’s satisfied to find fear flickering across your face—as you evidently realize he knows exactly where your apartment is. Joe wants to burn that memory into his mind forever, watching your reaction over and over again to pick it apart.

The elevator ride is quick and painless. At least, it is for him. Joe notices that you’re getting fidgety, though. And when the doors slide open to reveal your floor, you hover in the doorway. Joe just sighs, putting a hand on your back and leading you to your apartment. You only seem to be more disturbed as he does so.

“Well?” he demands somewhat impatiently, after a few moments pass and you don’t say anything. You haven’t made a move to unlock your door yet.

“I don’t have my keys,” you answer. He huffs at the attempted lie.

“Left pocket of your jacket,” Joe hums, looking at you expectantly. He watches as your hand explores your left pocket, emerging with your keys in your palm. “There you go,” he says with a nod. And if you looked afraid before, you look completely terrified now.

“Go on, then,” he urges you. After a few seconds pass and you don’t move, he takes the keys from your hand and swiftly unlocks the door. “After you,” Joe says, gently pushing you into the room and following after you.

He takes in the space greedily, connecting the objects to how they looked from outside. “Nice place,” Joe eventually says. You’re silent.

Truthfully, things don’t usually go this quickly. Usually he gets into a relationship first, then manipulates the other person until he’s satisfied. But Joe can’t discredit you—he knows you’re not foolish enough to fall for that. You were suspicious from the outset, so he had to abandon his typical methods. It’s a nice change of pace, though: you know exactly how dangerous he is.

And he doesn’t realize he’s uttered that first sentence aloud until he sees the look on your face. “You do this frequently, then?” you ask. “What, did you do this in America before you got here?”

Joe keeps silent, knowing you’ll decipher the truth. Indeed, your face falls and you bury your head in your hands for a moment—clearly sensing the gravity of the situation. He gives you a moment to yourself, instead directing his attention to the space around him. It does remind him of you, somehow. And isn’t that a frightening thought?

“What happens now, then?” you ask quietly. You don’t appear nearly as confident, now that you’re pinned under his gaze. “Will you kill me?”

“No,” Joe responds far too easily. He doesn’t ever want this game to end. No one has challenged him quite like you do. And he’s certain that, even when he seems to have you under his thumb now, you’ll find a way to make things interesting.

“Why not?” you whisper.

You’re too interesting. Joe keeps the thought to himself, his hand exploring the adjacent wall and running over the various posters and photographs you have hung up. He’s seen your apartment from the outside, but this is the first time he’s actually been inside it.

“This apartment isn’t big enough for two people,” you state, as if that’s your most pressing concern. Joe chuckles.

“Mine is,” he remarks, watching in delight as you process the implications of that statement. Several emotions pass across your face: dread, fear, anger. Then something like resolve gleams in your eyes and you move to get up. But Joe’s standing in front of you before you can even begin to head for the door. “Don’t bother. You won’t escape me.”

And you wouldn’t know, but you lost your chance at escape from the very moment you turned in that first essay. You surrendered yourself to his surveillance as soon as you walked into the classroom the next day. And your efforts at subverting his attention have only drawn him closer.

Joe stands in front of you for a while, before guiding you to sit on your couch. He bustles about the room, grabbing an empty backpack and beginning to explore the room. He goes to your closet first, taking a few outfits and folding them up before placing them in your bag.

“What are you doing?” you eventually ask, clearly unnerved by his silence.

“Gathering your things,” he answers easily, grabbing a few things from your bathroom and stuffing them into the bag. “You won’t be back here for a while.”

Joe knows he’s only unnerving you more, with the way he’s mechanically making his way through your apartment as if he knows it like the back of his hand. He hears a startled inhale of breath as he grabs your medications and fights off a smile. Yes, you have no idea just how much he knows about you. You’re only beginning to grasp it, because he wants to unsettle you.

“Shall we?” Joe hums a few minutes later, slinging the bag he prepared for you over his shoulder. He doesn’t bother to wait for your response before latching his hand on your wrist and tugging you along after him.

The elevator ride is silent. Joe realizes you’re finally looking at him. To think… all this time, all it took was a few drastic measures to thoroughly ensnare you. It doesn’t quite matter that you look disturbed—the fact of the matter is that you’re staring at him, trying to pick him apart the same way he’s been dissecting you.

When the elevator reaches the first floor and the doors slide open, Joe’s hand finds your wrist again and he leads you after him. The cool night air meets you once more. There are only a few people out this late at night, but he’s brutally aware of how uncomfortable you must look. Coming to an idea, Joe’s hand slips down to your hand and he interlaces your fingers. He can nearly feel your hand trembling in his. Your discomfort can now be interpreted as uneasiness being spotted on the street, holding hands with him. No one will understand just how much danger you’re in as you walk alongside him, pliant in his grip as he leads you towards your new cage.

Joe looks up to the polluted night sky, entirely void of stars, and smiles.

Reader, chuckling: I'm in danger.

thanks for reading! <3

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kupidachillea · 2 months ago

Text

Achilles x You x Patroclus hcs

Author note: this took way too long. But this is respond to the request I got for more of these two and the reader. Ngl- I’m with them- I’m a sucker for those boys (Patroclus save me-)

TW (Trigger warning): Not much. It starts off as fluff then slowly branches into angst sort. Has a few Yandere themes. Achilles being possessive along with Patroclus. Slightly out of character (but hey, it’s a fan fic). Achilles and Patroclus are lonely lads and want a third-

CW (Content warning)⚠️: Slight coercion, manipulation (?), drugging with magical fruit. Forced imprisonment (?), Achilles and Patroclus are being selfish. This takes place in the modern world.

Basic summary: What happens when you decide to visit the underworld and meet two long dead heroes? Do you make new friends and form a bond or do you awaken something darker..?

🌿- You were granted permission to visit the underworld. A privilege that wasn’t given to many. It wasn’t as simple as finding a secret passage and letting yourself in.

🏺- No, Hades had gotten more stricter with all that. Not like the days of old where many heroes and mortals were able to just waltz on inside the land of the dead. You, however, were blessed enough to have the opportunity to explore and experience this world. Hades was kind enough to pardon you. As long as you followed a few simple rules of course.

🌿- One such rule was ‘Do not eat of any fruit or food in the land of the dead.’ Of course you took in his words and tried to honour them as best you could..however the moment you were granted access, that important rule slipped your mind. Now only full with excitement and wonder.

🏺- You would traverse through the foreign terrain and territory of the underworld. Occasionally seeing Hermes and giving him a greeting or so. You saw unique plants and creatures..not to mention the Shades.

🌿- For the most part the Shades were like people, living their lives in the Asphodel fields. Most of them paid you know mind while others would give you a simple wave.

🏺- Eventually though m you find yourself in the Elysian. You weren’t aware that you had traveled so far until a certain fiery blonde approached you.

🌿- He was a bit taller than you, piercing green eyes and olive skin. He looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place where you had seen him before. “A mortal in the land of the dead? Haven’t seen one in years…” He would mutter. A slight confused smirk on his face as he took you in.

🏺- He had that thick Greek accent that Hades would have and that’s when it hit you..this must be Achilles. He was a bit surprised to see a human all the way down here unscathed but he actually didn’t mind all that much, especially after you introduced yourself.

🌿- The two of you got to talking as you both walked through the valley together. He would ask you about how you ended up down here and you would explain your story. Of course he was a bit confused but he seemed to understand for the most part. It’s been awhile since he had a conversation with the living..and he was enjoying this little blessing in disguise.

🏺- Soon enough you both stumbled upon another man. He was a bit taller than Achilles (even if he was sitting by a tree you could tell) and his hair was a dark brown with lovely curls..his eyes were as grey as a brewing storm. His skin darker than the blonde next to you and he had visibly more scars than Achilles.

🌿- It took you a moment to realise that this was Patroclus; only when Achilles went up to greet the other did it finally click in your head.

🏺- Achilles obviously introduced you to his companion. And from there you all talked and got to know each other better. By the end of your visit you all made arrangements for you to come back and meet them.

🌿- So over the course of the next few days you’d come down to the under world just to check up on the pair of ancient warriors. You’d talk to them about life in the 21st century and they would teach about the ancient world.

🏺- Obviously you took this to your advantage. Who needs google when you have the (not so) living proof right in front of you?

🌿- But unbeknownst to you, a new feeling started to emerge inside both men. They liked you…they both did…every time you would come down to meet them, they dreaded sending you away when it was time to leave.

🏺- They hated it. They couldn’t help but worry. They didn’t think it was right. How could they protect you if you weren’t with them? Anything could happen once you left the safety of the Elysian.

🌿- They both ended up talking and discussing a plan..a way to keep you down here with them. There’s no harm in that..right?

🏺- “We’re just trying to protect the poor dear…right?” Patroclus would say, as if he was trying to justify what they were about to do to you on your next visit.

🌿- Achilles would scoff as an impish smile graced his lips. “Of course..the mortal should be grateful. It’s the only right decision..”

🏺- They both nodded to each other. Their plan was set.

🌿- The next time you came to visit, it went as usual. You all talked, joked, and conversed about each other’s day. You really enjoyed being around them and they LOVED being around you..

🏺- Eventually though, your stomach grumbled. You were hungry, you would let out a soft groan. Whining about how you wish you packed snacks. Both boys grinned..perfect.

🌿- They could now put their plan into action. Patroclus got up and went over to a fig tree, beckoning you over along with Achilles. “Well if you’re hungry, dear- why not take a fig from this tree..?” Patroclus asked softly. His voice was cool and calm, hiding any form of deceit or manipulation.

🏺- You would stare up at the fruit before going on your tip toes and picking one. It was a pretty looking fruit and you figured it would be the same as the ones on the surface..however just as you were about to take a bit you paused. Didn’t Hades warn you about having any form of food from the underworld?

🌿- Your thoughts were interrupted when Achilles spoke up. He could see the doubt and hesitation growing in your mind and he was desperate to make you forget your uncertainty. “What’s wrong? Do you not like figs? We could get you something else…” He would say.

🏺- You blinked and shook your head, telling him it was fine before you pushed your doubts aside and took a bite of the fruit. Besides, what could possibly go wrong? More than you think.. unfortunately for you..you had just made a grave mistake..

🌿- You felt a little weird but you brushed it off as being tired, meanwhile the two men looked much too happy that you had eaten the fig from this land. Their plan had worked, you were as good as theirs.

🏺- When you expressed you were feeling a bit drowsy they took it upon theirselves to get you a nice place to rest. Patroclus allowing you to rest your head on his lap as you drifted off. Achilles’ hand playing with your hair as you started to sleep.

🌿- “It’s alright, dear..just rest..we’ll be here when you wake up..” Achilles uttered, a slight smirk on his lips as he ran his calloused fingers through your hair. With his words you finally submitted to sleep.

🏺- It was done…you were now theirs. You had sealed your fate, for better or worse..

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freakywrites · 4 months ago

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Helloo! I'm the anon who asked for the ghost headcannons, I loved it! Thank you so so much♡

We love the ghost being a girls girl bcs yess and her just drifting past the sakamakis as if their nothing lmao

I was wondering if you could do headcannons of like each individual sakamaki when they find out that their significant other is from another world and is shifting to see be with and their a bit forgetful so they sometimes forget to shift

If that's okay!

OMG NO WORRIES I’m very forgetful but I do have a story for you! Anyways here is your long waited fic!

Warnings:none

Parings- nb reader x Sakamaki brothers (separately)

Shu

At first, he didn’t think much of you randomly showing up and then disappearing without a trace.

But soon, he would side eye the empty space you would sit at.

He didn’t miss you.. it’s just that your presence has become the norm, and with you gone, the world is a…little restless. He was restless.

But again, you will show up out of nowhere, and he would grumble a “you’re late.”

You would smile and apologize, snuggling close to him as he leaned you his headphones to listen to music. ah yes, this is much better. Again, he didn’t miss you…

he’s just used to you.

Reiji

He pressed the bringe of his nose as he looked at the clock it’s been a month, and yet you haven’t shown up.

To say he was pissed was an understatement he was ENRAGED. How dare you not take account of his time with you?

He tapped his foot waiting, thinking maybe today was the day he got to see you.

He flinched a bit as he felt you hug his side, giggling. “Im back!” You yelled, and he responded with a hard pat of your head and scolding.

“We made you a schedule just for you to ignore it?” He grumbled, and you apologized. “Sorry I guess shifting time is different from regular time.” You said, thinking out loud.

Ayato

What a whiny boy he is constantly sighing and grumbling.

Checking the time and marking the calendar.

He would wait at where you last appeared and whisper. “I guess not today.” When you didn’t show up.

Finally, when you did, he couldn't help himself from basically tackling you and bombarding you with questions with mixes of sulking.

“Where have you been? Didn’t I tell you to visit me daily?” He said, frowning, and you nuzzled him “I can’t EVERY day sometimes I forget.” you replied, and the vampire pouted “try then!”

Kanato

He was kinda scary when you forgot to visit him.

It was a mix of being clingy and delusionally jealous.

He would mumble to his teddy bear about missing you.

Then it turned into a spiral of missing you to wanting to kill you because their might be a chance that you have another favorite person in your world. How dare you.

So it won’t be a surprise when you visited he threatened your life.

“For the last time Im not two timing you please put the fork down.” You said, and Kanato’s eyes glare. “How am I to know you're not lying?” He question.

“I forget ok! I’m sorry! Look I’ll spend extra time with you today, ok? Promise!” You yelp, and the vampire pouts, looking at a cake next to him before stabbing it aggressively and shoving it in your face with a smile. “Ok! Eat this it’s very sweet! Teddies favorite!” He cheered

Out of all of them, why did you pick this one?

Laito

Like Ayato, he is also rather clingy moaning and groaning about you but not in a whiny way but a princess waiting for her prince way.

He would pay no mind to you being gone, but if it’s too long, he tends to miss you so.

And you’re finally here appearing to him at the side of his bed. “I must be dreaming! If it isn’t my dear love” he said, hugging at your waist, and you hum.

“Sorry I took so long - promise to come back next time!” You said, and Laito pouts and puts on his whiny voice. “Just stay forever! What’s more important than me?” He demanded, hugging you tighter “I can’t do that, you know why!”

He glances up to you before pulling you close to him “then will you at least spend the night?” You nodded and agreed.

Subaru

He is ANGRY very, very angry he gets extra snappy when you aren’t around

picking fights and breaking walls, he was like a hurricane passing the halls.

He would ruffle his hair in frustration when you don’t show up in your designated spot.

He reminds himself he can live without you, so if you think not showing up will make him like you you’re WRONG…

..But oh, when he sees you, he grows weak, but he can’t show you that part of him... Not till you sweet talk him.

“Aw Subaru, please don’t ignore me." You plead as you watch him turn his head to the side. “Where…have you been.” He grumbled.

“Im sorry life’s getting busy- look. I promise not to take too much time next time, ok?” You said, tilting his head to you, his eyes finally looking at you, a twitch of tenderness escape his hard gaze. “Fine…”

——————————————————

A/N

☕️

Ngl I had to google what shifting was 😭 it’s basically like lucid dreaming I think? Which is like really cool. It’s kinda short n sweet idk how to make headcannons I kinda write like a book more than a list- tried to keep them mostly in character? Anyways I’m sick! Winter sucks but the cold is so nice.

(P.S I thought I posted this n was scavenging my account thing I might have deleted it accidentally or it got taken down for an odd reason turns out it was stuffed in my 99+ drafts some where forgotten and dusty bc I clicked save instead of post (this happens a lot to me I need to delete some stuff) no longer sick but still am forgetful u.u

Anyways hope you enjoy !

Love y’all XOXO💋💋❤️❤️

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writing1raflesia · 4 months ago

Text

HOW THE HASHIRAS DO AFTERCARE

-Pt 2

⚠️ warning: this one contains some mentions of sexual activities, tho not detailed it's not recommend for minors. Other than that is all sweet, enjoy!

GN reader pt1 here

★★★★★★★★★★★★

GIYU TOMIOKA

Tomioka is a very insecure man, and that kicks in as soon as he finishes and is no longer lost in pleasure, he will ask you all the questions not only to make sure you are ok but also that you liked it just as much as he did, what he could do better, if anything made you uncomfortable, he would like to be validated. Physical he would massage your sore spots, running his fingers through your skin with soft pressure wanting to just help you relax a bit, he likes long showers after too, hugging your body while the warm water fall on top of the two. He enjoys preparing your favorite food and watching while you eat with a smile. He do a lot of research on how to o take care of you, the good effects of aftercare, which actions demand special aftercare, he worries a lot about doing it right, is a way he found to validate to himself that he is a good partner.

SHINOBU KOCHO

She has everything prepared before even starting the action, leaving ointments and water within easy reach. She cares a lot about your health and makes sure you go to the bathroom after you finish, just like her. A warm bath to relax your muscles is always welcome while she checks you for any bruises. For a snack she likes to make a delicious tea and some of your favorite cakes (that she prepares beforehand if she is in the mood for some action that day). Words of affirmation are constant throughout the aftercare, always reminding you how much she enjoyed herself, how good you are to her and how proud she is to have you with her. Her knowledge makes her great with aftercare, ensuring not only your safety but also your happiness.

TENGEN UZUI

Tengen's aftercare is shared between him, his wives and you, a sweet moment where each one looks for bruises on the other while talking, always concerned about each other's well-being and satisfaction, smiles between soft kisses are always present. After finishing the caresses and physical care, with ointments and massage oils, everyone bathes and sits down for a meal while gossiping about everyday things, sex is something common in the house so although they always worry about aftercare, it is just another everyday attitude. If you two are alone, the difference is that his attention will be one hundred percent on you, distributing sweet kisses all over your body while ensuring your well-being, then a bath together where you will be hugging and kissing.

OBANAI IGURO

Obanai at first didn't cared about after care, it took him a while to understand the importance of proper aftercare, not that he would leave you alone immediately after, he would ask how you are and if you said you're good he would let you be, but with time when he opened up more and actually talked about it, he understood the importance of it and started practicing every time. He checks you for bruises, marks, scratches, he helps you stretching a bit after, he even start researching a bit about it. But his aftercare is more physical, he is not so good with words so he stays with the basic questions "are you feeling any pain?/are you okay?" and follows with that. Despite not being very verbal he loves cuddles, holding you close to his chest as if to make sure you're truly there for him and that you want to be with him. He would never admit it but he would like if you did some aftercare with him too, specially the verbal part that he lacks, reminding him he did good and that you like him the way he is.

★★★★★★★★★★★★

Author: Thanks for reading! Any feedbacks or comments are welcome and encouraged! Don't forget to drink water and take care of yourself!

#fandom x reader #x male reader #fandom #x nb reader #x female reader #x neutral reader #obanai iguro #giyuu tomioka #shinobu kocho #tengen uzui #character x reader #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny hashira #hashiras

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wildandsmile · 5 months ago

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hi i would love to ask for a fanfic about akito yamada from "my love story with yamada kun" unfortunately the fandom is small so there's not enough smut abt him 😭 i really have a thing for drunk fanfics where the character takes care of the reader and then they do the boombayah 💀 i would love to see more writers write about my man 😞 about his personality i'd say he's a very calm and introverted guy and doesnt show much emotions (lets say hes a pretty stoic guy). Thank u sm 💜

Drunken love

Wc:1.2k

Tw: Grammar mistakes (English is hard man)

An: It’s been a while since I saw the show so I hope I got his character right

Drunk Reader

Yamada is incredibly caring when you’re drunk. He’s the type to hold your hair back while you’re throwing up, make sure you have water and some painkillers ready, and take care of everything else you might need.

He’d even cancel his stream for the day just to stay by your side. Sure, he might lose some money, and his guild members might be frustrated, but none of that matters to him—you always come first.

Yamada is usually quiet by nature, but when you’re drunk, he becomes even more soft-spoken, making sure not to make a sound that could worsen your headache. He’ll stay close, cuddling you and gently playing with your hair until you drift off to sleep. Honestly, it’s impossible not to fall for him in those moments.

When he’s taking care of you, it’s hard to keep your thoughts from wandering. His soft whispers and tender touch are enough to make you melt. And the way he gets so overprotective when you’re not in control—always keeping a hand on you, staying within arm’s reach—it’s overwhelming in the best way. At some point, you just can’t take it anymore.

You call out, your hands fumbling aimlessly, grasping at nothing like a lost child. The room feels disorienting, but soon enough, you see Yamada rounding the corner, a glass of water and a couple of painkillers in each hand. He sets them down gently beside you, then helps you sit up, his touch firm yet comforting. Once you're upright, he helps you drink the water, steadying the glass so you don’t spill or drop it. When you finish, he presses a soft kiss to your cheek, his voice low and tender. "You're doing so well for me love," he murmurs, a smile playing at the corner of his lips before he helps you ease back down into the bed.Despite the fog of drunkenness, your mind can't help but drift back to him, to the way his touch lingers just a bit too long, the way his words make your heart race. The simplest actions—like drinking water or lying back down—suddenly feel charged, making you feel flushed and restless. You try to dismiss the heat rising in you, telling yourself it’s just the alcohol. So when Yamada returns, sleeves rolled up and carrying a tray of food and more water, you knew it wasn’t the alcohol but you ignored that and focused on the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt. It's not much, just a light build, but it's enough to make you ache for more. The sight of him, so effortlessly attentive, only heightens the tension building in you. You can’t ignore it anymore.“Yamada... Yamada... Yamada," you call softly, your voice faint, yet intentional. When he turns toward you, a faint smile tugging at his lips, you extend your arms toward him. He understands immediately and walks over, kneeling down until you're face to face. Seizing the moment, you wrap your arms around him, drawing him closer, and gently press your head into the curve of his neck.” he asks, trying to pull away just enough to see your face. But you don’t let him, instead leaning in closer to whisper softly in his ear, “Mmm, I need you.” He turns his head slightly, attempting to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks, but you’re relentless. You start trailing kisses along his neck, causing him to flinch and jump slightly at the sensation"Come on, we can't not when you like this," he says, trying to squirm away from your grasp. "But I want to," you add as you press your lips into his skin, but he doesn't utter a word until you rub your feet over his hardening cock causing him to hiss and dig his fingers into your ankle. "Fine, if that's what you wanted, I'll give it to you," he says, pulling his hair back with one hand, his eyes now filled with desire and his lips now ghosting across your thighs. "But don't be mad if I keep you up all night ok."

Drunk Yamada

Yamada becomes a bit more talkative and needy when he's drunk, which is quite different from his usual quiet self. He’s also more touchy, so don’t be surprised if he ends up crawling all over you.

Make sure you enjoy it while it lasts, because tomorrow, he’ll be back to his usual silent, reserved self. If he remembers everything from the night before, he’ll probably be even less talkative.

Of course, you take care of him the same way he takes care of you when you're drunk—keeping water and painkillers on hand, cooking nice meals, helping him change his clothes, and everything else.

But naturally, you take advantage of his drunken state to tease him. You might coax him into telling you he loves you or treat him like a child until he’s blushing and a mess. It’s a side of him you don’t usually see, but Yamada doesn’t mind, even if it’s a bit embarrassing.

"Come on, Yamada, just one more time, please?" you ask, pouting cutely.""No, I don’t want to," he replies, his face flushed from both embarrassment and the sake he drank earlier. "You're just going to make fun of me again."I swear I won’t," you reassure him, placing a hand gently on his thigh. But he still resists. Sighing, you pull out your secret weapon. "Fine, I guess I’ll just have to leave you here then." You stand up, preparing to walk away. To your surprise, he grabs your leg and pulls you back. "Fine, I'll say it," he mutters, his eyes wide like a child. You sit back down quickly, pulling out your phone to record this moment. You knew you might not get another chance to capture him like this."I-I love you," he stammers, his voice still a bit slurred from the alcohol. Once he finishes, you turn off your phone, give him a quick kiss on the head, and ruffle his hair affectionately. "See you did such a good job," you say before getting up to go fix him something nice to eat but once again he stops you this time he gives you a lustful look "If did such a good job does that mean I get a reward," he says his hand now dragging up you thigh slowly "Come on Yamada your to out of it for that" you say before going back down to look him eye to eye but he jumps on you before you can speak again catching your lips in a deep kiss your tongues battling for dominance not stopping until you're both out of breath. You watch as the ribbon of saliva that was joining your lips broke, making you quiver with need. In the middle of your heated kiss, he managed to pin you down to the ground, your hands now bound above your head. You look at him, waiting for his next move, but when he doesn't do anything, you take this as your chance to tease him a little more. "Well, you got me down here, so why don't you come and take your reward?" you murmur, your lips ghosting over his. He gives you a short peck before nudging his head into the crock of your neck. "With pleasure," he says with a cute stutter, his lips now ghosting close to your ear, utilizing this opportunity to wrap your calf around his waist. "Well, I'm ready when you are, love."

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campeyourdiems · 6 months ago

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Hey! I really REALLY love all the David hc's and they are making me into camp for even longer then I thought I would be (been here for four years)! I was really hoping I could get some headcannons of David x S/O (any gender) who just likes sitting on his lap and hugging him while resting theyr head on his chest and/or shoulder? Nothing nsfw just cuddly when they are alone but most of the time stern and stoic with others? (The personality doesn't really need to be included!)

heya, glad you've liked them. :3 i'm gonna be honest, i haven't written anything for this fandom in about a year or more at this point [i'm not really sure] n i haven't entirely been into it for a while. that being said, i've been wanting to try to write more lately, so this is a pretty good excuse to.

David x Stoic Reader who Enjoys Sitting on His Lap

warnings: none

so, it's not super often that David has a chance to really sit down, he spends most of his time standing and running around

the only time he really gets to relax is when the campers are all [supposedly] asleep and in their tents for the night. even then he has a habit of taking walks due to his insomnia.

that being said, if you were to grab him in the right moment, he'd be happy to sit with you.

if you'd like he could play with your hair and stuff, especially if it's something that helps you relax after a rough day.

i will say he was initially a bit flustered by the idea, it wasn't something he'd expected you to enjoy and it was definitely something pretty intimate. that's not to say he took issue with it, of course, he was quite happy with it.

often ends up talking to you while you sit together, though that's to be expected. but if you'd prefer it to be quiet, he'd definitely oblige.

i feel like it's something that'd get him to relax enough to fall asleep at times, especially as you get further into your relationship. probably ends up apologizing a good number of times for it the first time it happens before you stop him.

i think it'd become a nice nightly routine. he still has his walks, taking you along if you'd like, but i think it'd be something he'd like to do before bed.

we all know this man is touch starved as all hell, he's GONNA make time for affection. [when he's able to]

tags:@masquerade-chaos,@invaderan,@artist-ember, @dominusfero

(sorry for the first tag in 50 years, if you'd like taken off lmk)

#campeyourdiems #camp camp #camp campbell #camp camp fandom #camp camp x reader #camp camp headcanons #camp camp fanblog #cc david #camp camp david #cc david x reader #camp camp david x reader #canon x reader #x reader #x nb reader #x nonbinary reader #gender neutral reader #x reader headcanons #self ship #yumeship

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kaisers-house-of-desires · 2 years ago

Note

Psssst, it's me, J, I may have a wonderful little request, but may I offer

Leona x ray of sunshine nonbinary reader, with top Leona trying to corrupt the reader with any kink of your choosing?

Oh, my dear, you have no idea how much I adore corruption~ This one may be a bit longer, but nonetheless, please enjoy~

Title: A King's Corruption

Characters: Top!Leona x Bottom!Enby!Reader

Contains: corruption, rough sex, choking

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

"Hey...I wanna try something new."

Leona gazed down at you from his hovered position, arms resting on either side of your head. His expression was serious but laced with hesitance. You two were in Leona's bed together, his large blanket over the both of you as if to cover the devil's dance when he asked his question.

"Oh Leona, of course! You know I don't mind trying new things with you." You softly smiled, gently caressing his face to further reassure the beastman. "What is it?"

"Well...it's a couple things but...first. I was wondering if...I could go rougher tonight."

He was always gentle with you. Despite his demeanor, he always played with you like you were fragile, and you didn't mind it. You adored how soft he could be, how careful yet filling he felt when thrusting into you. Though you had to admit, you felt as if something could be done to spice that up, you were just unsure of how to bring it up.

Though this didn't mean you were without hesitation. "Well...rougher how?"

"I'm...not sure? I just...I want to use my hands a bit more, move harder..."

In all honesty, you weren't sure how you would feel about this, but instead of shutting him down, you replied, "Let's try tonight. Nothing crazy, but you can use your hands a bit more, okay?"

---

Leona carefully thrusted into you, his speed his typical, gentle pace, though this time he had your wrists pinned with his hands, the tips of his claws pressing ever so carefully into your skin. The air was full of sound, moans and gentle skin slapping.

"L-Leona~"

You had to admit, being pinned like this was quite blissful. Despite his gentle movements, you felt at his mercy, and it was quite exciting to feel. This was definitely more than okay with you now, considering just how incredible it felt under his hands.

Then, without thinking, you uttered, "H-Harder...~"

Leona's thrusts sputtered before stalling, as if he had to reach deep within himself to keep control. "A-Are you sure?"

You nodded with a hum, more than certain.

Though you consented, Leona was still careful as his roughness increased, yet that small bit was enough to pitch your moans, your head digging into the pillow. Who knew such little changes would feel so pleasant?

"F-Fuck~! L-Leona~!"

---

Whenever you two were together in bed, a little bit would always be added at your approval. At one point, Leona had brought up the other thing he wanted to do, which was choking. Now that one you were hesitant on, but after your trial sessions similar to the roughness tests, you found that it was just as exhilerating. Throughout it all, you had wondered why you never brought it up before, or rather why you couldn't, but you were always greatful that Leona did so, saving you the trouble.

It wasn't until one night, after many many nights of boundary testing, you two were once again in Leona's bed. He was moving at a pace and roughness that would make demons blush. His hands clutched at the bedsheets beside your head, growling and panting as he fucked your hole with wild abandon. The way you screamed his name had urged him on so much that he was practically feral.

"L-Leona~! S-So good~ S-So fucking good~!"

Though one thing he wasn't expecting just yet was for you to grip at his wrist, startling him to let go of the sheets as you directed his hand over to your neck, gazing up at him with pleading eyes.

His heart throbbed with desire, his cock twitching inside of you as he gripped the sides of your neck, cutting off the bloodflow to your head as it gave you a blissful, fucked out expression. This was what he wanted to see. That sweet face he saw everyday, that sunshine-like, sweet person, reduced to a cock hungry mess.

Leona released your throat, giving you a moment's rest before gripping once more, slightly tighter. He gave a breathy, gravely chuckle as he watched you squirm below him with pitching moans.

"Y-You're doing so good for me~ Now...l-let's get you to cum like this~"

#kaisers house of desires #x reader #twisted wonderland #bottom male reader #x enby reader #x nb reader #x nonbinary reader #nonbinary reader #leona x y/n #leona x reader #twst leona #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland leona #leona twst #leona twisted wonderland #choking #rough kink #corruption kink

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buglism · 8 months ago

Text

Masterlist

Access granted

Archive Of Our Own

Sebastian Solace / Pressure (ROBLOX)

Sirenen Farben (Siren Colors) // Sebastian Solace x Masc Monster! Reader

From Rot Grows Flowers // Sebastian Solace x FTM SCP/Experiment! Reader

L o a d i n g . . .

L o a d i n g . .

Tumblr Works:

Touchstarved (VN)

Vere:

ABCs (SFW, A-C) nonsexual intimacy

L o a d i n g . . .

Leander:

L o a d i n g . . .

L o and i n g . .

L o a d i n g . . .

Kuras:

L o a d i n g . . .

Minh:

L o a d i n g . . .

Ais:

L o a d i n g . . .

What we do in the shadows (tv show)

Nadja:

L o a d i n g . . .

Lazlo:

L o a d i n g . . .

Guillermo:

L o a d i n g . . .

Namdor:

L o a d i n g . . .

(More can be requested)

Undertale + AUs

Sans (undertale, underfell, mafiafell/mafia, swap)

L o a d i n g . . .

Papyrus (undertale, underfell, mafiafell/mafia, swap)

L o a d i n g . . .

(More can be requested! For other AUs plz provide sources & a fic/Headcanons link for the version’s personality you feel fits if you can! Need to have sm to go off of :D)

Monsters

OCs (WIP) (request a monster type & I’ll get back to you 👀)

L o a d i n g . . .

OFF

The batter

L o a d i n g . . .

The merchant (Zacharie)

L o a d i n g . . .

Sucre (sugar)

L o a d i n g . . .

The Queen

L o a d I n g . . .

The guardians (dedan & enoch)

L o a d i n g . . .

(More can be requested!)

Dead by Daylight

Survivors ( 3 survivors per request)

L o a d i n g . . .

Killers (minus the twins, dredge (maybe), sadako & spirit unless platonic )

L o a d i n g . . .

Severance (Apple TV)

Mark S / Mark Scout:

"The Work is mysterious & Important; EMDR Companion program"

L o a d i n g . . .

#masterlist #monster fucker #monster x male reader #monster x nb reader #sebastian solace x reader #monster x reader #what we do in the shadows x reader #wwdits x reader #x male reader #x nb reader #x trans male reader #touchstarved x reader #severance x reader

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reikamasama · 1 year ago

Text

𝙰 𝚂𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝙾𝚏 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖 ? II (DISCONTINUED)

Pairing ; Hazbin Hotel X G/N Teen!Reader

Warnings ; implications of Abuse/Manipulation

Word count ; 5.9K

Summary ; You and Rosie are on an outing together, purchasing clothing and eat a meal together! Little did you know you were about to start a new chapter in your life.

⁀➷Prologue, ꕥ chapter I, ꕥ Chapter II

The grass excels a beautiful green color as it gently flows with the breeze, allowing it to pass through with multiple leaves and petals that have fallen from the mixed trees. The different trees sway softly as they sunbathe underneath the tropical sun. There’s a soft smell of grass and flowers that beams through the air.

The park is as empty as ever— not a sound can be heard. The flower gardens are overgrown and the benches are on their last leg, as vines have taken over the majority of them, painting them in the colors of nature; with the orange slowly but surely fading away.

Your eyes stare at the photo of Minori, Yuki, Rinku and you.. standing in this park on its dock with big smiles on your faces. You look so happy..

They look so happy.. you were at peace when you were with them.

You can still remember the scent from the picture, even if your only looking at it. You smile sadly at your phone, you miss them, you really do but your mother has restricted you from seeing them under the exam-season. Yes, you may have not obeyed that rule as you’ve been meeting them in secret, but it still pained you that you weren’t allowed to be with them.

According to your mother they were ‘bad influences’, due to them not being ‘study motivated’.

You have tried explaining to her that you did help them by tutoring them, she got very angry — or maybe annoyed was the right word? Either way she told you that it would stunt your own development if you needed to assist others all of the time instead of focusing on my own studies. Her claims were ludicrous, but she is your mother after all, and they.. do know best.

Your eyes scan the photo, it looks so cheerful, you were all doing silly little poses while smiling. The matching flowers you all decided to wear in your hair blends very well with the cherry blossom leaves falling in the background of the photo. The screen light is the only thing you can focus on right now, as the ends of your bittersweet smile can only grow.

That day was one of the best days in your life. You were able to clear your head, be away from your studies and you were able to be with your friends. It was an actual dream come true and you wanna go back to that moment.. maybe if you just space out you can relive that moment..

“[Name] what are you looking at, dear?”

Her smile is sweet, offering you your false sense of security like she always does. Or maybe it is real..?

You snap out of your day dreaming state, her voice fills the empty air as she speaks your name. Your vision blurs and you blink helping you regain your vision whilst putting your phone down — looking around.

You are standing in a darkened room, it’s filled with quiet whispers as they look at the different exhibits. Wait.. weren’t you just at home? When did you go to the art exhibit. You can’t seem to remember anything as your eyes fixate of your mother remembering her question.

“Ah, i was just looking at the time”

You pause before you continue,

“I know you allowed me to have a study free day so i could join you at this art exhibit, and i am thankful that you wish for me to broaden my creative mind! So i was only checking the time making sure we didn’t have to go home anytime soon!”

Lies, lies and more lies drip through your teeth, it’s like your whole life is built up on lies. Lies to please her, lies to please your mother. You feel your own body enter a dull state, slowly draining all your emotions like a puppet on a string, your eyes feel more dull, you can barely remember if you have blinked at all.. you force a smile as your eye twitches, luckily your mother didn’t notice.

“I’m glad you are enjoying your time here, honey! How about we take a look at that painting over there?”

She asks you; looking at you expectantly awaiting a response.

“Yes mother, let’s! It looks quite lovely from over here.”

Her face turned into a pleased expression clasping her hands together as she begins to make her way towards the painting. You follow — having your hands intertwined as they sit in front of you. You keep a steady pace as you follow her, hearing a tap with every step you take. You swiftly make your way to a small crowd of people admiring the displayed painting.

You squish yourself into the crowd surrounding the painting. It reeked of perfume, it made your nose scrunch up as you felt the different fragrances collide creating that horrid stench. You look to your right — eyeing your mother before you follow her gaze letting yours land on the painting. It is a very strange piece.? It has a few lines and circles drawn on it. It barely had any variation with shapes or colors, it was a simple painting only using different shades of greens and blues. How do people enjoy this so called ‘art’? It feels empty, there’s no thought or emotion put into that thing.. there’s no message the art is trying to forward, there’s no eye catching features, it’s a whole lot of nothing. At least from what you can tell.

You grow restless.. the painting goes from boring to ugly, you don’t want to see it anymore, no. You want to leave.. standing in the crowd makes you feel nervous, it feels as if a pair of eyes are always on you, the feeling haunts you and sends a shiver down your spine. Despite this spacious room and the fact it’s not filled to the brim with people you still fear that you are being watched, making you feel a need to make no mistake. Make no mistake. You can’t make a mistake. Ever. Never ever. Why is the room so wide.. why is it so dark, why is it so cold..?

You exhale quietly and you swore you were able to see a little cloud form in front of your face due to the chilly air. A voice snaps you out of your strange day dreaming state once again.

“Dear this piece has such value doesn’t it?”

God, you really gotta stop doing this. Your neck snaps towards your mother’s direction, a forced smile stays plastered on your face.

“Yes of course, i liked its creative aspects quite a lot.”

Lies, come on just speak the truth!

“Are you ready to move onto the next piece?”

Yes, you don’t want to be here: you wish for her to let you go home.

“Yes mother!”

You escape the rich scent making your way out of the crowd.

Clack. That sound echoed though the venue as the picture perfect mother and child makes their way to another painting, this one only had a few people admiring it and you mentally relaxed ever so slightly — knowing it won’t have that rich people scent all over the place. Your mother and you finally reach the painting, your eyes land on the colorful canvas and it reminds you of something.

The painting resembles a beautiful flower that’s placed inside of a vase, that is on a cozy wooden table. The flower in itself struck you with such a spesific feeling, like something you’ve seen before. It has such gradient colors and this is something that pulls you in. You could tell that the artist has put their heart and soul into this and there is definitely some kind of message that you might not be able to decipher — but you knew that this painting was something special.. Wait a minute..

It’s as if a puzzle has been solved inside of your brain, a certain piece of said puzzle that has been misplaced finally finds its place. This flower is recognizable due to it being the same flower you and your friends were wearing in the picture! You feel a strange wave of happiness sending throughout your body, you feel like you’re back in control it’s you now, it’s really you. Like the strings have been lifted but you lifted them on your own.

“Oh my god, [Name]? I never knew you were into art, what are you doing here!”

Arms wrap around your shoulders as you hear a chuckle, they spin you around only to lock you in a hug. Your eyes lay upon the figure who’s hugging you, it was the one and only Yuki. She normally isn’t this affectionate, but it’s probably due to the fact you haven’t been able to meet her a lot recently.

“Oh, dear is this a friend of yours?”

You freeze in Yuki’s grip feeling her arms gently let go of you, freeing you from her warm embrace. You don’t want her to meet her, what if she.. disapproved.?

“Yes mother, this is Yuki!”

You pause before you stand in the middle of the two your eyes mostly staying on your mothers.

Her snake eyes — eye Yuki up and down with a judgmental look before her face softens up and she smiles calmly.

“Hello there Yuki, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

⋇⊶⊰ n o ⊱⊷⋇

Your body leans against the oddly comfortable mattress in your newfound room. You had been in Rosie’s care for a few weeks now and you have grown quite fond of her. Rosie has always been such a darling to you, prioritizing your needs over her own. She has helped guide you throughout hell and there’s quite a lot you had to learn.

You made sure to jot down the most important parts in a notebook, just in case. Your fingers trace alongside the surface of the notebook, it had a black cover with a rose on it. Allowing your thumb to fall on the cover of the notebook, opening it.

The first page has the headline ‘Important’ on it. The handwriting was a very readable one, something your mother had taught you from an early age

“Having a presentable writing style will make you stand out above the rest and bring you more job opportunities”

Gosh, you really need to stop thinking about her, she isn’t here anymore. She isn’t here. Is she? You are your own dependent person now, heck Rosie is more of a mother than she ever will be. Your strings have been cut and you are no longer her puppet.

You’re grateful for having Rosie take care of you, really. But the freedom hell was able to provide you was an overwhelming sensation to say the least.

Before you fell down to hell your mother controlled your whole life, from your clothes to the actions you made, it was all things she controlled on your never ending stage.

It was like you were acting in a one man show — creating the most pleasing stage performance to the person you were supposed to love and trust the most.

You were tired, really really tired and you had never taken a notice to this until you got an actual good nights rest your first few days here with Rosie. You were forced to be in bed rest by Rosie, and she was not taking no for an answer. She has brought you meals, decorative items for your room and went to you just to chat about her emporium and other gossip. You listened to her rants, her voice had such emotion, emotion your mother never was able to give you. Rosie and you also had had conversations about the pain in your throat, she made sure to bring you all sorts of foods and drinks trying to help you get better, and within these few weeks it was like you were building up a kind of ‘talk tolerance’. You were now able to hold multiple conversations before your throat gives you the sensation of that sharp pain you felt once you first meet Rosie.

Speaking of Rosie, she wished for you to join her for an outing today.

You weren’t quite sure what the outing was for but you knew she was going to bring you outside of cannibal town, that in itself is a rare occasion. You swing yourself off of the bed letting your feet land on the floor with a quiet ‘thud’. You stand up and stretch, raising your arms towards the ceiling as you let out a yawn, stretching your sore muscles. You let out a satisfied exhale as you walking over to your drawer hearing a creek sound coming from the creaky wooden floors with each step you take.

You slip on some clothing that Rosie has been lending you over these past weeks, they might have been a tad big on you, you didn’t mind though. You took a glance at yourself in the mirror, admiring your demon features before you fix your hair making you look presentable. You slip on some shoes before you reach out for the golden knob on the vintage themed door.

Your eyes look back to glance on the room once last time before you leave, making sure to hadn’t forgotten anything, not that you had much to leave anyway..

Once you confirm that there’s nothing you’re leaving behind you twist the doorknob and exit the room.

You make your way though the darkened hallway, it’s only light being provided by a little lamp at the end of the hallway. Your fingers trace along the cold wall as you walk to the end of the hallway. You really liked the vintage theme to the whole town, it’s just like the history books you used to read and it makes you feel welcome, you used to have a modern home back on earth so this was a nice change of pace. Your feet clack whilst making contact with the wooden flooring, your footsteps are the only thing that can be heard down the echoey hallway, you steadily reach the wooden stairs. Your hand reaches to hold the un-even railing of the staircase as you begin walking down it, carefully letting your hand slide down the railing to make sure you don’t get any splinters. You stumble when you’re at the bottom step and clumsily make an entrance to the emporium.

You quickly straighten your backs and brush of imaginary dust off of your clothing, wishing to the seven rings of hell Rosie did not see your little mishap. Your eyes scan the area landing on Rosie standing behind the emporiums counter, you feel warm upon seeing her little smile as she counts money, it seems that her shop has been doing very well today! You feel a smile grow on your face as your legs gravitate towards the counter, step after step you slowly get closer to Rosie with your quiet footsteps tapping on the stone like floor. Rosie seemingly was stuck in her own world as you reached the counter and stood behind it, not sure if she was able to sense your presence. You were about to clear your throat to catch her attention but her voice interrupted your actions;

“Ah, [Name] you have finally arrived, you know keeping a lady waiting is very rude now— oh I’m just kidding no need to break a sweat over this dear!”

She chuckles at her own ranting before she places the money back in the register, her fingers fiddles with a stubborn lock and you decide it’s a good time to ask her what you are even going to do.

“So, Rosie. You have never taken the time to explain what exactly this outing is for?”

You say this wearing a normal expression, but your voice gives you away as it sounds more confused if anything.

Rosie lights up ever so slightly at the mention of the outing as she clasps her hands together,

“Well my dear [Name], we both know that you have been borrowing a lot my stuff since you have arrived here,”

She pauses wich leaves room for you to input an apology.

“Yes about that I’m sorry Rosie—“

“No no! I do not mind at all, after all if i didn’t wish for you to borrow my things i wouldn’t have permitted you to use them.”

You knew arguing with Rosie about this wouldn’t lead anywhere, she was a stubborn lady who stood her ground, you respected that and honestly kind of envied it. It’s something you were never able to do, stand up to yourself.

Rosie places a hand on her hip as she continues with a soft look on her face.

“Well the reason for this outing today is that we are going to purchase you new clothing! I believe you would like to wear other clothing than what you are borrowing from me at the moment, hm?”

You have never really thought of it before, you were used to your mother purchasing all of your clothes so getting to borrow some from Rosie was nothing too different. Rosie’s clothing may have been a bit too oversized on you but it was nothing that hindered you, from work or anything of the sorts but you have been a bit interested in the world of clothing, maybe this is a way you’ll be able to express yourself! Maybe a new start? You like the sound of that, the sound of you becoming your own person.

“While i don’t mind wearing this, they are quite comfy after all! It would be nice with something that’s a little more.. me.?”

The end of the sentence trails off feeling like you’re having a hard time choosing the right wording.

She chuckles and lets one of her hands fall onto your shoulder, patting it before making her way to the front of the counter. Your hands fold as you let them rest in front of you.

“Shall we?”

Rosie says, offering you a toothy smile as you nod. The two of you make your way to exit the emporium.

⋇⊶⊰ s t u c k ⊱⊷⋇

The sound of you and Rosie’s footsteps straddling along the sidewalk can barley be heard as demons outside of cannibal town seem to be more indecent, loud fights and conversations followed along with blasting TV’s follow trough out the streets of the pride ring. Your eyes dart around the overwhelming streets. You feel rather tense, staying on guard with each step you take. With every passing second your muscles become more sore as you feel uncomfortable.

You never knew what to expect from hell.. but this was exactly like Rosie explained it — if not even worse..

You feel a slender hand find its way on the small of your back as it makes you stop in your tracks and urge you in a direction to a certain store. Your head swiftly turn only to see Rosie standing there with her normal grinning self looking down at you giving you a reassuring smile. Your head turns to the direction she is urging you in. It was a tailor store, and it was also the only eye catching store on the street as it was the only store that hadn’t been completely torn.. You hesitate before reaching your hand out to the handle. your fingers slowly grip around the oddly long handle.. huh its strangely cold for something that’s in hell. You inhale deeply trying to shake off the odd feeling you’ve got brewing inside of you.

The inside of the shop has a very cozy feeling, it has very fitting colors that reminds you of the Victorian era. There’s very over-the-top fancy decors on both furniture and clothing with golden accents. Your eyes dart around the store landing on different mannequins dressed in all sorts of clothing, from frilly to pointy, casual to formal — there’s a bit of everything in here.

“Oh this shop has always had such a nice feeling to it, maybe i should ask them to be a part of cannibal town! Haha”

Rosie laughs at her little comment before her eyes dart to you,

“So dear, what do you think? Where would you like to start?”

Her question makes you stop in your tracks, she’s right, where should you start? You could start with shirts? Maybe pants? Maybe accessories — ugh.. this is gonna be harder than you expected.. you consider your options

“How about we take a stroll around the shop? And see if i find something eye catching along the way?”

She agrees with you as she follows you around the store.

You have a hard time at first, it was difficult learning how to figure out your likes and dislikes. You feel different pieces have different textures and colors, you now have an understanding for your mother who took a long time in stores like these — it was a struggle picking out outfits that would look nice together.

It takes you a second but you start warming up a little after Rosie points out a few articles of clothing here and there and not long after, you’ve managed to fill a bag of clothes. You feel proud of yourself, it’s your beginning to the new you. The clothing you’ve picked out is very different from what your mom used to choose for you. You were always told as a kid that you were dressing in such an ‘adult’ like-way, little did they know it was cause you never were allowed to choose clothing of your own.

You take a quick look through the bag feeling that you’ve picked out enough clothing to fill out your wardrobe. Rosie was hesitating — feeling that you could pick out even more but she decided to sneak in a few more pieces just to help you out a little.

When you told Rosie you felt finished with your shopping the two of you went to the fitting rooms.

You feel the soft fabric of the curtain against your fingers as you open it with a bit of force. Rosie hands you the bag she’s been carrying all of this time and you let out a quick ‘thank you’ before closing the velvet curtain allowing you to change.

There’s multiple mirrors in the dressing room and it feels so strange being able to see yourself from different angles all at once. You gently place the bag on the floor with a little ‘plop’ before you bend down picking up different pairs of shirts and trousers gently placing them on the little black wooden stool inside of the dressing room. You undress yourself, starting with your shirt, then the rest. You get kind of distracted being able to see yourself in the mirror in such a state, yes you’ve seen your full demon form before but it still strikes you as odd no matter how many times you see yourself. Your hands hover over the shirts before you find one that sticks out amongst the rest as you pick it up. You raise your arms sliding your hands and head trough the holes of the shirts, and as its on you adjust the shirt smoothing out any wrinkles you can find. You smile to yourself, the shirt has a very soft color and it has a few frills adding some volume to it. Now all you needed were a pair of trousers, you find a pair that you see fit with the shirt and slide them on, you can feel the soft texture of the trousers and it is very comfortable.

You admire the outfit you’ve put on in the mirror, it really suits you and you feel it brings out a whole new side from you. Huh i guess, ‘clothes makes the sinner’ really is true!

“I’m done!”

You say in a louder tone, a tone audible enough for Rosie to hear but not close to make anybody else believe you’re an obnoxiously loud asshole.

Your voice tells Rosie that you’re done and her face turns to the silky curtains you’re hiding behind, looking expectantly at it. Your hands grab onto the velvet curtains struggling once again to slide the curtain open, but as it slides open you take a step out of the dressing room, resting your hands clasped together in front of you like you usually do. You were expecting a reaction from Rosie but you were certainly never expecting her to start clapping to the outfit you’ve put together.

“My, this is definitely better than i expected! It fits you so well, dear!”

She coos followed along by a chuckle;

“Go on now, don’t just stand there! Give me a little spin!”

You do just that, lifting the weight off of your feet as you give Rosie a gentle spin showing her your whole outfit.

She keeps on complimenting you and your outfit making you feel embarrassed as your cheeks grow warm.

“Aha.. thank you Rosie, I’m glad you like it.”

Your words were short but your voice sounded sincere, you are not used to all this attention she’s giving you.. but you have got to admit that it feels nice.

“Here dear, try this hat on I’m sure it will add to your look quite a lot!~”

She gives you a playful wink, followed by her hands reaching out for your head, gently placing the hat on you. Your head turns to look into one of the mirrors in the dressing room. You felt a bubbly feeling inside of your chest, you just felt so happy.. you looked so pretty — and it’s all thanks to Rosie letting you be, well you! You smile feeling a little tear build up, but you softly rub your eye and turn back to Rosie with a smile, an authentic smile.

“Thank you Rosie!”

You chuckle along side with her as she pats you on the back;

“Of course dear, you look lovely!”

Her hands move from your back to your shoulders before she urges you into the changing room once again, she lets go of your shoulders once you’re in the room and grabs onto the curtain.

“Try on those other outfits now! We don’t got all day i still have a few things planned for us!”

You felt very confident after the interaction. Rosie has been nothing but supportive and that doesn’t change as you try on the different outfits. She praises them one by one and it was strange.. you don’t remember placing some articles of clothing in the bag? Oh well, it worked out in any case so that’s fine. When you were done with the little ‘shopping spree’ you felt famished and Rosie suggested that the two of you headed to a restaurant that she had been eyeing for a while, you trusted in her style and the two of you made the way to a restaurants. It was a very classy restaurant and multiple sinners where there, sinners with more money and have a higher status in hell. You may not really be important to hell but you are in important company. You believe you recognize multiple of the sinners there. At one of the tables you believe that Carmilla sits there along side with her daughters, on another table across the restaurant your able to see the Vees— their loud and obnoxious well at least Vox and Valentino is Velvette couldn’t care less it seemed. A sinner came up to you and Rosie bringing the two of you to a table that’s placed far away from Carmilla and the Vees.

The table presented in front of you seems to be in a more secluded area as multiple tables were empty. You thanked Lucifer for being in a less crowded space. You feel your tense shoulders soften up and only then you realized how truly tense you have been this whole outing. You exhale quietly before pulling out the chair that’s presented before you, it is a very.. normal chair, nothing special like you thought this place would be since Rosie seems to prefer class. You sit down onto the not-so-soft chair.

“You seem to have finally relaxed dearie, did you not enjoy your free shopping spree?”

She says that with a smug expression on her face as she sits down and crosses her leg over the other.

You feel a bit panicked — swiftly trying to explain yourself,

“No that’s not it at all Rosie! I appreciate your help! Hell is just — hell you know..!”

You chuckle quietly at your own pun as Rosie chuckles alongside you.

“Well i certainly can’t blame you for that, in any case dear welcome to one of my favorite restaurants in hell! Now i do prefer.. meatier meats, i assumed you were not into trying that yet, am i right?”

You nod not really saying anything, and after a second or so a waiter comes up to the table in a strangely good timing. You look at the waiter and they look tired, like they hate their job — you expect to hear a tired annoyed voice as they speak;

“What would you like Miss Rosie and..?”

“Mx. [Name] is fine!”

Their voice was strangely happy as they handed out the menu’s,

“So, what would the two of you like? Or shall i circle back later to take your order?”

You pick up the menu to scroll trough it quickly, there was a lot of options with really fancy names that honestly were hard to read.. but you did regonize some of the desserts.. ‘cheesecake’ ‘Velvette cake’ ‘cupcake’ ‘angel food cake’ hmm.. there is a lot of cake in here— wait! Angel food cake? Sign me up! You softly place down the menu noticing how both Rosie and the waiter was starring at you rather intensely and it made you feel nervous, so you stutter as you speak;

“I..l have the angel food.. cake.” You pause;

“Please.”

Rosie smiles and looks to the waiter,

“well you heard the little darling, one angel food cake, and double it!”

The waiter scribbles in their little notebook with their tired face looking more lively now.

“And what would you like to drink”

You felt the day has been kind of tiering, so a simple water couldn’t do you any harm.

“Just some water..”

The waiter nods and glances at Rosie whom just nods quietly telling the waiter she was going to order the same as you. The waiter quickly scribbles on the notebook before taking their leave the two of you to chit-chat.

Your eyes wander around the restaurant not specifically looking at anything in particular. Time feels — awfully slow for some reason, tick, tock ,tick ,tock.. the clock clouds your brain.

Its ticking reminds you of the late study sessions, the smell of your room. The god awful smell of cleaning products.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The day of you dying came back to you. The moments pretending to spare your mother only to murder her in cold blood. You remember her face, it was an expression you had never seen from her before - but you knew it all to well.

It was an expression you had worn multiple times before, she had made you feel so small.. so little, she got what she deserved .. right? Right. Im sure you’re just being dramatic, she never did you any good! She only feed you, bought you clothes, gave you a roof over your head she even made you meals…. all you had to do was study… no, no that’s not true stop!

“[Name] dear, you’re spacing out again, what are you doing in that little brain of yours hm?”

Your eyes flutter in confusion, your nose has now been filled with the scent of angel food cake, your pupils darted to the plate of dessert in front of you, it looked just like it did back on earth. Your eyes darted to look at Rosie’s and her expression is difficult to read, that’s Strange your normally swell at reading emotions.

“Sorry,”

Your voice sounded quiet and you raised it to a normal speaking volume;

“What were you saying Rosie?”

The lady chuckled at you before lifting a little fork in her hand taking a bit of the angel foodcake before placing it in her mouth, quickly swallowing it as she answers your question.

“Well pay attention now, for what I’m about to say is important.”

You nod at her statement letting your eyes remain on the gray ladies pupils as you pick up the silverware in your hand, the fork is small and you slice off a bit from your dessert parting your lips as you try the delectable dessert. The flavor beams through your mouth, it’s a bit too sweet for your taste but it makes you happy. You happily listen to Rosie as you chew on the little treat.

“It has been a lovely time to have you around the emporium, and you have brought me a good business I’ll tell ya that! But i believe it’s time..”

She pauses — you presume it’s for dramatic effect as you keep eating pieces of the angel food cake.

“..for you to go to the hazbin hotel.”

You choke on your dessert a little, your hand reaches out for the water as you quickly pour the liquid down your throat, to wash the stuck piece away. What did she just say. The hazbin hotel? The one she has spoken about before? Redemption? you? — hah no way!

You have stopped eating now and the little fork you used to hold in your hand has now fallen onto the plate, you don’t react through. Your expression is so confused, scared, surprised a whole package deal.

“Now dear, calm down you’ll be allowed to visit me anytime! I just believe you shouldn’t be stuck in hell for eternity, sure! You fucked up.. yeah you may be flawed, but i can tell that you’re a good kid, [Name].

“Even if i don’t believe in redemption, go prove me wrong with that strong will of yours!”

..does she actually mean that, does she believe you can be redeemed? You killed someone, but she still believes in you.. you take a deep breath — inhale, exhale.

“Are you.. are you sure.. i mean I’m not doubting you I’m just— what if they won’t accept me there..?”

Your voice struggles with the sentence you’re not sure what to say.. it all just feels like a big decision to make on a whim. Your hands fiddle with anything they can get their hands on and Rosie smiles sadly at you whilst your eyes dart down to look at your hands.

“I’m sure you will dear, and if anything and i mean anything bothers you, the emporium will always be open.”

Her words were calm, comforting even — but now her words weight on you. You want to do your best for Rosie.. but can you?

—

Of course you can.

Your [Name] after all.

⋇⊶⊰ y o u ? ⊱⊷⋇

You wave a nervous hand to Rosie before you turn a 180, allowing you to get a good view at the hotel. It is huge but has a very.. strange appearance, also it’s located on the side of the town isolated from everything else— that’s one of the weirdest things ever! You can feel your heart raising as you being walking up to the hotel, one step after another.

When you are stood at the door you take some deep breaths, come on! You have got this [Name]! You hesitantly reach your hand out to the handle before gently opening the door.

⋇⊶⊰ E N D ⊱⊷⋇

Sheesh, this was a long one! The author apologizes for the delay on the chapter and would like to say that he will publish chapters around every 2 weeks! He tries his best and nitpicks a lot on his story wich can delay the writing! He would also like me to inform that there’s now a tag list, so if you are interested please go ahead and tell us in the comments!

That’s all I’ve got to say for now, so i hope everyone enjoyed this story-telling session and i hope to see everyone back for more next time! Bye-bye now!

(Thanks everyone for the support on the recent 2 parts of this series, it makes me so happy to see people enjoy reading it and the reblogs has brought big smiles to my face! Thank you everybody sm<3)

~ Tags for reach ~

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin #x nb reader #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin x reader #x nb Reader #alastor x reader #husker x reader #angeldust x reader #charlie morningstar #hazbin charlie #vaggie #niffty

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socialist-autist · 5 months ago

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🇨🇦 | Winter car troubles.

fandom: Hetalia. pairing: Canada x gender neutral reader. summary: You have just recently moved to Canada and are experiencing a harsh Canadian winter for the first time. Your cute neighbor, Matthew, notices you struggling with your car and offers his help. genre: Meet-cute, fluff. warning(s): Light cursing. word count: 1,909 words. authors note: uhhh not sure how much I like this but practice makes best right?

Maybe moving to Toronto was a mistake.

You look out the window worriedly, sighing and shifting on your feet before taking a sip from your cup of coffee. The view outside was gorgeous but worrying. Apparently, yesterday's light snowfall had devolved into a raging snowstorm while you were sleeping. The streets were covered in a thick layer of powder snow, making every surface white and shimmery. The trees outside looked white, their branches bearing a similar thick layer of snow as on the ground. The snowfall had calmed down significantly, barely a snowflake to be seen, but had left a small winter wonderland in the Canadian city. Unfortunately, the beautiful sight also meant everything was freezing and under the glistening snow hid a thin but dangerous layer of ice.

You sigh, tearing your eyes from the painfully white scene and deciding to get ready instead. You had never experienced a true Canadian winter, leaving you unsure about what to expect. Despite the new, unexpected, challenge you still had to get to work. After throwing on your work clothes, you make your way to your front door. The thick coat you had thought wise to invest in when the weather turned colder would keep you warm enough, your boots armed with grips on their soles to keep you from slipping. You open the front door, being immediately met with a rush of cold air, unpleasant air.

You step outside and close your door, humming a bit. After a minute or so of being in the cold, it really wasn't so bad. The breathtaking snow laden neighborhood helped too. You look around as you walk to your car, smiling to yourself. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Sure, it was cold but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle. With renewed hopes for a comfortable future, you reach into your pocket and pull out your car keys. Those renewed hopes were quickly crushed as you encountered your newest challenge. You align your key with the hole and attempt to push it in. Keyword, attempt. You tried your best, really! They key however, clearly hellbent on ruining your day, would not go in.

These attempts repeated for about 5 minutes before you gave up, staring at your car door confused and incredulous. You'd checked the keyhole, nothing was in there that you could see. You huff and frown, considering breaking your car window to get in when you heard a voice from behind you, "Excuse me, are you alright there eh?" the soft voice inquires. You turn around quickly, letting out a surprised sound at how close the stranger stood behind you. You didn't hear him walk up at all. Must have been the snow muffling any noise. You stutter a bit, surprised, "I'm alright, just having some car troubles" you explain, suddenly feeling embarrassed. How long had he been watching you struggle with your car key? God, that's such a stupid problem.

Now that the initial surprise of his appearance died down, you take a better look at him. He had fluffy blond hair, round violet eyes you could have gotten lost in, and was wearing rectangular glasses. He was wearing a mountie uniform, a soft, kind smile on his face. He looked handsome. You smile back nervously, now even more worried about looking stupid in front of the mysterious handsome man. An amused look crosses his face at your response, "If you're having trouble getting your key in, your car lock is probably frozen" he supplies helpfully. In spite of the bitter cold air, you feel your face heat up. His voice was surprisingly high at first, but it fit him. His tone was so soft, his voice low but not as if he was whispering. It was relaxing and mesmerizing. You swore you heard a faint French accent too. After internally gushing about the stranger's voice, you finally processed what he had actually said, "Oh! That can happen?" you ask, surprised. He nods and you could've sworn his face was getting red too. It must've been the cold.

After the flustering rush of emotions, the next thing you feel is panic, "Shit! Frozen?! I can't, I have to leave-" you pause momentarily to check the time, "now! Fuck!" you curse under your breath, looking frazzled. Okay, maybe you could call a taxi and- your rush of thoughts were interrupted by the pretty stranger speaking up again, "It isn't that hard to defrost it but if you need to leave now, I'm leaving for work too, I could give you a lift eh?" he proposes, his kind, uniquely violet eyes fixated on you. You paused for a second. You aren't stupid or naive. You shouldn't be getting into strange men's cars, no matter how good they look. But if you were late for work you might get reprimanded and that definitely wouldn't be good. Seeing your hesitation, the stranger starts to apologize for making such a bold proposition. You look at your car again before deciding to throw caution to the wind and accept his offer. You reassure him it was okay and he was sweet for offering his help. Did his face get redder? You then tell him that, if it really wasn't any bother, you'd really appreciate a ride.

Next thing you know, you're in the handsome strangers car, which smells, surprisingly strongly, of maple syrup. He has a polar bear cub on the backseat he occasionally throws a quip at. On your way to your work, you start talking to him. You need to coax him a bit, he seems shy and reserved. Turns out, he's your next door neighbor, "Really? How come I've never noticed you? I could've sworn I've met all my neighbors..." you muse, a bit puzzled. What you could swear is an upset look flashes across his face before he shrugs, "People don't notice me often, I blend into the background a lot apparently" he explains in a small mumble as he takes a left turn. You hum, feeling slightly bad for not noticing him before. A smile creeps onto your face as you shrug too, "Well, we've met now, and I'm glad for it. I can't believe I didn't notice a face like yours" you shoot back, deciding to test the waters a bit. His face flushes as he glances at you, smiling almost nervously, "Ah, thank you eh" he replies, mumbling more than usual. The polar bear cub swings at him from the backseat and he squeaks a bit, reprimanding it in a soft voice. You smile to yourself, cute.

The rest of the drive passes by much the same way. You learn his name is Matthew Williams, he has a brother, he is a mountie and has been living in Canada forever now. He offers to come help you unfreeze your car lock once he's home and you take him up on the offer. The more you get to know him, the more you feel yourself melt and get swept up in the coup de foudre more. You throw the occasional flirty glance or comment, savoring his red face and seeming inability to answer to them in any way. Despite the shy and easily flustered side of his personality, you gather Matthew is actually quite sassy. He talks to you about the other neighbors, making passive aggressive comments and sassy remarks about their behavior, making you giggle and smile almost uncontrollably. Surprising yourself, you find you are sad when it comes time to leave the car and head into the workplace. You don't usually take to people this quickly. Matthew smiles at you and tells you he'll back to pick you up when you end work.

And so he does. He shows up exactly when you told him you'd end. You hop in his car and he starts driving back to your homes. The drive back is just as fun as the drive there. You both talk and laugh and discuss how your work days went. You feel like it took about half the time it usually does to get home. Once Matthew pulls into his driveway and parks the car, you both get out and head over to your car. He takes a look at it and instructs you to wait before heading inside his house. He comes back out with an aerosol deicer and sprays the keyhole, then moves back. It does the trick, your key works now. He hands you the spray can with a smile, "You should keep it, you'll need it again and I have too many eh" he tells you. You take the deicer, sighing, "Matthew, you're too nice. Come over for dinner at least, let me make you something!" you offer, his cheeks starting to become red again. After reassuring him it wasn't much trouble, he accepts and you agree to meet at your house in an hour and a half.

The time passes quickly and before you know it, you hear your doorbell ring. You rush over, opening the door nervously and inviting Matthew in from the biting cold. You've both changed into more comfortable clothes, and he looks just as good as he does in a uniform. The polar bear cub follows him into the house, staying close to his leg. He thanks you for the dish as you both sit down to eat, complimenting you on it, and your house decor, all throughout the meal. You, in turn, thank him for driving you to and back from work, slipping in some flirtatious compliments about his looks. He must be more comfortable because this time, he returns the flirting awkwardly but you can tell he's trying to be serious about it. A quick dinner turns into a gossip session, turns into just talking about anything and everything and before you know it, its been 3 hours.

You laugh at the story Matthew just told you, looking at the clock, "Oh god, its so late, I should be going to sleep soon" you point out, feeling a small pang in your chest. You don't want to stop or for him to leave but you both need sleep. He looks up at the clock and makes a small gasp, nodding, "You're right, I should get going too. Thank you for dinner, again" he replies, his voice just as soft and shy as this morning. You accompany him to the door, "Goodnight Matthew, thank you again for everything. I had a lot of fun today" you tell him, a smile on your face and a blush on your cheek. He smiles nervously, nodding, "Don't worry about it eh, I had lots of fun too" he agrees. You can tell he wants to say something more but he doesn't, biding you goodnight instead and turning to leave.

After a quick moment of consideration, you shout after him, "Matthew wait!" he turns around, "Do you wanna have dinner again sometime? Properly this time, at a restaurant" you offer and he can definitely see your blush now. Matthew looks like he might pass away on the spot as he stutters. He finally manages to get out some vague form of agreement after the cub hits his leg, before almost running back to his house. You giggle to yourself, cute. You close your door, locking up the house for the night. As you think about the day's events, only one thought prevails.

Maybe moving to Toronto wasn't a mistake.

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anonymousewrites · 4 months ago

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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance Christmas Special

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Christmas Special

“Kusuo, the cookies are ready!” said (Y/N), pulling the pan out of the oven. “Ow.” They hissed as the metal pan burnt their finger for a second. They drew it back and shook it out.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” said Saiki. His psychokinesis picked up the tray and set all the cookies to cool down while he also healed (Y/N)’s finger.

“Thanks, Kusuo,” said (Y/N), smiling and kissed his cheek before walking to a cupboard.

Behind them, Saiki eyed the cookies—shaped like little people—and one began to float into the air.

“No eating them until we’ve decorated,” said (Y/N), not even having to turn around. They knew their boyfriend well.

Saiki let out a mighty sigh, and (Y/N) just laughed, holding icing and sprinkles. “They’ll be even more delicious when we’ve finished and they have icing, and you know it.”

“Fine,” said Saiki. Not only did he know they were right, but, as usual, he was unable to say no to them (which was maybe why he thought they were right…chicken and the egg problem).

“I was thinking we make our friends,” said (Y/N), excitedly setting out the icing. “I’ve gotten better at cookie art, and I think I can make chibi-versions of them on these gingerbread men.” They smiled excitedly.

“Who are our friends?” said Saiki, feigning ignorance.

“Your ‘bothers,’ as you’ve nicknamed them,” teased (Y/N), knowing he cared. “We have enough gingerbread for a bunch of friends. I was thinking at least Nendou, Kaidou, Kokomi, Miko, Chiyo, Akechi, Hairo, and Toritsuka.”

“He’s our friend?” Saiki was really doubtful of that.

“He’s a perv, but he’s got his moments,” said (Y/N), shrugging. They grinned. “But we’re not including Saiko.” Giggling, they pretended to be posh and put on an accent. “ ‘You didn’t capture me well enough, and I have my chefs prepare an entire cake designed after me every year!’ ”

Saiki smirked. That was a good impression. “Who do you want to make?” He would let (Y/N) choose first so they could have as much fun as they wanted.

“Hm…Miko, Kaidou, Kokomi, and Chiyo!” said (Y/N) with a grin.

“Then I’ll do Nendou, Akechi, Hairo, and Toritsuka,” said Saiki.

“Let’s get to work,” said (Y/N) excitedly.

Saiki nodded and got to work. With his psychokinesis and art-related abilities, he was able to represent the people he knew fairly well (and by ‘fairly well’ he meant perfectly but then he dumbed it down so they looked funnier). They all had school uniforms on, but Nendou had little question marks to represent how thick he was, Akechi had giant white “text boxes” with scrawls of black to represent his rambles, Hairo had his usual energetic fire around him, and Toritsuka…was just Toritsuka. If Saiki added too much of his personality, it would be inappropriate. …Maybe he’d add a tiny ghost and that would be enough.

On (Y/N)’s part, they were also hard at work. Cookie Miko had sprinkles as barrettes all over her head, and (Y/N) carefully placed a round sprinkle in her hand as her crystal ball—they had been really excited to find those for this reason. Cookie Yumehara was also turning out quite nicely with some heart sprinkles around her because of her romantic personality. Cookie Kaidou was a lot of fun since (Y/N) added an “evil aura” around him for his battles of magic against Dark Reunion. Hey, they might tease him for it, but it was a cute, creative outlet. Satisfied with his cookie, (Y/N) put it with Cookie Yumehara.

Cute, they thought, smiling.

Teruhashi was next. (Y/N) happily made their friend with blue hair and put her in the same pose as everyone else. They added the golden glow that followed her around afterwards and nodded in satisfaction. Teruhashi looked adorable even as a cookie, unsurprisingly.

Saiki watched (Y/N) work and looked at the remaining cookies—two. Floating one to him, he didn’t even have to think. He knew who he wanted to make. (Y/N) reached over and picked up the final cookie and smiled to themself. They knew who this was going to become.

It was silent except for the soft Sinatra Christmas music playing through the house until (Y/N) and Saiki finished and looked up. Excitedly, (Y/N) smiled and looked at the tray of cookies.

“They all look so good! You added their personalities, too!” said (Y/N), grinning. They knew he cared and paid attention to his friends. “That’s so cute.”

“They’re so loud it’s impossible not to notice,” said Saiki.

“Uh-huh,” said (Y/N), shaking their head and grinning.

“Yours look good,” said Saiki, seeing their knowing look. He saw through him like he was transparent. And I like it. No point (or ability) to lie there.

“Thanks!” said (Y/N). “I tried to make it look like everyone and have important parts of them.” They paused and grinned. “And I made one more—here.” From behind their back, (Y/N) held up a Cookie Saiki.

Saiki stared. It had his glasses, power dampeners, everything down to his deadpan expression. However, it did have a tiny sprinkle heart on his chest where his own heart would be. Oh, wow. It was so…sweet. (Y/N) saw him so nicely.

“Do you like it?” said (Y/N) nervously.

Saiki looked at them. “Of course I do.” He picked up another cookie. “And this one is for you.” He had also meant to surprise them by creating a Cookie (Y/N).

They let out a surprised and pleased laugh, looking at the cookie. It had them in a little baker’s hat with hearts on it, and they were smiling widely. “It’s so cute,” said (Y/N). They smiled just as widely as the cookie’s expression and looked at Saiki with shining eyes. “I love it, Kusuo.”

“I love you,” said Saiki, the words coming quickly.

(Y/N)’s smile softened to a loving, gentle one. “I love you, too, Kusuo.”

They put the cookies down and held out their hands. Saiki nodded, and (Y/N) hugged him. Saiki’s hands raised and pulled them close.

“Merry Christmas, Kusuo,” whispered (Y/N), leaning back only so they could look him in the face.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N),” said Saiki. He leaned in to kiss them, and (Y/N) kissed back happily.

The (Y/N) and Saiki Cookies lay side-by-side under the glow of Christmas lights, together just as (Y/N) and Saiki would be forever.

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defectivevillain · 3 months ago

Text

underestimated

pairing: House/Reader (no explicit romance)

reader is referred to with they/them pronouns. otherwise, race is ambiguous and no physical descriptors are used.

word count: 1.6k | ao3 version

author's notes: I have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to this fandom. I've never watched the series—I've only watched Trixie and Katya watch it.

But I have a weakness for arrogant savant doctors who are given a swift reality check when they experience a career-threatening disability. Cough cough, Stephen Strange. Cough cough, Lawrence Gordon.

We knew this was going to happen eventually. I've outrun my fate for long enough.

Enjoy!

“I’d like to speak with another doctor. One with more experience. Who’s your supervisor?”

Everything around you seems to grind to a halt, as you stare at your patient’s father in disbelief. You went through years of schooling; participated in extensive specialized training; and incurred an ungodly amount of student debt to finally earn your reputation as a doctor… All for someone to disrespect you in a single breath? You stare at the man for a long moment, swearing you can hear your ears ringing as you process just what he had the audacity to say to you.

Due to your relatively young age, you’ve been forced to grow accustomed to skeptical looks and backhanded remarks. You’ve been confused for a nurse more times than you can count, despite the undeniable fact that you wear a doctor’s coat instead of scrubs. There have been many times when you felt as if you were being subtly judged, but never has someone had the gall to blatantly disrespect you like this.

Realizing you’ve been stewing in silence for longer than socially appropriate, you mutter an excuse to leave before departing from the room. You grit your teeth and try not to notice how quickly your heart is racing in your chest. You’re so concentrated on the frustration brewing in your chest that you aren’t watching where you’re going, and you accidentally bump shoulders with someone.

“Hey, watch it, speedster.” Broken from your thoughts, you look over to find Dr. House staring at you in mild amusement. You feel an ugly emotion stewing in your chest at the thought of what you need to request of him.

“My patient needs you,” you manage to choke out. There are a plethora of negative emotions running through you now: anger, shame, frustration, disbelief. You’ve been underestimated before, but never so overtly. It feels like a slap to the face.

House lets out a loud sigh. “What have I told you?” he says, shaking his head in annoyance. “Everyone needs me. They’ll have to get in line.” He waves flippantly with his free hand.

“No, I mean—” you choke off, struggling to keep your composure. You take a slow breath, pretending not to notice how the doctor’s gaze intensifies in its scrutiny. “His parents asked for my supervisor.”

House stares at you for several long moments, studying your face as if looking for any traces of dishonesty. When he doesn’t find anything, he frowns. “They did?”

You nod. Your fists clench at your sides as you struggle to fight off your distress. This shouldn’t be bothering you as much as it is. You shouldn’t care what anyone has to say about you—least of all, two complete strangers. That recognition does nothing to rid you of your spiraling thoughts, however. “They wanted to speak to someone with more experience,” you remember to say. Your voice sounds a bit hollow, but you can’t tell if you’re imagining that.

Dr. House stares at you for several seconds. “Ordinarily I’d say I’m much too busy,” he reasons, leaning on his cane as a speculative expression passes across his face. “But, would you look at that? My schedule has suddenly cleared up.”

There’s a vindictive glimmer in his eyes now and you quickly try to backtrack. “House, it’s fine. I’ll go get Dr. Cuddy or something-” You suggest, suddenly a bit nervous.

Dr. House interjects before you can make any more excuses. “What room is your patient assigned to?” he questions, not even bothering to acknowledge your weak justifications.

“213,” you respond.

“Excellent,” he says, his eyes already set on the end of the corridor. House has already made up his mind—it’s too late for you to object. You’re forced to watch regretfully as he heads down the hall towards your patient. You can only hope you haven’t just made a big mistake.

Dr. Gregory House enjoys having a staff that isn’t entirely useless. He never would’ve described them so positively before—but maybe you have something to do with that. Ever since House hired you, he’s been a little less annoyed at work. It’s hard for most people to notice, but Cuddy and Wilson are particularly perceptive in that regard. He has learned to ignore their jabs and inquiries, despite knowing the facts of the matter.

You were the only one of the newer employees who didn’t undergo House’s rather extensive examination and hiring process. In actuality, you had attended the first day of the “examinations”—but you had approached him at the end of the day with the intent to drop out of the process.

House still remembers the humble confidence you wielded in that moment—the certainty in your eyes as you met his gaze and asserted your self-worth. It stunned him for a moment, truthfully, before he found himself weirdly impressed. When he asked for further elaboration, your points were quick and concise: you felt as if a standard interview process would be a suitable portrayal of your abilities; and you asserted you weren’t going to fight to change someone’s perceptions of you.

Intrigued, House interrogated you about your background: where your residency was located, what specialties you were interested in, and what kind of position you were looking for. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but you essentially tricked him into a genuine interview—without him even realizing it. Of course, you couldn’t have predicted that you would capture his attention. Even so, he found your strategy both clever and well-executed.

It wasn’t until Dr. Cuddy entered the room nearly forty minutes later, wondering what was taking House so long, that he was truly convinced. House saw you slowly begin to retreat as Cuddy spoke to him, as if you were about ready to slip out of the room and leave the building for good. House didn’t want that to happen—didn’t want your talent to go to waste. That was how he found himself with a new doctor on his staff: one both competent and, even better, unassuming. You didn’t try too hard to be social with him, evidently recognizing that he had no desire for friendship. Maybe that was why he felt drawn to you.

And perhaps that’s why he’s angry at the thought of your abilities being doubted. House knows you well enough to recognize that you make very few mistakes. There’s no doubt that the parents of your patient underestimated you because of your age. You’re relatively young for a doctor—if House remembers correctly, you were able to graduate from undergraduate schooling early and earn a dual degree. Even so, you’re infuriatingly competent. And the thought of you facing unfounded suspicion is enough to send him down the hall and into the patient’s room with renewed vigor.

He knocks on the door harshly and practically throws it open, setting his eyes on the parents who created this whole mess. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t said anything,” he says in lieu of a greeting, closing the door behind him with a bit more force than necessary. “You had the ray of sunshine; I’m the dark clouds. Or the torrential downpour. Whatever fits.”

“Sorry?” the mother asks in confusion.

“Right, let me put it in layman’s terms,” House continues, tapping his cane impatiently. “I’m a bastard. An asshole, even,” he states plainly.

“This doesn’t seem—” the patient’s father tries to say, glancing at his young son.

“Appropriate?” House interjects. “Yet you thought it appropriate to harass my helpless staff and demand another, more experienced doctor. So here I am. Dr. House, Head of the Diagnostics Department. No need to bow.”

The parents are stunned silent. Satisfied, House continues. “I made sure to fact-check the good doctor’s work—an unnecessary precaution, because it’s all in order.” The parents have the self-awareness to look embarrassed at that. House muses on what he reviewed with you only moments ago. You hadn’t said anything even mildly accusatory, of course; House isn’t so kind, however. He looks the parents in the eyes. “Your son’s illness is entirely your fault. You didn’t get him vaccinated, probably because you fell prey to some bullshit fear-mongering. Now, you feel guilty about it… You lashed out at the doctor, who can actually do something to help your son… It all checks out.” He nods.

Both of the patient’s parents seem lost for words. House decides to take advantage of their momentary silence. “Now, you have two choices,” he drawls. “If you have anything resembling a brain in that head of yours, you’ll apologize to the doctor and I’ll approve the script they recommended.”

The parents are quick to catch onto what he’s implying. “Is that a threat?” the father asks disbelievingly.

He’s tired of this conversation already. It takes a concerted effort for him to focus on the matter at hand. “Now I’ll be taking my leave,” House announces, no longer bothering to hide his irritation. “The doctor will return in a few minutes. If you can behave, then your son will stop whining.” He pauses in the doorway for a moment, before turning to look at them once more. “And keep it down. Your voice is grating enough to give a deaf person a headache.”

Dr. House finds you no more than five minutes later, an unreadable expression on his face. “They’ve been euthanized,” House states with unwavering certainty as he approaches you. Before you can wonder just what the hell that means, he’s already continuing down the hall. You stare after him with mixed feelings, before turning back around and heading to Room 213.

When you return, you find that the parents are completely different people now. They apologize to you for their rude behavior and promise not to make harmful assumptions in the future; satisfied with their apology, you continue with treatment as planned. As you’re writing a prescription for the patient, you can’t quite stop the smile that’s rising on your lips at the thought of House defending you—even in his own twisted, antagonistic, patronizing way.

thanks for reading! <3

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