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aperrywilliams · 6 months

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From Now On (Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader.

Summary: After faking his death for seven months, Spencer is back just to find out you’re eight months pregnant. After the initial commotion and your denial, you both step into the apartment you used to share. Things have changed and you must talk about it.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. Talking about gunshots, blood, hospitals, faking death, pregnancy symptoms, potential abortion. If I missed something, let me know.

A/N: I’m back! I don't know for how long, but I needed to do something to fight my writer's block. This story can be read independently, but it is the second part of Seven Months.

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The cab ride to your apartment is mainly silent. Your head is tucked into Spencer's shoulder as he rubs your back from time to time. His nose is buried in your hair, inhaling your scent. God, he had missed it so much. He had missed you so much.

And he missed so much of your life in the past seven months. And that scares the shit out of him.

How would he fit into your life now? Does he have any right after faking his death and not telling you anything?

Rossi and Morgan told him you would understand eventually. That you would forgive him for doing this to you.

And maybe you are really considering. Maybe that’s why you went for him to Derek’s in the middle of the night.

Spencer wants that more than anything, but he feels like he doesn't deserve your forgiveness.

Now you both are in front of your building complex. The one that used to be his too.

Spencer knows the concrete walls are the same, but they don't feel like they are.

It's a strange feeling. A feeling that gets stronger when you open the apartment door.

Stepping inside, he knows this is where he used to live, but it doesn't look the same.

The shelves are no longer full of his books. Gone is his globe and coins collection that usually laid over the desk. There are just a couple of pictures of him with you on the wall. The decoration is different. Did you paint the place? Spencer is almost sure of that because it looks brighter than he remembered.

He's silent, inspecting everything around him. The walls, the bookshelf, the furniture: all changed.

After you take off your coat and hang it on the rack, your eyes follow him.

You know what’s going on. You have known Spencer for so long. Even if you thought you lost him, you still can read him like a book.

“Hope isn’t look too bad. I needed to, you know, make some changes?” you explain, not sure how to put the last months in words. Spencer turns to look at you, guilt written over his face. He knows what your words imply and remorse eats him alive.

“I - I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sure it's not enough to erase the hell you have been through since he were gone. Since they told you he was dead.

“I know.” Your response is short but not because you don’t have things to say. It's because you don’t know how to start. “Uh. Would you like some tea?”

It's the safest path. The one you both usually have taken the times you had fought and then try to speak it off. It's different this time, though.

Spencer hesitates. In other circumstances, he would agree and sit on the couch to talk. But it's late, the day has been a rollercoaster and you are eight months pregnant. He knows you should be sleeping, or resting at the very least.

“Maybe it's better you go to bed? It's late and you must be tired,” he points, nervously fidgeting with his hands, his gaze shifts between your eyes and belly.

“Honestly? I don't think I could sleep tonight even if I try,” you confess, moving to the kitchen to put the kettle.

”I don't think I could sleep either,” he admits, following to the kitchen. He wants to help, but he doesn’t want to look like an intruder in your space. A space that it’s not his anymore. Noticing Spencer doesn't know what to do with himself, you invited him to take a seat on the barstool.

“It will be ready in no time, don’t worry.”

You are the one who endured months of grief from your fiancee, carrying his child, and you are the one comforting him. Spencer thinks it's not fair.

In silence, he looks with raptor fascination at the way you move around the kitchen. It's delicate and calm. You have a glow that captivates him. You don’t realize his gaze until you turn to put the mugs over the counter.

“What?” you question softly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, eyes entranced in you. You laugh, shaking your head.

“Come on, Spencer. I look like a mess. This belly reaches everything minutes before I can. It's huge! I can barely walk decently. Look at my hair! And my skin. It's sticky all the time.”

As you ramble about why isn’t accurate to call you beautiful, Spencer stands from the stool and rounds the kitchen counter to step in front of you. He wants to reach for your hands that you’re waving in the air to emphasize your point, but refrains. He’s still unsure about initiating physical contact. He rests his hands on the counter and clears his throat.

“I can certainly say it's not the way you are used to feeling. But the way I see you right now? I see beauty, power, and life. It's light what I see on you.”

You don’t know when tears started to roll down your cheeks. But hearing the adoration in Spencer’s words only spurs you to let out your emotions.

“You know my hormones have been doing a number on me, right? You’re not helping,” you complain, chuckling. After handing Spencer his tea, you take yours and walk to the living room.

You carefully sit on the couch and reach for the blanket in the back to cover your lower half. Spencer mimics your actions, sitting as well on the couch, but at a safe distance from you.

A silence envelops the room. Your hand plays with the strands at the end of the blanket, and your eyes scrutiny Spencer’s face. He looks tired, with prominent circles under his eyes, and stubble for days of no shaving.

He is analyzing you too. Even if your eyes denote exhaustion, he can see the strength that makes you look put together despite everything that has been going on.

He can see the protectiveness too. Rubbing your belly in soothing motions, shielding your non-born child from the unknown, the uncertain.

How much he would have given to be the one who could have protected you and the baby from the first minute.

“I guess you have questions,” you prompt. “But I have mine too, so if you don’t mind,” you trail off and Spencer understands what you want. He nods, preparing himself to answer whatever question you have. After a pause to collect your thoughts, you start to speak again.

“What really happened in that warehouse? Why you didn't let me go inside with you?”

You are talking about the day Spencer was shot and beaten for the unsub. The day he ended up at the hospital just to be declared dead hours after.

“I thought if we didn't split we could lose him. We were so close so many times. I thought it was our last chance. It never occurred to me it was a trap. That he wanted me there alone. I just didn't see it,” Spencer swallowed hard, remembering that day. You stayed in silence, waiting for him to continue.

“I heard his voice telling me he had you, and I panicked. So I ran to him. I let my guard down. When I realized he was lying it was too late.”

“But you launched at him. Why didn't you try to stall him first?” You asked, leaving your mug on the coffee table, feeling the suddenly urge to protect yourself with your arms around you. You never talked about what really happened with anyone. Not even to Hotch when he questioned you during the FBI investigation of the incident.

The way Spencer reacted with the unsub is something you never understood. The profile said the unsub was a guy who liked to show off, so trying to incite him to do that while waiting for backup would have been reasonable.

“The way he laughed. Maybe sounds stupid, but- I saw the resolve of an end game, and not like the typical bragging-end game, it was an evil-end game. He had the upper hand and he knew it. If I didn't do something first, he would have gone after you. And I couldn't let that happen. I didn't count on the hidden gun, though. Another mistake,” he breaths out.

You remember like it was yesterday rushing to the warehouse after hearing two gunshots. Once inside you saw Spencer lying on the floor, in a pool of blood.

“You were there and I didn't know what to do,” you recount your side of the story. “It was the worst nightmare. I screamed for help and it felt like an eternity before someone came to us. And your eyes-” You stop for a second, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. “You - you were saying goodbye and I wasn’t ready.”

Your resolve from earlier seems to crumble as you revisit what happened in that warehouse. Tears are now rolling down your cheeks, and you bite your bottom lip to stop their quivering.

Spencer wants to hold you, but he’s afraid of how you would react, so tentatively rests his hand on your knee. You are shaking and he’s worried this conversation could do more harm than good.

“We can stop. You are not feeling okay,” he points out. But despite Spencer's apprehensions, this conversation must happen now.

“I need to get this out of my chest. Please, let me do this. I know you need it too.”

Spencer knows you are right. You both need this.

“Do you remember anything after the shots?” you ask, and Spencer thinks for a moment.

“I remember being there, the sharp pain in the chest and my ribs. But most of it is a blur. I remember seeing you there. Crying. God. I hated seeing you cry. I think you held my hand?”

You nodded. “I was so scared, but with you there, I wasn’t anymore. The last thing I remember it’s the guilt of not saying I love you for the last time. I really thought it was the end for me,” he admits, his own tears blurring his sight.

“It was for me, though,” you mumbled, a sad look in your eyes. “I mean, I still had hopes when you were moved to the hospital, but deep down I knew I shouldn’t have had them. And everything shattered when JJ came to the waiting room and told us you didn't make it.”

A heavy sigh escapes from Spencer’s lips. Neither JJ nor Hotch had told him how they let it know the team he was ‘gone.’

“I can’t even imagine - It was unfair to you. And I know no matter what I say it won’t make it better.”

Your thoughts wander to the moment after you heard JJ saying Spencer was dead.

Disbelief. Pain. Denial.

And then, days of numbness.

“You know. I just shut off. I have some flashbacks. Rossi hugging me; Hotch telling me to take all the time I needed; Morgan crying with me.”

It feels weird to recall those memories as yours, like an alternative universe that turned different at the end.

“Where did you go?” Spencer asks. The thought of you in the apartment alone after that breaks his heart.

“Emily took me to her place because I couldn't put a foot here. I stayed with her for a couple of days. She helped me a lot to get through this,” you recognize. And for that, you will always be grateful to her.

You also tell Spencer about how the whole team helped you to make it through the days. Some kind of relief washes over him knowing you didn't face it alone.

He can’t fathom how difficult it was for you, also knowing you were pregnant. And about that...

“When did you find out?” He asks, eyes darting to your belly. You follow his gaze trajectory and a little smile creps on your face.

“Almost a month later. I was feeling sick all the time. Emily pushed me to get checked. They took blood tests and stuff. When they told me I couldn't believe it. For me, it was a twisted joke,” you admit, hanging your head low.

Spencer dreads asking the next question but you already know what is, so you keep talking.

“Yes. I had thought about it. I didn't feel in a good place to be a mom, Spencer. I barely could make it through the days. And having a baby? Fuck, just thinking about it was too much.”

You tell him about how you cried your eyes out. How lost you felt for days. The doubts about the future, but above everything, the protectiveness that aroused in you once the idea settled. Yeah, you couldn’t keep Spencer safe, but you were determined to save the part of him growing in you.

“And seven months later, here I am. About to give birth to our baby,” you conclude, lovingly rubbing your belly.

“It’s weird, you know?” Spencer begins. “The last time I saw you and now. It feels like I lost time. And I know I lost it. It’s just - I never expected to see things so changed. I don’t know how I fit here. What I’m saying doesn’t make any sense right now-” he trails off, darting his gaze to the fidgeting hands on his lap.

He’s been holding back. You notice. Since you both crossed the threshold he has been afraid of invading your personal space, of touching you. Now it makes sense.

“That's why you have been keeping your distance from me?” you ask. Spencer’s eyes quickly flash to you. Guilt is written on his face.

“What?”

Your gaze soften seeing him so stressed by being caught. It's true the past months have been tough for you, but they have been tough for him too. And to see a before and an after so different probably has him reeling.

“Since we put a foot in this apartment you have kept a safe distance. I’m not judging you, I really don’t. I just want to know what’s on your mind right now,” you explain, shifting on the couch to change your position. With an eight-month belly is difficult to be comfy in any position.

Spencer sighs. There are so many things revolving inside his brain that it’s not easy to put them in words.

“When I woke up in a hospital bed in Bethesda, the first thing I looked for was if you were there. But I was alone. A strange feeling squeezed my chest. For a moment I thought -” he pauses to take a breath. “I thought everything had gone wrong and the unsub had hurt you or the team, or both. I was about to freak out when a marshal came and explained to me what happened.”

Spencer recounts how the agent told him about his new destination and how this assignment was for an undetermined time.

“Since then, not a single day passed without the urge to take a plane and come back. To you. But what if I messed up putting you at risk doing so? It was insane to know I was dead for you and I couldn't do anything to fix it.”

“That's why you wrote the letters?” Spencer nodded. In a notepad, he wrote a letter to you every single day since he landed in Paris. He handed you the notepad at the BAU this afternoon before you stormed out, completely shaken and confused.

“I needed to put in words each day without you. I needed to tell you I was there, even if you never could read it.”

His shaky breath forces him to take some seconds to compose himself. You took that as your cue. Shifting again, you scoot a bit closer to him and reach tentatively for his hand, and he clings to it as if his life depended on it.

“And I’m here right now. And so do you,” you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I’m as scared as you are, but we need to do something to get through this. If it is something you want to do,” you add. Spencer's glassy eyes find yours.

“It's all I want. Maybe it's hard for me to understand I can’t fix something like this, but I want a chance to make us work again. I know I can’t get back time, but if you let me I want to gain back the place I lost the day I gone.”

Spencer’s free hand flies to your cheek to wipe with his thumb the tears you haven’t noticed are falling.

“We can start with something,” you prompt, reaching for a folder resting at the coffee table. After opening it, you produce a bunch of ultrasound pictures and hand them to him. From the first appointment you had, to the last one from a week ago.

Spencer’s eyes sparkle with excitement, seeing every detail and the way the baby has grown in the past months.

Tears fall freely and there is pure emotion that fills his heart.

So many nights you both spent talking about what it would be like to have a baby. How wonderful it would be to see them grow. About what traits they would inherit from each of you.

You smile at the scene unfolding in front of your eyes. It feels so good to see in him the same excitement you have. You both wanted this. And until today you thought only you would get the chance to experience it.

After inspecting and committing to memory each detail from each pic, Spencer’s eyes find yours again.

“Do you know the baby’s-” he trails off. He’s unsure, maybe you didn't want to know or want him to know.

You have known the baby’s gender for a while now but have not told to anyone. From the same folder, you extract an envelope you offer to him. With trembling hands, Spencer takes it and gets the paper from inside. Scanning the words he realizes it is the information of your baby’s gender.

“It's - it's a girl,” he reads aloud with a cracking voice and more tears in his eyes. You nod, your own tears clouding your vision.

“Yes. Do you remember when we talked about having a baby and you told me you wanted a girl? When I found out the gender, I thought about how happy you would have been,” you sniffle, and Spencer reaches for you, now wrapping you in a loving embrace.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” he repeats over and over, kissing your temple. You close your eyes, losing yourself in his chest, inhaling his scent.

You stay like this for a moment. Contently in each other arms. Spencer still can’t believe he got the chance to hold you again, and you are still assimilating the day’s events. It's unbelievable how everything changed in less than twenty-four hours.

“I love you,” he mumbles in your hair, a hand moving to rub your belly. “And I love you,” he says now, talking to your baby.

“We love you too, Spencer,” you respond, voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped, and we will never stop.”

Parting from your embrace, you get lost in each other's eyes. Communicating without words what this moment means to both of you. Cupping your face, Spencer leans to find your lips with his in a loving kiss. You kiss him back, pouring all your feelings.

It's a new promise of love.

After breaking the kiss, he presses his forehead to yours.

“Will we be okay?” he asks, almost in a whisper.

“From now on, we will be,” you assure him. It feels like you are telling this to yourself too. Maybe you do. Everything still looks messy right now, but life is giving you a second chance, and neither Spencer nor you is willing to let it go.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angt #spencer reid hurt/comfort #seven months #from now on #amanda perry williams #aperrywilliams

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fatuismooches · 1 year

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What are the Harbingers like when they’re jealous?

if i can't have you baby, no one else in this world can.

Imagine the Harbingers when they're jealous.

Pierro is at the age where it’s simply too late to get immaturely jealous. He values independence and won’t meddle too much in your affairs. Of course, he’ll be there if anything serious or dangerous happens, but with his position, you’ll need to adjust to being apart for various lengths of time. Therefore, Pierro won’t be mad when you talk to others. In fact, he’ll encourage it considering how he doesn’t want you to feel too lonely. Though, he’ll advise you to stay away from certain Harbingers… Anyway, Pierro doesn’t exactly get jealous, but rather, sad. He’s happy to see you all lively and joyful with others, someone as bright and pure as you deserve it. After all, a sinner like him has no right to dictate who you should interact with or how you should feel. At the same time, Pierro can’t help but feel a twinge of sorrowfulness. Perhaps you would be more happy without him. Unintentionally becomes more distant from you and won’t say anything until you notice first. Please sit him down and explain to him how much you love and him you’ll never leave him for anyone. He’ll appreciate that a lot.

Dottore considers himself to be smart enough now not to fall for the jealousy trap. He’s lived for hundreds of years, obtained unspeakable and great knowledge, and is able to bring even Gods to his feet. There is no reason for him ever to feel a frivolous emotion such as jealousy. He’s confident in himself, and he’s confident in you. There is no one he’s been with longer than you, and he trusts you, to continue to be a constant in his life. Even if he does get jealous, it’ll probably be by his clones hogging you and even then he could send them off with a snap of his fingers. And well, I doubt anyone else would come up to you when there’s always a version of Dottore near you. Though, there are some clones from his younger years that you can easily tell when they’re jealous. It’s honestly a bit funny but nostalgic to see how different he is. You remember when he’d get all silent whenever you had to leave your shared dorm room in the Akademiya. (He didn’t want you mingling with those incompetent scholars because he feared for your intelligence, he claimed. You knew he was just jealous and lonely.)

Columbina is a bit surprised at her jealousy. She likes to take things easy and not too seriously, so the feeling of a stab of envy is new to her, but she welcomes it. Columbina believes that this is all part of the joy of relationships, discovering new emotions and things about each other, so she won’t take it too seriously. She’ll actually be happy that she feels for you so much, that she’s able to get jealous. It’s quite an accomplishment and milestone! Though if the person ever makes you uncomfortable, they’re next on her hit list. Columbina tends not to understand the concept of personal space sometimes, so she’ll just stroll up to you and hug you from behind, or rest her head on your shoulders, whatever she’s in the mood for, and just… smile. This usually is enough for the other person to back off and leave you alone. If you ask Columbina about her jealousy, she won’t hide or deny it, and instead hum and weave a pleasing string of words about how only a fool wouldn’t be possessive of you. Perhaps she’s more devilish than we give her credit for?

Capitano is the confused one. The feeling has been following him around all day, and he can’t seem to pinpoint where or when it started. You’re going to have to notice something is a bit off with your lover because he most likely won’t go to you first. Capitano has a bit of a problem with showing vulnerability. He’s expected to be the unmoving, sturdy, and dependable Captain at all times, so having to put his walls down can be quite hard sometimes. (Even while cuddling he can be really stiff which you have to keep telling him to relax.) Though after a bit of your usual pestering and refusing to let go of him, he relents. You’ve always been persistent in helping him show emotions despite kind of failing, so what would it hurt to tell you? You always seem to know things that he doesn’t. Though he finds himself a bit abashed after the realization hits you and you struggle to tell him through laughter that he’s simply jealous. Afterward, he finds it a bit embarrassing - a high-ranking Harbinger such as him being inflicted with something like that. But Capitano is still rather grateful for you teaching him more about this emotion and how to control it. Reassures you that it won’t happen again but it wasn’t like you were complaining, you teased. He prefers if you didn’t bring this up again because he doesn’t like thinking about his moments of weakness.

Scaramouche is pissed. Furious at some person for speaking to you like that, furious at you for making him feel this way, but most importantly furious at himself for succumbing to such a stupid and exhausting human emotion. His line of thought is something like this: How dare they try to act all buddy-buddy with you? And how dare you give them that sweet smile and laugh of yours, when that’s reserved for him only? The second someone looks at you the wrong way has him completely zoned in and aware of their actions, in case they try to pull something. In moments he’ll have them shivering and running away in tears, maybe a broken bone too if he’s especially pissed. Depending on his mood and how well you comfort him, they may live to see another day. If you call him out on his jealousy, he’ll just shake his head and deflect the accusations, calling you an idiot instead (affectionately.) Will be closer and more touchy with you for the rest of the day.

The Wanderer, on the other hand, has grown to be more mature and less confrontational about it. He’s calmed down a bit from his Fatui years and admits that his way of dealing with things wasn’t the most optimal, and is doing his best to be a better lover for you. He now trusts you enough to be able to deal with things by yourself. Though, don’t think that he won’t spring into action. He’ll still stand close by, arms crossed and hat covering his expression, listening in. The moment the person says something a little too inappropriate or you start looking uncomfortable, he’s standing in front of you in a flash, glaring at the person. If they don’t get the hint, they’ll receive a personal berating from him. Teasing him for being jealous will result in him scoffing and walking away rather quickly, leaving you to run after him.

Innocent Kabukimono doesn’t understand why he’s feeling this way! You’re just talking to a villager, someone he knows, and yet his chest is twisting and turning all painfully as he watches! A part of him just wants to go up to you and pull you away, but that wasn’t what good humans did, was it? So he just sulks and sulks with pouty cheeks, to the point Niwa is concerned for him. When Kabukimono explains what he’s feeling, he just laughs and pats him on the back, explaining the concept of jealousy, and advises the puppet to simply communicate with you about it. When Kabukimono does speak to you about it, fiddling with his veil and clothes shyly, you can’t help but coo at how cute he was being, and assure him that he’ll always be number one in your heart. When he asks for a few kisses for reassurance, you can’t help but agree.

Sandrone does not know what to do or make with this feeling. She is aware of what it is, but like, how should she go about dealing with it? She could just go up to you and drag you away, it would be quite easy for her to do that with the Automaton behind her and all. Or she could just let you be. You are quite different from her after all. You enjoy talking to other people and interacting with them, while she could care less. So Sandrone simply retreats to her little safe haven, her lab chock-fulled with her inventions and machines and then a specific section she made for little creations dedicated for you. And she works and works, well, more like tries to work but her head is steaming from how some random person can hog your attention like that. And she can no longer tolerate that. Eventually, if you don’t come back to her quick enough, she’s going to find you herself and take matters into her own hands, regardless of whatever conversation you’re having. Teasing her about it may result in one of her machines picking you up and dangling you above the floor. But she’s really just happy you’d choose her over anyone.

La Signora is another one who's quite confident in your relationship. I mean, she’s gorgeous, you’re gorgeous, you two were practically made for each other. So, whenever people talk to you, she can’t help but understand since you’re so alluring. But her favorite part is showing off to everyone that hah, too bad, you’re already taken by her. As if anyone else could ever be worthy of you, she thinks, pitying those poor fools who think they ever had a chance with you. And she will make this ideology absolutely clear to anyone and everyone. She’s so tall, she probably towers over the other person and gives them a look that definitely makes them feel like a pest. She has one hand tracing over your collarbones and the other stroking your hair while she looks at the other person dead in the eye as if daring them to say something. Of course, they don’t. Signora finds the whole ordeal more amusing than anything and will laugh with you if you bring it up. Oh darling, she tells you, it’ll take a lot more than that to truly upset her. However, although she enjoys watching the hope fall out of other people’s eyes, it does get tiring sometimes. Maybe you need more matching accessories? Would a hickey do?

Pantalone is well acquainted with the feeling of jealousy. He’s felt it since he was a child, envying others for what he could not have. And now he’s climbed up and up the ladder, to the point where everyone is jealous of him instead, not the other way around. He’d never have to feel that feeling again, as he had anything a man could ever dream of. Except… he’s jealous yet again. Not over material possessions or wealth, but you. But Pantalone hides his jealousy quite well, just like he does with his other emotions, under that smile of his. Other people won’t notice but… if you look closely you may see his smile is a bit strained. Pantalome keeps up the polite persona but may throw in a few snide comments. He keeps a firm arm around your waist and ushers you out of there rather quickly. You probably shouldn’t bring it up later. Pantalone sometimes fears he will be that same boy stuck in poverty and left with nothing again, although he never expresses it. He sometimes fears he will lose you too. Don’t say anything. Simply come up from behind and hug him. Pull off that huge jacket of his. Give him lots of kisses and finally one on the lips, telling him he never needs to worry about being separated from you.

Arlecchino looks emotionless as ever but the jealousy eats her up inside. It leaves a taste in her mouth that’s more bitter than her coffee. She’s the kind of person to do something about it as soon as she feels the feeling creeping up. Does not tolerate anything from anyone (besides you) so you can be sure that she’s going to put a stop to it right away. The thing about Arlecchino is that she doesn’t even need to say anything to scare the person off. Her aura can be so icy and intimidating, downright terrifying sometimes if she felt like it. Not to mention the contempt laced in her eyes could probably kill a man. So when Arlecchino gets jealous, she doesn’t remain like that for long because the problem is solved rather quickly. Plus, she doesn’t really see anything wrong with it. She just sees it as her protecting you from creeps. So if you tease her about it she won’t really be affected by that either. Arlecchino simply kisses you on the forehead and tells you to come to play with the children instead. (Though if you tell her you enjoyed seeing her jealous, she’ll get a teeny bit surprised. She didn’t think you actually liked seeing her like that because many view her as terrifying. You still think she’s so damn hot. And cute when she suddenly can’t make eye contact with you for a few seconds.)

Childe is quite confident and secure in his relationship with you. He cherishes you deeply, and his family loves you as well. You two may not have the most time together, but when you are, you spend it to the fullest. So when he feels the nag of jealousy rising, he’s a bit surprised but plays it off as nothing. It’s just that being away from you for so long has him a bit needy. Though, a teeny tiny part of him wonders if someone else would be better for you, someone that can offer you stability, that won’t leave you waiting for months to return. He would respect your decision… but he quickly ceases that line of thinking. He knows you love him, and he loves you even more, so there was no reason to be worried. Though he might get a bit competitive with the other person, trying to show off a little. And if the person’s making you uncomfortable… well, his passive aggressiveness and less-than-friendly smile are making an appearance. Also, you’ll probably notice he’s more insistent on treating you right. Always being a gentleman and not letting you lift a finger, showering you with all the love he can muster. Childe is always ready to do everything in his power to keep the title of best boyfriend for you. Please watch him cook and clean the dishes! Look, he’s drawing a bubble bath for you right now!

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alonetimelover · 11 months

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pairing: Harry Styles x book writer!reader

fc: Saoirse Ronan

summary: YN just released her debut book, and it became the hot topic online. It might have something to do with certain someone being spotted buying it.

a/n: comments to all those posts are long, because i wanted to somehow incorporate the plot of the book that book writer!reader wrote!

masterlist taglist

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yourinstagram

liked by fallinloveinbooks, user49 and 89 202 others

yourinstagram Those are the notebooks in which I wrote my little baby. I can't believe I am typing this, but 'Silver Lining' is out !!! You can buy it at all independent London bookstores. I can't wait for your reviews. I'll read them all.

view all 8 201 comments

yourbestfriend MY BEST FRIEND IS AN AUTHOR !!! JANE AUSTEN WHO ???

⤷ yourinstagram do not disrespect the legend here

fallinloveinbooks OMG i've been following you since that one post about understanding fantasy world and being allowed to incorporate real world in it! i can't wait to read it, im going to the store right now!

⤷ yourinstagram YOU. ARE. THE. SWEETEST. and i remember you from that post and all that came after. I LOVE YOU and will wait for your words!

user92 what is the genre of the book?

⤷ yourinstagram it's fantasy! but there are a few subgenres. i'd say romance and mystery play a huge role in this book, too!

user109 will it be available online? im from us and would love to read your book!

⤷ yourinstagram unfortunately, not in a foreseeable future

⤷ user109 oh no, why??

⤷ yourinstagram being completely transparent, i released this book using my own money- no publishing house involved - because no one was really interested in it. what is in the stores is the printing i was able to afford. hopefully, they will sell and i'll be able to print more editions.

⤷ user102 im crossing my fingers for you

hArrysbtch i was looking for some new fantasy books, you are sent from heaven

⤷ yourinstagram hope you like it, angel

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, yourbestfriend and 80 393 others

harryupdates HARRY outside of the independent bookstore in London today! EDIT: because all of you are asking, he apparently bought 'Silver Lining' by YN YSN !

view all 2 202 comments

hArrysbtch I've just finished that book and OMG OMG OMG, i don't know what to tell you, but he's getting into something so beautiful so structured so sad, i can't say enough.

⤷ harrysmoustache so it's worth it?

⤷ hArrysbtch YES. YES. YES. absolutely. from the first page to the last, it just consumes you. yn did such a good job, and it's her first book ever!

⤷ harrysmoustache oh, i can't find it online

⤷ hArrysbtch it's only at independent bookstores in London. no publishing house was involved, she printed all the copies available with her own money. i can buy it for you and send it?

⤷ harrysmoustache i DMed you!

stylesbabie harry in his book girl era

harrysmylife he is back and he is reading, he's just like me

user102 there's no way he has that book and i don't

fallinloveinbooks I've read it, and I loved it. I hated it because of how much it made me cry. Harry, you're in for a ride a wild one with all the *wink*wink* scenes and the most heartbreaking chapters of literature I've ever come upon

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, yourbestfriend and 173 302 others

yourinstagram I cannot express how thankful I am for you and your love for my book. Unfortunately, for now, there are no copies available. But im trying to make it work. But maybe it wasn't meant to be...

view all 10 202 comments

yourbestfriend that's a bestseller book if you ask me

⤷ yourinstagram you are the love of my life

hArrysbtch not you using the last line of the book, like it didn't tear my heart open

hArrysbtch thank god it's already on my bookshelf, happy that it broke my heart and made me horny

⤷ yourinstagram Those were the emotions I wanted people to feel!

harrysmoustache my copy is flying to me, and I can't wait to read it

⤷ yourinstagram ill be waiting for your review!

user102 read, loved, cried and read again

⤷ yourinstagram two times??? i could smother you in kisses

⤷ user102 i wouldn’t mind that

user292 can't explain how unique and original it is

⤷ yourinstagram ❤️

user939 not harry lurking in the likes

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 128 402 others

harryupdates HARRY and writer YN YSN out and about in London today!

view all 6 080 comments

hArrysbtch Alexa play that should be me by Justin Bieber

hArrysbtch she's mine harry, fuck off

hArrysbtch what is it that whenever I find someone to obsess over they become somehow connected to harry

hArrysbtch but, i smell couple material !!!

harrysmoustache he's gonna be the inspiration spark

⤷ hArrysbtch don't even start! i read silver lining with Harry in mind as one of the main characters

⤷ harrysmoustache as Emrys, right?

⤷ hArrysbtch yes! my protective and sexy bookboyfriend

⤷ user102 I see, we support complicated men here, i love it

stylesbabie they look so good together

⤷ user02 their backs are towards the camera...

⤷ stylesbabie shhh

harrysmylife I love her style !!!!

user402 she's getting so much attention from it. how did she manage this pr?

⤷ hArrysbtch pr???

⤷ user402 don't tell me it doesn't look like one?

⤷ hArrysbtch yeah, I forgot. every woman harry is seen with is just pr or the one to hate. of course. tpwk does not include woman harry is involved with?

⤷ harrysmoustache burnt!!!

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bloomsbury

liked by yourinstagram, yourbestfriend, harrystyles and 40 492 others

bloomsbury Our newest pea in the Bloomsbury pod is the sweetest, London based, young author who has just published her debut novel. We are here to help and tell you that 'Silver Lining' is coming to all bookstores in the world and to online shopping as well on the 15th of November. To feel whole again.

view all 2 202 comments

yourinstagram I LOVE MY NEW POD

yourbestfriend DONT FORGET ABOUT ME WHEN YOU BECOME FAMOUS

⤷ yourinstagram NEVER

harrystyles Congratulations, YN ❤️

⤷ yourinstagram well, thank you, harry

hArrysbtch my favourite author is getting famous!!!

fallinloveinbooks I CANT BELIEVE IT !!! congrats, yn!!

⤷ yourinstagram thank you, sweets!

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fallinloveinbooks

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 6 492 others

fallinloveinbooks I'm attending YN's 'meet the writer' thingy in London and I cannot express how much appreciation I have for her. She thought every little detail in 'Silver Lining' through to make the book perfect. An icon!

view all 211 comments

hArrysbtch I am here too! And I love her so much!

harrysmoustache you need to either film some moments or just post-stream it for us!

stylesbabie she looks so beautiful

user102 I am here as well! we need to meet up!

⤷ hArrysbtch im in the second row!

⤷ user102 are you the one with a pixie cut?

⤷ hArrysbtch Yes, that's me!

⤷ fallinloveinbooks I think im sitting next to you, hArrysbtch

user42 come on guys, let us now what are the questions and answers!

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dailymail

liked by hArrysbtch, user102 and 103 393 others

dailymail NEW COUPLE ALERT? Harry Styles and newly established writer YN YSN were seen leaving the same restaurant (Styles a few moments after YSN). YN independently published her debut novel just two months ago and then signed a contract with Bloomsbury publishing house after Harry had been seen buying her book. For more photos and information, visit the link in our bio!

view all 19 302 comments

user102 not you making harry the only reason she got the contract

hArrysbtch she got a contract because of the interest her book sparked online, not harry

harrysmoustache i'll just leave it here but literally Neil Gaiman praised this book online

user402 oh yes, when the privilege is striking

user99 you just cannot stop taking photos of people in their free time, invading their privacy, can you?

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, yourbestfriend and 201 392 others

yourinstagram Somethin' is cookin'. And that's the audiobook of "Silver Lining" voiced by me! It will be available on 23rd of December as podcast episodes on Spotify for more of you to enjoy! Merry early Christmas!

PS: there may or may not be someone else to accord their voice to Emrys

view all 19 292 comments

yourbestfriend i could be Rhiannon

⤷ yourinstagram you were laughing your ass off after two lines

⤷ yourbestfriend not my fault that Rhiannon is the comedy queen

harrystyles 📖🎤

hArrysbtch NO WAY! i adore your voice and now i'm gonna picture you as Rhiannon - this book just became even better (it already was perfect, i don't how you're doing it"

⤷ yourinstagram hopefully, i won't end up as her

fallinloveinbooks my dream came true. i usually have such a hard time reading that audiobooks are the only option. now i'm going to listen to my favourite chapter over and over again

⤷ yourinstagram which ones are your favourite?

⤷ fallinloveinbooks definitely 6, 15, 24, 33 and 42

⤷ hArrysbtch all the chapters that depicts love - i see you

⤷ fallinloveinbooks yes! the thing is that number 6 refers to love and all those chapter number's are either 6 or add up to 6

hArrysbtch wait wait wait, i've just realised. what if harry is voicing Emrys????

⤷ harrysmoustache don't give me hope

⤷ fallinloveinbooks that would be perfect

⤷ user102 i'm not ready to listen to chapter 24 and 33 with him voicing it

⤷ hArrysbtch i will die, literally. those scenes are intense!

user102 she just wants people to be able to read the book and not care about paying bundle and having shitty quality. i love her.

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harrysupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, fallinloveinbooks and 109 393 others

harryupdates HARRY and YN at the market in Clonakilty, Ireland!

view all 6 001 comments

hArrysbtch someone tell me is that her home town?

⤷ fallinloveinbooks yes, it is! her parents still live there!

⤷ hArrysbtch meeting parents? oh god, they are serious serious

fallinloveinbooks they live that small town romance book lives

⤷ user102 so true! i need her to write something like this!

⤷ hArrysbtch i would eat it up

stylesbabie Niall is proud right now

harrysmylife i can't express how much i love domestic harry

user20 she started the thunder online after *possibly* announcing that harry will voice Emrys and decided to step away from socials. i love her. i love her. i love her.

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irishharry

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 23 403 others

irishharry How thin are the chances to meet Harry in a small Irish town? Very thin. But not thin enough to be impossible. I MET HARRY FREAKING STYLES AND THE LEGEND HERSELF YN YSN !!!

view all 2 022 comments

hArrysbtch they look so cosy... i want what they have

⤷ fallinloveinbooks a man?

⤷ hArrrysbtch yuck, i only like fictional men + harry

harrysmoustache this ken's job is walk

harryupdates this is very aestheticly pleasing photo

stylesbabie small town!harry is my favourite

user102 hopefully the inspiration is overflowing because i'm reading silver lining for the third time

⤷ hArrysbtch are you okay???

⤷ user102 nope. i just love torturing myself

fallinloveinbooks the matching coats...

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, yourbestfriend and 401 100 others

yourinstagram my love in your heart...

view all 14 292 comments

yourbestfriend answer my calls, yn !!!

⤷ yourinstagram i won't tell you

harrystyles ...my heart in your palm

hArrysbtch I LOVE THE SOFT LAUNCH

hArrysbtch PARENTS

harrysmoustache i love how we all know that this is harry but at the same time it doesn't have to be

⤷ hArrysbtch it better be! this post just cured all my mental problems

fallinloveinbooks the caption... is it the title?

⤷ user102 look at harry's comment, it might be a main thing in her next novel/short story collection

⤷ hArrysbtch the inspiration sparked and inspiration was harry. that's it. when it's published i can die happily

⤷ user102 decide, that or harry voicing Emrys

⤷ hArrybtch im chronically online, don't require any consistency from me

harryupdates vacation in a small irish town birthed some masterpiece, i just know it

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a/n: i have part 2 made in my mind already. do we want more of them?

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles instagram #harry styles fake ig #harry styles fluff #book writer!reader

514 notes · View notes

jacevelaryonswife · 11 months

Text

Bad idea right?

Going out with your friends was great, really great, but it’s been a long time since you had fun with a guy. A considerable time that you thought was affecting lower parts of your body in relation to your roommate.

pairing: Michael Gavey x roommate fem!reader

warnings: p in v sex, fingering, loss of virginity, praising, english is not my first language. 3,455 words.

ewanverse characters masterlist

The idea of having a place only yours has always been something that cheered you up. Independence, silence and calm were very tempting qualities that always ended up being put in the background when the accounts were put on the table. In addition to the rent there was energy, internet, water, food and God knows if something breaks. You postponed the project for a long time while saving more money in the expectation of finding something more affordable, until the perfect option appeared on one of the announcement panels of the central building of the Campus. It was a beautiful coincidence actually, since you didn't used to go to such a place on a daily basis, but apparently the small white poster listed all the features you wanted in your small apartment for a price that fit in your pocket.

There was only one catch, a big catch.

The place already had an owner who was looking for a roommate.

In days past that would be enough for you to ignore the ad and follow your search, but the price and location seemed too tempting to ignore. You would give it a chance and call the number.

And then an even bigger but appeared: the voice on the other side of the line was masculine.

The idea of sharing an apartment with an unknown man was terrifying at all levels and almost made you hang up the phone. For some reason you arranged to visit the place the next day, obviously taking a friend and a knife in case the idiot wanted to play the smart.

And that's how you met Michael. Introverted, nerdy and brutally honest Michael Gavey. Obviously there was a lot of tension during the whole moment that led you to get to know the rooms and talk to him. About the place: it was quite comfortable and bigger than you expected, really organized and warm in the cold season of the beginning of winter. It was ridiculously pleasant. And as for Michael, well, you hadn't decided if he was a harmless nerd or a serial killer. Still, he seemed to interpret the female fear when he offered himself by saying:

"I understand that it's difficult for a woman to live with a lad she doesn't know."

But the point was: you had really liked the apartment, and when he started saying the rules of coexistence the distance between nerd and possible killer became bigger, much bigger. That was not a one-sided conversation, especially when you started questioning him in a not very subtle way about his life. What did he do? Where did he come from? Did he hide bodies in his room? (The latter was in your imagination, but you managed to spy on his room without being noticed).

Michael said that some people showed interest in the ad but that they did not fit the standard of roomies he wanted. Disorganized, drugged and very noisy, as soon as he classified them.

His methodical personality did his best to try to build a positive (or less negative) image you could have of the arrangement. And honestly, he seemed to be a quiet man, who appreciated a certain silence and calm that you wanted in your home most of the time. Obviously you checked the criminal record of the guy with caramel hair and beautiful blue eyes as soon as you left the building, relieving yourself by not finding anything. But hey, he was a student like you, it couldn't be so hard to find something about the guy!

By another incredible chance of fate a friend of a friend had some classes with Gavey and was very efficient in giving some information about the subject:

"Really smart, a little pretentious and clumsy, but he's a nice guy, doesn't have many friends and is definitely harmless."

Obviously it took much more than that to make you invest in the property, but what really mattered was that that weekend Michael Gavey had received a call and agreed with the idea.

So officially you were moving to the place you wanted, well located and cozy, but with a roommate who owns the place. And for the next few weeks after the move you slept with a knife under the pillow.

════════════════════

Living with Michael proved to be something very calm. Your classes took place at the same time, which culminated in sharing the rest of the day together. Initially things were strange, especially when you tried to talk to each other in the first days without any subject that caught the attention of the other, which defined the following days with dialogues only about the needs of coexistence. It was much easier that way and ensured that the dynamics between you happened in a more organic way than thought, since both were easy to deal with in your own ways. The apartment wasn’t complete yet, with few kitchen utensils and cleaning that you didn't mind buying. Michael was very hygienic and almost never left anything for you to clean (if it happened he would leave a note in the sink or bathroom indicating that he would take care of it later).

He wasn’t so good in the kitchen, but that wasn’t a problem when cooking was an almost relaxing activity for you, and it was very gratifying to receive compliments about your food. In addition, at the end of dinner he would make a point of washing the dishes to help.

Everything seemed to go very well over the weeks, the first month, the first month and a half until things started to change in the way you saw it.

Going out with your friends was great, really great, but it's been a while since you had fun with a man. A considerable time that you thought was affecting lower parts of your body. You see, Michael wasn’t bad looking, not with his caramel blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes and a formidable face; not with his terribly long fingers and delicious hands, not with his height much higher than your usually covered your body when he approached. No, the point was that you never had a relationship with someone like him. A little introverted, methodical, with a particular sense of humor and a little grumpy. On the other hand, he knew how to be pleasant and malleable when he wanted, he was almost shrewd and a little lonely.

Adding this to a nice body, a perfectly sculpted face and the looks he sent you when your clothes were tighter or more tidy, the sum was that you wanted to fuck that damn nerd in every room of your shared apartment.

Initially the feeling was repressed. Maybe it was just your fertile period and the sad reality of being for a long time without a male comfort — not the fact that he looks like a delicious prey easily edible. However, as the days went by the realization of being really invested in your roommate was more explicit and palpable, really palpable. Something needed to be done on the subject and some ideas were already around your mind about how to convince Michael to have sex madly in the next few days.

You looked good as an advantage, although you weren’t the most beautiful woman in the world, you were beautiful enough to take off a good looking partner. It couldn't be so difficult (or he could reject it). Therefore, acting with subtlety was your first option, although there was the uncertainty of him not realizing even if his mind was too sharp to do so. But in your state of urgency by instant action the games that would make him gradually succumb would be extremely stressful for you, so you would grab him at once.

But how would you proceed?

It was Friday night and your friends were dismissed for your onslaught to happen. Should you arrive as a hungry lun or a sneaky fox?

Fuck it, you'd jump on it with everything you had.

Wearing only a lacy white lingerie and an unbuttoned silk social t-shirt you left for the attack, opening the bedroom door and floating like a feather to the living room where your sweet roommate was distracted by the laptop. He didn't seem as focused as the times he studied, in fact he was almost relaxed in his gray sweatpants and thick pumpkin-colored sweater and a rare soft look on the screen. It was the ideal moment.

With a sensual feature and melodious voice you announced your presence with a simple "Hey," calling his attention.

And as you called it.

The poor lad could barely blink when he saw your half-naked and inviting figure approaching with a false innocent smile.

His reaction was a real treat. With his blue eyes wide from under his glasses and half-open mouth. He was terribly shocked, that was a fact, and it only encouraged you to go ahead. "I was thinking, if... you wouldn't have some time available for me." In a bold action, you gently pushed the laptop away and sat on his lap with one leg on each side of his waist, leaning your hands against the breastplate and leaning close to his flushed face to whisper on his perfect lips. "I'm thinking of something we can do together."

Blinking a few times for your dubious suggestion, Michael's hands landed uncertainly on the side of your thighs as he tried to formulate some audible answer in his now unstructured mind. “D-do you?” He asked tense, panting.

“Yes, but only if you want too,” you purred against his mouth, rubbing your noses and moving your dressed pussy against the newly hardened bulge, making him both moan low in anticipation.

Interesting fact about Michael: he's never had any girl rubbing against his body like that before. In fact, he never had a girl in any way.

It was something that didn't bother him full time, very worried about books, classes and science, but it would be a lie to say that he didn't think what it would be like to fuck a girl whose attraction to him was genuine. But that, well, that was better than any fantasy he's ever had throughout his life, that's why it was so costly to believe and answer your question with a blown and whispered "Yes", quickly amended by a more assertive confirmation: "I want to."

“Good," you smirk satisfied and collided your lips on his in a demanding and intense kiss, giving no chance to any doubt that he will feel. Your hands grabbed the back of his neck and his soft caramelized hair, avoiding any body separation.

Michael moaned when your fingers pulled some sensitive threads from the back of his neck, holding your waist and ass in a firm grip. That could only be a big wet dream. Yes, he really stole glances at you many times, more than he was proud of, but to think that this would happen? That way? Not even fucking.

He pressed his hardened cock against your pussy again and broke a kiss with a grunt when you started grinding on it. It was a delight to feel the impressive hardness below your body and see it all red and anxious, capturing another panting, long and tongue-filled kiss. Not even when you ripped off his sweater and discarded your social shirt, your lips separated. Although he was a skinny nerd, he had a really nice body. You wanted to fuck right there, but it was exciting to see him follow your trail like a hungry puppy. And he was fucking hungry, although equally nervous about being his first time.

Michael wasn’t stupid to think it would last long, he heard the stories, he knew how the male body worked to hump for the first time, he knew it would be disastrous, so when you leaned against him again his words were quick to reveal his secret.

“Wait… I need to say something,” his eyes faced the ground, posture hardening as he quickly lowered his head. At that moment you were sure of your implications on your roomie's sexual history, but wanted to respect his process in stating clearly. "I've never done thid."

With a gentle hand groping the left side of his face, you tried to calm him down: "it's ok, really. We can stop if you don't feel comfortable."

"No, no, I want that, really-," he was quick to contest, "I just didn't want to disappoint you."

“Hey, it's okay, I'm not going to make fun of you for that. Besides, I can teach you how to use these fingers to make women cum," you bit your lower lip, looking at it sensually. "Let me take care of you, babe."

And he became meek like a lamb, letting you take off his sweatpants before he himself hurriedly took off his shoes and socks and was only in his underwear, being guided to lie on the bed while your body climbed on his hips and groped his arms, breastplate and milky abs. "You have such a great body," you purred and leaned to kiss him, savoring his hands kneading and squeezing your arse, climbing up your back and daring to open the clasp of your bra, to which you were rewarded by your satisfied tinnitus. “Good boy,” and then your tits were exposed to his delight, being touched and exploited by two large, warm and inexperienced hands. God, he never thought that tis could be so amazing.

His thumbs rotated your halos experimentally, with a little more force than necessary but without being uncomfortable. Your hands covered Michael's and guided them to your waist, squeezing, landing them on your hips.

"Women like caresses and kisses to get in the mood. Kisses on the neck, jaw, clavicle, boobs..." you started, "I don't need these things at the moment, but next time this will be welcome."

Although excited about the idea of a next time suggested in advance, Michael didn’t want to spend his luck betting that your thought would be kept after sex, as a result, he sat in bed with you on his lap and attacked your neck with kisses, bites and hickeys. His work against the encounter between neck and shoulder made you purr with pleasure and close your eyes, really enjoying how he gently pulled some strands of hair from the back of your neck. The boy had potential.

“Keep going, babe”

The wet and anxious trail followed your lap, top and valley of the tits until capturing a nipple in the hot mouth, sucking and nibbling greedily. He couldn't believe that you were on his lap letting him suck your tits, that he was the reason for your moans and soft whining. Damn, he was already in the clouds and hadn't even actually laid you — or the opposite.

And although the feeling was terribly pleasant, the heat in your pussy was too aggressive to ignore, you needed a quick and urgent relief.

"Michael" you called him. "I need to get the condom," with that, you walked away against his will to pick up the package from your nightstand. "Now, take a deep breath when I start and try to distract yourself with something else to last longer, I'll go slowly but it's very intense and better than your hand, so hold tight," you warned him before pulling his boxer down to reveal his beautiful dick shining with pre-cum. Holy shit, Michael Gavey was fucking nice. “Damn, you’re fucking handsome. I should have seen this before."

And he was already out of breath before you stretched around him, his glasses crooked and a little blurry, half-open mouth and body hurting in anxiety, cock writhing with every touch received on his skin.

“Put it.”

And he put on the condom while you removed your panties and crawled into his lap again, making him lie down again. “Hold on, big guy.”

And then, picking up his cock and guiding him to your entrance, you sank slowly, giving him time to squeeze your hips with each centrimeter swallowed, caressing and smelling his soft hair when his head fell against your neck. Nothing had prepared him for that, no handful of lubricant came close to the tightness, heat and moisture of your pussy. If he was in the clouds before, now he was sure he was in the sky. “Wait! Wait! Don't move yet." And for that he needed to make sure it lasted.

"Okay... just breath babe, relax, think of something else." you instructed him panting, savoring the feeling of his cock inside your silky walls. Everything about his member was perfect, from the size to the thickness, filling you perfectly. A whining fell from your lips and you hugged him. “So good, mm.”

"Fuck," he grunted in despair, squeezing your body against his.

“Don't worry about it, it's okay, just enjoy it while it lasts,” you whispered against his temple.

That was the damn point. “I won't last long,” he said.

“So just enjoy, Mike,” biting his earlobe, you started jumping constantly, moaning uninhibitely at how good that nerd felt. He pushed his face even more on your neck and held your waist to the dear life, moaning and grunting and pulling you to lie above him. He was a panting mess with blurry glasses and a half-open mouth, a damn sight that made you more aroused than usual, very proud to be the reason for his snatched state.

“Oh fuck, fuck- I'm gonna-“

“Come for me, babe,” you rubbed your groin against his one, two, three times when he fell apart intensely with a long, hoarse moan, heavy breathing and a blushing face.

Withdrawing from him, your body fell on the bed still hot and longing to be satisfied, watching him gradually recompose in a brief comfortable silence.

"So... did you like it?" You asked, fingering his breastplate.

Did he like it? Damn, that shit blew his mind. “So fucking good.” Although part of his mind was eager to reward you, he had to. He had to make you cum. Turning to face you, Michael stood at your top before while asking: "what should I do now?"

Smirking maliciously, you leaned your feet on the bed and spread your legs more to him. “Fuck me with your fingers,” you purred, taking his right hand and guiding him to your wet center. "I like it when guys don't forget that I have a clit, I don't understand why, even why it makes your work easier," you circled your hill with his fingers, showing him the place before going down to your entrance. "Heat me up with one, then put on another."

And he followed your rules like a good boy, sticking a long finger pumping slowly.

"Mhm, just like that," you bit your lower lip, but very very very impatient to wait for the development of a slow orgasm, you needed to cum as soon as possible. Taking his hand, you held your index finger and made him join the middle one. “Go faster.”

And although sloppy and a little strong a few times, his fingers felt so fucking good on your velvet walls, reaching the sweet point that made your toes curl. “Fuck! Keep going Michael!”

He was hypnotized by the wet sounds that your pussy was making, by your body writhing and his fingers disappearing inside you, squeezing, wetting...

That set of things went straight to his cock.

"Roll your fingers slowly," you ordered, arching your back when he pressed against your spot, intensifying the tingling at the base of your stomach and making you moan louder. “Don't stop, I-I'm close!”

His glasses were on the tip of his nose, almost plummeting from his face, but it didn't matter at the moment. Deciding to use your previous tip on the clit, Michael used his other hand to circle your pearl with pressure, making his eyes close.

“Oh fuck! I'm gonna-" your whole body trembled when the coil burst and a warm pleasure flooded your senses, holding the bed for the darling life and closing your legs with the strong spasms.

That was better than any porn he watched. And with that he encompassed the last minutes from your approach until now. Michael was still very stunned by everything that happened, that’s why when he lay on your bed it was as if he was recovering from an electric discharge, his mind and body ridiculously overloaded and active. As for you, after a while restoring from a delicious orgasm, you rested your head on his chest and traced patterns on the milky to soft skin, playing with some fine and lost hair. "So, do you want a second round?"

═════════════════════

a/n: I know we don’t have much about Michael, but I was so anxious about this hot nerd that I couldn’t wait for the movie.

#michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey #saltburn fic #ewanverse #ewan mitchell

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 3 months

Text

half past five high - prologue: when we met in venice (teaser)

pairing: photographer!Joshua x influencer fem!reader

genre: fluff, comedy, smut, strangers to lovers!au, non-idol!au - minors dni.

smut warnings will be added in the actual fic (this teaser has no smut scenes!)

summary: In the world of fashion, social media and influence, you’re one of the game changers. But you never knew that a smaller player in the form of a freelance photographer would be able to change you.

Author's note: hiii <3 this is the teaser for the SVTHUB World Tour Collab by @svthub AND a feeble attempt to revive the hpfh series with some backstory 😭

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2024. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

“Is this what you do on first dates?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I follow.” Joshua smiles awkwardly.

“Are you always such a gentleman towards women?”

“It was never a question to begin with,” he opens the menu and takes a brief look at it, “I firmly believe that women are beautiful creatures who deserve our love and support, no matter how independent they are.”

Your laugh is short and mixed with a heavy breath, your face briefly averted from Joshua’s gaze.

“You’re really serious about the whole gentleman thing, aren’t you?”

“Not to make assumptions about your private life, but it seems to me that you haven’t met a lot of romantic partners who were…..romantic towards you.”

You’re taken aback by the man’s bluntness, but you do your best to not show it.

“I don’t think you know me that well, Mister Hong.” You take a sip from your wine glass.

“Isn’t this the purpose of this dinner? To get to know each other?” He mirrors your movements.

“Depends on how well our personalities will blend throughout this dinner.”

“Given the fact you’re an influencer with such an intriguing personality, I think getting to know you will guarantee me a great time.” Joshua smiles again.

“Not to make assumptions about your private life, but I feel like you’re a little too biased against influencers.”

“Is it really my fault if they are shallow in nature?”

A gasp escapes your lips as his statement leaves you baffled, but the harsh truth of his words turn that gasp into laughter that nearly makes you fold in half.

“Dear God, you really are more than a handsome nobody.” You fan your face with your hands and it’s Joshua’s turn to be surprised at your choice of words.

“I suppose compared to you, I am a nobody,” he scoffs, “Although after that stunt you pulled in the after party, it’s safe to say that both of us got a lot of attention - for worse or for better.”

“It was only for the worse.” You look him in the eye dead serious, “For me, at least.”

“I still believe it would have been avoided if you hadn’t put up the ‘stuck up bitch’ facade.” Joshua responds while waving at the waiter to come over.

“And I believe that the gentleman thing is your own facade, judging from how bitchy you are right now.” You drop the menu on the table, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

The raven-haired man laughs out loud and he leans forward, just enough to block the rest of your eye field.

“Ever thought I could be trying to match your vibe?”

“I thought you wanted to see if our real personalities match well.”“I do. But I also want to find out who you really are. Because I am not buying the entire bitchy act.”

#svthub #svthub.collab #joshua fluff #joshua smut #joshua crack #svt joshua #joshua hong #svt fluff #svt smut #svt crack #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen crack #seventeen #hpfh

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queenshelby · 10 months

Text

Forbidden Desire (Part 19)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

For a fleeting moment, Tommy appeared defeated, having never expected such revelations tonight. However, regaining control swiftly, he leaned against the wall menacingly.

"Why didn't you fucking tell me sooner, eh?" Tommy roared furiously struggling to contain his anger. Sweat trickled down his forehead, making him shiver involuntarily as his mind raced through various scenarios regarding his future interaction with you and his son.

"Because you abandoned me, Thomas! You said that you won't, but you did!" you shouted, exasperated and you could see Tommy visibly cringe upon hearing these harsh words, pain etched deeply across his features.

Inhaling sharply, Tommy turned abruptly, walking towards the window without saying anything further.

"No one can know that I am the father of your child, Y/N," he stated matter-of-factly after a brief silence, indicating his demand rather than asking for consent. "Do you understand?" he then ought to ask and you nodded.

"I understand and I had no intention to involve you in his life until now that Polly told me about your plans for Boston," you said vehemently, standing your ground firmly. "Fucking opium, Tommy! I do not want to have any part in this business," you insisted, displaying your commitment to distancing yourself from this kind of life.

"Do you seriously think that I would have put you in danger Y/N?" Tommy murmured softly, a pleading note laced in his question, searching your eyes earnestly before explaining the situation to you.

"Michael is taking on the opium business independently and I made sure that you are not going to be involved in these activities," Tommy explained before telling you "I still love you Y/N. I always will. And I will never put you into harm's way, I promise," Tommy declared solemnly, his tone heavy with conviction. "As much as you might hate me right now, I will always try to protect you," he told you and you looked at him, finally able to read genuine concern in his eyes - a stark contrast to the cold disregard you often witnessed.

For a split second, you considered letting go of your grudges and opening your heart once again to the man you used to love so passionately. But then, reality set in, reminding you why you chose this path and all the reasons why reconciling with Tommy wouldn't work.

Despite his claims, your trust remained broken, his promises unfulfilled. Even though you found solace in seeing him vulnerable and humanized, your resolve only strengthened as your pride refused to let you surrender to the emotional turmoil.

"I am glad, because my son means everything to me now and I need to be around for him so that he has a better life than me growing up," you replied coolly, turning away from him just as Tommy's maid, Frances, barged through the door.

"Mr Shelby, there has been an incident at the Midland Hotel," she informed urgently, her eyes wide with worry, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"There seems to be a fire," continued Frances cautiously, fear evident in her voice and, almost instantly, anxiety coursed through you as this was where your son was staying with your maid.

"Oh my god. I need to go there, right now Tommy," you exclaimed, panicking as images of your baby flashed vividly in front of your eyes. Before Tommy could say anything, you hurried past him towards the door.

"Wait, Y/N!" Tommy yelled but you ignored him, running frantically toward the exit. As you bolted through the house, you could hear Tommy calling your name repeatedly, ordering his staff to follow you and ensure your safety.

Tommy ran after you, following you to one of his Bentleys and helping you get inside. As he jumped into the driver seat himself, he glanced briefly at your flushed complexion and reassured you that everything would be fine.

"You don't fucking know that, Tommy. My son is there, with my maid, at the hotel. What if something happens to him?" you screamed, filled with dread and panic.

"You need to calm down Love. Panicking is not going to help you. Now focus, did anyone follow you from the docks when you arrived?" Tommy asked as, without hesitating, he pulled the vehicle onto a side street, speeding rapidly towards the hotel.

"No, no one has followed us," you replied uneasily while tightening your hold on the edge of the leather seats, anxiousness consuming you whole.

Tears brimmed silently in your eyes, ready to overflow at any moment. Gripping your hand, Tommy reached over and intertwined our fingers together in a desperate attempt to alleviate some of your stress.

All throughout the journey, his focus shifted between driving and checking on you, ensuring your comfort amidst the chaos unfolding outside.

Once arrived at the burning building, Tommy parked the car quickly and leapt out, heading towards the entrance. In the background, sirens grew steadily louder as more emergency vehicles approached.

"You cannot go in there Mr Shelby," a young policeman tried stopping Tommy, brandishing a stop sign in one hand. Despite his authority, Tommy forcefully pushed passed him, determined to find his son, dismissively ignoring the officer's protests.

You felt weak and helpless, your palms sweaty as you struggled to remain composed, clutching onto Tommy's arm for support.

As Tommy navigated through the crowd of concerned faces, pushing aside those who got in his way, a sense of relief washed over you as you saw your son being safely evacuated from the hotel along with your maid.

Your breath hitched audibly, the tension melting away like ice under sunlight.

Their clothes were singed and black smoke covered their skin, visible evidence of the horror they'd endured mere moments ago. Your instinct was to run to them immediately, but Tommy halted your movement, gently holding you back as, in the distance, he saw two men who appeared to be a thread.

"Wait," he commanded sternly, holding you back as he watched the men closely before, with his other hand, unholstering his gun.

"Tommy, what's going on?" you demanded, steeling yourself as you squinted through the dense cloud of greyish smoke enveloping the area.

"The fire wasn't an accident..." Tommy muttered, observing the suspicious duo warily as they casually walked away from the chaotic scene. "And I think that you are the target," he then went on to say while keeping his cool.

"Me?" you asked, shocked. "But you said that I won't be in any danger with this new business deal taking place," you retorted accusingly, unable to conceal your alarm.

"It's not because of the new business venture. It's because of something Arthur got himself involved in while serving time earlier this year," Tommy explained, causing your chin to drop.

"My father went to jail? How did I not know about this?" you asked worryingly but Tommy simply told you not to worry too much about it before hushing you back into his vehicle discreetly.

"I need you to wait here for me while I clean up this mess. Promise me that you won't leave the car," Tommy ordered authoritatively, wanting to make certain that you would indeed wait for him instead of getting involved directly in potentially dangerous situations.

His commanding presence and intensity left little room for argumentation; you reluctantly agreed, feeling a mix of uncertainty and apprehension rising within you.

"Yes...but..." you began, causing Tommy to become impatient.

"Just fucking promise me Y/N! I will make sure your son...our son...is safe," Tommy finished off emphatically, locking gaze with yours to make sure you understood how serious the issue was.

Unnerved, you nodded fervently, promising to adhere to his directive.

Feeling guilty for placing you in such precarious circumstances, Tommy took another glance at you before giving you a gentle yet firm squeeze of your shoulder in reassurance. Then, turning away from you, he marched swiftly towards the hotel, disappearing into the thick clouds of grey smoke obscuring the entrance.

You watched intently, your entire frame quivering slightly in apprehension. After several tense minutes of waiting, Tommy reappeared beside your car window again, dusting the ash off his jacket which was also covered in blood.

His intense demeanor didn't seem to waver, even in light of the terrifying events transpiring before your very eyes.

"Where is my son?" you queried impatiently, your hands shaking nervously as you waited for an answer.

"Moss is driving him and the maid to Arrow House as we speak. He is safe, but you and your family will need to stay with me until things settle down," Tommy responded grimly, attempting to console you as best he could in spite of the dire situation.

A wave of relief surged through you, temporarily calming your nerves. However, lingering concerns regarding your own safety persisted, forcing you to pose additional questions.

"What about the men? Will they not follow them?" you wondered aloud, wondering whether Arrow House was safe.

"Not unless they rise form the dead," Tommy said before taking a seat in the driver's seat again. His tone was stoic and unfazed, leaving no doubt about his determination to put an end to these enemies and restore peace.

"I made sure that message gets through to the man who sent them for you, and I will have my men guard the house to ensure your safety as well," he thus told you and, after that, an eerie silence descended upon you as Tommy drove off.

Unconsciously, you slipped your trembling hand into Tommy's, seeking warmth and security - a gesture that spoke volumes about your bond and affection for each other.

The atmosphere was sombre, tense – reminding you of the gravity of the situation and the danger this life brought with it and you knew that, for the sake of your son, things had to change.

For the first time since you met the Shelbys, you found yourself questioning whether you should continue down this path or try finding solace elsewhere. A life far away from any illegal activities perhaps but, this line of thought was interrupted by your arrival at Arrow House, which is where Moss greeted you out the front.

Seeing your son's face caused tears well up in your eyes once more. Holding your arms open, you immediately took your baby into your arms, showering him with kisses and apologizing profusely for putting him in harm's way.

He was only six months old and still so innocent, but already experiencing terror like this, which pained you deeply as the responsibility you bore increased tenfold. The desire to provide a safer future for him intensified exponentially. All these emotions mixed together within you, creating an almost tangible weight within your heart.

"May I hold him?" Tommy asked cautiously, peeking around you at your precious boy while Moss took your maid inside. With tearful eyes, you looked over at him, nodded, and slowly handed over your cherished treasure to him.

Inhaling sharply, Tommy held the tiny infant against his chest, tenderly rocking him back and forth as if trying to absorb every last bit of fear and turmoil from the day's events.

"What did you name him?" Tommy softly whispered, looking into the deep blue eyes of his son, whose eyebrows seemed perpetually furrowed in concentration.

"I named him Edward," you informed him and Tommy smiled, feeling both love and admiration swell inside him as he cradled the small child in his strong arms. His gaze turned toward you, a mixture of gratitude and sorrow etched across his features. It was evident that the day's dramatic turn of events had taken its toll on him, too.

"He is perfect, isn't he?" Tommy remarked, gazing down at his son who was still nestled snugly in his arms. There was a quiet earnestness to his voice, and you couldn't help but feel moved by his sincerity. "Look at how peaceful he looks, in spite of all that happened tonight, eh" he went on to say and you couldn't agree more.

As you witnessed the tenderness with which Tommy handled the child, it became increasingly clear just how important family meant to him.

"He must be hungry. I should go inside and feed him," you offered hesitantly, making an effort to return to normalcy amidst the looming threats and escalating violence.

Without saying anything, Tommy gave you a subtle nod of approval, indicating that it was time for some respite and comfort. As you headed indoors, however, you noticed Tommy remaining outside, speaking to one of his associates. Curiosity piqued, you continued walking further into the house without interruption, passing through the grand entrance hall towards the dining room, still filled with guests.

Robert immediately acknowledged your presence, asking you what happened while Lizzie gave you a stern look and raised an eyebrow quizzically.

She knew that the child you held in your arms was Tommy's son but did not say anything, choosing to remain silent for now. Her jealousy simmered beneath the surface, and it wasn't until your father, Arthur, questioned whose child this was, that Lizzie spoke up.

"That's your grandchild, I believe," she announced defiantly, drawing attention to everyone present.

"My grandchild, eh? Who is the fucking father then?" Arthur demanded loudly, a hint of anger in his voice as he glared at you in disapproval.

"Just a man I met in Boston, who is not around anymore," you lied, not wanting to admit that Edward's father was no other than your very own uncle.

Arthur scoffed at your explanation, muttering under his breath that there were never really any good men in the world anymore who were willing to take responsibility for their actions.

Meanwhile, you felt your cheeks redden as guilt crept into your conscience, knowing full well that you hadn't been entirely truthful. But you reasoned with yourself, telling yourself that lying about who the father was, served the greater good.

"Well then congratulations, Love. Welcome to fucking motherhood," Lizzie commented bitterly, unable to hide her disdain.

Despite her animosity, you ignored her, focusing on the task at hand: ensuring your son's needs were met, especially during such tumultuous times.

"Thank you, Lizzie," you thus simply told her before she abandoned you to seek out her husband to be, who she knew had disappeared hours earlier, with you by your side.

When Lizzie finally found Tommy outside, she confronted him about bringing you and your son to his house for the engagement party.

"Why would you bring her here, Tommy? And why bring her brat along as well?" she demanded, causing Tommy to become angry. "The child is yours, isn't it? You fathered a child with your own fucking niece!" Lizzie spat just as Tommy pulled her aside and told her to keep her voice down.

Frustrated by her accusatory tone, Tommy replied angrily, "I brought her here because she is fucking family, and so is her son. They need protection. But I didn't invite her to our fucking wedding, Lizzie! Polly did!"

Lizzie rolled her eyes, clearly unconvinced. "Is he yours?" she asked and Tommy clenched his jaw, struggling to control his temper.

"No, he is not," he lied calmly and, again Lizzie rolled her eyes, knowing full well that he was lying.

"I want this whore and her bastard child out of this house as soon as possible. Do you understand?" Lizzie retorted sharply, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

"She is my fucking niece, Lizzie! She will be staying until it is safe for her to return to Boston. Now go inside and attend to the fucking guests. I have things to do, eh" Tommy dismissed Lizzie abruptly, not bothering to conceal his annoyance. He needed to make arrangements for better security and handle various business matters related to recent developments.

Tags:

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders #cillian murphy x you #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby au #thomas shelby imagine #thomas sanders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy miller #peaky blinder #peaky blinders fanfiction

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bitterchocoo · 1 year

Text

God-ish

Fyodor Dostoevsky | M. Reader

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"Gott ist tot."

----------

The days [Name] live are as normal as it can get. Wake up, get ready, eat, work, go home, sleep, rinse and repeat.

Despite being an ability user. His life is as regular as a normal human. Even if people say it's far safer that way [Name] felt like he wanted to tear his hair out.

'How boring..'

'It's the same every time...'

'All of it is so monotonous...'

Those thoughts circle around his mind, he had been living his life the same way over and over again, it's bound to be boring, and yet... Somehow people didn't complain about it, they didn't say anything about it, they don't look depressed about it. It's like they're used to this "monotonous life" or they just suck it up.

Either way, this made [Name] starts to think that they're brain dead or something. Humans are creative creatures who could think freely and yet they trap themselves in a monotonous repeating life? What's wrong with them? Don't they get bored? Don't they get tired? Don't they get depressed by how repeative it is?

'That’s so meaningful and cool.' He thought sarcastically, leaning against a wall, he watched these human beings go with their day with crossed arms. How meaningful... To think they actually would sacrifice their free thinking to blindly follow this "religion"-like way...

They all blindly follow it without even knowing what they're doing as if it's second nature for them to do so. As if it's a code that had been programmed into them. As if they're in a simulation. How meaningful and cool...

And yet every time his co-workers would ramble on about their "dreams" he can't help but think. 'Your dream... It’s big... Too big.'

They all dream about such big things, but did they ever stop and think just how ridiculous it is? How are they going to obtain such a thing when they themselves are blindly following this "religion."?

Their dreams are like a prayer of self-discipline disguised as criticism. They say they're independent. They say they don't need anyone. They say that they're their own person. They say that they're going to make it big one day as their dreams become a reality. But is that really all true? Or are they just criticism in disguise?

You criticize your family, your friends, your co-workers and those around you.

You say you're an independent person yet you can't build a dream alone. You say you're your own person yet you can't help but follow new trends and blindly follow this moral code. You say you're going to make it big one day yet when is that? And how are you going to achieve it if you're still wallowing in self pity?

It's not logical.

What's holding these human beings back from actually doing those things? The answer... Is this "religion."

They all think that it's right to follow this set of rules. Sure some of them are worth following like respecting each other and such. But did they even follow that in the end? No. They don't. Some people ended up murdering one another. Some people ended up betraying one another. The list goes on.

Yet in the end they argue that they're right.

'That's disgusting..'

'It's tiny... Your mind... It's tiny.'

'Lonely because of your genius how cool…how cool…'

They all think they've become some sort of genius once they've "figured out" these set of rules they follow so blindly and think that they have the right to look down on the ones who do follow them. But in the end they're still the same as them. They've become this "authority" that looks down on others once just because they don't understand something like that.

They say fame, and money corrupts all. Oh how true that is...

Their morals die once they've got them. [Name] salute to those who still maintain them. After all... This fame and money are like the devil's advocate.

How... God-ish... To resist such temptation...

"I understand... You wish to be free from this mondaine world, yes?"

Those are the words that man said to him.

He saw through the mask he so carefully crafted for years and saw right through his soul.

How God-ish..

[Name] still remember their first meeting...

Back then he didn't even hesitate to use his ability to defend himself, even if it meant killing a few people. His survival is at risk here. Isn't it only logical to do so?

Then after all the chaos.... Fyodor found him...

Despite how cold his body felt... [Name] can't help but feel warm.. Despite how cold he is... He felt some warmth and maybe even closure at the thought that someone had seen him.. And didn't ridicule him for having such a mindset...

Pretending to be God by denying God.

[Name] was never a religious person. But for once in his life he felt like his silent prayers have been heard. He's free from this mondaine life he had been living.

'I’m becoming a fan on the contrary.'

He had become a fan of something he had originally hated....

He had blindly followed this "religion."

No... This is different...

He's not following anything...

He's merely...

...the Devil's advocate.

What can he say? He had fallen for a Devil.

And the devil kindly reciprocates.

#seme male reader #top male reader #x male reader #bsd x male reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x male reader #bsd #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #bungo stray dogs x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor x male reader

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simon-roy · 10 months

Text

A little press release from Image comics - we're putting out a mass market edition of Griz Grobus! Press release follows:

PORTLAND, Ore. 12/07/2023 — The high fantasy, graphic novel Kickstarter sensation, Griz Grobus, by co-writer/artist Simon Roy (Prophet, Jan's Atomic Heart and Other Stories) and co-writer Jess Pollard, with colors by Sergey Nazarov, will be available in trade paperback format for the first time this June 2024 from Image Comics.

Griz Grobus was originally a popular Webtoon sequential webcomic that leveled up its exposure with the 2021 launch of a Kickstarter campaign for a stunning hardcover edition. The campaign ignited fandom fervor, was fully funded in under a day, and raised nearly $70K—far exceeding the stretch goal. This Summer’s forthcoming paperback edition will bring this roaring success story to an even wider audience of readers.

"Part of what we wanted to make, in Griz Grobus, was a story that felt like a foreign film from a country you haven't heard of," said Roy. "Natural, familiar elements, sitting harmoniously alongside the new and unfamiliar. The proposition of getting to introduce a whole new audience to our little pocket universe, and the worlds within it, is very exciting!"

Set in the same sci-fi universe as Roy's Habitat,Griz Grobus is another tale of life after the collapse of the interstellar empire. But unlike Habitat—where a once utopian orbital community found itself descending into cannibal tyranny—the characters of Griz Grobus inhabit the rural world of Altamira, where post-utopian frontier life has blossomed into something a bit more wholesome.

Pollard added: "I can definitely say it is one of the funniest, most delightful things I've ever been a part of, and I laugh every time I read the story, as if I'm reading it for the first time. I hope readers will feel the same warmth when they read this edition, whether it be for the first time, the second, or third.”

Griz Grobus tells two parallel, intertwined tales from the far-off colony world. High in a sleepy mountain village, the overzealous academic ambitions of a young scribe lead to the resurrection of the town’s ancient colonial-era priest-bot. This long-defunct pastor finds himself in a world that has passed him by, but refuses to simply accept his obsolescence, much to the chagrin of the scribe and the local townsfolk. The second story, a mise-en-abyme, is Altamira’s most famous novel (being avidly read by the characters of the first story). It is a fantasy tale about a war-god who gets trapped in the body of a goose, and the efforts of one pacifist cook to delay the war-god’s bloody return to the battlefield.

This lush, intricately detailed, standalone fable is perfect for fans of Hiyao Miyazaki, Asterix, and Arthur C. Clarke.

The Griz Grobus trade paperback (ISBN: 9781534397866) will be available at local comic book shops on Wednesday, June 5 and independent bookstores, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Books-a-Million, and Indigo on Tuesday, June 4.

Griz Grobus will also be available across many digital platforms, including Amazon Kindle, Apple Books, and Google Play.

#griz grobus #simon roy #comics #scifi #image comics #fantasy

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blissfulbarbie · 1 year

Text

Just Once a Year / Pedro Pascal x Reader

Sequel out now: Maybe Twice a Year

The grand ballroom was alive with the shimmering glow of chandeliers, an ethereal scene that provided a backdrop for the most prestigious awards ceremony of the year. This was the first time Pedro was being nominated and he was nominated for not 1, not 2, but 3 awards. As a first timer, he has broken records for this achievement - and yet what should be a night pure of celebration and joy for him is tinged with sorrow.

He found himself seated in a sea of Hollywood's elite, his heart a complex interplay of anticipation and trepidation. The vacant chair beside him was a stark reminder of the impending arrival of his ex-girlfriend.

Pedro's fingers tapped rhythmically against his thigh as he waited for the inevitable moment. He stole glances at the entrance, his chest tightening with each passing second. And then, there you were - radiant as ever in a gown that shimmered like stardust, hair cascading down your back. A small part of him felt relieved that you didn’t appear with your new rumoured beau, but had taken your brother as your plus one instead.

Your eyes met briefly, a connection that carried years of memories and emotions, before you turned away, gaze drifting toward the stage. Pedro's heart raced, and he fumbled with his cufflinks, trying to mask his turmoil with a composed facade.

"Hey Pedro," your voice, warm but cautious, pulled him from his thoughts. "It's been a while."

Pedro's lips curved into a polite smile, one that concealed the storm of emotions raging within him. "Yeah, quite a while."

As the awards ceremony unfolded, a symphony of applause and cheers filled the air, a stark contrast to the uneasy silence that hung between Pedro and you. You exchanged pleasantries about the weather, your recent projects, and the industry's ever-shifting landscape, all while the ghosts of your shared past danced beneath your words.

“How is it we’re talking about the fucking weather when I know what you look like at 2am when you’re too anxious to sleep?” Pedro thought to himself silently.

"You look absolutely stunning tonight," Pedro ventured instead, his voice carrying a note of wistfulness.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "Thank you. You look handsome as always. And God I can’t believe I forgot to say this already but congrats on everything. You’ve been in some amazing stuff lately.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze fixed intently on you. "Thank you. So have you,” he replied but he was finding it hard to produce words in his mouth when all he kept thinking about was that you had been keeping up with his projects and had seen his shows. He wondered if you liked them. He wondered if you were proud of him.

The nominees for each category were announced, and the room brimmed with palpable tension. Pedro's name was called, and he graciously accepted the award, his gaze briefly locking with yours as he did. The applause that followed felt distant, as though they were enveloped in a world of their own making. He didn’t know if it was appropriate to hug you before he went to get his award, although he dreamt of this moment his whole life. For you to be the first one he embraced when he finally made a name for himself - it’s all he’s ever wanted. But he knows he shouldn’t, so he turns to his sister instead before making his way on the stage.

When he returns you give him a polite congratulations and the show goes on. In a momentary lull between awards, you turned to Pedro, a soft sigh escaping you. "Can I be honest? This.. sucks. I don’t know how to make small talk with you anymore.”

Pedro nodded, a shared understanding passing between the both of you. "I know. I don’t either.”

As the ceremony neared its conclusion, Pedro found himself stealing glances at you. There was something different about you—an air of newfound confidence, a sense of independence that he hadn't seen before. Pride mingled with a touch of melancholy as he realized that both of you had evolved since your tumultuous breakup.

Just before the event drew to a close, you leaned closer to Pedro, your voice a soft whisper in the cacophony of the room. "Congratulations on your award, Pedro. You truly deserve it. More than anyone else in this room."

"Thank you," he replied, his voice holding a tenderness that belied the complexity of the situation.

As you stood to leave, you turned to him, your eyes holding a mosaic of emotions and words left unsaid. "Take care, Pedro."

"You too, sweetheart," he responded, his voice a gentle murmur.

Walking away from each other felt like a symphony of unfinished sentences and unspoken feelings. Pedro couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia, of the love you once shared and the heartache that followed. Yet, an unexpected thought bubbled to the surface of his mind: "I get to see her. At least once a year, I get to see her." It was a sentiment that resonated deeply within him, a small solace that fueled his determination to excel in his craft, to secure nominations, and to continue crossing paths with you in these fleeting moments. You were a brilliant actress and he had no doubt you’d continue climbing your way to the top. He wanted to be there when you did. Even if he didn’t get to be by your side when you did, he’d settle for being in the same room.

As he exited the grand ballroom, Pedro cast a final glance back at you, who stood amidst a constellation of fellow actors and industry luminaries. A surge of pride swelled within him as he watched you shine, your accomplishments standing as a testament to your talent and resilience. In that moment, despite the awkwardness and pain that had punctuated your encounter, Pedro felt a genuine admiration for you—a reminder of how far you both had come and how he’d never stop rooting for you.

He walked away with a heart brimming with emotions, knowing that the annual awards ceremony had become more than just a gathering of stars for him—it was a canvas upon which your shared journey would continue to unfold, inspiring him to strive for greatness and to keep crossing paths with the woman who had once captured his heart. He would settle for watching your life through pictures and screens if it meant he could have this moment with you - once a year.

Dedicated to my babycakes: @just-some-random-blogger who co-erced me into writing <3

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro x you #pedro pascal x actress!reader #pedro pascal x famous!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro fic #pedro fanfiction

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writteninlunarlight-years · 2 months

Text

Whiskey Cake and Beignets

Alastor x Reader Slow Burn

TW: Death, Racism, Misogyny, Murder, Violence, Sexual Themes, Domestic Violence, Abuse, AFAB Reader Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Edited by @willowaudreykeyes

Set in the 1920s, the reader is a young intern at the new hit broadcasting studio in New Orleans. She originally came from a small town in Texas, so she has a thick southern drawl and a personality that drips like honey. She left home due to her more liberal views compared to her family. Because of this, she seeks out the first job that would take a female: an assistant to the new hit voice in New Orleans.

Alastor is put off by the overly sweet southern girl, expecting that when she is alone with him, her distaste for his skin color will come out. However, it never does. As they have wacky mishaps, murder, and love, they intertwine their fates in life and especially in death.

It was a cold, dreary night in mid-August just outside Conroe, Texas, when your father kicked you out of your house. Having caught you ‘fraternizing’ with a ‘colored,’ his last straw broke. Your mother sat in the living room, begging him to reconsider. However, you knew your father better than anyone; he didn’t care when it came to ‘colored’ folk. You were, at one point, a daddy’s girl; nothing could sway you from his words or you from his. However, as you grew, you saw the injustices done to those around you and stood up for those scrutinized. You tried to convince him and show him how good the people around you were no matter their skin color, yet your father saw that as you being brainwashed by their desegregation propaganda. Nothing was going to save you from the wrath you incurred from him. You had pushed every button and forgiveness he had in him, leaving you high and dry standing there in your childhood yard.

You sat there for hours crying, having no idea where to go or what was next, yet you did know here just wasn’t for you. Texas may be your home, but you could and would do so much more; you had dreams and aspirations, things women dared not think of. As you decided on the following action, your mother exited the house. Her arms were black and blue from your father's firm grip, and from the tear stains, you could tell he took your insolence out on her.

“Y/N, please come inside and apologize to your father. Tell him you won’t spend time around those people anymore. Please, I can’t lose my only child.” Her deep southern drawl was familiar, but as you listened to her telling you to conform to your father's closed-minded ideas, you couldn’t help but scoff.

“No, momma, I can’t promise that; you taught me from a young age to stay true to myself, to my heart. I refuse to hate people just on the color of their skin and what a book says; God is supposed to be loving, not hateful,” What you said rang true; your momma was the woman to teach you so much about being headstrong and independent, maybe that was why your father blamed her so much for how you behaved and acted. You knew leaving her here wasn’t the best option; your mother would be beaten. However, you hoped over time, once you were no longer upsetting your father, she could finally have a break.

She listened to your words and nodded sadly. You could tell she wanted to argue to try and convince you not to leave, taking the world’s dangers all on your own, but as your eyes darted to look at the front door, she knew it was too late, just as you did.

“Get back inside, Carla, that ain’t no child of mine,” He shouted across the yard, glaring at you, “If she wanna go play with them colored folks, then let her; she is scum like all the rest of ‘em!”

Your mother winced at the comment. Her eyes met yours, fear pooling in them. You sighed and grabbed your bags, looking your father in the eyes, a burning flame vibrantly shifting behind them. He would not dull your flame or prohibit you from living a good, honest life. He was once your daddy, but now he was a cold-hearted man before you.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, momma; I will be fine; I will get out of this hell hole and make something of myself,” You could audibly hear your father scoff as he walked back inside the house.

“Yeah, a white woman with no family can go and make something with herself, alright, have fun selling yourself on the streets, you ungrateful brat,” His words cut deep, but you sucked it up. Looking at your mother once more, she had tears building behind her eyes; how she had so much water in her to cry was beyond you. All you had seen your mother do for years now was cry. Quickly, she pulled you into a hug and combed through your hair.

“Go to Dianna’s quickly; I’ll ring her of your arrival. Don’t stay here; leave while you can.” Your mother’s voice was barely a whisper as she informed you of the plan. As she pulled away, she gently placed a piece of paper in your hand. As she squeezed your hand one last time, you could hear your father start to slam and throw things in the house once again. You looked at her worriedly, knowing that she had overstayed her welcome out here with you and he would punish her.

“Go Y/N. Be safe wherever you go,” As she let go of your hand, you held on tighter.

“Momma, come with me. Don’t let him hurt you anymore,” She shook her head before you could continue your comment. She let go of your hand, picking up your last bag for you to head out.

“I can’t and won’t leave. He is my husband, and I must stay here with him.” As she said this, she caressed your face one last time as she walked back into the house. The door slammed with a sickening crack, and your father's voice rose louder. Luckily for him, the nearest neighbor was four houses down, as everyone else was on vacation.

Taking a deep breath, you began to trek to the address on the paper your mother slipped you. It was two towns over from where you lived, giving you the perfect space between you and your father. Looking back at your childhood home, you could almost hear how he treated your mom.

Making it to the local bus station with the bit of cash still in your clutch, you bought a ticket and got out of there. Dianna was a new name for you, not a friend of your mother's you knew or had heard of as you made your way on the bus closer to the location, though you began to understand why you had never heard of this woman.

You were in a heavily ‘colored’ town; you had been here a few times with some friends you had made. How did your mother know of this place, though? Once the bus stopped, you stood, eyes set upon you by the white people on the bus. Swallowing, you put on a brave face; as you reached the front paying your fare, the bus driver grabbed your wrist.

“You sure this is the right stop for you, kid? This is a dangerous town for someone looking like you. No idea what them ‘colored’ ones will do to you.” You scoffed, yanking your arm back. The look of anger crossed the driver’s face as you ignored him getting off the bus. Once the bus sped off, you looked down at your paper again.

You were close to Dianna’s home, it seemed; even if you had been here tons of times with others, this was your first time out here so late and alone. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you closed your eyes and let out a deep breath, making your way to the address; you passed many homes, most run-down and far worse off than the side of town you came from. It broke your heart to see this; all of you were human and had living, breathing life in you, yet because you were pale and fair-skinned, you got the upper hand. It seemed so unfair.

You bumped into someone, a quick apology escaping your lips as you looked up; before you, a beautiful African American woman with gray hair stood. “Why do my eyes deceive me? You look almost as beautiful as you did as a child, miss Y/N.” You looked at the woman confused; you had never met her a day in your life, yet she knew your name and what you looked like as a child. Looking down at the paper in your hand and then at the house number, you realize who this must be.

“Are you Dianna? My mom sent me here. I didn’t know she knew anyone on this side of town.” You didn’t want to seem rude or come off as insensitive as your father is. You knew you had so much to learn to escape the closed-minded space your father put you in.

“Oh child, your mom has a lot she doesn’t let that man know, and I am one of them. While your momma hides her life, though you aren’t afraid to show it, there is grit in you, child. You will go far; I am sure of it.” She spoke confidently, and her accent almost melted you; you felt the safest you had been in years—a smile formed as hidden tears built behind your eyes. The woman took notice, stroking your hair gently.

“Come now, let’s head inside; we need to figure out where you will be off to, my dear.” She took one of your bags and escorted you to her lovely home.

If you could describe something feeling like a home, this is what it would be. Dishes weren’t shattered on the floor, the liquor cabinet wasn’t busted open, and the house didn’t feel like you had to walk on eggshells. No, Dianna’s home felt warm and amazing, the little knick knacks adding a personal touch, her embroidery proudly displayed on her throw pillows, and warm food still sitting in the kitchen for your arrival.

“Now, child, I do not mean to pry, but what could have led to your momma placing you on my doorstep? It’s not every day a young white woman gets sent here, let alone her mother calls me and begs me to help relocate and get her out of here.” As she spoke, she filled a plate with delicious-looking foods: collard greens, Mac and Cheese, and a thick slice of ham.

“Well, ma’am, my daddy and I fought pretty badly. He saw me spending time with a friend; you see, ma’am, my friend is African American like you. My daddy has never accepted my belief that my skin tone doesn’t stop me from being friends with people from all walks of life. He sees anyone not white as the devil and believes I should see them that way too.” Dianna nodded and watched as you tentatively ate the food she placed before you.

“I promise it isn’t poisoned, Y/N; you can eat as much as you need, based on the look of ya. Your father hasn’t been caring for you or your momma,” She sighed, pulled out a few phonebooks, and grabbed a pen and paper. She sat across from you at the dining table and smiled at you softly. “You have a good heart, not letting your daddy’s views obscure what you believe is right in your heart. Your momma must be proud of you. She was just like you when she was younger, but that father of yours came into her life and changed her. I was almost taken aback when she contacted me; it has been many years.”

You nodded softly, looking at the woman before you. It was almost scary to think your father had that much influence, but every white man seemed to. You nearly cringed thinking of how your father would tell every neighbor about your meet-up with your friend, how he would make up some wild story and get him thrown in jail or, worse, killed. You needed to leave; you needed a fresh start away from such a horrible, gruesome man. “Miss Dianna, I appreciate you letting me into your home and even taking my momma’s call. I am lost, though; I do not know what to do from here; I need to leave and get away before my daddy decides he will come and find me.”

She smiled a glint in her eye, similar to the one you once saw in your mother’s long ago. She opened her phone book and began writing things down on the notepad she pulled out. “Now listen dear, I can pull a few favors; what job experience have you had? How far away are you willing to go? Would you like your momma to know where you are?” She bombarded you with questions, and slowly, you realized your mom sent you to a safe house. She sent you to a friend who could get you out quickly because there was no place for someone with your ideologies.

You swallowed the last of your food and suddenly felt sick. It was all becoming too real; you were really about to leave your home for good, all because your abusive father couldn’t see reason. Tears welled and soon fell on your cheeks as the world came crashing down. You could hear the chair scraping the wooden floor as fast as you felt the arms wrap around you. Dianna held you like a mother would a child, and your tears fell harder. You would never be able to hug your mother again as long as that man lived; you were indeed on your own.

Dianna didn’t pressure you; she allowed you to cry and get the built-up emotions out, shushing and cooing softly. What felt like a century had passed before you finally calmed enough, even remotely, to answer her questions. Using the handkerchief she handed you to dry your eyes and clean up, she sat back on the other side of the table.

She looked at you expectantly for the answers to her previous questions. “Um, well, I have no work experience; I used to help at my father's office, and I would get drinks and file papers while spending time with him. I was a teen, though, and just wanted some extra allowance. As for how far I want to go, anywhere but here, as far from him as you can get me,” You swallowed, closing your eyes and seeing your momma’s face as you left only hours ago. “I would like my momma to know, only if she will be safe. He has already beaten her enough; I don’t want her to get it worse because she knows about my whereabouts, and he doesn’t.”

Dianna nodded and looked over her phone book before sighing; she stood and went to the back of her house, leaving you alone. You held your head, thinking through everything that has led up to now. You always thought you were a reasonable kid; you didn’t lie, cheat, or steal. As your father put it, you were a straight-A student and took up many hobbies to make yourself more desirable. You went to church on Sundays and believed in a loving God. Yet here you were, sitting in a stranger’s house, crying because of your abusive father. When Dianna returned, she had a pocketbook and a checkbook in hand. You looked at her, confused, as she sat back down.

“You are a good kid, and I owe your momma a lot for what she did before your father. I will help you the best I can; you have to promise me you will keep that heart of gold and stand up for what you believe in a child; you hear me?” You nodded and let out a weak promise as a new wave of emotions began to overrun your senses.

Dianna opened her pocketbook, leaned over the side of the table, and picked up her phone, dialing a number into it. The conversation was quick and coded probably for your own good, but as she hung up the phone, she smiled and handed you a piece of paper and a check worth five hundred dollars.

Looking at the check, you shook your head, “No, ma’am, I can’t take this; this is too much; you need it more than me,” Dianna laughed at you and patted your hand gently.

“Child, I gave you the money because I have it to give; you have nothing, and just because my skin is brown and yours is white doesn’t mean I can’t make that money back,” She smiled and pointed at the two addresses on the paper.

“Now, this top address will be your new apartment in New Orleans, Louisiana; I have a cousin out there who will set you up in one of her old ones. I will pay your first two months' rent. After that, you are on your own unless you need me; my number and her number are here for you.” She cleared her throat and pointed at the following address, “This one is going to be an office that you can go to that will help you get employed. There are a lot of upcoming and blooming businesses in New Orleans, dear; you will be fine. Do not let the new world scare you.”

You nodded and looked at the paper, then the check again, a smile breaking out on your face as you pushed the chair out and rushed over to hug Dianna. You held her close and thanked her repeatedly for this opportunity. She smiled, patting your back; once you let go, she stood up from her seat and placed her hands on your shoulders, “Now, child, listen, segregation still exists in Louisiana. New Orleans is a bit more of a progressive city; you will find all walks of life there. Be the light they need and help the cause, my dear.” She kissed your forehead and walked you to a back room in her house. “Now get some rest. There are only a few hours till daylight, and I will need to take you to the bus station to get on the first trip to New Orleans. Don’t be discouraged if you can’t get a job right away. I am here to help you, and your mother has also offered support.”

You smiled somberly at the mention of your mother; as time passed, it seemed more complicated to accept this fate. You entered the quaint little room and watched as Dianna closed the door and left. Sighing, you sat on the edge of the bed, playing with the homemade quilt. You could hear dishes being cleaned and food put away. She was so kind to do this all for you. The safe house, the home in New Orleans, the job- all was so nice, and she never had to help. How could your father look at her skin tone and think she was any less of a human? She was far more human than he would ever be.

With these thoughts in your head, you changed into your nightgown, looking at yourself in the mirror; your hair was ruffled and frizzy from all the moving between places. Your eyes were swollen and red from all the crying, and the bruises from your father’s beating before your being kicked out were starting to form. Sighing, you climbed into the bed, letting the exhaustion from the day overrun your mind.

Your dreams were anything but kind to you, from seeing your mother’s face to seeing your father tormenting your mother over and over again. However, the only saving grace of your dream was an obscure figure reaching their hand out to you. They had a lithe frame and smooth voice directing you to accompany them. You couldn’t help but oblige and follow them wherever they would lead you. Sadly, where they led you were straight to waking up.

Rising from your slumber, you looked at the time and saw it was eight in the morning. With a heavy feeling in your chest, you stood and began getting ready for the day, trying hard to forget what had happened recently in your past. Once you were done, you went to the bathroom and cleaned up your face and hair as best you could. Walking out, Dianna greeted you with a hearty breakfast. “Good Morning dear, come sit and eat; you need it for the long trip ahead.”

Nodding, you sat and ate your food, a pretty sad feeling sitting in the room. Once you were done, you did the dishes for Dianna, and she dressed for the day. As she walked out, you noticed you two matched, from the red summer dresses to the black Mary Janes. You laughed softly and took Dianna’s arm as she led you out the door.

Once on the street, the neighborhood looked much brighter and more lively. As you two walked, many people passed by and called Dianna, Momma D. “Should I call you that too? I didn’t even ask when we met; I just assumed because of what my mom wrote down.”

Dianna let out a short laugh, shaking her head and keeping pace to the bus station. “No deary, you are fine. I go by Momma D here in the neighborhood. My door is open for any wandering traveler, and I have money to spare since my husband's untimely departure from this world. I help where I can when I can, just like you do and your momma used to.” You nodded, listening to her speak. She was something else; how could anyone not like her, not see her as the human she is?

The bus station came into view, and Dianna had you stand to the side while she handled the tickets. As she returned, you gave her a shy smile, “Will I ever see you again, Dianna?” You were worried this would be the last time this kind person touched your soul.

“Oh dear, no, you will see me again. My family lives in New Orleans; I will visit when possible.” At her words, you smiled, letting a tear fall. Quickly, she wiped it away as your bus approached. Giving her one final hug, you climbed aboard the bus and found your seat. As the bus rolled out, you waved at the woman's distancing figure; once she couldn’t be seen, you got comfy in your seat and let your thoughts wander.

You had so many questions about what would happen when you got there and the dream you had as well. Why did that person in your dream seem so close yet so far? Would you like your new home? How quickly could some random woman get a job? With a sad sigh, you lean your head against the window and drift off back to sleep, being gently rocked by the motions of the bus.

When you woke, it felt like no time had passed at all, yet hours had gone by as you were now in Louisiana, only two stops from where you were designated to stay. Watching as the trees and roads moved below and around you, you soon found the scenery to change into more of marshland. After an hour or so of marsh, you see the most beautiful river and a sign welcoming you to New Orleans.

With a shout from the driver up front, you knew your stop was coming up; gathering your things, you eagerly awaited as the bus halted. Hoping out, you grabbed your bags from the undercargo and looked around for anyone who looked like they may be looking for you.

That was when you spotted the most beautiful woman you had ever seen; she looked just like a mini Dianna—waving you down as she saw you smiling and shouting your name. As people stared at you two, you approached the woman quickly. “Hello, sorry, Dianna said that I would be meeting a family member, but not who,” The woman laughed a full, bright laugh that had your worries melting away. “Uh, my name is Y/N. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

She pushed your hand away as you stuck it out to shake hers. Instead, she hugged you and began to speak, “None of that, girl; we are family now. Anyone who gets Momma D’s stamp of approval gets mine, too. Now, you must be starving, and the food here in the city’s heart is to die for, so why don’t we stop and eat, then head to the apartment building? Oh, and my name is Rika.”

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were till she brought it up. You nodded gently and followed her to the restaurant she chose nearby. Waiting in line, you heard a beautiful voice coming through the radio; looking at the sound source, Rika noticed your attention elsewhere.

“Ah, you have swooned for the new radio host's voice too; he is all over New Orleans radios. Has women falling left and right for the faceless man.” You looked at her quizzically; what could she possibly mean by faceless? Was this some joke you weren’t used to in this part of the South?

“Faceless? You mean like he doesn’t have one?” She laughed at your comment and shook her head, pointing at the radio, and then the onslaught of people listening to him sign off for the afternoon but saying he would be back later that night.

“No, I mean he never tells anyone his name or shows his face. He is only ever dreamed about by women. He goes by Dear Radio Host to anyone who asks.” She walked up to the host and asked for a table for two while you mulled over this new information.

“Huh, interesting. I wonder if he is attractive. He sure had a beautiful voice.” You followed her to the table and sat. As you two talked quietly about what brought you to New Orleans and what places to stay away from and go to, you found yourself growing more and more happy with your choice to leave Texas.

“You know, Y/N, you have such a beautiful accent, and you are so nice too; Momma D said you were sweet like honey, but damn, I didn’t expect it, truthfully.” You looked at her, shocked by the cuss, and silenced her. She laughed at your innocence and waved you off. As you were blushing, a handsome man bumped into your table.

“Oh, sorry about that, ladies, I seemed to have misstepped; I do hope I have not ruined your afternoon meal.” Looking at the man, he was enticing to say the least. He was tall with wavy reddish brown hair. Black-rimmed glasses and a smile that seemed to shake you to the core. What did you in, though, wasn't the lithe frame of the man but the beautiful chocolate eyes that stared right at you? His caramel skin looked soft, and his eyes roamed your face like he was searching for answers.

“You are fine, no worries. I hope you have a good rest of your day, sir. Enjoy your food.” At your kind comment, he looked at you confused before giving a light bow and walking away. Your eyes followed him until he was out of sight. A breath you didn’t even know you were holding escaped you.

“Oh, I see someone fancies ol’ Alastor over there, huh.” You look over at Rika wide-eyed. You shook your head, a symphony of no’s leaving your lips as you covered your reddening face at her teasing comments. “No need to be shy, girl; you think half of New Orleans is in love with Dear Radio Host, well the other half is in love with him. He and his momma live in the Bayou; my brother and him went to school together.”

You looked at where he retreated before looking back at Rika again, “Just him and his mom? He doesn’t have a dad?” Rika sighed and looked around before moving in closer to you.

“His dad had a hunting accident a couple of years ago, so now it’s just him and his mom; Tony, who owns the radio station, gave him an intern job there. If anyone knows what Dear Radio Host looks like, it would be Alastor.” You snorted at her last comment but contemplated the beginning.

Based on his skin tone, his family must be mixed. It made you smile to know that was even a possibility since you might as well be prosecuted for thinking it where you came from. You and Rika finished your meals and walked out of the building to a beautiful sunset.

“The apartment isn’t that far from here; we will pass the radio offices too on our way; maybe we will see Alastor or the mystery Radio Guy.” You smiled. You liked Rika. She was only a little older than you. You being 26 and her 29, a fast friendship formed between you two.

As you two walked, you talked about your do’s and don’ts in life and relationships. Once you get close to the radio offices, you notice Alastor walking into the building, smiling as he talks to a beautiful blonde woman. A sigh leaves your lips as you watch them.

“Aw, don’t get too dejected. I have known Alastor for the majority of our lives. He doesn’t date. He always told everyone he was waiting for the one; if you ask me, he is just a momma's boy and a workaholic.” You snorted at her observation and found yourself before the quaint apartment building.

“Wow, it's adorable, and look at the stonework and the greenery!” Rika laughed at your excitement and took your hand, helping you in the building. As she walked up the stairs with you, she handed you a key, stopping in front of a door with the number 302 on it.

“Alright, miss Y/N, this is where I will be taking my leave; my fiance is probably waiting for me; we live on the fourth floor, 403. Don’t hesitate to call or come up there if you need anything.” You nodded, smiling at her as she waved and went up the next flight of stairs.

Carefully, you used the key to open the door and enter the beautiful apartment. As you brought your luggage in, you couldn’t help but feel at peace finally. Years of fear in your home finally led to this; you were free and could start your path.

Once you had everything put away and got acquainted with the simple space, you began to map out mentally all the things you would need to get done now that you were officially here. To start, you went to the phone and called Dianna to let her know you had made it safely. After a brief conversation with her, you hung up and worked on your list of to-dos.

Night fell quickly, and beautiful jazz and other music began to play outside your balcony. Sighing, realizing you needed a break, you walked out and looked at your new home. First thing tomorrow, you would have to head to the job agency to see if there was anything you could do with your limited experience.

Resting to the music, you looked down and noticed Alastor walking around the city streets; it looked like he must have been heading home from the studio. Sighing, you admired him briefly as you didn’t want to seem weird. You recollected your lunch experience with Rika and how he looked at you when you told him to have a good evening. Was that an odd thing to say? Maybe he wasn’t used to the niceties as you thought. Of course, Dianna told you segregation still thrums here, but from what you have seen, it is far less strict than where you came from.

You head back inside and get ready for bed. Here is hoping tomorrow will be a bright day that offers more positives for your future. Crawling in, you turn off the last light and look at the ceiling, letting the beautiful music of the night drift you off to sleep.

* * *

Tagged @pan-to-the-head

#x reader #lunarwritings #moons #hazbin hotel #hazbinhotel #hotel hazbin #hazbin #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #WhiskeyCake&Beignets #slow burn #radio demon x reader

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lana-llama-in-pajamas · 5 months

Text

thick as blood

sweet as milk

chapter 4 (parts seems juvenile)

a few days have passed and you finally cleaned your home, the bathroom was a lot nicer now and yes to Francis's odd dismay your apartment looked like a green house, today was rainy so you stayed in writing thank you letters to your neighbors.

Francis was at his last stop. he walked up the steps of a very nice new home, one of those buy to build homes he's seen on Sears catalogs (look it up, very cool)

he knocked on the door with his foot as he carried more milk than a normal household would use, the door opened via a very pretty woman in a blue polka dot dress and blue sweater "Francis! you got my call" she opened the door wide as he walked passed her placing the jug crate on the counter "you wouldn't believe how many cakes the school is asking of me" she continued following him in filling up a glass of lemonade "isn't your husband a baker?" he asked nodding as he took the drink from her "he's too held up with catering the convention that rolled in" she answered folding her arms standing across from him "but I did want to spring something up on you...we've known each other for a bit would you say?" she asked almost in a whisper. Francis stopped mid sip nodding slowly thinking of the million things she was about to say "right...you know my daughter Amelia" she walked passed him into the living room, Francis followed even more puzzled "she's 15 now no?" "yes" god why was she being so vague? "sit, please" she pointed to her pristine yellow couch "you see my daughter got a cat and as funny as it is now we're sad to say she's deathly allergic" she awkwardly laughed "you don't know anyone who would want one hm?" he stared blankly at her for a moment mentally cursing her for freaking him out "Joan, I don-...actually I do know someone in the need of a companion" Joan's eyes sparkled a little "great! Johnny bring the cat" she called upstairs and a few moments later a little boy still in his pajamas carried down a small kitten in his arms "milkman! your taking my sisters cat?" he asked running over to him, the poor kitten wiggling around as he did so "yes i am" "but cats are for girrrllss ewww" Johnny laughed passing the poor sleepy thing to him

"I'm giving it to a girl, but no cats are for men too." francis pet it gently "my dad says sooo" the little kid huffed "ok back to your room." Joan pulled his ear on the way back to the hallway going into his room coming back moments later with bags and a litter box "toys, litter, litter box, and food. its still too small for solid foods so, a little baby formula warm water and the kibble should be good" she pointed to each bag explaining how it worked before sitting down on the armchair beside couch. “ so we’re giving it to a girl, not to fit the stereotype, but is this lady in another home you deliver to?”Joan snickered slapping his knee, hoping that Francis will get the joke, Francis kind of did , but like everyone else Joan couldn’t read him “ She’s my door lady. She actually saved the building from an dopple attack a few nights ago.”he told Joan inspecting the small fluff ball “oh wow must be an intimidating woman” Joan said imagining a large gruff woman with a killer stare, if Francis could read her mind he would’ve laughed but he continued “she seems the type to have a pet.” He got up carrying the bags and box on his hip heading for the door “thanks for the gift Mrs. Wilde” Joan got up to open the door for him “Yaknow Francis, in old Viking tradition gifting a cat to a woman is a symbol of courtship” she said raising a brow hoping to fluster the brick wall “…I don’t think she’s of Viking origin” he said back making Joan face palm “but that is interesting, you were a mythology major?” He asked placing the items into his truck wrapping the kitten in a jacket before gently placing it in the passenger side “ I was, but you know how it goes. You think you’re going to live a life of independence and then you get married to a baker.” Joan looked at the horizon saying that. Francis looked at her with a softened gaze before she snapped to reality “sorry, I hope she loves the cat, and I hope the goddess freya doesn’t get any ideas haha” Joan turned around fixing her sweater hearing Francis as she got to her door “…..your still a mythology major.” He turned around getting into the truck driving off. Joan still at the entrance, smiling in acknowledgment.

Back at your apartment, the twins were back gossiping to you about model drama you could barely understand while they randomly asked questions about you, “ oh and Eliza got fatter so now we all have to weigh before booking! Can you believe it?? Let the girl eat a little extra cake at her mom’s funeral!” Selenne laughed sipping her tea “oh speaking of, miss mia wants us to help her with the wedding venue! Everyone in the building is invited. ” Elenois shook you a little clearly excited “I forgot they were fiancées, since they live together anyway” you giggled pouring another cup for everyone “ y/n! You didn’t tell us you were a max traditionalist~” Celine pointed at you, smiling “ of course not it’s just since they live together. My brain just automatically thinks that.” You felt a little embarrassed but the twins were known to make people sweat for fun. “ Miss Mia wants to have it during the summertime so we have a long time to prepare.” Sel sat back looking out the window “ good thing she doesn’t want it during the spring. It’s so rainy here.”

Francis knocked at the door the cat meowing, he knew it was hungry so it was a perfect opportunity to teach y/n how to care for it, you opened the door smiling then looking straight at the dramatic kitten meowing loudly “ you found a cat?” You asked getting on your toes to see it closer making Francis die of cuteness on the inside thinking to himself ‘she really did that almost automatically, how adorable’ mentally slapping himself he lowered his hand passing the kitten to her, y/n didn’t know if the cat was tiny or Francis hands were huge because it really fit in the palm of his hand only it’s a little leg spilling out, grab the sweet thing, putting it to your chest “aww poor baby, I bet your hungry” he spoke softly, almost afraid to burst its ear drums with your normal tone, Francis look down at you now getting the picture.

he was attracted to you.

You were smaller than him which every 1950s man wants from a partner and you look beautiful doing everything mundane like if he took a picture at a random moment, you would look like a model no matter what. As if someone directed you in that exact pose. And you dressed nicely. He Longed to see you in more colorful items, just to see your features shine brighter. He stared at you in his mind lovingly

But you looked back up to see the most stern look with furrowed brows “um…did I say something?” you got nervous stoking the cat for comfort “ the cat is hungry but do not feed it milk. That is a myth.” he spoke plainly opening one of the bags putting the food items on the table “ baby formula, warm water, and a little bit of kibble is good for the cat, what will you name it ?” He asked sounding pretty excited about the name part “ maybe we should feed it first and then think of a name” you said leading him into the kitchen with the supplies “hiii francy” the twins waved as he did back before they giggled to themselves “he was absolutely fucking her with his eyes “ selenne pushed her sister’s shoulder whisper yelling “ shutup, that’s so not appropriate!” El covered her mouth, both trying their hardest not to laugh too loud.

You and Francis came back from letting the cat eat sitting on the couch, the twins took the cat from you to pet and prod, “it might scratch” Francis pointed “ let them, I heard prodding pets is a good thing because it makes them more tempered” y/n poured him some tea “you had pets before?” He asked thanking her for the tea “we need to hear some y/n lore” Sel nodded “ I didn’t have pets, but my grandparents did, dogs cows, sheep, wasn’t a farm. It was more like a ranch. My parents live in the city like this one and they never really liked animals” you said studying your tea leaves “ Where is your family?” El asked rubbing the kittens belly “ across the country, I have a cousin who lives here. They are really busy.” You looked out the window at the rain. You didn’t want to tell them the whole truth. “We can understand, it seems everyone in this building has busy lives, aside from the housewives” Francis said ”your right” you nodded “oh have you heard about the wedding?” El asked Francis “no, wedding? You two are getting married?” He asked a little frantic “no no we’re not throwing out our careers yet. Mia’s and Dr. aftons wedding!” Selenne rolled her eyes “oh, yes the doctor asked me to be in the grooms party, I think his bachelor party will be at the bowling alley” "yeah sounds like Dr. afton" Sel sighed "mia still doesnt know what she wants, but she does wanna vote so we all have fun!" El smiled surveying the room, francis was staring at his tea cup but you were in the conversation completely "anyway we forgot we have a alot of calls to make love ya bye" she placed the kitten in your hands before pulling her sister out of the apartment "lets give the love birds forced time alone" she whispered to her twin closing the door behind them

"odd" francis glanced at the door

"yeah, hope everythings ok" you sighed looking down at the cat as he stared at you

“Name?” Francis asked clearing his throat “no idea…I’ll think about it” you placed the kitten on the couch as it played with the tassels on the pillow “well, I’m going to head home, tell me when you name her, I’m excited to know” he said you got up and smiled walking him to the door “of course Francis, thank you for the gift” you blushed opening the door hoping for anything “Yaknow I heard that a man giving their loved one a cat is a proposal in Norse mythology” he said grabbing your hand and kissing it “but neither of us are of Viking blood I don’t think ” (sorry if you are) he walked to his door and you stared holding your hand kissing it softly to feel his lips in spirit

A few weeks had passed and you were on a late shift again. The cat followed you around the building so in turn she now had a bed in the office, it 9pm and you had to wait for 5 of the residents to come home late from a press party

Natasha was in the office playing with the cat “do you have a name for her yet?” She asked making it chase a mouse on a string “no…suggestions?” You pulled out a list of names residents have considered passing it to the little girl “hm..” she wrote a few names even her own “…no Natasha” you said crossing out hers, she shrugged and went back to the cat, time passed and you got a little worried turning on the radio, the twins giving you which channel had the convention/press party coverage. You listened in, and rolled your eyes at the sounds of officials and other higher ups giving empty speeches, a knock at the door made you jump looking up to see natcha with her arms folded staring at her daughter “so. This is what you do at bedtime now? I thought I had more time before you started sneaking out” she held her temple sighing you got up feeling guilty for not even asking Natasha if she even asked her mom to be with you “I’m sorry I just assumed since it’s Friday um, I should have called you ma’am” you looked down seeing natcha look back at you with the ‘mom look’ “no don’t apologize, I should have checked on her earlier but I was busy cleaning, Natasha. Room. Now. And I’m taking your record player tomorrow” she said it so calmly, no yelling just a sweet calm yet stern tone “aww mom!! I’m gonna be bored all day!” Natasha folded her arms pouting “ too bad so sad. Up.” She pointed out the door and Natasha walked still pouting “so sorry you had to see punish my child y/n” natcha said fixing her house coat “no no don’t worry about, I just wish my parents were as calm as you are” you smiled seeing another resident walk over, Francis looked over “something happen?” He asked standing near natcha at the doorway, you could see her side step to not touch him. Her face contorting slightly but fixing itself “Natasha sneaked out to play with the cat n the doorman” she said side eyeing him “nat? Sneaking out? She’s 11” he said just kind of knowing? You felt your stomach drop a bit…hoping they couldn’t tell “she’s 12 in a week.” Natcha stated before walking off “goodnight everyone.” She went back to her sweet tone, there it was. The way he turned to look at her, it shot you in the heart a bit “your still working?” He asked walking in, the cat rubbing against him purring “a few of the residents are still not here, neither is the night shift” you looked away from him with a sour look on your face, you felt so stupid. You two were not a thing and also haven’t even kissed yet and here you are assuming a broken family and getting jealous of a woman who’s only ever shown you kindness not to mention fed you. Francis could tell you were reeling from something but didn’t know how to approach “…I can make you a coffee, I got donuts from a friend today” he walked over placing his hand on your arm “you look tired” his warm hand and gravily voice from just waking up made you feel better yet worse, “your one to talk” you smiled trying to let go “so mean” he let go “ I’ll be back” he walked off, you watching the way he moved Lowkey checking the sway of his ass but quickly looking away. The cat sat at the desk ‘listening’ to the radio with you as you gave it scritches “what about Lucy? Mimi? Tiger?” You read off the list of names to the feline hoping it would give some type of approval but you were sure if it nodded you would scream. Francis came back placing a coffee and a muffin and donut “pick” he said pointing, you grabbed his hand pointing it to the chocolate muffin “ I don’t want to be up all night via sugar and coffee” you smiled taking a bit “thank you” you covered your mouth he hummed taking the donut kissing your head before walking out. God you want to fly and throw yourself out a window at the same time, two people walked in, the pilots. Both disfigured and grotesque slamming the papers against the window making you jump “let us in. Miss door man.” One said somehow with a stitched mouth “eat my ass.” You said back making the younger one angry trying to get to you through the paper hole. Fuck I ran out of spa