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luckyricochet · 1 month

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Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

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Eilidh learns how terrible the night can be.

A/N: Cèlidh (KAY-lee) - A traditional Scottish or Irish social gathering usually involving dancing and Gaelic music

Eilidh Hamilton’s Diary

Mum and Dad say I need to keep on looking after Granny. They both asked if they could take different shifts now that the attacks are at night, but they’re both needed during the day. I expected as much, so it wasn’t so surprising when they told me but it seems like I won’t be getting much time to myself for the foreseeable future. It’s not as if I was getting much of that in St Andrews, but…I’m not sure how to express what I feel. Maybe because I don’t have any opportunity to actually work it out, all my time it seems is focused on Granny. And maybe instead of writing here in this diary I could think instead, but even that time wouldn’t be enough. I need more.

I keep telling myself everyone has to make sacrifices in war but I can’t help but complain anyway. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do anything anymore, except be by myself. I know it’s a selfish, horrible thought. Mum, Dad, and Granny deserve so much better than me, and I don’t want to give it to them.

I keep hoping one day I’ll wake up and I won’t be such a bitter pill and all of this will go away. But that only happens after some time. And like I said, I don’t have much of it right now.

A hand on her shoulder. Soft, but with a little pressure. Eilidh frowned in her sleep and then turned over, rolling the hand off of her. She opened her eyes and saw in the dimness the shape of her mother, dressed and carrying a bag.

“I’m sorry to wake you so early,” she whispered. “But we’re leaving now, so it’ll be you and Granny until we get back.”

“When?” Eilidh groaned, still half-asleep.

“We’ll try to be back before eight tonight,” her mother answered. “If anything happens, we’ll telephone.”

“Is Granny up?”

Eilidh’s mother glanced out into the hall. “Not yet.”

Eilidh forced herself awake enough to catch a glimpse of her clock. She probably had another hour of rest before she would have to rise.

“Well, okay,” she muttered. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Footsteps padded softly out of the room, followed by a shuttering of the door. London was awake even though it was still early, with the cars passing on the streets and a newspaper boy hawking the headlines on the corner. Eilidh pulled her blanket higher, trying to enjoy the warmth of her bed for as long as she could. When she finally sat up to change, she didn’t feel like she had taken advantage of the extra time.

As refreshed as she could be, Eilidh stopped outside her brother’s room. He hadn’t spent much time here, as she recalled. If he wasn’t at school, he was on the street playing football or riding his bike. He wasn’t someone content to stay at home.

She knocked. “Granny? Do you need help getting dressed?”

Some muffled noises answered her. “No, I don’t think so…”

A minute later, the door opened. Eilidh’s mouth fell open slightly. Her grandmother stood before her, not wearing the type of sensible dress and hose that she normally donned, but Will’s slacks, a woolen jumper, and church jacket. Everything was too large her but also too frumpy to all be layered atop of each other, rendering Granny some bizarre model for Will's school uniform and a Sunday service at the same time.

“Granny, these aren’t your clothes,” Eilidh said. “Do you have your luggage in there? Why don’t you take those off and we’ll pick something that fits you.” She gently pushed Granny back into the room. “What about this?” She pulled out a blue dress, cardigan, and stockings from the suitcase that was at the foot of the bed.

“Hmm…” Her grandmother appraised the outfit Eilidh proposed, skeptical.

“You love this dress,” Eilidh said. “We can’t go out with you dressed in boys’ clothes, can we?”

“Boys’ clothes?”

“Yes. Boys’ clothes,” Eilidh said firmly. She began to take the mismatched garments off. “Don’t these feel more comfortable?” She wrangled her grandmother into her own clothes and then let out a breath. “Isn’t that better?”

Her grandmother examined her arms, like she had never seen what she was now wearing. “I supposed it does.” She laughed a little, as if she was surprised with herself.

Eilidh almost joined her, and then the memory of last night returned. Her smiled faded. “Granny, I’m sorry I was sharp with you yesterday evening.”

Her grandmother also stopped smiling, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“When we arrived, I got frustrated with you. I’m sorry. It wasn’t right for me to yell. It wasn’t your fault.”

A moment passed, while Eilidh wondered if Granny actually remembered what had happened. She shrugged, and then pointed at her, somewhat devilishly. “That’s that temper of yours, isn’t it?”

Eilidh looked down sheepishly. “Yeah, it is. Should we go on a walk?”

“Walk” was a generous label for what they really engaged in, just a brief constitutional down the end of the road and back. But there was plenty out there to keep both Eilidh and her grandmother stimulated, even at the slow pace in which they moved. Blooming flowers, sounds of the street, people to watch, the feeling of the sun. The world continued on. And it had been so many years since Eilidh had appreciated this area, she took her time to take it all in before they returned back to the house—which felt decidedly empty when Eilidh closed and locked the door again.

As the days wore on, Eilidh soon realized that her thought about the empty house was not to be an anomaly. Her parents left for the hospital early in the morning, and didn’t come back usually until after Eilidh had made dinner. In between then, Eilidh wandered the halls of her childhood home, mulling how it no longer seemed as comforting as it once had.

She saw pictures of herself and Will on the mantle and bookshelves. His shoes were still by the door, his coat on the rack. Even in the bathroom, his razor sat unused in the cabinet, his toothbrush in the cup on the sink. He had been buried now for a week but everything about the house seemed to indicate he would come walking through the door any minute, alive and well. Eilidh couldn’t help thinking that he would whenever she heard footsteps.

As different as the house now felt, though, it was still her home. Eilidh made an effort to notice the things that reminded her of this fact. The sheets were still a little scratchy like they had been when she was little. One of the legs of the dining room table sported a few scratches from where Eilidh and Will had dug the tines of a fork over the wood in a moment of foolhardy childishness. Things that her parents could have changed or fixed over the years, and didn’t. Constants that Eilidh now saw as signs that this was indeed her home, and not just another house in London.

She tired to vary her days with other activities she could take advantage of with her grandmother. All of her art supplies from her school days were still here, so Eilidh dug them out of the drawer and they painted for a few afternoons. Eilidh peeked over at Granny’s paper every once in a while, impressed to see that even in its somewhat garbled state, her grandmother’s vase of daffodils was a better attempt than her own botched depiction of the Swilcan Bridge on the Old Course. When they grew tired of painting, they went into the yard and tended to the small garden in which her parents had begun to grow vegetables. They turned on the radio and and danced to whatever was playing, one of Granny’s favorite pastimes from the old days; she had always been able to last the longest at a cèilidh. Glenn Miller wasn’t exactly the same, but it filled the void at least. Anything to keep Granny occupied.

If she wasn’t occupied, her grandmother asked a lot of questions. Why they were in London? Because of Will. Then where was he? Underground, he was killed. When they could leave? Not for a long time. Where were her parents? At the hospital. Would they be attacked? I don’t know.

Within a few days of her arrival, Eilidh’s father had showed her the bomb shelter in the yard. It had been added when Eilidh had been in Scotland, so she never saw how it had been installed—a metal shed-like structure with a domed roof, tucked into four feet of earth. Inside were rough wooden bunks, torches, canned food, bottles of water, and other essential items her parents had stockpiled away. Once Eilidh saw it, she immediately made sure to put some things that would appeal to herself and Granny in it, but it was still a depressing sight. If there was one place where a person could get bored and restless, it would have been in there. She fervently prayed the Germans would soon grow bored of dropping bombs on them.

The high-pitched whine of the air raid siren woke Eilidh with a start. Her disorientation only lasted a minute, though; the sound was unmistakable. “Mum? Dad?” she shouted from her room, struggling to find her coat and shoes in the dark. She abandoned them hopelessly and wrapped herself in a quilt instead.

Her parents were already out of their bed, waking up Granny in the next room. “Mum, we’ve got to go, now!” her father was saying, urging her out of bed and into a jacket. But Granny moved slowly on the best of days and now, with the loud commotion of the bombs and the siren, was obstinate.

“You’re mad, James—you want to go outside—in this?!” she argued. The sentence came out in pieces, barely audible above the din. “I’m staying here.”

Outside, the bombs fell. BOOM. BOOM. The windows trembled from their impact. Flashes of yellow light crept through the curtains that had been drawn for the blackout, illuminating the room with fire for a second. In the brief moment when she could see, Eilidh noted the unmistakable worry in her parents’ faces.

“Mum, this whole house might be flattened!” Eilidh’s father shot back. “Now come on, we’re going! The shelter is right in the back—” As he spoke, the house shuddered violently. Eilidh crouched down instinctively, glancing up at the ceiling with terror, which was now sprinkling dust on them from the force of the blast. She glanced back at her parents and grandmother, biting her lip until it bled so she didn’t panic. Granny wasn’t going to be moving any time soon; they all knew it.

“Eilidh, get to the shelter,” her mother muttered to her.

“But—”

“We’ll be right behind you, now go!” Eilidh’s mother glared at her so fiercely Eilidh acquiesced without further argument, tripping over her own feet in her haste to fly down the stairs and into the garden.

Even the short sprint from the door to the shelter was exhilarating—the world seemed to be collapsing around her. In the open air, Eilidh felt every bomb dropped through her entire body. They shook the ground she ran on and electrified the air she breathed, sparking her insides with energy and making the hair on back of her neck stand up. The RAF was doing its job and anti-aircraft weaponry answered each Luftwaffe plane with a blast of flak, but it did little to calm the adrenaline that pumped through Eilidh’s blood, so galvanizing that she hardly acknowledged the pricks of pain on the soles of her socked feet from the gravel path leading to the shelter. She kept her eyes trained on it coming closer and closer, not daring to peek to the sky even for a second. She threw the door open finally after fumbling with the latch, ducking and scrambling inside. She turned around, hoping, expecting, to see her parents and grandmother close behind like her mother had promised.

But the yard was empty.

Eilidh froze in disbelief—Surely they couldn’t still be inside?—and then collected herself enough to climb halfway out of the shelter, alarmed. It was dark and she had to strain her eyes between the intermittent flashes of light, but there was no one coming toward her in the gloom, and it was impossible to try and see what was going on through the windows with the blinds shut. Eilidh knelt on the steps of the shelter, half-exposed, her mind racing. What to do. What to do!? As far as she knew, her parents were still in the house, trying to convince Granny to leave its safety and brave the outdoors to reach the shelter. They’ll never convince her, Eilidh thought wildly, She’s as stubborn as a mule, she won’t go, not unless they drag her out kicking and screaming—

Some manic force nearly took over Eilidh then, imagining the scene inside. I’ve got to go help them, she thought. Of course she won’t go with them, but me—I’ve been the one with her all these years, I’m the one who’s been taking care of her—She forced herself to do what she had been too scared to do a minute before and looked up, watching the shadowed aircraft and clouds of smoke in the sky, a futile attempt to guess when would be safest when she knew in reality it was all up to chance, but she readied her feet anyway, steeled her mind—

NOW—!

And the world exploded. The sky seemed to split and a deafening CRACK ripped from the tear in the air, accompanied by a blinding flare somewhere not far from the front of the house. Eilidh cowered and felt herself being thrown by the blazing hot force of a shell back into the shelter. She landed haphazardly on the hard floor but ignored the bruise she felt on her shoulder, and, for a moment, the thought of her family that had just gripped her a moment earlier, scrambling to cover her head and make herself as small as possible. The roof shook and the air was filled with the screaming siren, whirring engines, deep ack ack bursts, noise Eilidh was dimly amazed to register at all now that her ears were ringing so loudly her head ached. She pressed her arms against them and held her eyes shut tight, trying to block the sounds out and not see the fire, but when she tried to ignore the present, her mind drifted, to the past, to Will. Is this the last thing he had heard, the last thing he had felt? The thought tormented her, and she contorted herself into a ball, wishing she was anywhere but here and that her memories were anything but what they were.

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fic #mota fic #jack kidd #jack kidd x oc #masters of the air oc #mota oc #my writing #rrr

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elysianslove · 4 years

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haikyuu boys that ━━

━━ would absolutely, definitely, 100% get nauseous, dizzy, possibly might faint, while their s/o is in labor. one peak and they’re doubling over the hospital bed, inhaling deeply and exhaling sharply, steeling themselves. some are surprising, some are expected. all are stupid.

iwaizumi hajime; he just cannot. he cannot fathom what is happening. there is no way you’re going through that and surviving. no wonder you’re screaming in pain. of course you’re screaming in pain. he takes one look at what’s going on and just immediately takes a step back, eyebrows raised and hand pressed to his chest like “my god.” he’s an 8/10 though because he is incredibly supportive and those arms are great to grab onto. will not complain for a second (is strangely way too quiet), but he’s worryingly pale. maybe he’s quiet cause if he speaks he’ll throw up.

miya atsumu; he’s this close to screaming. or crying. possibly both. he can’t tell if he’s scared in general or scared for you or if he’s hurting seeing you hurting. in fact, no one can tell. he just looks like he’s watching an alien abduction happen right before his eyes. like a 6/10 because he probably does actually faint. it’s almost as if he’s the one in labor. and he’s the annoying kind of supportive that makes you want to smack him like shut the fuck up i’m pushing a whole child out of me right now. but his reactions are extremely endearing and hilarious to watch back because he most definitely insisted on filming.

akaashi keiji; the silent struggler. really doesn’t wanna make it obvious at all. like he really, really, really doesn’t want you knowing that he’s uncomfortable in any way, but he’s like, sweating from how nauseous he is. a big part of it is hating seeing you in pain; he cringes every time you so much as groan or pant. 7/10 because he’s incredibly supportive but his hands are way too clammy :/ like fr get a grip keiji. again, supportive, but his voice is shaky so it’s like, really ineffective. he cries when he sees his baby and it automatically makes him an 11/10.

sakusa kiyoomi; absolute coward. pussy. it’s not about hygiene, he’s just genuinely mortified. keeps asking you’re okay like,,, what do you think, sir? he keeps looking even though every time he does it doesn’t get any better? question mark? you can see him visibly gulping cause he’s in so much shock. like a 5/10 because he forgets to hold your hand. just stands there. eyes wide and mouth parted like a dumb fish. chokes back on his sobs when he hears his baby’s cries and it’s adorable how he brings his hand up to silence himself so maybe he’s a 7/10.

goshiki tsutomu; please he probably has a panic attack mid labor. definitely screams with you and all the nurses and the doctor are like ???? holds your hand tighter than you’re holding his. apologizes the whole time. the whole time. like the doctor asked him if he wants to see what’s happening, which idk why they would consider that a smart idea, and he just wailed like, “baby i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry, can we just adopt?” a 3/10. he’s so cute but. bring someone else if you don’t want to rip your hair out and his.

kageyama tobio; he absolutely tries to pretend that he’s okay but he just gets really, really quiet once you start delivering and his lips are chapped and his pupils are blown and his face is so pale. he looks like he just got off of a really bad rollercoaster. he’s not even holding your hand you’re just hanging onto an unmoving, lifeless limb. maybe 6/10, cause he could be better in the supportive department but, at least he was quietly panicking. he does have a mini panic attack once his baby is in his arms though. like just starts hyperventilating. it’s okay though! it’s actually kind of cute <3

lev haiba; actually faints. not probably. he actually faints. like all 6′5 of him just drops onto the floor by your bed and you’re like ,,, damn, guess i’m doing this alone then. he wakes up and the first thing he sees is your baby crowning and he just faints again pls. someone has to be there with you, just like to help him to you. he cannot stand straight at all, he’s leaning on the bed the whole time. 5/10 because it genuinely makes you laugh it kind of makes the pain bearable. they have to get a chair in case he just falls back cause he’s just so dizzy pls.

━━ would be so fucking annoying. who the hell let them in this room? why did you agree to this? how are you going to raise a child with them? regrets. so many regrets.

tanaka ryūnosuke; he’s like annoyingly scared. shut up and calm down for a minute i’m trying to birth your child here. swears so much like “holy shit holy shit that’s a big baby.” like pls you’re trying to push it out of you and he has the audacity to say shit like that? treats it like it’s some sort of volleyball match like he cheers whenever the doctor praises you. maybe a 5/10 cause he’s just annoying, but it’s motivating in a way. accepts any insult you throw at him too, like he’s so on board with it. “yes, i’m absolutely a piece of shit— what do you mean you’re not getting anywhere near my dick babe wait.”

bokuto kōtarō; listen :( you don’t want to think he’s annoying but he lowkey is. he’s trying his hardest to make this an easier experience for you but you just need him to be a little quieter. like this hurts bo, calm down please. you want to match his energy but it’s literally physically impossible. he’s an 8/10 though because you doubt it’d have been possible to go through it without him. bokuto’s incredibly ripped too so he lets you hang onto him and he holds you tightly too, like grips your hands and legs so strong that it’s v physically supportive too.

kozume kenma; he’s so. quiet. like say something kozume. say anything. he’s just wincing and cringing. 4/10 cause where’s the emotion. lets you hold his hand, like wow you should be honored. insults you back if you insult him???? like what’s that about???? when he sees his baby he does like, sharply intake a breath or whatever cause he doesn’t want to cry but he’s really struggling not to, which is kind of cute you guess. films the whole thing and does like a peace sign with a very nonchalant face but he has a filter on and the filter scans your face too except you’re like screaming. actually a 3/10.

sugawara kōshi; he’s incredibly supportive yes, but mans will be laughing at you. laughing. at you. probably films you and is like properly giggling and laughing boisterously. is so unfazed by anything and everything he sees. he would so easily be a 10/10 but he becomes a -1/10 just cause he’s an ass. definitely like is breathless and is so mind-blown when he sees his baby. just in awe and in shock that he laughs like, “we made that holy crap.” good to have in the delivery room because he does make the atmosphere easier and more lighthearted, but,,, at what cost? your sanity’s.

suna rintarō; the amount of times you wanted to punch him you cannot count on your ten fingers. makes some sex joke about how you’re so stretched out. you literally want to deck him. films the birthing process and makes you watch the video when you’re not even done delivering the baby? cause he’s insane i guess? justifies it as “this is a reminder of how strong you are,” like shut up with your bullshit. it’s kinda smart tho cause you can pull this on your kid later but still. he’s so fucking annoying. if you hold his hand too hard he’ll be like “it can’t be that bad stop being such a baby,” and the baby is delivered like an hour early out of spite. a 6/10 tho cause somehow you love him and decided to have a baby with him.

ushijima wakatoshi; pt.2 to say fucking something??? he’s mostly quiet cause he doesn’t really know what to say, and cause he’s never seen you in this much pain and it’s kind of shocking him. he’s not scared though, cause it’s like, a natural process of human life and the life cycle and all that stuff, he’s just like. taking time to process it. lets you hold his hand though. also if you wanna like give up halfway through he’s annoyingly angry with you like “no. you can’t just give up halfway. stop being a coward.” like why don’t you give it a try toshi??? a 5/10. could do better.

terushima yuuji; so hyperactive that it’s infuriating. doesn’t even hold your hand, he just stands back and observes and like cheers. literally will jump every time you push, like what the fuck, my love? makes really weird comments like “what does it feel like? does it feel like you’re pooping?” like???? it feels like i’m being torn in half yu :D a 4/10 only cause when you ask if you can slap him he wholeheartedly agrees and the doctor cannot hold their laugh back. also definitely plays like the chika dance and makes the nurses do it with him. probably films a tiktok too. you’re going to kill him after.

oikawa tōru; he’s trying so hard to be supportive and your backbone but he’s just so jittery and nervous. he’s not going to faint or get nauseous, but he literally cannot stay still. he’s so anxious it’s making you anxious. his hands are shaking when they grip yours, but honestly, completely unbiased of course, an 8/10, cause it really is so endearing. like he’s breathlessly and exasperatingly praising you and you can tell he’s near tears just gasping back sobs so ,,, maybe he’s not that annoying. but he is. he is annoying. a little.

━━ would be the best of the best. perfectly supportive. a lovely anchor. not too quiet, not too chatty. is so soft and gentle with you. you fall in love with them all over again.

miya osamu; definitely a 10/10. husband material. he has a cloth that’s just patting away at your sweat. kisses your hand and knuckles. soothingly rubs at your thighs. tells you you’re doing great, that it’ll all be worth it. kisses your forehead. grins at you halfway through when you need that extra motivation. literally all the nurses and the doctor are swooning over him. he’s very nervous deep down but he won’t show it, not for a moment, for your sake. 10/10. can’t stress this enough.

kita shinsuke; another king! so soft with you when you feel like giving up. just speaks to you in hushed tones like, “you’ve come this far, lovely. you can’t back out now. think of all the happy moments we’ll get to share just a few hours from now.” and you’re like “alright i’m sold.” completely unfazed by anything he sees. okay maybe a little fazed but he just kisses your forehead after sneaking a peak and tells you you’re doing wonderfully. 100000/10. imagine him as the father of your children???? like literally who else would you want????

aran ojiro; wow another inarizaki i sense a trend. except atsumu he’s a pussy. cheers you on quietly, holds onto your legs, breathes with you, smooths your hair back, literally just an angel. if you take a small break he just spends it quietly talking with you to get your mind off the pain. his knuckles are just caressing your jaw and cheek softly till you’ve calmed down. 10/10 obviously. he’s just the right amount of loud supportive and quiet supportive. kisses you full on the mouth when he first hears his baby’s cries and can’t stop thanking you. literally wtf he’s so cute.

kuroo tetsurō; he’s actually surprisingly very serious when you’re delivering the baby. he’s cracking jokes and all before to try and get you less nervous but it’s actually because he’s freaking out. he’s mostly quiet, just holding onto your hand as tightly as you’re gripping his. he holds his breath every time you push. keeps whispering i love you and pressing kisses to your temple. a 9/10 cause he’s so quiet it’s a little scary but he cannot hold back his tears when he sees his baby. kisses you all over your face after.

satori tendō; very emotional. like so emotional. he’s teary eyed the whole time, just thanking you even if you hadn’t given birth yet. it makes the nurses cry too cause it’s so lovely to see him get so visibly affected by this. he’s just whispering thank you’s and i promise not to let you down ever and i promise to love you forever and you’re pretty sure he’s speaking to the baby you’re birthing at this point. 9/10 cause he made you cry :( no but really he’s a 10/10. super loving, keeps asking you if you’re okay, if you need water, need to hold his hand, anything. angel, fr.

matsukawa issei; relatively surprising as well because you expected him to be more than just annoying, but he’s just. in awe. he’s so amazed by how much you’re going through, and he just stores it in the back of his brain. literally thanks you for the next 50 years to come. laughs endearingly with you to lighten the mood. 9/10. a point is deducted because he jokingly said that now you’ll be able to take his dick really easily. a nurse choked in shock pls. gets real close after to whisper i love you so that only you can hear. he’s just a dream <3

━━ would not let you move an inch after giving birth. all the work is on them for the next 5 years.

all of them. not a single one is left out in this one. they’re annoying but ,,, they all love very strongly <3

end note; listen idk what this is. i had a vision where iwaizumi could not handle his s/o giving birth and the thought was actually so sweet to me, just the nurses laughing at him and he’s just breathing deeply to try and not throw up and then. this happened. anyways. this helped put me in a better mood so i hope it does/did for anyone else too!

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cantalouupe · 4 years

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satisfy

nsfw!!! albedo x f!reader

sort of breeding kink, needy!reader

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Albedo is busy. Whether he be cooped up in his lab at the Knights of Favonius Headquarters or out conducting research somewhere in Mondstadt, he was always doing something.

This means that more than half of the time he is away from town, and more specifically away from you. Even though you spend as much of your days with him as you can, it’s still disheartening to see an empty desk where he is usually sat at inside his quiet little office.

Despite being in a relationship with him for so long, the weeks that pass without him never get easier.

He knows you get lonely when he’s gone, hears it from the townspeople as soon as he steps foot inside the walls of Mondstadt. How you mope around, looking around like you’re trying to make him appear out of thin air or in hopes that he’d be standing there as if he’d never gone in the first place.

When arriving back after the first time he’d left, Sucrose had lightly pulled him aside before entering his office, letting him know that you’ve stayed in there the whole time he’d been out and refused to leave. It broke his heart a little, walking into the darkened room to see you slumped over his desk with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, staring blankly down at the wooden table in front of you.

For the while after coming home, you follow him around like a lovesick puppy, fingers interlaced with his and eyes looking up at him as if - Kaeya described it this way - “you are the only thing she can see.”

Albedo also noticed that you crave touch a lot more, choosing to sit in his lap rather than beside him and finding any excuse you can to get some sort of skin to skin contact. You had told him one day while nuzzled against his neck that you deserved “extra special attention” to make up for the lost time

The meaning of that verged into two paths, which Albedo - knowing how you get - understood. So he let you cling onto him how you liked and later that day fucked into you a little harder, a little rougher than usual.

Unfortunately, that “extra special attention” you wanted and received from him didn’t satiate you - you needed more.

You made this extremely apparent, because the quiet, calm hours that consisted of hushed whispers of sweet nothings and kisses placed on foreheads morphed into something hungry, with loud cries of pleasure and hot praise that had you shaking apart from beneath him. A lot of your time was spent bouncing on his cock while he reclined back against the seat, half watching you and half into his work.

The way you craved desperately for him was cute to him, although very distracting. He was absolutely happy to do what you needed to make you feel happy and loved, but it was becoming a little bit of a problem when you demanded to cockwarm him for hours on end. Denying you what you wanted would result in begging, you whimpering that you feel too empty without him inside.

Keeping this in mind, he decided to try something a little new.

Your favorite thing was cockwarming, keeping your tight little cunt wrapped around him while he worked, claiming that it’s so good to be filled up all the time. When being fucked, you always went a little heated and brainless when he comes in you - something he picked up recently while watching you fuck yourself on his dick.

A simple idea was forged in his mind with knowing this information, and that leads to you two and your current position.

Albedo’s hips rolling quickly, fluidly into yours, chasing your wet heat while you cried, so close to coming for a fourth time - fourth? Maybe fifth? You weren’t sure, your brain was so fuzzy from the feeling of being repeatedly filled that you couldn’t remember.

You weren’t sure how long you’ve been like this either. All thoughts you had turned into mush as soon as Albedo came inside you for the first time and you’ve been gone ever since.

He murmurs praises into your ear, “Good girl, taking it all inside for me.” that make you melt further into where you’re laying.

After a copious amount of times of coming and dumping everything inside you, he places a hand on your lower stomach, below your bellybutton. “You’re so full by now,” his cock slides in again, and you ripple around it.

He pays no mind to the excess cum that he fucks out of you, continuing to set a pace that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He’s right, you’re so full, both his cock and cum filling you up to the brim.

Yet somehow, neither of you are satisfied. Albedo grips onto your hips and goes harder, leaning down towards your face. “Going to fuck you until I’ve given you every last drop.”

Give you every last drop is exactly what he does. It’s wet, sopping, your wetness along with his cum dripping onto the sheets and making a soaked spot on them that would definitely need to be cleaned later on.

After each load he pulls out of you so he can look at the way it leaks out of you. He does his best to push it back inside with his cock, and attempt to fuck in, as if fucking you hard enough would make it all stay inside.

You take it so well, just like he knew you would. It hurts from the overstimulation and you squirm because of it, tears falling down your cheeks, but you’re trying your best to be good for him while he uses you as his own cum dump.

“Hopefully,” he begins, breathing hard with his thrusts, “you’ll be so full that you’ll leak my come for days.”

His words are dirty and hot and you tense, teetering on the edge. You must clench impossibly tight around him, because it had him coming again, groaning lowly.

Even though he’s released so many times, he’s still coming so much, cock kicking against your walls as he shoots another final amount into you. He grinds slowly, shoving you over the edge in one last orgasm that has you moaning high, back arching and eyes squeezing shut.

Your legs shake and you whimper continuously while attempting to come down from your multiple highs. You grab for Albedo, who smiles warmly at you and falls down against you, petting his hand through your hair.

“You did well,” he praises gently. “Hopefully it’ll help you wait while I’m gone.”

It did help, though you still missed his presence dearly, and became somewhat of a normal occasion. The day before he leaves, he’ll spend hours fucking and filling you until he thinks that its enough to leave you satisfied for your time apart.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact albedo #albedo smut #genshin albedo #genshin impact smut

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obsidiancreates · 3 years

Text

Born This Way (Because Of Negligence Towards Basic Scientific Safety)

(IDK how far apart the Fenton kids are in age, so Jazz is an Undetermined Age Where She's A Toddler But Also Very Verbal. Maybe it's the Genius Genes letting her learn faster. Let's go with that.)

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Maddie coughs, spitting out another glob of ectoplasm. "Well, at least know it's not an issues with the cooling system."

Jack sneezes out the ectoplasm stuck in his nose, and then grins and stands triumphantly. "Still a step towards success!"

Jazz frowns from where she's playing with her doll, safe within a Fenton Anti-Ghost Toddler Chamber. "Mommy, you should cover your mouth." She points at her own mouth. "Mr. Wummy on TV says dat getting weird stuff in your mouth is bad."

"Mr. Wummy is a cartoon, dear. We're seasoned scientists, we know what we're doing." She wipes herself off, and sits down. "If there were any side-effects to accidental ecoplasmic consumption, we'd know."

"But what if Danny doesn't like it?" Jazz point at her mother's belly.

Maddie pats her belly. "The baby is still just a fetus, sweetie. It can't tell what it does and doesn't like yet. And why are you so sure it'll be a boy?"

"Because I'm your baby girl. So now you need a baby boy!"

Maddie tilts her head and smiles lovingly at her daughter. "Oh, you're adorable." Nothing cuter than Child Logic.

Maddie stands back up, and puts her hands on the workbench. "Now, let's see about that firing mechanism..."

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Maddie brushes her teeth, sighing when her toothbrush comes away glowing green. "We really messed up a lot of experiments today. I think I swallowed a whole ghost's worth."

Jack spits a similarly colored mouthful of toothpaste foam out. "At least it doesn't taste as bad as it smells."

Maddie puts her hands on her belly, the bump now quite obvious. "II hope we're right about it not having side effects."

Jack's expression softens. He gently pulls his wife into a comforting hug. "The doctors all say he's as healthy as can be, Mads. You don't need to worry."

"I still worry anyway, though."

"Of course you do. You're his mom! But we'll worry together, and if you ever need me to, I'll do the worrying for us both! While you relax and give him more tips on how to avoid ghosts once he learns to walk."

Maddie giggles, and sighs. It'll all be fine... nothing to worry about.

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Jazz has her arms crossed, a teddy bear hanging from one hand. "Five times!"

"Yes, and did we mention we're so proud that you can count so we-"

"Five times!" She shouts again, waving her little sticky toddler hand at them. "I saw you eat the bad green stuff five times!"

"We didn't eat it," Maddie says patiently, "It got into our mouths by accident."

"You swallowed it!"

"Only a tiny bit, only on accident, dear."

Jazz puts her hand on her mom's belly. "Danny is gonna be here soon and he's gonna be mad!"

"He won't even know it happened, sweetheart."

"Yes he will! He'll be the smartest ever, just like me and like you and like daddy! And he'll be so upset and never stop crying!"

"Babies do that anyway, sweetie." Maddie rubs her belly. It's true, Danny is due any day now. And yes... there's been some extra Ectoplasm Incidents lately. Maddie just can't stay awake sometimes, and... well. That's not exactly good when working on ghost hunting machines.

"Your baby brother will be perfectly fine," Maddie assures. "He's a healthy baby boy, and he'll be just as healthy when you meet him."

Jazz lights up at the mention of meeting him. She can't wait!

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Jazz bounces excitedly in her dad's arms. She gets to meet her baby brother! Finally! She's going to read him bedtime stories, and protect him from closet monsters, and show him how to throw a tea party!

Jack chuckles. "Calm down, sweetie, you don't get to play with him quite yet! He's still very fragile."

"But he's okay?"

"Yes, he and Mommy are both okay. Better than okay."

Jack knocks on the hospital room door, and they enter.

Maddie is holding Danny, and it looks like she fell asleep. Jazz gasps, even though all she can see so far is the blanket bundle.

"He's tiny!"

"Very." Again. Ah well. Jack had always hoped one of his kids would groww up to be taller than him, but maybe it'll have to be a grandkid.

He walks over, and smiles at his sleeping wife. "Okay, let's be quiet," he whispers. "We don't want to wake mommy."

Jazz nods seriously.

Jack sets her on the bed, and Jazz carefully crawls closer to Danny. She moves the blanket to get a good look at his face, grinning widly-!

She frowns. "Where is he?"

"What?!" Jack hurriedly picks up the bundle, making Maddie startle awake. "Holy-"

"Jack? Honey? What is it?!" Maddie's tone becomes increasingly panicked.

Jack, looking a bit pale, hands the bundle back to her. She gasps.

It's empty, and freezing!

"Where- where is-"

And then suddenly. He's there.

Fast asleep, wrapped up snug and tight. His little face still red from being brand-new to the world, his tiny tongue sticking out of his mouth slightly as he snoozes.

He disappears again.

Maddie thinks she's about to pass out.

Finally, Jazz breaks the horrified silence. "I told you to cover your mouths!"

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Danny sleeps all the way home, and all the way up to his room. Jazz is waiting by the bassinet, and peeks in as soon as he's placed down. She frowns. "Mommy, his hair is white. He's not old."

Maddie sighs. "No, he's not. Apparently it just... does that, sometimes."

Danny yawns, and opens his little eyes. Jazz's own eyes widen as well. "He's glowing!"

"Yes... that happens too."

Danny screws up his face, and starts crying. Maddie picks him up and rocks him. "Poor baby... he's so cold."

"Why?" Jazz tilts her head.

Maddie sighs. "Well... your father and I... we think he's half-ghost."

"How?"

"... Probably... the ectoplasm," Shame burns in Maddie's veins.

Jazz, wide-eyed, reaches to to try and touch Danny. "Is he dead?" She doesn't sound sad, because it looks to her like even if he is dead, he's still alive.

"No!" Maddie shuts the idea right down. "He is a very healthy, living boy! But he's... different."

"Are you gonna trap him?"

"Wh- Jasmine, why would you ask that!"

"He's a ghost."

"No! No, we never treat him like any other ghost. And he's only partly ghost, so it barely counts. Now, Mommy has to feed him so he can go back to sleep. How about you go pick a movie for tonight?"

Jazz nods. She takes that job very seriously. There's a science to picking movies.

She heads off, and Maddie looks at Danny's sniffling little face. His eyes are back too baby blue, but his hair isn't quite black yet.

At least he's still visible.

At least the side effects seem mild.

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It's about 6 am when Jack bolts up too use the bathroom. On his way back, he decides to check on the kids.

Jazz is asleep, cuddling a stuffed animal. Jack smiles.

Danny is also asleep, wrapped up in a cute little onesie and floating above the bassinet FLOATING ABOVE THE BASSINET?!?!

Jack runs over and grabs Danny from the air, pulling out a Fenton Ghost-Whapping Baton!

And then he looks at Danny, who's whining, and sees sleepy glowing green eyes looking at him.

"Oh. Um, sorry, son." He puts away the baton. "I thought a ghost was stealing you."

Danny yawns. Jack sees a cold breath puff out of his son's mouth, despite the room being temperature-controlled to keep him toasty during the nights.

Jack puts Danny back into the bassinet. He leaves, and comes back a little bit later with some equipment.

He sets up a rudimentary ghost-shield to keep Danny from floating away during the night, but won't trap him. He can still float a little, if need be.

"The scariest ghost we've faced yet," Jack mumbles. He kisses Danny's forehead, and sits there until Danny falls asleep. By then, Danny is human again.

Jack leaves, and in the morning he and Maddie begin working on some upgrades for Danny's room.

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Danny babbles happily as Jazz plays peek-a-boo with him.

"Boo!"

Laughter.

"Boo!"

More laughter!

"A-boo! A-boo!" Jazz can't stop grinning. She's a great older sister! Look at her go!

She takes Danny's hands, and moves them over his face. "Now, where's Danny? ... Here he is! Oh."

Danny isn't there. But his clothes are, and something's inside of them. And Jazz is still holding two chubby baby arms, even if they're cold and invisible.

Jazz stares for a second, and then speaks. "... Peek-a-boo?"

Danny reappears, and squeals with laughter!

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Maddie sits down to give Danny his bottle. She's brought him out shopping with her so she can grab some replacement parts that fried in their latest invention, the Fenton Ecto-Extractor!

Jazz had thrown a fit when she'd heard the name, and it startled Jack so bad he'd turned it on too early and it completely collapsed on itself! It took half an hour to convince Jazz that they weren't trying to use it to make Danny normal, just using it for themselves now that they know it can cause... strange things, to happen.

Danny drinks the bottle with no issue, and burps as soon as she starts his back. Really, he's a pretty easy baby. Except for the ghost part.

Maddie is getting him back in the stroller when Danny's face screws up. She watches a cold, visible breath leave his mouth, and then he starts to scream. Sobbing, wailing baby screams, attracting the concerned and/or annoyed attention of most people around them.

"He's just tired," she assures loudly. His breath is still puff out in cold clouds, even though it's perfectly warm in the mall.

Maddie quickly picks him back up and hugs him, bouching and singing to try and calm him down.

Danny starts to quiet down. She puts him back in the stroller, but as soon as she does (as soon as he looks behind her with those bright, bright green eyes) he starts crying again.

She sighs and picks him up, hurrying back to the car. She'll just come back for the parts later. Clearly, something is upsetting him.

Something that she just can't see.

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

Jazz leans away from Danny, grinning. "There!"

Danny is propped up on her bed. Maddie and Jack needed to quickly decontaminate themselves, and so Jazz had to watch Danny for just a minute.

And in that minute, she's does some redesigning.

Danny's fluffy white hair has a little bow in it, and she's put some of her kiddie makeup on him.

Danny disappears for a second, and the bow falls. When he reappears, it's not on his head anymore. He looks at Jazz blankly.

Jazz crosses her arms. "No fair! I was making you pretty!"

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Maddie stumbles into Danny's room. She flicks on the light, and turns off the Fenton Ghost-Shielding Hanging Mobile. She reaches in and pulls the crying Danny out of the bassinet, shushing and rocking him.

Danny's eyes are bright green again, and Maddie can see his breath. "Oh, you always get so worked up when this happens," she says softly. "Is the cold upsetting you?"

Danny doesn't answer, just cries more.

Maddie takes him to her and Jack's room, and lays down with him on her chest. Jack rolls over in his sleep and puts his arms around her, cradling both of them.

Danny falls back asleep soon, and Maddie sighs. She can still see his breath, but at least he's calm now.

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Jazz holds up her drawing, and shakes her head. She goes back to scribbling, and moves closer to Danny. "This is black," she says to him, pointing at the crayon she's using. She picks up another color. "And this one is red."

Danny stares as Jazz keeps scribbling. Jazz assumes that means he's learning.

"I'm going to let Mom and Dad know I saw this in my closet," she says seriously. "I think people know you're special and want to steal you!"

Danny blows a spit bubble by accident, and laughs when it pops.

Jazz's eyes hold more determination than ever. She scribbles with the fury of a million warriors. "You're very valuable." She learned that word yesterday. "So you need lots of protecting."

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"Do you think this will make her feel better?" Maddie asks as she closes the panel.

Jack lifts his soldering mask and nods. "If one thing can make a person feel safe, it's fifty anti-ghost devices hidden in their walls!"

"I just worry about that doodle. What if something really got in?"

"Mads, you personally handcrafted every single sensor put up in the kids's rooms! If a ghost had gotten in, we'd know! To get past then they'd need deep knowledge of exactly how our deigns work and how they detect ghost energy, and no ghost has that!"

"You're right, you're right. Still, I hate to think she might be having nightmares about something like that. It looked like it had devil horns."

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"Peek-a-boo!" Jazz grins at Danny. "Peek-a-boo!"

It never gets old for him! No matter how many times they play, Danny loves it!

"Peek... a-boo!" Jazz does little jazz-hands.

Danny disappears, and Jazz grins. "Where's Danny? Where'd he go?"

Danny reappears, and-

"B-b-boo!"

Jack and Maddie dart into the room! Maddie swoops Danny up, eyes wide!

Danny giggles, and says it again. "Boo!"

Maddie and Jackie both tear up. In unison they shout, "HIS FIRST WORD!"

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Danny gnaws on the toy with his little baby gums.

"I can't believe it. Already teething," Maddie sighs, holding him. "Seems like only yesterday we were bringing him home from the hospital."

Jack wipes his eyes. "He's growing into a young man already."

"Oh, Jack, stop it, he's not nearly a young man."

"But he will be before we know it!"

Maddie pats her husband on the back comfortingly as he begins to blubber.

Maddie closes her eyes, thinking about those early months with Danny, figuring out how to prepare for his floating and invisibility, learning to not panic when his eyes and hair changed color, learning that sometimes when they do his clothes change color as well...

She's startled out of her thought by something warm and wet on her lap.

She looks down to see the teething toy on her thigh... and a whole lot of nothing where Danny's head should be.

Then it' back when she blinks, and he's beginning to whine for his toy.

She quickly picks him up off her laps and retrieves it, giving it back to him.

So... the ghost abilities are still developing, then. She'll have to let Jack know about this later.

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"Daniel Fenton," Jack says, the most serious Jazz has ever seen him, "You're in big trouble this time, mister. I don't know how you did this-"

Jack shakes the empty tube of baby snacks, safe for teething babies.

"But I will get to the bottom of it!"

"Look like he already did," Maddie jokes, setting Jazz's breakfast down for her.

Jazz laughs, because it sounds like a Smart Adult Joke and she thinks those are funny, even when she doesn't understand them.

Danny babbles, smacking his chair's food tray.

"Oh no you don't, mister! You're getting regular baby food this morning and that's all!" Jack grabs the jar of food, and holds up the spoon. "Now, here comes the Fenton Ghost-Tracking Copter!"

He puts the spoon up to Danny's mouth-

-and right through his head.

He gasps and pulls back, and Danny's head reappears. He babbles, smacking the tray again.

Maddie drops her fork. "I can't believe I forgot! That's what I was going to tell you about!"

Jazz looks at her parents. "You didn't know he does this?"

They both gawk at her. "You did?!"

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Danny reaches up and grabs Jazz's nose. Jazz wrinkles it, and he laughs.

Jazz sticks out her tongue and crosses her eyes, and Danny laughs even harder!

Jazz looks at her parents as they finish setting up the picnic blanket. "I'm the funniest big sister ever!"

"You sure are, sweetie!" Maddie scoops Jazz up and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "You get it from me."

Jack laughs. "It's true! Your mother could get the whole Ghost Hunting Club laughing out HAZMAT suits off all day long back in the day! ... 'Course it was just the three of us, but still, three's a crowd!"

"May as well have been doing stand-up," Maddie says, setting Jazz down on the blanket.

They enjoy the little outing, the sun shining but not beating down, the cool breeze just enough to crispen the air but not freeze.

And then Jazz looks at Danny. She sees glowing eyes, and a puff of breath come out of his mouth. "Uh-oh. Mommy! He's gonna cry!"

Maddie picks Danny up right as he starts to wail. She hugs him, and is shocked. He doesn't feel cold this time!

Is he just cold inside?

Or is there some other problem?

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Jack rubs his ears. "That child wails like a Banshee!"

"He could very well be doing exactly that," Maddie points out. "We still don't know what other abilities he'll develop as he ages!"

"Or how well he'll be able to control them. ... Mads... should we homeschool him?"

"It's a little early to worry about that, Jack."

"I know that tone, you're worrying about it too."

"... We can't just keep him isolated from the rest of the world, Jack. It'll be unhealthy for him. And what if it makes him lean into his ghost side too much?"

"So you think we should let him go to school."

"Yes. ... But not pre-school. We'll teach him to not use his abilities around other kids, and then send him to Kindergarten."

"... Alright, Mads. If you think that's what's best, then that's what's best!"

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"Come on, that's it! Yes, yes, WHOO!" Maddie picks Danny up as soon as he walks over. "Who's a strong little Fenton? Who's the best little boy at walking in the whole wide world?"

"Danny!" Jazz cheers from the couch.

"Danny!" Maddie and Jack both cheer at once.

Danny laughs and squeals, kicking his legs and flapping his arms. His first proper Walk! Not just a step or two and then crawling, that was real walking!

Jack takes Danny, holding him aloft. "You're a real butt-kicker in the making, son! You'll be as strong as your old man someda-"

Jack feels something bump him, hard.

He shouts as he goes down! Danny going with him!

But as Jack meets the floor, he feels Danny's weight disappear from his hands!

He lands with an "oof", and looks up to see Danny floating above him, surrounded by a faint white aura. Danny looks down and babbles, sucking his thumb. Then... he moves.

He's only ever floated in place before. But as he looks down at his dad, he kicks his little legs and moves! Moving right across the room!

And then he looks behind his dad, and his breath comes out in puffs. He starts crying and wailing hysterically.

Jazz peers at where Danny is looking. "Mommy, hit the air with the stick!"

Maddie gently grabs Danny. "Why, sweetie?"

"Danny is scared! So we have to protect him!"

Maddie grabs her Fenton Baton, and gives the area Danny was looking at a good thwack. She expects it to go right through the empty air.

Instead there's a loud zap! There's a cry of pain! And then a semi-transparent form zooming out of their house!

Maddie's jaw drops. Jack scrambles to his feet and grabs every ghost weapon in radius, forming a protective circle around the family with them!

Maddie looks at Danny, who's now calm.

And his breath isn't visible.

Hmm...

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

"We're just seeing if my hypothesis is right," Maddie assures.

Jazz sobs, clinging onto her leg. "NOOOO! HE'LL GET HURT! OR STOLED!"

"Stolen, sweetie. And Mommy and Daddy would never let that happen."

Jazz scream-sobs again.

"What if we can promise you the ghost will be in a big, big box?"

Jazz looks at her mom with watery eyes. "Like around Danny's crib?"

"Yes, like that."

"But-but he's so little."

"It'll just be a second, sweetheart."

Jazz sniffles again. "... Can I hold the stick?"

Maddie smiles softly. "Yes, sweetie, you can hold the stick."

A couple hours later, Jack and Maddie return home with a ghost in a box. It's yelling something, but the box is soundproof.

Jack sets the box down, and goes to grab Danny. He comes back, and holds Danny firmly while walking towards the ghost. Danny's eyes are covered by a too-big hood on his little shirt. He can't see, or hear, that there's a ghost nearby.

Danny's breath comes out a visible puff about two feet away from the ghost, and he starts crying. Jack steps back a ways, and Danny's breaths become normal again. He settles down.

Jack walks closer. Puff of breath, and crying.

Jack steps back. Normal breath, calm Danny.

"He can sense ghost's," Maddie says, looking in awe at her baby boy. Her face breaks into a grin. "He's his own portable ghost detector! He'll never be caught unawares, he'll be able to always defend himself!"

She runs up to Jack and hugs them both, kissing Danny's little forehead. Danny babbles.

"He'll never be caught unawares," Maddie says again in relief. "Oh, this makes me feel so much better."

"Mommy? ... Does that mean we're haunted all the time?"

Maddie's relief hardens and breaks in her chest.

All those times Danny's Ghost Sense has gone off inside! All those times!

She pulls away. "Jack, we're upping our security!"

Jack nods. "Time for FentonWorks 2.0!"

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Danny giggles as his dad chases him around the house. He phases through doors and turns invisible in hiding places, always giving himself away with laughter.

Jack grabs Danny just before he phases through the next door. “Gotcha!”

Danny laughs, happy little kid squeals that you can hear through the whole house. Jack puts Danny on his shoulders and heads into the kitchen. “He’s getting pretty good at running! Say, whatcha making, Mads?”

“Meatloaf. Would you mind helping?”

Jack sets Danny down at the table and helps Maddie make dinner, while Danny eyes something on the counter.

“Cookie.”

Maddie looks over. Danny is staring at the cookie jar. “No sweetie, no cookies yet.”

“Cookie!”

“Not yet.”

Danny starts to cry. “Cookie!”

Maddie walks over, and gives Danny his binkie. Danny refuses it af first, but once he has it he calms down fast.

He looks at the cookie jar still, though.

And, slowly, he lifts out of his chair. He kicks his little legs, pushing himself forward. He plops down on the counter, and reaches into the jar with an intangible hand.

He pulls out not one, but two cookies!

He gets so excited that he starts waving his arms, making happy noises.

Jack looks over. “What? Maddie, he’s gotten into the cookie jar!”

“I’ve got it!” Maddie walks over and scoops Danny up in his old Anti-Ghost-Phasing Blanket. Soft, warm, and totally ghost-proof.

Danny whines. “Cookie!”

“I said not yet, honey.” Maddie grabs the cookies and puts them on the counter. She safety pins the blanket around Danny like a little cape, except it takes away his powers.

Danny sits in his chair, throwing a fit! But to no avail. Eventually he just sits there, tear-faced and angry.

And then Jazz walks in. She looks over at the cookies, and then at Danny.

She walks over and snatches them off the counter as quick as she can! She casually walks over to the table, and hands them to Danny.

Danny brightens up. He shoves one cookie in his mouth, and gives the other back to Jazz. His original intention.

Jazz smiles, and scarfs the cookie down just before Maddie turns around.

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“Why?” Danny looks at his mom with wide, innocent eyes.

Maddie’s heart aches. “People might get scared.”

Danny frowns. “Scawy?”

“No, no, you aren’t scary. But the... idea of ghosts, for a lot of people, can be scary.”

Danny thinks, and then walks over to the fridge. “Scawy.”

Maddie looks at the drawing Danny is pointing at. It’s Jazz’s drawing of The Ghost.

The one that’s been haunting them for months.

Black horns, it looks like. Red eyes. Deathly blue skin. It makes Maddie shiver, knowing it had direct access to her children for so long.

Danny starts to cry. “I scawy!”

Maddie scoops him up. “No, no sweetie! You are nothing like that monster, nothing like it at all! And you never will be, I promise!” Maddie hugs him tightly. “Oh, my poor baby... how about we take a break? Do you want to help Jazz paint something?”

Danny sniffles, and nods. They head upstairs, leaving the talk for another day.

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“Kindergarten, Jack,” Maddie says, packing the little lunch box. “He’s already in Kindergarten!”

Jack is already openly sobbing as he makes Jazz a sandwich.

“Do you think he understands what he needs to do?” Maddie asks no-one in particular, just worrying.

“He understands perfectly!”

Maddie jumps a little, and turns around to see Jazz smiling proudly. Danny stands right next to her, a shyer smile on his face. Maddie tears up at the sight of him with his little backpack and school outfit on.

Jazz looks at Danny. “Go ahead! Show them what we practiced!”

Danny puffs out his chest to look strong. “I won’t go through anything, turn invi-invisi- um, turn not-seeing-me, I won’t fly, and, um... and if I feel another ghost, I’ll use this!” He pulls his little Fenton Emergency Pager out of his pocket.

Maddie wipes her eyes. “Perfect, honey,” she says, letting the pride seep into her voice. “Oh, my baby boy! Growing up so fast!” She picks him up and kisses his face. Danny wraps his arms around her neck.

“Do I have to go, mommy? They’ll think I’m scary.”

“Oh, honey. You aren’t scary, I promise.”

“... What if I need to be scary?”

“Mommy will come be scary for you.”

“She very good at it,” Jack chimes in, shivering a little as he remembers the time a ghost attacked while Maddie was buying Danny’s first pair of little shoes. By the time it was over, Jack almost pitied the thing.

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

Maddie gives Danny one last hug. “Remember, calls u anytime you need us, okay?”

He nods. “I love you, Mommy. I love you, Daddy. I love you, Jazz.”

“You’re just going to school, not saying bye forever.” Even as Jazz says it, her lip wobbles and her voice cracks.

Danny floats up to the car window give her a hug, before being quickly held up by Maddie to cover the power use.

“That’s the only time today you’ll do that,” she reminds him.

Danny nods.

Eventually... the goodbyes are done being dragged out. Danny’s family drives away as the teacher leads him inside.

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Danny sits on a swing by himself, not sure what to do.

Usually at home he plays using his powers. He doesn’t know how to be good at tag without making it so people can’t touch him, or how to play hide-and-seek without turning invisible.

He kicks the sand. This is stupid. He misses Jazz. He can play with her.

“Hi.”

Danny looks up. Another young boy is standing in front of him, holding some kind of electronic. The boy holds out his hand. “I’m Tucker.”

Danny shakes his hand, focusing very hard on keeping it a real hand. “I’m Danny.”

Tucker shows him the electronic. “Want to play my game?"

Danny looks at it. It’s a coloring game. He nods.

They pass it back and forth between each other for a while, both coloring in different parts of the same picture.

Eventually it’s time to back in. Danny and Tucker ask if they can sit closer together.

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“So, how was it?” Maddie asks, gripping the steering wheel tightly as she picks Danny up. “Have fun?”

“I made a friend!” Danny yells! “His name is Tucker and he’s really nice!”

Maddie relaxes. “Oh? How did you meet?”

“He let me play his coloring game!”

“That’s wonderful!”

“We made a tower out of blocks and it was the strongest ever! And I never used my powers!”

“I’m so proud of you, sweetie!”

Maybe Maddie can stop worrying now. ... Probably not.

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

“What if we gave it big scary horns?” Danny says as he doodled something in crayon. “Like the thing that watches my window.”

Tucker looks at him with wide eyes. “A monster watches you?”

“My parents don’t let it touch me. They hunt ghosts.”

“Oh. Do you hunt ghosts?”

Danny shakes his head. “I’m too little.”

“Oh. Me too.”

“You should give it bat wings.”

They both look up. The quiet girl who usually sits in the back is standing in front of them, her hair pulled back in a tight black braid and her clothes perfectly pressed.

Danny looks at the drawing, and nods. He adds the wings. “We’re drawing the monster from that story we heard today.”

The girl sits down. “I bet it had claws. And could breathe black fire!”

Danny adds them on. “You’re really smart!”

The girl nods. “I am.”

“I’m Danny.”

“I’m Tucker!”

The girl grins. “I’m Samatha.”

“Wow... that’s a long name,” Danny says, eyes wide. “My sister has a long name too. Do all girls have long names?”

Samantha thinks. “I dunno. I haven’t met all girls.”

“Oh. We don’t know all boys, either.”

They spend the rest of free time coloring. Once it’s over, Samantha moves to sit with them.

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

“So, how was today, sweetie?”

“I made another friend! She’s really good, and her parents make her have long hair but she wants it short, and we made this with her!” He shows Maddie the drawing.

Maddie grimaces a little, but turns it into a smile. “It’s lovely, dear. Looks... a little like Jazz’s picture.”

Danny nods.”The monster in the story lived in the window. So does this ghost.”

“... What?”

“He lives by my window. But he can’t come inside, so I make faces at him and make him mad.”

Maddie speeds up a little. “Danny, we’re going to be altering your windows when we get home. Okay?”

“Okay.”

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

Danny leads Sam and Tucker to his room with his tiny arms full of snacks. He brings them inside, and proudly stands in the middle. “This is my room!”

"Cool!” Tucker exclaims. “Whoa, you have a computer?”

Danny shakes his head. “That’s to keep ghosts out. Ghosts hate us.”

“You’ve seen some?” Samantha asks, eyes wide.

Danny grins. “So many!”

“Can we see some?”

“Sure, I can even-”

They hear a gasp in the doorway. Turning to look, they see Jazz. “Danny, you didn’t let me meet your friends!”

Danny looks horrified. “Oh no!” He runs over and pulls Jazz into the room. “This is my big sister Jazz! She’s the coolest big sister!”

“I’m Tucker!”

“I’m Sam!”

Jazz grins. “Guess what I learned yesterday?” She points out of the room. “How to use the remote!”

The trio of toddler’s eyes sparkle. They cheer for Jazz as all of them descend, ready to Take Control Of The TV!

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

“-and this is The Box Ghost,” Danny says, showing his friends the doodle him and Jazz made at home. “He’s silly. He wants to be scary, but he isn’t.”

Tucker and Samantha nods like it the most important thing they’ll ever learn.

Danny pulls out the next drawing. “This is Scary, the ghost from my window.” It’s a new drawing, a little more detailed thanks to Jazz being better at drawing now. And Danny having seen the face so, so many times. “I don’t see him anymore. Mom and Dad kicked him out of the window.”

“He’s ugly,” Samantha says, wrinkling her nose.

“He looks stinky,” Tucker agrees.

Danny looks over at the window. “Shhhh! He’s here!”

Tucker and Samantha look at the window. They see nothing.

They look back at Danny. They see little puffs coming out of his mouth, and his eyes are the wrong color.

Danny pulls his pager out. “It’s okay. Mommy will come scare him away.”

“We can’t see him,” Samantha says.

Danny nods. “He’s hard to see.”

“Do you have to have glowy eyes like yours?” Tucker asks. “I have to have glasses. Are your eyes like Ghost Glasses?”

Danny thinks, and then nods. “I guess so. ... OH NO!” He covers his eyes. “You aren’t supposed to see that!”

“Why not?”

“Mommy said it’s a secret! You’ll think I’m scary!”

“But it’s not scary.”

Danny tilts his head, still covering his eyes. “It’s not?”

“No, it’s cool!”

He slowly uncovers his eyes. “... Do... you think this is scary?” He holds out his arm, and makes it invisible.

Tucker and Samantha gasp! Danny pulls his arm back, about to cry. They think he’s scary, they won’t be his friends anymore-

“That’s so cool,” Samantha says.

“I wanna do that!” Tucker exclaims.

Danny can’t believe it for a second. And then he grins. “I can do more stuff too! I’ll show you at my house!”

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

Maddie paces the floor while Danny sits on the couch, his little face burning with shame.

Jazz sits next to him, arms crossed. Jack stands in front of him, Maddie pacing beside her husband.

“You told your friends?” Maddie asks again.

Danny nods, keeping his head low. “I didn’t mean to. I saw Scary, and my eyes turned green, and I can’t fix that.”

Maddie sighs. “I know, sweetie, but you showed them more after! We caught you flying them around your room! How can you even carry both of them at once?!”

“It’s easy when I’m a ghost,” he says, still keeping his head low. “Everything’s easy when I’m a ghost.”

Maddie stops pacing. “Oh, sweetie... I know it must be strange for you to suddenly have to hide it.”

Danny nods. He sniffles a little.

“It’s for your own safety, son,�� Jack says. “You understand that, right? We just want you to be safe.”

“Other kids can be mean, Danny,” Jazz says. “I’m smart, and some kids are mean to me for that.”

“But Samantha and Tucker aren’t mean!”

“No, they aren’t,” Maddie concedes. “... I guess what’s done is done. Danny?” She kneels down in front of him and gently lifts his head up, wiping his tears away. “We aren’t mad. We’re worried. They’re your friends, but they also don’t understand this the way we do.”

“... Can you make them understand?”

Maddie nods. “We’ll absolutely have a talk with them. You can go get them from your room right now, even. But Danny? No-one else. Okay? These two kids are the only kids you will ever tell. Promise?”

Danny nods, still sniffling. “Promise.”

Maddie puts on her HAZMAT glove and holds out her pinkie. “Fenton promise?”

Danny links her pinkie with his, letting it go ghostly. “Fenton promise, Mommy.”

“Okay. You can send your friends down now.”

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

Danny waits for his mom to come pick him up, Samantha and Tucker sitting next to him.

Samantha looks up suddenly. “I don’t like my name.”

Danny and Tucker look at her.

She stands up. “From now on, my name is... is Sam!”

Danny and Tucker clap, because they learned that’s the polite thing to do when someone has a dramatic moment like this. They learned it from watching the older kids do a play.

Sam sits back down. “I’m Sam,” she says happily. “Sam.”

“Sam is a good name,” Danny says.

“Easier to write,” Tucker says.

“Yeah.” Sam is very proud of her new name.

They wait a bit longer, and a long black car pulls up. Sam stands up, but her parents don’t step out.

A tall, white-haired man does, one none of them have ever met before. He smiles down at them. “Hello, Danny. Hello, Danny’s friends.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of Danny’s parents,” he says, giving a slight bow (or maybe just bending over to hear them better since they’re so much shorter than him).

“I don’t know you,” Danny says, accusatory. “Mrs. Emma told us about people like you!”

The Man shakes his head. “I’m not a stranger, I promise. Your parents and I are very close.”

“I don’t know you,” Danny says again. He steps between The Man and his friends. “I’m gonna tell Mrs. Emma on you.”

“Danny, really, your mother called and asked me to pick you up.”

“You liar! She always picks me up!”

“She’s fighting a ghost right now.”

“She leaves fights to come get me!”

The Man sighs. He grabs Danny’s arm. “Stubborn like your parents. Come on, I promise you’ll be fine.”

“NO!” Danny yanks his arm, trying to get away. “LET GO OF ME!”

“Stop making a scene!”

“LET GO! YOU-”

Danny gaps, a puff of breath coming out and his eyes turning green.

“S-Scary,” he whimpers. “SCARY! MOMMY! MOMMMYYYY! SCARY HAS ME!!! HELP!!!”

Danny yanks again, Tucker and Sam finally running inside to get Mrs. Emma!

The Man scowls. “I’m trying to help you, little badger!”

“YOU’RE THE SCARY IN THE WINDOW!” Danny looks at him with bright eyes, tearful and afraid. “GET AWAY!!!”

Danny’s little hand glows green, and suddenly The Man is clutching his stomach instead of Danny’s arm. Danny runs inside, right into Mrs. Emma’s arms. He sobs to her as she frantically calls the police, trying to read the plate of the car speeding off into the distance.

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

Maddie hands Jazz a Baton. “This is in case this ‘Scary’ come after you,” Maddie says, still shaking a bit. “Okay?”

Jazz nods.

“Danny, this is for you.” Maddie hands him a black-and-white suit. “This is to keep other ghosts from sensing you, okay? So wear it under your clothes.”

Danny nods, still crying.

Maddie looks at Sam and Tucker. Their parents were late picking them up, but with the attempted kidnapping it was decided that they’ll stay with The Fentons for a few hours until their parents could get them.

“You two get these.” She hands them Fenton Pagers, and Fenton Fun-Sized Ghost Stunners. “They can hurt people too, so only use them on ghosts. Or if someone tries to do... what you saw today, ever again.”

Sam and Tucker nod.

“And Danny? From now on, wait with Mrs. Emma until we come inside to get you.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“And when I get my hands on this ‘Scary’, I promise you’ll never have to worry about him again.”

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

Danny looks around to see if anyone is watching. He, Tucker, and Sam are crouched under a desk in the classroom while everyone else is out at recess.

He holds out his hand to the stack of paper, and closes his eyes. For a second, nothing happens.

And then it glows green, and a small beam shoots from his hand! Tucker and Sam gasp!

“You’re like a superhero!” Tucker exclaims, standing up.

“A ghost superhero!” Sam says, standing up too. “You need a superhero name!”

Danny shoots up, smiling widely. “What should it be?”

They all think for a long, long time.

Sam perks up. “I know!”

She grabs a book from the corner. The book is a Halloween one, mostly for pictures with just a few words. She flips to a page, and points to it. “This word! It means Ghost!”

Danny and Tucker peer at it. “How do you say it?” Tucker asks.

Sam grins. “Phantom!”

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

“Phantom?” Maddie says, looking at the doodle.

Jack nods. “Apparently Sam came up with it! Our boy wants to be a ghost hunter after all!”

“Superhero, this says.”

“Same thing!”

“Jack, what’re you making there?”

Jack holds up the suit, one of the prototype Anti-Ghost-Detection suits for Danny. “I got out my old needlepointing stuff and am making him a superhero costume! See, it’s a P!”

Maddie squints, trying to get a better look at the outline. “It looks like a D.”

Jack looks at it. “Hmm. I guess from some angles. But it’s a P! Or, DP! Danny Phantom!”

Maddie’s expression goes soft. “Awww! Okay, you keep making that, and I’ll hang this doodle on the fridge! But no actual ghost fighting until he’s at least fourteen, right?”

“Absolutely!”

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

Danny steps into the school “Halloween Party” with his hands on his hips and a bright grin, looking like a mini-version of his dad behind him.

“Aww, and what are you dressed as, Danny?” Mrs. Emma asks.

“A superhero ghosthunter!” Danny says proudly. “My parents made this for me!”

“It’s great,” Mrs. Emma says genuinely. “Alright, go mingle! We’re going to make paper jack-o-lanterns later so now is the time to trade candies!”

Danny walks over to his friends, still striking the pose. Tucker, dressed as a robot made out of cardboard boxes, pouts in slight jealousy as Danny comes over. Sam, dressed as a vampire, grins. “P for Phantom!” she yells.

Danny runs over faster. “Yeah! My dad put the logo on!” He shows it off proudly. “I’m gonna be the best ghosthunter ever!”

“You can work from the inside!” Tucker says, getting over his jealousy thankfully quick. “Make them think you wanna haunt stuff too!”

“Yeah!” Danny strikes another pose. “But I’m actually going to catch them all, because I’m Danny Phantom!”

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

Danny and Jazz are playing with dolls in the living room. “Pow! Take that!” Danny shouts, making his doll punch Jazz’s.

“Nooo!” Jazz cries out in a husky voice. “But how? I’m The Scary! Nothing can not fear me!”

“I don’t fear you!” Danny waves the hand of his doll, making laser noises. Jazz shakes her doll around, making dying noises. “I’m Danny Phantom, the strongest ghost boy ever!”

“Nooooo!”

Maddie chuckles, watching them. “That Scary better watch out for more than just us.”

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

“Where are we going?” Danny asks again.

“It’s a surprise!” Jack says again, still as excited as when the road trip started.

Danny huffs, looking out the window again. “Why couldn’t Sam and Tucker come?”

“Because they’re spending Summer visiting their families,” Maddie says. “And so are we, sort of.”

“I though Auntie lived in Spittoon,” Jazz says.

“She does! This is different.”

After hours (years in the minds of the kids), they pull up to a mansion. All fo the boredom washes away instantly, Jazz and Danny cramming into the window to see it!

“Are we rich?” Jazz demands to know.

“We’re well-off, but not quite. Welcome to your honorary Uncle Vlad’s house!” Maddie cheers.

“Vlad was out best friend in college!” Jack says, grinning. “He got back in contact with us a few years ago and we’ve been thick as thieves since! He asked us too come over this weekend, and we thought we’d surprise him and let him meet your two at the same time!”

Danny and Jazz cheer! THEY GET TO STAY IN A MANSION!

The family piles out of the car, and stand in front of the door! Maddie and Jack make sure Jazz and Danny look extra nice, and ring the doorbell!

It takes a long minute, so they ring it again!

Finally, a man opens it up! “Oh, Maddie, Jack, I’m so sorry I didn’t hear-”

Danny shrieks. His eyes are glowing bright as they can, his breaths giant puffs! He holds up his hand and send a little beam right into Vlad’s side!

Vlad falls back with an “Oof!”

“Danny!” Maddie scoops him up. “What on earth has gotten into you? Oh, Danny!”

Danny is sobbing pointing at Vlad. “It-it’s him! The-The Scary! He-he tried to take me!”

Maddie and Jack freeze. Slowly, they both look at Vlad. Jazz pulls out her Baton.

“Vlad?” Maddie says coldly.

“Didn’t I only invite you two?” Vlad wheezes.

Jack points a ghost detector at Vlad. It goes off.

“Now, now, I can explai- AGCK!”

Jazz starts happening him with the Baton before he can finish his sentence. Maddie hands Danny to Jack. “Sweetie, close the door and take Danny back to the truck. I need to have a word with Vlad.”

Jack does as told, holding Danny in his lap and soothing him.

“He-he tried to take me,” Danny sobs again.

“Don’t worry, son.” Jack hugs him tightly. “No-one’s ever going to be able to do that. We’ll always keep you safe. We promise.”

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

“And what do we always wear while testing new devices?” Maddie asks, handing Danny a Fenton Ghost-Zapper that would use Danny’s own ghost energy to work.

Danny grins, and puts it on. “Face mask!”

“Because?”

“Because lab safety is very important!”

Maddie grins. “That’s right! And who do we thank for reminding us of that every time we’re in the lab?”

Danny points. “Jazz! Thank you, Jazz!”

Jazz grins proudly.

#danny phantom #Danny Fenton #Jazz Fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #kidnapping tw #attempted kidnapping #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

497 notes · View notes

dorimena · 3 years

Note

Hi, I love your work and if your requests are open would you consider the following?

Monoma is on patrol with y/n and Monoma being well....Monoma, he was horny and was teasing y/n. Not having any of this shit, she proceeds to dom the fuck out of him during patrol. She takes him into an alleyway and fucks him with a strap that she had on her already (she was already planning on something but didn’t go through with it because work is work and she’s aware that Monoma and her could take their time when they got home). She pushes him into the wall and fucks him silly. Monoma is loving it and keeps begging “Mommy fuck me more, please!”. She gives him what he wants but she tells him to be quiet or else the bystanders would fine their great Phantom Thief in a puddle of his own cum while getting fucked by his mommy. At some point two civilians hear Monoma panting and hiccuping and get concerned. Y/n keeps fucking him and reassures them that Phantom Thief is fine. He cums then and there and she tells him to reassure the civilians that he’s ok. Monoma whimpers out that he’s fine and y/n cleans him up and cuddles him in the alleyway telling him how much of a good boy he was.

(I’ve been thinking about this ever since I read your shower blowjob story. This man makes the dom in me go crazy. He’s already a whining bitch, having him be like that in the bedroom just- 😫)

Let me say that I’ve had a scene in my head almost the same as this one you sent me and I am absolutely thrilled because yessss more attention to bratty baby Monoma ٩(♡ε♡)۶

And honestly, this man is just asking for it. Bet he wants to fucked anywhere, anytime, as long as he's put back into his place. That's his kink-

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; Monoma Neito

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 3.5k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; fem!reader, pegging, mommy kink, slight exhibitionism, public sex, mentioned sex toy (butt plug), implied overstimulation, multiple orgasms, implied after care, domme!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; begging, humiliation, Monoma being a little shit, because he wanted your attention, and to rile the fuck out of you, aged-up character: Monoma is 20+

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; I unknowingly kind of changed a few things from the ask, like the conversation between Monoma and the bystanders, but I hope you like it anon! The ending is kind of rushed, sorry about that!

𝕭𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆 𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 𝖎𝖘 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐

“Now, now, y/n, you know ignoring someone, specifically the love of your life, is a crime? How else are you to beg for my love if you go on and ignore my graceful presence? Are you listening to me? At least lend me your attention.”

He’s been like this for the past couple of hours since you’ve both been assigned together for patrol. You thought it’d be a good idea, and Monoma was also excited when your boss told you both to get ready and head to the neighborhood you’re meant to keep a watch over.

The neighborhood turned out not as empty or quiet as you expected, rather close to a busy street. Some stores and restaurants seem to align themselves around this area.

You thought things would go smoothly, go even better and much quicker now that you and your boyfriend are finally patrolling together, months since you’ve transferred to this agency from your old one.

But Monoma’s been leaving any and every snide remark since you two stepped foot into the area, teasing you for any small mistake he believes should be (loudly) called out for or simply trying to mess up your way of doing things.

You don’t even want to count how many times he’s criticized the way your hero outfit currently looks on you. And no, you’re not getting insecure, but rather more… cautious.

There’s a reason why the uniform seems a bit odd around your crotch, but he doesn’t need to know that, not here, not now. Maybe until you both get home-

You trip, almost falling flat on your face if it weren’t for your boyfriend quickly grabbing you, pulling you up to your feet as he looks at you with panic before it quickly dissipates to his stupid mockery.

“See? You cannot do anything right, not without me at least. You, my dear, cannot live without me yet you still ignored me. This is what I mean when you should listen to me. Anyone would truly be grateful for having me, Phantom Thief, as their beloved lover.”

That’s it. You usually can take so much of his weird comments, but right now he’s pulling anything out of his ass at this point. (Soon you’ll see what actually comes out.)

You don’t answer, just look around to make sure no one is watching as you grab him by his stupid tie, dragging him to the nearest alleyway you remember passing by, glad it’s still pretty empty and dark enough to hide your bodies in the shadows.

He isn’t even struggling, just letting you walk him as if he’s a dog, quietly following you. If you were to turn around, you’d see the way his eyes are wide yet full of lust, his pupils dilated as he mentally cheers, thanking the gods for listening to his horny prayers of being sucked in an alleyway.

Do you know how hard it was for him to not jump you and beg you to help him? All because of how sexy you look in your hero outfit, how the small fixes and modifications bring out more of your body, the body he loves, yearns, desires, every day and night. Hopefully you don’t find his surprise before he can debut it once you guys are back home. (But unintentionally came prepared.)

He’s a complete fool for you, but you can’t know that, or else it’ll be the end of-

“Monoma Neito. You have 5 seconds to tell me why the fuck you’re being a piece of shit tonight.”

He didn’t realize his back is against a cold wall or how you’ve trapped him between your arms, the way you’re glaring at him while counting down in such a low tone, it makes his legs feel weak and threaten to buckle..

“Horny.” He barely whispers, crazed eyes never leaving your face as he stays still, trying to control his breathing and heartbeat as you scan him from head to toe, eyes finally staying in place where his boner is visible, even with how poor the lighting is.

You grin, but not your usual friendly grin or familiar flirty grin, but the ‘I’m gonna fuck you till you die’ kind of grin.

And Monoma’s both terrified yet super, duper much more hornier than before. But, with what are you going to fuck him with?

In a flash, he’s suddenly turned around, his clothed-covered chest pressing against the wall as he feels your hands make quick work on his belt, on his pants, pulling them down to rest on his thighs. He hisses and shivers when the cold air hits every exposed part of him, yet makes his dick twitch in interest.

You also free your bottom half to finally let out the strap on you’ve luckily managed to hide until now, searching your pockets for the small tube of lube you brought with you, just in case.

But when you spread his butt cheeks, you gasp in surprise with the butt plug he’s wearing, going to grab the toy as you slowly pull it out in disbelief.

Did he know?

“I-I want you to know you’re not the, um, only one to be prepared for what they want.” Monoma speaks, but in such a soft tone that it has you wondering if he’s the same person who had pestered you since the beginning of the patrol, the same boyfriend you love who has a talent for being loved and hated simultaneously by various people.

But at least he didn’t know. He simply decided to take this extra mile.

Cute. No wonder he’s such a good boy for mommy… sometimes.

“Then I guess I shouldn’t prepare you, right?”

You don’t wait for his response, not when you dispose of the toy away from you both, and you make quick work to lube up your silicone cock.

Monoma doesn’t get to ask you about the wet sounds behind him, or ask where you threw his butt plug before you’re entering him. You felt how his body jolted, his back arching enough to push his ass back more towards you.

You land a smack against the smooth skin, listening how the impact echoes in the empty alleyway and the way he whimpers in pain.

“You’re such a slut for mommy, aren’t you Monoma?”

“Yes!”

No hesitation.

Monoma usually sounds hesitant whenever you two do something new, as if he evaluates the pros and cons from anything and everything, figuring out if he’ll come out benefitted or you.

But he sounds desperate, shameless. He sounds like he’s ready to cry.

New, but not too surprising. When he wants to, he’ll always be a good boy for his mommy.

“Want to tell mommy again why you were being a little bitch tonight?”

Never mind, his hesitation came back, his mouth pressed shut as you peek at him, trying to catch a glimpse at his periwinkle eyes, wondering what’s taking him so long to answer. He answered you so easily, so quickly a few minutes ago.

You hear a soft mumble, see his lips move but no sound gets to your ears. So you spank him once more, hearing his cute squeak and the way he fucks back.

“Louder.”

“I wanted mommy to fuck me! Fuck me until I can’t walk! Fuck me until I’m just your stupid little hole! Please? I’ll-I’ll be good now, I promise!”

If anyone were to ask you just how stupid Monoma gets when he’s completely horny and turned on, this is a prime example. His usual eloquent vocabulary? Gone. It doesn’t exist once mommy’s pleasing him.

But he’s also promising about being good? Let’s see how good he’ll be then.

No more words are exchanged, just the soft desperate pants of the pretty blond and some small airy whines that leave his mouth in anticipation for what you’ll do next.

You don’t even start slow, you go absolutely feral.

He barely gets to inhale one last deep breath until you’re fucking that out of his lungs, his head turning to look back at you as best he could as his body begins hitting the wall in front of him, his clothes rubbing against the roughness of the bricked exterior of the unknown building. He lifts head enough to not get itself hit against the wall and his hands are clawing at the bricks desperately, trying to find leverage to hold on tightly, his brain struggling to catch up with how vicious yet delicious you’re fucking him.

When he does remember he’s a human who can speak words, he cries out “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” in such high pitches, it sounds like he’s singing, probably trying to continue seducing you into such a horny haze. His pent-up sexual frustration must have been infectious, with how you find yourself being merciless with him and his ass, your hips slamming into the back of his in such a brutal pace you wonder if the skin will bruise, if he’ll be able to sit or walk properly.

Probably not, but that’s the point, isn’t it?

Your baby boy wanted you to fuck the living shit out of him, so that’s what you’ll do, it’s what you’re best at doing.

Fuck the annoyance out of him so that when you guys get home, he passes out.

You momentarily forget you guys are very much still in public and even if it’s night, civilians are very much still awake and walking, either going back home or going to work, maybe hang out with their friends or find themselves a sub to fuck.

Monoma doesn’t even warn you that he’s cumming, not even his loud, prolonged whine of your name gets your attention. But with how he’s spasming around your toy, how his hips are twitching quickly in between your hands, his eyes that never left from looking at you crossing…

Yeah, since you missed that orgasm and you’re not in the mood to exactly punish him, why not fuck him some more until he can’t remember his name and only yours?

You briefly pause, the tip of the toy the only thing still inside of him as one of your hands rubs circles on his lower back and the other remains on his hip.

Through the panting, Monoma lets out a whine, one that sounds almost disappointed. Probably because he came far quicker than what either of you two expected, or because it feels like you’re pulling out already and calling it a night.

No words are exchanged as you watch him catch his breath for a bit more, memorizing how rosy his cheeks and nose look, how the blush looks like it’s on his neck while his white pupils are fully dilated, oozing his adoration for you.

When you hear him suck in a breath, whether he’s preparing a sentence or to finish pulling himself off the toy, you slam back into him, grinning like a maniac upon feeling how his whole body jumped, going back into action and having blood pump everywhere in him, mostly towards his reawakening dick.

And you slam, slam, slam, slamming into him at such a steady pace, making sure to roll your hips the way you know will make him start squealing in such a girly tone, or like a dirty pig he sometimes becomes.

And once you feel him begin to push back on you and one of his hands leave the wall, you lean forward, pushing his body more up on the wall. He’s bent too much, it’s obvious you’re fucking him doggy style. What if people decide to go through this alley?

He obeys but whines in complaint, not wanting you to stop your ministrations as he pulls himself together, standing up as much as he could as to leave his lower back still bent for you.

“Keep your hands on the wall or else I’ll leave you here like this.”

He loves it when you speak to him in such a low voice, in such a way that you know makes him want to suck your cock for days until his jaw hurts. He puts his hands back on the wall, both placed where his face is at, acting as support as he rests his forehead there. His neck hurts a bit from how long he’s been straining to look at you.

You go back to fucking him, going back to what you were doing, moaning his name repeatedly to keep riling him up, arouse him and make him start begging for you to go faster, harder, deeper, make him dirty.

And he does with loud wails, ones that have you freezing and stopping all together, slapping a hand on his mouth and whispering how he should quiet down, unless he wants to be whored to other people.

“Be mommy’s good boy and keep quiet. Unless you want someone else’s cock.”

“No! No muh-mommy! Only y-yours~ Please!” He moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he impatiently grinds against you, feeling how sticky his thighs are getting with sweat and some of his cum and precum, somehow.

“Mommy, fuck me more, please!” He whimpers so cutely, so pathetically, so melodically you’re sure he somehow copied someone’s siren quirk, because your head feels dizzy, your heart is beating erratically and your hips sync with the pulse, forgetting about being consistent with speed, with roughness, with how deep you reach inside of him.

Fucking him silly until he’s trying his best to muffle his screams and cries into the back of his hands pressed on the wall, his fingers trying so hard to find solace on them, to grasp the reality of him being defiled in an empty, dirty alleyway, pressed so ruthlessly against a wall he doesn’t know how exactly dirty it could be.

Monoma’s hiccuping your name until you spank him, growling softly how that’s not who you are, making him wail out “Mommy! Cumming!” in such an erotic way, you wonder if you’re fucking your boyfriend or a girl with how he’s managed to reach such an incredible pitch.

You keep going, and even when he’s done cumming, you don’t stop impaling him, and a hand goes to wrap itself around his dick, trying your best to match this chaotic fucking, hearing how he’s struggling to breath, to comprehend this painful yet electrifying pleasure.

His toes are curling in his shoes, his knees don’t stop buckling, his hips never stop trying to meet with yours, the burn of overstimulation flowing through his veins yet motivating his dick to keep going, to keep obeying, to not disappoint mommy.

Monoma’s speaking gibberish, babbling whatever nonsense and begging he could think of or come to make up, the tips of his fingers turning white with how hard they’re pressing against the bricks as he tries to not fall. He’s not sure how or why he’d fall, but with how you’re touching him, squeezing him, stroking him, playing with him, he’s ready to give into the inquiry of whether being a househusband would have you fucking him like this everyday.

It’s a weird thought, one he’s never had before, one that’s still early to even care about-

Oh my god you’re abusing his prostate!

He’s seeing stars, planets, flashing strobe lights and envisioning his uproaring third orgasm, mouth hung open stupidly as whiny sobs and strangled cries escape him, trying his best to keep quiet like you said but he can’t!

“Feels s’ good!” He slurs, once again turning his head to look at you, eyes completely wet as tears fall in graceful droplets, hair messed up and drool staining a bit of his chin.

And just as you were going to respond, you heard footsteps.

You both freeze: you’re halfway out of him while Monoma’s struggling to not let his coughing fit be heard, having swallowed his saliva far too quickly with the scare.

The sounds stop, but now you both can hear a female voice.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Monoma whimpers, embarrassed.

So this is how he’ll get caught and shamed.

This is the end of his career.

But you’re not having it, not with how his dick has stopped twitching and is starting to soften.

You’re not done yet, and neither is he.

“Answer, Monoma.” You harshly whisper, wiping your thumb over his hypersensitive tip, making him hiccup loudly before composing himself as best he could.

“Y-yes? It-It is I, Phantom Thief- ooh~”

Another voice pitches in.

“Phantom Thief? The Phantom Thief?!”

“Y-Yes!” Monoma squeaks out, trying to cover up his gasp as you begin to slowly fuck him, making sure to keep hitting him straight to the prostate, amused how he’s gripping his jaw, muffling his hiccups while frantically shaking his head, begging you with his eyes to no, no, please!

The two bystanders gasp, seemingly walking more towards where you and Monoma are, making you press him more into the wall, hoping the angle you’re both in and the small hiding spot is enough to keep you hidden.

“We’re huge fans of yours! But, um, are you alright? We heard someone crying.”

“Fuck!” Monoma whimpers, struggling to keep his breathing in check as you continue to move, even rolling your palm all over his tip, your other hand going to pull at one of his nipples.

“What was that?”

“N-nothing! I’m fin- ugh~”

“You… sure?”

“YES!”

Monoma yells, back arching as his head touches your shoulder, eyes rolling up this head as he’s torn between pushing back or bucking forwards, feeling his body submerged in such an intense heat, in such shame, in such pathetic desperation to cum, he’s begging you in quick hushed moans to please, pretty please, make him cum, he wants to cum, needs to cum again.

“And your fans?” You whisper teasingly, feeling how he shivers with how close your breath is near his ear.

“Fu-uck my fans-”

“Now now, that’s something you never said before. Did I fuck Monoma Neito out of you?”

And you go back with the brutal pace, not caring if the other two bystanders can hear what’s going on, not caring if they come out traumatized or probably aroused with how obvious it is that their dear Phantom Thief is getting fucked in a shady place, in a nasty place, yet he’s silently wailing and convulsing with everything you’re giving him.

Your hand soon enough gets sticky with what little cum his poor, weak body produced, his hole clenching tightly around your strap-on while his hands fly back to grasp any part of you that he could reach, which ended up being your head.

The bystanders speak again while Monoma’s busy wheezing his gratitude.

“Are you sure you’re alright? We could call the police-”

“I’m alright! ‘m fine~” He managed to sing-song, but if you heard a bit of his whimper seep from the last word, you don’t say anything, simply slow down your stroking before pausing.

You hear their footsteps slowly go back towards where they probably came from, making Monoma let out shaky exhales of relief and satisfaction, small giggles slipping from time to time as you kiss his neck, his cheek, his jawline.

And once you are certain you’re both alone again, you slowly pull out of him, helping him to turn around so that his back presses against the wall.

Until he grimaces.

“My essence is, from my deduction, splattered on this disgusting wall.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you point down to where his pants are, laughing harder when you see how his grimace turns into a face of disgust, horror, shame, surprise, arousal- wait what?

You don’t question the last one, simply letting out the last of your giggles while you search for the disinfectant wipes you tend to carry with you in your utility belt. And once they’ve been found, you make him lick your cum-covered hand first before properly passing a wipe. You hand Monoma one so that he cleans his face if needed, disinfect his hands, his thighs, anywhere he thought he needed to clean.

No, that's a lie. You took care of his thighs and pelvis, trying your best to clean the spots where his cum reached his pants before peppering a few gentle kisses around his exposed skin.

Pulling his briefs and pants up, buttoning, zipping, fasting his belts. You let out a happy sigh, fixing his hair and tie.

You then fix yourself.

“Who’s mommy’s good boy, Monoma?”

He somehow managed to chirp. “I am, mommy.”

“Then, you’ll stop being a bitch tonight, right? Mommy made sure to fuck it out of you.”

“Oh, um,” aw, he’s blushing. “I suppose…”

When you both walk away from the much-more defiled wall, you hold back an amused snort with how Monoma seems too unstable with his feet, how his legs seem to shake with every step he tries to take and how frustrated he looks with how uncooperative his body is.

You decide that chilling and cuddling in that corner wouldn’t be so bad, and considering how your shift ended minutes ago, you doubt either you or Monoma will get into trouble.

#✿; impurity #⏱ Monoma brain rot #bnha smut #monoma neito smut #monoma smut #sub monoma neito #sub bnha #mha smut #ლ; blasphemy #𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖒𝖆

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achillieus · 3 years

Text

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, don’t kill me because of the ending, sebastian and reader are the definition of right person wrong time, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, also this part has some funny moments but overall it’s a big SOB

part: 6/6 (there will also be an epilogue)

(other parts) (masterlist)

This is how it ends: broken hearts from crashed dreams.

Sebastian holds you until his muscles ache and your lungs burn from the feeling of too little oxygen. It is cold and dark, almost midnight, too dark, a starless night.

No more stars for you and I.

“Here,” Voice hoarse, eyes heavy-lid and itching from almost crying. He gives you one of the rings he wore in the movie. “I want you to keep this.”

Keep it close to your heart. Forget me not.

He takes a breath and a step back, tries to regain all the strength he still has, steady feet and shoulders fixed. He digs his nails into his palms, red marks in his skin, air catching in his throat, he’s on the verge of falling but he stays standing.

He remembers tears glistening down his cheeks, maybe they were yours not his, and the cold autumn wind hitting his face and he remembers feeling like he’s dying.

And then he closes the door of Argyris’ car and looks at you.

And his heart stretches and stretches and stretches and then somehow splits in half.

It goes like this:

There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment from now on. In the living room. Sitting on the couch. And it has steel blue eyes and a familiar heart. And it whispers a love story, half-finished, and you cannot make it stop.

The ghost touches your collarbone and he’s gone but there’s a ring in a golden chain around your neck and a white shirt forgotten in your laundry. And it smells like him. The clinging scent of his aftershave sticking to your pores. Eucalyptus. And no matter how hard you try to wash it off, it still lingers.

How could I ever forget someone like you?

The ghost lives here, but the place is empty, so empty. And it’s hard not to cry.

Sebastian calls and texts a lot.

He tells you he’s tired but excited because he started filming a new movie. It’s very indie and experimental, I can’t wait for you to see it. He tells you he’s missing his days in Greece like hell and that one night he dreamt of you. Didn’t want to wake up. What he doesn’t tell you is that he’s coming back in a month, Argyris needs him for some extra scenes. It’s nearly killing him but he doesn’t tell you. He wants to surprise you, see the pure light in your eyes when they’ll meet his.

You try sexting. It doesn’t go very well.

23:50, sebastian: if you were here in my bed right now what would you be doing

06:51, you: probably falling asleep hahaha

06:51, you: oh fuck was i supposed to sext back

06:51, you: sorry seb i just woke up and i have a class in an hour, love you <3

23:52, sebastian: fuck timezones

(three weeks and 10 seconds later)

“I can’t believe she doesn’t know you’re here,” Argyris shakes his head as he’s driving home from the airport, “If I were her, I’d kill you.”

“Good thing I didn’t fall in love with you.”

Sebastian laughs and looks out of the car window. The stars. There are so many stars tonight. He holds his breath; he’s finally feeling whole again. His heart isn’t split in two anymore.

You don’t know how long you stand there at your door, staring at him, but it feels like a century before he grins, almost laughs, takes your hands in his and you start considering that perhaps this isn’t a hallucination. Perhaps it’s real.

“Surprise?”

Something inside of you bursts, your organs twitch. You can’t think, you can’t speak, but you can move. You don’t lose any more time, you take a step forward, attach your bodies, your face buried in his neck, your fingers clutching into the rough fabric of his jacket. You breathe him in like an antidote.

“How?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

You kiss him and it’s like poetry, like art, like honey and you can’t separate yourself from him, not even hours later.

(looking back, these were the golden days)

You pretending to be mad at him for not telling you he was coming back and him pressing his lips on your skin, drawing patterns on your naked shoulder. A feathery touch.

Sebastian always touches you like you’re something made of gold and porcelain, something cherished that constantly needs to be treasured. And nobody has done that before. And you love him for it.

You try to decorate your Christmas tree together. He messes with the lights for a while, eventually gives up and goes on to eat too many reindeer shaped cookies.

He massages your muscles when you write a boring essay for college.

You go with him when he has to shoot a “driving a motorcycle naked in the centre of Athens” scene and you bite the inside of your cheeks to stop smiling like an idiot.

He gives you a dress he bought for you in New York.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

He calls you sweetheart in the mornings, still half asleep and later joins you in the shower.

“Why are you so hot?”

“Climate change”

“Oh, shut up”

It’s tender and it’s soft and it’s human.

And that’s the saddest part.

Soon you realize that him leaving two months ago was merely a rehearsal and you still haven’t said your actual goodbyes. Your chest starts to feel as if it’s full of crushed glass.

And it’s ridiculous because you fell in love with Sebastian sometime between the first ten days you spent together.

Who falls in love in ten days?

Ridiculous or not, you know you are in love with him just as you know that sooner or later, whatever he is feeling will fade and wither. Maybe it’ll be in a week, maybe it’ll be in a month, maybe in a year if you’re lucky. But there will definitely come a day when he will step out of a gala or a party or a fancy gym in New York with a beautiful model in his arms and two paparazzi’s following him around.

What will you be then?

A past small cameo in his life. A side character. Will he remember your name?

He is your whole world.

(a bottle of cheap prosecco helps you decide that)

He is your whole world.

And yet, there will come a day when he won’t even remember your name.

It was difficult. No, it was the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. Telling him how you think it’d be better if you didn’t talk after he leaves.

“I don’t agree with this.”

“Seb, it’s for the best.”

Your body doesn’t feel strong enough to carry your heart. And you’re certain it will only get worse once he’s away. The world around you will melt. You’ll obsess over a phone screen and his messages. You’ll start chasing ghosts again. You can’t handle that.

“Why?” He says urgently and his fingers dance over the flesh of your palms.

“Because this”, you motion your hand between the two of you, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had in my life and I don’t want it to become ugly.”

He nods, he understands.

“I love you, you know,” he says smiling and tugs you closer to him, “And I may not be here to show you but I think I’ll love you for a long time.”

Your hand grips his waist right to the bones and something flares in your eyes, something wild that wrenches you around.

“I know, I’ll love you the same.”

“Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“Only if I’m the luckiest girl on the planet.”

He laughs and you look at him, fully aware he’ll be ripped out of your life like a page from a cheap leather notebook. And when you kiss for the last time, there’s a hole forming in your soul.

And just because endings don’t leave visible scars to one’s body and soul, that doesn’t mean the scars don’t exist. You know they do, because you feel the aching pain of every single one of them.

(every night when you close your eyes you see him)

(every night you look at the stars and think of him)

A month passes and Argyris asks you if you miss him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

“He said the exact same thing.”

You tell him not to mention Sebastian again.

Two months pass and you need to stop stalking his instagram profile.

Three months pass and you almost text him.

Four months pass and you go to watch Endgame with some friends and you cry. You cry when Black Widow sacrifices herself and when Iron Man smiles at his wife while dying, and when Bucky Barnes appears on screen.

The others don’t understand and you don’t blame them.

Five months pass and Argyris’ girlfriend wants you to meet someone. A charming boy your age with blonde hair and a lip piercing.

And he's cute but you compare him to Sebastian even before he has the chance to say his name. His eyes are not the right shade of blue and he doesn’t look at you like you’re made of the world’s finest jewel.

And he doesn’t know any constellation names.

And then more than a year passes in a second and you learn to not look for him. Not anymore.

It’s early March 2020 and despite the rising fear of the upcoming pandemic, you’re doing well. Scars are starting to fade. And after spending two weeks in Prague, your best friend being there with an exchange program, Sebastian Stan is the farthest thing from your mind.

Until he literally comes crashing into you. At the airport.

No, it can’t be him.

You have your suitcase on one hand and a bottle of antiseptic gel on the other. He has two bodyguards on his sides and a black hoodie on. And while half of his face is hidden behind a mask, you can see his eyes perfectly. A frozen lake in December. You would know those eyes in your deathbed, at the end of the world.

Your vision gets blurry and suddenly you feel cold.

He won’t recognize me, he can’t.

But then he looks at you and every memory you had buried inside of you resurfaces.

He motions to his guards to wait for him and he starts walking towards you. You breathe slowly, one breath at a time. He takes his mask off and you hesitate to take yours, not sure if you truly want him to see you.

You exchange the typical and very awkward hi, how are you, i’m glad you’re doing okay and then he smiles and it feels comfortable. Familiar.

It’s the whiff of another time that you always kept around. A reminder that you were once loved by a god.

“What are you doing here?”

“Filming Falcon and the Winter Soldier”

If you hadn’t unfollowed him on instagram, you’d known.

“Ah yes I heard about that, congrats.”

He nods a thank you.

“And you? In Prague?”

“I was at a friend.”

He looks conflicted, hurt, turns his gaze to his shoes on the grey cement. You want to say something, but you feel like throwing up.

And then he laughs.

“I was right.”

You’re confused, he notices.

“Back in Greece,” he swallows, “I told you this would happen.”

“It would have been an airport, different gates for each of us, but same waiting hall. Or a Greek island, where we’d both be for the summer.”

“I would have found you.”

You remember and you cannot help but smile. He was right. He found you.

“I didn’t believe you then.”

I barely believe you now.

He touches your hair. And his touch is like a knife. And you want to cry. Magnolias under your tongue. A love long lost is whispering in your ears until it hurts to listen. He’s like a magnetic field and you feel yourself drowning in him.

“I bet they’ll ask me a hundred questions about you later.” He says and looks at the two men waiting for him.

“And what will you tell them?”

“That you’re most probably the love of my life.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“There’s no way we’d meet here if you’re not.”

“Sebastian,” His name sounds like a prayer coming out of your lips and you're ready to tell him you love him and you can swear he looks like he’s ready to faint, “I-”

The guards yell his name. And it's the same feeling people have just before a car crash.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

One last look.

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

You repeat it over and over again. But you fail.

“No, don't cry” He smiles, one last smile, “Just look at the stars and wait for us to meet again, because we will.”

He caresses the back of your palm for a second and you think your ribcage is shattering but it’s only your heart drumming frantically. Pushing your fragile bones to break.

You want to stop him, wrap your arms around his torso, never let him go. Not again. But you don’t.

You just watch him leave, one more time, your knees weak, your head heavy and dizzy. For the split of a moment he turns and glances at you but then he’s nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps it was all in your imagination. Perhaps it was nothing but a wonder.

You get into your plane and you silently sob.

And then it’s summer.

And you overhear he was seen with a girl, the day before your vacation starts and you find a picture of them together a week later, a pretty blonde girl clinging to his side with a colorful bikini somewhere in Spain. And he’s smiling. And you feel so ashamed. And so stupid.

They say time heals all wounds but they must be wrong because you can’t forget how he used to smile at you or how he used to call you the love of his life.

Was he joking when he said you'll meet again? You bet if you asked him now, he wouldn't even remember saying it.

I’ll love you for a long time.

So long for nothing.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :) also i’m really sorry if you asked me to tag you and i didn’t but i lost a lot of asks and the urls of the people that sent them :(

tagging: @lharrietg @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic @itsaliceheree @sara-1705 @dorothea-hwldr @freshfreakoaftrash @drinkfantasy @christinamcdonnell @partypoison00 @90ssantiago

#sebastianstan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #letyoudown #monday the movie #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader

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dollslayer · 3 years

Text

The Stand-In

CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Stood up by your date and stranded in one of the nicest restaurants in town, Bucky Barnes just can't let that stand.

Warnings: slight angst, smut, oral (m & f receiving), deepthroating, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it !), if I missed anything let me know!

W/C: 3,807

A/N: I wrote this for @simsadventures 6k mixed adventure challenge (Congrats!) w/ a restaurant setting and the line "If you could just hold my hand and be quiet, that would be nice". If you like it please reblog and comment and tell me what you think! Cheers!

p.s. - Come check out my other fics or find me on AO3 (same name)!

Main Masterlist

7 PM

Your best Jimmy Choos click gingerly as you walk up to the hostess stand at one of the most popular restaurants in Manhattan. He had made the reservation in your name, which you gave to the hostess. She takes a minute to consider you, cocking a brow as she silently clocks your ASOS cocktail dress. You looked chic enough that she could forgive you. Her moment wasn’t lost on you, this part of the Upper West Side was so stuffy so you put on your best.

Feeling slightly self-conscious about your attire you brushed the feeling off quickly. He would be here soon and he’d reassure you how beautiful you look. When you’d met for coffee he’d make you feel so sexy and confident with how sure of himself he was. So when he asked you to dinner at one of the most renowned places in the city and said he wanted to talk tonight you accepted immediately.

“Right this way” the hostess said and broke you out of your self-doubting stupor and guided you towards a some-what secluded table towards the back of the restaurant.

“Here are some menus for you two, if you’d like anything to drink while you wait, your waiter should be here soon”, she sent you an artificial smile and turned on her heel back to the stand.

You picked up a menu and it left you reeling at the prices. You had half a mind to text him and see if he wanted to go somewhere else. Based off of the way he dresses and how he had tipped the barista on your first outing you thought better of it. He’d said he wanted to treat you, so you’ll let him.

7:15 PM

You decided to wait to order anything to drink until he got here, too afraid of the price tag attached to any bottle of wine on the menu.

You took a sip of your water and checked your texts for the second time since sitting down. Still nothing, you didn’t want to text him just yet, you knew he was busy and you didn’t want to seem overbearing. You knew he was a CFO and he’d be coming from the financial district when traffic was insane. You could forgive him. You take another sip of your water hoping it’ll wash all of your doubts away. Besides, it’s not like he’s late-late, he’s like, fashionably late, he’s working-man late.

7:30 PM

Okay, so he’s late-late, don’t panic. Sometimes things happen, he’s only human and this is only your second date.

Your waiter approaches the table again, eyebrows raised expectantly at you. The smug look on his face says he’s thinking what you’re too afraid to.

You order yourself a $25 martini. Your waiter promises to return and you finish off your water.

Time to craft the perfect text that says ‘Hey I’m here, where tf are you?’ without actually asking where the fuck he’s at. You tap away nervously on your phone.

‘Hey, I’ve got a table towards the back, closer to the end of the bar’ Perfect.

7:45 PM

You’re still sitting solo at the table, you feel the beginnings of humiliation creep into your features. You feel warm, your brows form a seemingly permanent crease of worry, and you are trying everything in your power to suppress the tears you felt building up.

You don’t make eye contact with your waiter when he stops by again, playing it off like you were sending a text. But you tell him you’ll be right back so that he doesn’t give up your table.

You walk quickly to the bathroom hoping no one will notice your trembling face. You feel just like a middle schooler that got dumped at the dance. You make it to a bathroom stool and dial your best friend, Wanda.

“Is everything okay? You’re supposed to be out with your mystery date aren’t you?” She had answered almost immediately.

You sniffled a bit and took a shaky inhale. “Y-yes, our reservation was for 7 and he put it in my name, I texted him once already but I don’t wanna seem too overbearing for a second date, y’know? But something feels off. I don’t know, maybe I’m being crazy.”

“You’re definitely not being crazy, it sounds fishy to me. If he doesn’t answer in five minutes I want you to leave and come straight over. I’ll have white Russians and Drag Race waiting for you” Wanda always knew just what to say, just how to make you feel. You were grateful for her.

You sighed into the receiver. “Thanks, babe, I’ll let you know what happens either way”. You hung up and grabbed some toilet paper to dab at the corners of your eyes. You knew you’d need an extra minute to compose yourself as you faced the truth.

He’s not coming, he’s not texting me back, he probably regretted setting the date which is why he put the reservation in my name, I won’t be hearing from him again. Just pay your tab, smile, and leave. You got this.

7:52 PM

Checking your appearance in the mirror one last time you let out a final sigh and push open the door back to the dining room. Your walk to your table begins to slow when you notice someone is sitting at your table. A rather tall, unfamiliar someone.

Did the waiter really give away the table? I’ve been gone all of 7 minutes! What do I even say to this stranger? Should I just grab my bag and go? Hopefully it’s still there.

Your final steps towards your seat are nervous and uneven. The man in the chair opposite yours must’ve heard you and he faces you. You’re struck with an unfamiliar but extremely handsome face. The look of surprise must be tangible because he laughs and slight wrinkles form at the edges of his eyes. Who the fuck is this guy? Well he hasn’t stolen my purse so there’s that.

“I-” You lean over to grab your purse when you’re cut off mid-apology.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, you know how it is at work. Sit down, I ordered a bottle of wine for the table”. The man said.

You sat down slowly and felt so stiff and uncomfortable in the chair. Were you being pranked? Was this part of some very elaborate joke? Before you could ask any of those questions the man reached across the table and grabbed your hand.

“If you could just hold my hand and be quiet, that would be nice” He said as his thumb grazed your knuckles. You were slightly stunned by his boldness. You complied, if only out of shock and hoped he’d explain himself a little better or let you go in time for you to make an exit.

He leaned in closer to you, to anyone else it would’ve looked like an intimate moment during any normal date. He looked you in the eyes while he kept hold of your hand and you realized how warm he was, how clear his eyes were. You took a deep breath through your nose and tried to play it cool.

“I’ve been at the bar for a while now, it seems like whichever idiot decided to stand you up made a grave mistake.” Your brows pinched together and he continued, “I was with a friend talking business but he left and you look like you needed to be saved from the incident so here I am. James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

You were unsure what to do with the information just given to you. Yes, it would’ve been embarrassing to pay your tab and leave alone after sitting there for almost an entire hour by yourself, but it was also embarrassing that this man had noticed and you certainly didn’t need anyone looking at you like some damsel in distress.

You caught yourself from scoffing completely and schooled your features. “I… appreciate that you’d do that for me but I don’t want anyone’s sympathy, especially not a date.” You tried to pull away when his hand gently squeezed yours.

“Please- I- I didn’t mean to make it sound like I’m doing this out of pity. Whatever happened here is unfortunate, yes. But you’re also very beautiful and you’re here by yourself so why not ‘shoot my shot’ as I believe the kids are saying these days? Think of me like a stand-in for the other guy, but y’know, better” he replied playfully.

A very brief moment of contemplation was solidified by your lack of notifications on your phone. Why not? He’s good looking and he’s doing you a favor.

You had to at least afford a small chuckle at that. “So ‘Bucky’, huh? Well I don’t have any cool nicknames but you can call me by my first name.” You gave it to him and he repeated it back to you, a wry smile on his face.

8:05 PM

Still no texts from him but you did text Wanda to tell her everything worked out and there’d be details to come. She’d go into full on mama bear mode if you hadn’t updated her.

“So, Bucky, what do you do? Do you live here in Manhattan?” You asked before taking a sip of your wine (which you didn’t dare check the price of per bottle).

“Brooklyn, actually, but a lot of my business is here. Have you heard of Buchannan hospitality?” He asked.

Your brain snagged itself on that name. That sounds familiar? Where have I seen that? Oh wait! Didn’t you see him in the Forbes ‘30 under 30’ list last year?

You’d meant to answer him but unfortunately all that came out was a confused “Forbes?” at which he laughed a little bit and nodded.

“Yeah you might’ve seen me there. I own some hotels and lounges around Manhattan and Brooklyn. What do you do?” He had brushed off his accolades so quickly, wanting instead to know about you, this random girl that had been stood up.

Shit, your mid-level marketing job doesn’t stand up to this in the least. You took a sip of the wine and answered him, explaining you were second in command of your small company’s marketing department.

He seemed genuinely intrigued and you two ended up talking business and swapping office and university disaster stories until the main course arrived. You dug into your meal, savoring the taste and relishing in the unusual turn of events.

8:47 PM

The plates have been cleared away and the wine glasses refilled. Bucky was proving to be great company and as oddly as it started you were grateful to be sitting here with him. You’d nearly forgotten about your would-be date and decided to check your phone one last time.

You had 11 unread texts, 10 of them from Wanda wanting a play-by-play and one of them from the man that had stood you up. You opened it and sighed. ‘Can’t make it tonight, baby, promise to make it up to you soon’.

You scoffed to yourself. He’s not gonna say where he’s been? Or even say sorry? Douche.

You put your phone away and looked back up to Bucky who was eyeing you with playful curiosity.

“Lemme guess, that was the guy who was supposed to be seeing you’s sorry ass excuse followed by a flimsy apology” He said as he drank from his water glass.

“You’re 1 for 3. It was him but he didn’t apologize or try to explain himself. Should’ve known when he put the reservation under my name and not his that something might be up and when he wasn’t there on time.” You said more to yourself than to Bucky.

“What’s his name?” Bucky asked.

“His name’s Brock Rumlow,” Bucky’s expression changed just slightly at this. “I think he works at some firm in the financial district. We only ever went out the once before this so I don’t really remember.” You explained. “What? What’s that look for? Please don’t tell me you know him”.

“Sorry to say that I do. Sorry to say I know his wife too” He said a little more quietly.

You felt humiliated all over again, the same feelings that you experienced in this very seat not an hour ago still had you by the gills it would seem.

Bucky reached for your hand again, running the pads of his thumb across the ridges of your knuckles in an attempt to calm you.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make you upset, but you definitely ought to know that Rumlow is no one that deserves your time” Bucky said in earnest.

His words were nice but you’d need some time to get over this embarrassment on your own. In the meantime, you really were enjoying Bucky’s company so you decided to let it distract you.

Bucky flagged down a waiter, signaling him to bring the check. He took one glance at it and set his card inside. As you reached for the bill with your own card in hand he gave it to the waiter before you could even get a peek. He was so nonchalant when he looked at you.

“Don’t even think about it. So tell me, is the night over or are you game to spend a little more time on me?” He asked. This is the second time he’d been dominant but kind in one breath. You weren’t entirely sure how you felt but you didn’t dislike it.

If you went home you’d just be wallowing in your own self pity, or you’d go to Wanda’s and do it but if you go with Bucky you could delay that feeling for a bit longer. Out with a stranger it is.

“Where to?” You asked him.

9:59 PM

A private booth on the top floor of what he said was one of his favorite lounges turned out to be where to. You were relieved to find there was no dancing, as you had two left feet and half a bottle of wine by now. When you got to the booth you stuck with water, knowing you’d need to get yourself home.

Bucky had insisted on one glass of champagne ‘to chance encounters’ he’d said. You agreed but just one. You found yourself closer to him while you talked, your knees touched and his hand found its way to your leg. It didn’t dare to move higher up, just staying there like a comforting weight almost while you conversed.

You were rambling on about the time you and your cousin took your dad’s car for a joyride when you were 14. You were laughing the whole thing off when you realized he wasn’t laughing with you. You had worried for a moment that you’d bored him when you saw the soft yet intense look in his eye and tilted your head with curiosity.

“You’re very beautiful, you know that right?” He didn’t let you answer as he shifted closer. “I’d like to kiss you, is that alright with you?”

Oh. You were caught off guard by the abruptness of his question. Suddenly shy, all you could do was give a small nod and bite your lip in anticipation. His full lips were soft and almost as warm as his hands, which were holding you in an embrace. One of your hands had made their way to his hair and one on the outside of his lower thigh. You sighed as you kissed him back.

It was soft but insistent, things became a little more passionate as you swiped your tongue into his mouth and you both let out a small moan. You didn’t want to stop kissing Bucky, it just felt right.

He finally broke the kiss as one of his hands still rested at the nape of your neck. You were breathless, this man had kissed the daylights out of you. If he could do that with his tongue imagine what else he could do with it. You were both panting softly, sorting through what to make of things and where to go from here.

“I don’t know about you, but I wanna keep doing that, but this might not be the best place for it. You can say no if you want to, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I’d love to take you home and treat you right” He said with unwavering eye contact.

Well how on Earth could I say no to that even if I wanted to? Wait doesn’t he live in Brooklyn?

“Let’s go back to mine, probably closer” You said. He nodded in agreement and sent a text to his driver to come pick you both up.

10:40 PM

You did indeed find out what else that tongue of his could do, you were finding out right now. He had made you cum once from his tongue alone already but he added to thick fingers and started pumping them into you, making a scissoring motion that hit you just right. You arched your back and pushed his face in deeper as you cried out, signaling your second orgasm.

Completely drunk in the afterglow of it, you wanted to keep this feeling forever. You wanted to show him what you could do too. You got up albeit with a little shakiness and hovered over him. You kissed his neck and slid your hand down to meet his groin. He was still in his briefs and you pulled the elastic band down with ease.

His cock sprang free and you had to hide the slight surprise you felt looking at the sheer size of him. You were always told you were good in bed so time to really put yourself to the test. You kissed your way down to his pelvis and your hand started working him. Staring back up at him you maintained eye contact while you kissed the dab of pre-cum that pooled at the head of his dick.

He shuddered but you kept staring at him, and in what you have to say was a pretty proud moment for you, you held his gaze while you took him slowly and in one go. You closed your eyes and moaned, feeling him in the back of your throat.

“Shit, oh my god. Are you gonna…?” He was lost for words so you decided to answer him by getting to work. You started slowly, up and down, letting yourself get used to his size and reminding yourself to breathe through your nose and stay relaxed.

His moans were growing louder and his breathing heavier, you knew he was close and you were wondering if he was going to let you finish him. You got your answer when he pulled you off of him by the hair.

“As bad as I want you to finish what you started, I wanna feel you first.” He panted.

“So what’s stopping you?” You asked playfully. A small shriek escaped you as he flipped you under him. He lined himself up with your entrance and thrust in slowly. You could tell he was using a lot of restraint but that was quickly forgotten as you remembered how big he was. You suddenly appreciated the slow pace.

As he became fully sheathed inside of you you let out a loud moan that was quickly silenced by his lips on yours. A few more small thrusts and he was nearly fucking your cervix. You felt unbelievably full.

“Had no idea how talented that mouth was of yours, doll. Trying to make me cum without getting to fuck you though? Now that’s just cruel. I think you need to pay for that, don’t you?” He asked playfully as his thrusts became a little harder and forceful.

You could only nod and moan as he picked up his pace. Your hands clung to his shoulders for dear life and you whimpered and keened while he railed you into your mattress. Finally getting used to the feeling you reached down to play with your clit.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” He asked in between grunts.

Your eyes rounded and you shook your head.

“I wanna be the one to touch you. Make you cum. Only me.” He forced out as he replaced your fingers with his. He made tight, quick circles around your clit but didn’t let up on his pace as he fucked you closer and closer to a third orgasm.

“Your pussy’s making it fuckin’ impossible for me to hold out any longer, need you to cum, sweetheart. Cum all over my fuckin’ dick.” His words sent you right over the edge and you did as you were asked.

Not two seconds later he cried out and emptied himself inside of you, sending a few final pushes into you before taking himself out and dropping down on his side.

You leaned over and kissed him with what little breath you two had left. Your sweat mixed together but you didn’t mind.

His hands provided that comforting weight as he brought one to your shoulder and the other to your hip. He kissed the tip of your nose and watched you begin to drift off to sleep. He could probably use the rest himself and decided to close his eyes for a bit.

9:30 AM

You woke up in a half empty bed, but before you could let yourself be too disappointed you heard the sound of your shower turning off. You padded down to the bathroom and opened the door to find Bucky toweling off. He gave you a lopsided grin.

“Good mornin’, I would’ve asked you to join me but you looked so peaceful I didn’t wanna wake you.” He explained. “If you’re not sick of me, do you maybe wanna grab some breakfast?”

You shook your head and reached past him to turn the shower back on.

“No way. I make the best pancakes and as a thank you for everything last night, I insist on making some for you.” You smiled up at him, hopeful he’d agree.

“Well I hope you know what you’re up against, I’m a very insatiable man.” He joked back.

You hit him with a washcloth and laughed. “Oh believe me I know. Gimme 15 and I’ll be right out.”

He nodded and closed the door behind him. You let your mind wander back to last night as you washed off the sweat that lingered from the night before.

10:15 AM

You set down two plates stacked mile-high with pancakes and bacon. You held your coffee mug up to his and clinked against it.

“To chance encounters” You said with a smile.

#bucky barnes x reader #CEO!Bucky Barnes #ceo!bucky barnes x reader #modern AU #marvel fic #marvel x reader #fluff #little bit of angst

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moxfirefly · 3 years

Note

One tracking the other down at lunch and making them accept food that they personally made because they know the other person doesn’t have a lunch that day. - Not a relationship one, but a headcanon that reader fills the boys' fridge when they can to make sure they're eating well and not just pizza.

I am soft already 🥺

I’m making this in headcanon style as to cover all the lads.

Listen Raph EATS™️

The calorie intake in this man is insane so naturally carbs are like go to

But there’s more to carbs than just pizza and yes sometimes he’s caught up in patrols and training and sleep and it’s easier to inhale six boxes of pizza

Living alone has taught you to make meals for yourself or meal prep but now you find yourself making more portions. Pastas, meats, stews etc

You bring them down while their out patrolling and place them in the fridge with sticky notes for who gets what, the more fatty and high calories ones usually reserved for Raph

He catches you one night though and he’s legit like giddy cause you’re cooking is his fucking favorite and he’s already getting his designated container out and digging in

You can’t help but feel a slight blush cause Raph can be so serious and moody but he is legit stuffing his face with a happy smile and telling you that he loves how you effortless season the meat and tenderize it. He’s just a happy big lad.

Oh god does Donnie need to be fed

This motherfucker has gone days without a proper meal at times

It’s to the point that you’ve set up alarms on his phone to REMIND HIM TO EAT

And not snack, A MEAL

So you’ll drop by with food all the time at all hours of the day. Thankful for those 24hr places or you’re own cooking.

You’ll barge into the lab and announce it’s time to eat and you’ll force him to stop whatever he’s doing so he eats with you.

You make it easier for him by asking him questions about his projects, he likes feeling he isn’t slacking off and talking over his ideas helps him reach answers to questions he might have

Donnie is so hideously smart and you love hearing him talk cause you’ll flex the knowledge he drops on you with your coworkers

One of the things he’s a huge sucker for is sweets so you usually grab dessert for him along with the food. You can’t comprehend where he puts it all cause he’s so lean and when he does sit down to eat his appetite rivals Raph’s

And trust me Donnie secretly loves that you know his tastes so well.

April calls one day to ask what the guys want and without missing a beat you blurt out exactly what Donnie’s order is and you tell her you’ll Venmo her some extra cash to grab him a tiramisu

He feels really fuzzy on the inside when you do that

This lads eating habits are frightening honestly, mostly because he eats combos he creates that you’re sure should either kill a man or at least give them heartburn for six weeks straight

But he is the one that most devours pizzas and can eat it for a week straight if you don’t watch him

Mikey is a great cook though but he likes cooking for everybody ya know? He likes sharing his crazy inventions with his loved ones but he sometimes neglects that on himself and just goes for easy stuff

This is something you plan to change naturally

On the occasions that Mikey is patrolling near your place you’ll text him to swing by and get a snack. You’ll grab his backpack and fill it up with all sorts of snacks from healthy to not so healthy and water because orange crush is not a source of hydration

You also leave him silly notes because you both like to make each other laugh with lame jokes or anecdotes and that makes him excited to swing by during patrols to get his night snack

Mikey likes that you try to present all the food groups. Celery sticks, potato chips, ham sandwiches, an ice cream sandwich, like seriously you spoil him. It’s pretty easy though because Mikey is actually the only one of the brothers who’ll eat ANYTHING. Seriously he’ll try anything and that’s kinda fun cause he’s honest about it.

You know he might get in trouble when he starts to blow off the last couple of hours of patrol to spend it with you eating and laughing. He’s always dropped everything to spend time with his two favorite things: food and you

Leo is pretty on top of his diet. Yes he’ll eat pizza cause it’s a nice comfort food but he does tend to switch away to other things more than Mikey will.

In his case is, he will literally forget to eat

He’ll go ham on his training and patrolling and when he starts feelings a little nauseous and dizzy it’ll hit him that maybe he skipped a meal.

Queue you, you always ask him if he’s eaten. Wether in person, in text or on the phone and if he so much as makes a thinking face or sound you’re already telling him to come by or to sit tight

And something that absolutely and I do mean ABSOLUTELY KILLS HIM is that you can make sushi from scratch and when you show up with three bento boxes all for him, he can almost squeal with joy

Boy loves his sushi, any Oriental cuisine really. Ramen, bibimbap, coconut curry, bubble tea. You like to poke fun at him and arrive with a buffet by announcing “here’s your food you weeb” oh but it’s you who recommends him anime’s and rants to him about storylines etc

You find it really sweet that he’ll share the food you brought him even if you’ve told him twenty times that you already ate

He’s a sneak cause he’ll offer you pieces of sushi while you rant about thing but you do notice that he gives you the nicer pieces.

And you don’t miss that he gives you half his bubble tea

Why he gotta be such a caretaker???

You don’t mind though, you like how happy he is sharing his food with you and he seems to like feeding you.

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archived-kin · 4 years

Text

late with lucifer

note from kin: i just realised that the title sounds like a talk show ffs

anyway get ready to get SAPPY (and also get ready for a low-key out of character lucifer)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): gn! reader, lucifer, satan, beelzebub, belphie

pairing(s): lucifer/reader

warning(s): brief existential dread right at the end but i think it’s relatively light

genre: fluff all the way (with maybe a teensy bit of angst???? i accidentally got kinda deep towards the end)

Deciding to commit yourself to a bona fide workaholic music nerd who would sooner chop his own hand off than skip a single working day for potentially the rest of eternity has been... a choice and a half, to say the least. Yes, he’s a sweetheart most of the time, and you love him more than possibly any being in the known universe (though jury’s still out on cats and the dragon you met a couple of months ago who brings you giant mouthfuls of leaves every weekend), but you’d be lying if he didn’t have qualities that make you want to drop kick some sense into him sometimes. And one of those qualities happens to be his absolute refusal to just take a damn break.

“Just one more hour,” He keeps telling you whenever you ask him if he’s finally finished with his mountain load of paperwork. “One more hour, and then we can spend some time together.”

It has been five hours since Lucifer went to his study to ‘get a bit of work done’. Five hours of attempting to finish the mountain of books Satan has recommended you in the corner of the library, probably irritating the poor guy to no end with your constant restless shifting. You're surprised that he hasn’t up and left to go read in his room in peace - then again, it’d be hypocritical of him to tell you off for moving about. You’d think a bookworm like him would be so absorbed by his beloved books that he wouldn’t be able to move at all, but he fidgets about so much when he’s reading that you’re surprised he hasn’t somehow worn a hole through his favourite armchair yet. At any rate, you’re pretty sure you can see him getting ready to flip himself upside down for the seventh time this evening in the corner of your eye.

You try once again to focus on the lucrative business deal happening in Chapter 52 for the fourth time in the last ten minutes, but your brain just doesn’t seem to be listening to you right now; no matter how hard you try to register what’s going on, the words just don’t want to be processed. Finally, checking the clock on the wall for what feels like the hundredth time this evening, you decide that you might as well go bother your busy bee upstairs. It’s been at least a fortnight since you’ve been able to spend a full evening or night with him, and, if you’re honest, it’s beginning to get a little on your nerves.

Satan barely looks up from his book as you hop to your feet and begin making your way out, though he does lift a hand to wave a brief goodbye. Contrary to your prediction, he has not flipped himself upside down, but is now sitting the wrong way around on his armchair instead, facing the seat’s back, with his book carefully balanced on its head. Unconventional, but you’ll give him credit for the creativity.

The House of Lamentation is oddly quiet for a Friday night, but you’d guess that’s because Asmo and Mammon, the two loudest members of the house, have taken it upon themselves to celebrate the arrival of the weekend by going out for the night and probably blowing their savings in the process. Well, Asmo will be blowing his savings - Mammon will most likely find a way to put his spendings on one of his other brother’s tabs, or worse, yours. Then again, you don’t buy things often, so you suppose you can spare a bit of cash. (Knowing Mammon, though, he’ll probably buy enough to put you in debt for the rest of your life.)

On your way through the corridor, you’re struck by a sudden idea. Lucifer’s been shut in his study ever since he got home from the R.A.D., which means he most likely won't have eaten anything. At any rate, you know for a fact he wasn’t there for dinner with everyone else, which means you now have a much better excuse for going to see him other than just wanting to. Lucifer may be a stubborn demon, but he's never been able to resist a mug of tea and some biscuits on long nights when it's you offering them.

Beel is rustling about in the snack cupboard when you slip into the kitchen - no surprises there, but it is a little odd that he’s going for the lighter foods rather than something more filling. You'd comment on why he's down here so late into the night - he should really be in bed - but then again, it's Beel. He'd listen to his stomach over his brain any day of the week.

“Oh, hey,” He greets as he retreats from the cupboard with an armful of what look like several cookie boxes stacked on top of each other. “Did you get hungry as well?”

You shake your head and pull two mugs out of the crockery cabinet. “Nope. Just thought I’d bring Lucifer some tea and biscuits, you know?”

“He’s been in his office for ages,” Beel agrees with an earnest nod. He glances down at the heap of cookies in his arms, then pauses. “Ah… here.”

You look up as you fill the kettle with water to see him holding one of the boxes in his arms out to you. “...what’s this for?”

“There aren’t any biscuits left in the cupboard,” He says by way of explanation, shaking the box he’s offering to indicate that you should take it. “So you can have these.”

“Aw, you don’t have to do that, Beel!” You gently push the box back towards him and give his arm a fond pat. “I’ll just bring him something else. Go ahead and eat the cookies, okay?”

On any other occasion, Beel would most likely have accepted your offer without hesitation (the day that Beel rejects food will probably never come, but you have a sneaking suspicion that a black hole would rip this reality apart if it does), but it must have been a really good day for him in terms of being fed, because he actually continues to try to give you the box. You’re tempted to coo at the big softie’s uncharacteristic generosity, but you’re not particularly sure how that would go over with him. If being in a relationship with Mr Pridey McPrideface upstairs has taught you anything, it’s that you can never take a reaction for granted.

“No, you have it,” Beel insists, shifting so that he doesn’t drop the rest of his biscuits and stubbornly attempting to shove the box into your hands. “I’ve got plenty right here.”

Your surprise must show on your face, because a moment later he smiles a little sheepishly and adds, “I promise I’m not sick or anything. I’ve still got lots right here. One box won’t make that much of a difference.”

You think it over for a moment as the kettle begins to bubble aggressively behind you. You’re a staunch believer in the fact that one should never deprive Beel of his food, partially because he’s an absolute sweetheart who deserves the food he eats, and partially because something bad could and probably would happen if said food is taken from him. Then again, you’re not taking the food from him, strictly speaking - he’s the one offering it to you. That exempts you, right? At the very least, you have a counter-argument if Belphie tries to persecute you for taking his beloved twin brother’s biscuits. (He probably wouldn’t - the kid adores you - but it’s good to be prepared for possible trials.)

“Ah, fine...” You eventually relent and allow Beel to press the box into your hands. Your compliance is well worth it - the beam on his face and the little pat he gives the box in your hands in satisfaction could probably cure multiple strains of cancer. “You’re the sweetest, you know that?”

He flushes slightly. “I-it’s not that big of a deal…”

“Oh, that’s nonsense,” You tell him firmly over your shoulder, beginning to busy yourself with the teabags and sugar as the kettle hisses to a halt. “Personally, I think I’m going to remember it for the rest of my life.”

You smile to yourself as Beel laughs a little bashfully behind you. “Thanks…”

“No problem, bub,” You reply, pausing in your work to turn around and shoot him a wink. “Hey, chuck me a spoon, would you?”

He nods and does just that - literally. He throws the spoon across the kitchen with such precision that it lands perfectly in your outstretched hand.

You thank him and begin to pour the hot water into Lucifer’s mug. He says that he likes his tea as is, without any bells or whistles or fancy additions, but you’ve been doing this thing for long enough that you know that he actually prefers his tea with a teaspoon of honey and just a splash of lemon. He just refuses to actually say it out loud.

(To be honest, you’re not sure why he does that - does he think tea with honey and lemon is a wimpy drink or something just because you told him it’s often drunk as a remedy for a sore throat in the human world? Knowing the way his mind works, it’s probably something along those lines, but still, it’s a weird conclusion to make.)

You finish preparing Lucifer’s tea quickly - you’ve done this so many times that the movements have become second nature to you at this point - and start making your own. The drinks are finished a minute or so later, and with that you begin setting up your little snack tray.

After a moment’s debate, you decide that today is worth going the extra mile, and start to carefully arrange the biscuits on a pretty plate. It’s a bit of a hassle to get them into the right formation, but it’ll be well worth it once you get them to their intended receiver - Lucifer always gets the fondest little smile on his face when you bring him his biscuits in patterns, and that man doesn’t smile nearly enough for your taste. Personally, you’d quite like it if he smiled like that all the time, but then again, their rarity is what makes them so precious to you.

Ah - you’re starting to get sappy again. That’s a surefire sign that you haven’t spent enough time with your beloved demon lately. Well, it’s a good thing you’re going to see him now, isn’t it?

The door to Lucifer’s study is still as tightly shut as it was five hours ago when you approach it, but you doubt he’s actually locked it. He’s stopped doing that ever since your visits while he works became a regular thing - he hasn’t said it out loud yet, but you know that it’s his way of showing you that you’re always welcome to come in.

Unlocked as it is, though, you can’t exactly turn the doorknob to let yourself in. You’re a human of many talents, but being able to balance a heavy tray in one hand is not one of them. Lucifer’s tea wouldn’t make into his study - it’d just end up all over the floor.

“Lucifer!” You call softly through the door, mindful that he might be having another one of his work-induced headaches, “I’ve brought you some tea! Open up!”

For a while, the only reply is silence. You know there shouldn’t be any reason for him to be, but you can’t help but worry briefly if Lucifer’s somehow angry at you. Then again, Lucifer’s always liked to play the fashionably late card against you - whether to tease you or to disguise something, you’ll never know.

It turns out that your little worry was unfounded - a few moments later, the door swings open to reveal your favourite demon in all his exhausted-looking glory. Lucifer, who looks like the physical manifestation of work burnout, offers you a tired smile, and stands back to let you enter.

(Here’s a little secret - Lucifer would never tell you this, but he’d perked up like a kid when candy is offered the moment he heard your voice. Still, gotta put up the cool front, right? Even if that means waiting restlessly right next to the door for a minute so that you don’t think he’s over-eager…)

“Thank you.” He murmurs as you bring the tray over to his desk and set it down on one of the few patches of wood that aren’t covered by papers.

You dramatically pretend to swipe sweat from your forehead as if you’ve just finished a ten-mile run and shoot a smile up at him. “All in a day’s work, love.”

He smiles softly and leans in to gently press a kiss to the crown of your head. His pale cheeks have darkened slightly - Lucifer’s always been a softie when it comes to the host of sappy nicknames you’ve given him. One gentle ‘sweetheart’ and he’s melting like an ice cube on a hot day. It’s the sort of thing that people like Mammon and Levi would probably call gross or something, but you honestly couldn’t really care less about that. It’s not harming anyone else and it makes both of you happy, so why shouldn’t you give your lover as many endearing pet names as you can come up with?

“What even is all this?” You ask, peering at the papers scattered across the desk as Lucifer moves over to have a look at the plate of biscuits. You look up just in time to spot the way his eyes light up slightly when he sees the flower you've arranged them into.

“This and that,” He replies vaguely, hovering a single gloved hand uncertainly over the plate, as if trying to decide which biscuit he can take without spoiling the pattern.

“That’s hardly an answer at all,” You complain, plucking three broken quills from among the documents and waving them at him. “Why do you keep using these? A pen would be way more efficient.”

“Official documents should be written in the traditional way,” Lucifer tells you. He takes his time chewing the biscuit he’s finally chosen before continuing. “And Diavolo prefers quill and ink calligraphy to look at.”

“Honestly…” You round the edge of the desk and reach up to brush some powdered sugar from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to do absolutely everything according to him.”

Lucifer blinks down at you, lips parting slightly in half awe and half surprise as you smile at him. “Ah…”

His smile widens slightly, and he gazes at you with so much fondness in his eyes that you almost feel a little weak at the knees at the very sight. Lucifer really is a dangerous demon - in more ways than one.

“Well, c-come on, then,” You prompt him abruptly, not wanting him to realise how much his gaze has affected you, because you just know it’s going to give him an ego boost. He pauses in surprise as you start tugging him over to the big armchair beside the fire - the one that the both of you can fit snugly into together. “Let’s have a drink together.”

“I still have papers to fill out—” He attempts to say, but cuts himself off as you shake your head and stubbornly attempt to push him down into the seat. It doesn’t work - Lucifer’s much stronger than you, after all - but he does at least seem to appreciate the effort.

“You’re taking a break whether you like it or not,” You insist, starting to smack lightly at his arms in an bid to get him to listen to you. “Papers can wait. I’m more important.”

That does get a little chuckle out of him, and he finally relents, sitting down with a subtle sigh. “That goes without saying.”

You laugh, suddenly a little more hot around the collar than you’d have liked. “You said it!”

Pausing to retrieve the tray with the tea and biscuits and set it on the table beside the armchair, you quickly join Lucifer in front of the fire, snuggling in at his side and letting out a blissful sigh as you feel him start to draw circles on your arm with his fingers. It’s a sort of habit that he’s developed over the last few months - you’re not sure if he even realises that he’s doing it.

The two of you stay like that in comfortable silence for several minutes. Lucifer’s tense shoulders relax more and more with each passing moment, and soon enough, he’s sprawled out against you, pressing his cheek lovingly into the crown of your head.

It’s only at moments like this that you get to see this softer version of him, so you always cherish it when it happens. Lucifer may be a slightly passive-aggressive panther who could kill most beings with a swipe of his hand if he sees fit, but, every now and then, he’s a sleepy panther who’ll roll over and let you scratch behind his ears.

Conversation is usually sparse at times like this - the two of you are content enough in each other’s presence that you don’t really need to make small talk. Today, however, Lucifer seems to have something he wants to vent about.

“Belphie has been missing a lot of his homework again lately,” He murmurs. You make a noise of affirmation to indicate that you’re listening, staring at the mugs of tea sitting on the table and pondering whether the two of you will actually manage to part for long enough to drink them.

“Is it anything important?” You ask after a moment, playing absent-mindedly with his left hand. He doesn’t make any move to stop you as you mess about with his slender fingers, so you assume that he doesn’t mind.

“Mostly essays,” He replies, shifting slightly and letting out a quiet sigh. “He’s never liked writing them, but he hasn’t had so many missing before.”

You make a thoughtful sound. Now that you think about it, wasn’t Belphie confiding in you about this the other day?

“It’s just hard to sit down and concentrate sometimes, especially when I’m always so tired,” You remember him saying resignedly over hot chocolate and marshmallows. “It’s not like I don’t want to turn all my homework in on time. Sometimes I just can’t.”

“Well, you shouldn’t force yourself to do them, either,” You’d replied, giving his shoulders a sympathetic pat. “Needs over school of course. If you need to sleep more, then sleep more - if you feel like you can’t write the essay, then don’t write the essay. I’ll talk to Lucifer if he gets mad at you.”

He’d given you a grateful smile then, and turned back to his hot chocolate with a marginally brighter look on his face.

“Belphie’s been having a lot of nightmares lately, so he isn’t getting as much sleep,” You say slowly. “I told him to go ahead and take as many naps as he has to. His needs are more important than schoolwork, after all.”

Lucifer takes a long while to answer, but you don’t mind. It’s only fairly recently that he’s really come to terms with the idea that he doesn’t need to be so hard on his brothers - that it’s okay to put their comfort before whatever image of respectability he’s trying to keep up for Diavolo. The change has been somewhat jarring, according to Satan, but it’s not an unwelcome one, and you’ll gladly take responsibility for it with your constant reminders and careful explanations that Lucifer’s younger brothers have their own problems that he needs to give more leeway for.

“...did he come to talk to you about this?” He asks finally.

“Yeah.” You can’t see his face, but you can practically hear the frown beginning to pinch at his brows. “I know it might not seem like it sometimes, but he does want to make you proud. He’s never wanted to disappoint you.”

He takes a deep breath and releases it with a low hum. “...Belphie has never disappointed me.”

“Seems that he doesn’t realise that sometimes, though,” You sigh, tracing the seams of his glove with your index finger. “He’s a good kid, really.”

Lucifer doesn’t give a verbal reply, but he does hum again. You shift slightly and turn to look up at him; he looks back at you with sleepy, half-lidded crimson eyes. “Take it easy on him, okay?”

He gazes at you in contemplative silence for a long while, blinking slowly like an affectionate cat. Finally, he nods, and you beam proudly, dipping your head to rest on his chest, carefully positioning yourself so that his buttons don’t dig into your cheek.

“I’ll speak to his teachers,” He says quietly. “We should be able to arrange something.”

You smile against the fabric of his waistcoat, taking his hand in yours and giving it a squeeze. “That’s progress. I’m proud of you.”

He doesn’t respond, but you know full well that he loves it when you say that to him. He didn’t in the early days of your relationship, mostly because he’d thought you were patronising him, but now that the two of you are so much more familiar with each other, he’s learnt to recognise that you don’t mince words; you say what you mean, and you mean what you say. Which is exactly why, as the Avatar of Pride, he absolutely loves it when you tell him that you’re proud of him.

Lucifer himself is deep in thought. Struck by a sudden warmth spreading through him, quite independent of the crackling fire before him, he wraps his arms around you, resting his cheek against your head. It’s at moments like these, when you’re so close to him, that he realises just how fragile humans like you are.

It terrifies him sometimes, knowing that the unforgiving march of time means that you cannot be with him forever. One day you will leave, and you will grow old and fade away without him, because, no matter how much he wishes otherwise, you belong to a different realm. You are not a demon, and he is not a human; your worlds can collide briefly, for a single, beautiful moment, but then they will continue to move in their own orbit - and perhaps they will never meet again.

Some would say that, for this reason, he never should have fallen in love in the first place. Relationships like yours have always had a sort of taboo, even in the Devildom, because all beings are not created equal; humans have such short, meaningless lifespans compared to demons and angels, such little power, always depending on leaders and faith in a deity that they cannot prove the existence of. That is what demons tend to think of humanity, and until he’d met you, Lucifer had felt similarly.

But your life has been anything but meaningless, and the power you hold over him and his brothers is far stronger than any amount of potent magic that any being holds. The seven lords of the Devildom would lay waste to all three realms should anything happen to you.

Lucifer had never thought that he had the ability to love so deeply and so purely, but then again, he’d also never thought that a human like you could exist. It seems that he’s been wrong about a lot of things, and he can only pray that he will be wrong in his prediction of how this will end.

But you’re with him now, curled up against him with a content smile on your face. For now, you’re here, and while you are, Lucifer doesn’t want to waste time on worries.

Your story is yet to reach its ending, and if Lucifer knows anything, it’s that he will stay by your side until then. As long as your worlds are still connected, he will continue to love you, and he will love you long after your worlds separate again.

He’s sure of it.

#unedited #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me imagines #lucifer x reader #swd lucifer #swd satan #swd belphegor #swd beelzebub #fluff #lucifer is one of those characters that you can interpret in SO many ways and i love that for him #he's pretty fun to write as well #existential dread #we love a good big brother lucifer #for those of you reading these tags here is a hint for the next obey me piece #remember the simeon with a himbo bf piece?#we're getting a part two baby #(warning: the part two is likely not going to be anything remotely like what you're thinking of)#;)

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lululawrence · 3 years

Note

Can u please be nicer on ao3? Maybe you should try answering people's comments

when i read the first line i was honestly flabbergasted and wracking my brain trying to figure out when in the world i wasn't nice on ao3 ever. because i honestly truly try to be nice to everyone always, even when i'm angry or frustrated or people are going after those i love and want to protect. if there was a time i WASN'T nice on ao3, i wondered if it was maybe because my comment had been misunderstood or someone saw me razzing an author i'm good friends with and they didn't get that we are close and i said what i did with so much love and appreciation, you know? like what??? did i do???

but then i read your second line. and please forgive me if i come off as rude in my response to this, because honestly i'm in a pretty bad spot mentally and emotionally in general right now, but PARTICULARLY today, and this ask triggered an anxiety response in me. so. i'm trying really hard to word this in a way to educate without being condescending or mean, but i might not succeed.

firstly, thank you for your comments i'm assuming you've left. i'm also assuming they were nice comments, in which case extra thanks. i'm sure i'll send you effusive responses on ao3 when the time comes.

secondly, please understand that sending an ask like this, on anonymous no less, is incredibly entitled. writing is not my profession, i receive no compensation for my works that i post for free online, and as a part of that it is not required of me to respond. i do my very best to reply to every comment i receive, but it is not always in a timely manner, because i have other priorities in my life. all of which leads us to my third point, which is:

writers do not owe you a reply to your comments. end of. there are no other qualifications or quantifying modifiers to be added to the statement. is it nice to be acknowledged and know your comment was seen? sure. but do they OWE you one? hell no.

in fact, i'd like to offer you a suggestion. a way of tweaking your thinking about the comments you leave on fics. instead of looking at comments you leave as being something that deserves a reply from the author, think of your comments as your way of paying the author for the gift of their time and talents that they have shared with you by posting their fic. that's how i think of the comments i leave for authors. i'm giving them my thanks for the words they've shared! i want to help THEM feel as amazing as they have made ME feel when i read their fic. in fact, my hope isn't necessarily a response from them, but instead my hope is THE GIFT OF THEM SHARING MORE FIC WITH ME. i'm a selfish bitch in that way and i always want all the fic to read. i never want that well to go dry. one way i can ensure that doesn't happen is by supporting authors and being kind to them and spreading all the love and excitement i can about their writing in the hopes that my words will inspire them to share more.

because whether they reply or not, i GUARANTEE they are seeing your comments. i PROMISE they are. and for all you know, your comment might be the one that keeps them writing even when their words aren't coming easily or when they are tempted to give up.

but, again, please remember that no matter what, these authors (including me) don't actually owe you anything.

the rest of this is going under a cut, because honestly my reply is already far too long and i have a LOT more to say now that you've gotten me started.

now, all of this in mind, i'll explain to you why i'm not great with keeping up with comments made on my fics the last couple of years. i don't owe you this explanation any more than i owe you a response to your comments, and i'm honestly not sure you deserve this explanation either, but i'll still offer it anyway. it'll help me feel better knowing i at least put this out there, whether you care or not, mainly because if i don't do that it will cause me greater anxiety having you possibly think i am not responding to people because i feel all high and mighty or that i think i'm better than the comments or whatever the fuck kind of motivation you're attributing to me to see my lack of a response as something "not nice" towards the commenters.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i put out a lot of fic. like a lot. a lot of words and shit. i love writing, it's often my therapy and a way for me to help keep my anxiety and depression and ptsd at bay.

now, more personal shit for you, i've got three kids ages 9 and under. the oldest has adhd which we have yet to find a med for that helps to the extent she needs without side effects that aren't healthy for her to continue with, she also has anxiety, AND she's extremely gifted and starting a new program at a new school, all in the midst of a pandemic. and all of those situations exacerbate her anxiety! huzzah! she's also dealing with the beginning of her tween growing up shit, which is great fun because it means where she used to be pretty damn understanding of her younger brother, she is finding it much more difficult to. because the second oldest? he's autistic with some pretty significant gross motor, speech, and socialization delays that have only been exacerbated because of the previously mentioned pandemic. PLUS he transitioned from his special needs preschool to a fully integrated elementary school for kindergarten last year and then had to deal with all the ups and downs of the switch from e-learning to hybrid to all in schooling when everything in him screams for a normal schedule he can rely on to keep his own anxieties and fears and struggles at their minimum. and that youngest child? he was born in january of last year. he STILL barely leaves the house and has only met other children in close range a couple of times because, once again, pandemic!

add onto all of this my own mental health issues, the fact that my husband ALSO battles major clinical depression, adhd, and anxiety, AND we live with my parents who have their own health issues, both mental and physical. i run the home for our house of seven. i keep this place functioning, fed, clothed, clean, and everywhere we need to be for all of our five million appointments every. fucking. day. there is a REASON i've been borderline burnt out for the last fucking year and a half.

now, for fun, i have fandom shit. i love it here, even if it is a dumpster fire on the best of days, and getting to be a part of the writing community is so very lovely. i adore it. honestly, it's because of those friendships i've built with other writers that i have been able to keep writing and have found just how helpful it can be for my mental health. but i'm REALLY. INCREDIBLY. BUSY. i hardly have time to get on tumblr for just a quick swipe through my dash most days. i put off asks so long i forget i have them. i don't have the mental and emotional capacity to talk to people on here or interact fully a lot of the time. but i do my best to do so and be kind while i'm at it even when i don't want to be.

then, on top of that? i also run fic fests like @wordplayfics and help friends run their own. because not only am i a writer, i'm a reader. i LOVE fic. fic has saved me soooooo many times over the past seven years that i've been here. i want to do what i can to support other writers the best way i can, which is to provide a space for them to create their works that welcomes and helps promote them, but also by doing my monthly fic lists and pocast highlighting what i've been able to read, reblogging their fic posts, and then commenting and kudosing their fics too.

sometimes i get really fucking down on myself because i'm so behind on replying to comments, but my brain is very much a "if you start this, you have to finish it" kind of a brain, and i feel even WORSE sometimes if i reply to comments on some fics and not all of them. but i do my best and reply when i can. i was actually really fucking proud of myself because i had a couple days to myself in june, and i spent hours replying to comments on 20 of my fics. when you have almost 150 fics (i think? i don't even know how many fics i've posted by now), that is only scratching the surface. but i tried and i was so so happy i did that many fics at once. it's exhausting, though, and takes a lot of spoons for me to reply to them in mass like that plus time consuming. so i tried to be happy with those 20 fics and the comments i responded to there and told myself that when i ha a moment to breathe, i'd go and work on replying to some more.

but see, that again causes anxiety and guilt. because i haven't replied to all of them. and that anxiety and guilt can cause me to put it off further OR to put off important things like feeding my children or getting sleep in order to finish it, so i have to make myself put things into perspective and ensure i'm doing the important things, like taking care of myself and my family, first.

and then, i have a moment where i CAN go ahead and reply to comments... but i also have MANY fics that are on deadline and i actually have a schedule. a SCHEDULE. for when i'm going to focus on which fics. i can spell it out for you if you really want. i made it back in APRIL to make sure i didn't sign up for too many fic fests because there are so many going on right now that i want to participate in, but i know i can't do all of them so i had to pick and choose. and when you are SO overscheduled and busy that back in APRIL you had to figure out what fics you would focus on at what time to ensure you got everything written when you wanted to through THE END OF THE YEAR, more choices have to be made.

for example. my writing time and time for myself came down to only one evening a week for ALL fandom things i'm doing and a part of right now once the kids were out of school for the summer. it quickly became apparent that for my own self care i needed more time, so i worked with my husband to find two other days i could carve out at least 30-60 minutes to myself to write every week. and i did. but if i'm already only getting that much time and have committed to those fics and fests and things that you're running etc, you have to choose am i going to use this time to try to squeeze in some comment replies? or am i going to write? and i choose to write. simple as that.

so yeah. see it as selfish if you want. see it as mean. you can honestly see it as whatever the fuck you want, but for me? i know that as soon as i possibly can and i can breathe freely for once and not feel like i am constantly drowning in my day to day life and am doing pretty well when it comes to my fic deadlines and getting started on those christmas cards i'm once again going to be making by hand for everyone on tumblr who chooses to sign up for one this year out of the KINDNESS of my heart and the love i really do feel for so many of you, then i promise i'll be on ao3 catching up and commenting. my friends laugh and make fun of me for it sometimes, because they will sometimes get 10-12 replies to their comments in a single day. they know that's how i work. i WILL reply to every single comment i get, no matter how old it is. but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT add to the anxiety and guilt i already feel over it. the only place that will get you is the ask/comment getting deleted if it's a good day, a fucking long rant like this one if it's not, and a block if it's a REALLY bad day.

if you're asking me to be nice on ao3, then i ask in return that you also be nice by not demanding things of people that they are not in any way obligated to give.

#long post #rant #i almost deleted this #but you sent it on just the right day and instead i let loose #this is unedited and unbetaed lmao but ENJOY #or don't #whatever #writing stuff #i should tag it #writing SHIT #but that's not really a tag i keep cause who wants to keep track of the negatives #not me

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wrathandgreed · 4 years

Text

A crafty MC making goodbye gifts for the demon bros (unromanced and romanced).

Word count: 3.5k

Notes: I’m a huge crafter (knitter, crocheter, spinner, weaver, cross stitcher, etc) and I’m currently knitting my husband a winter hat, so I started trying to figure out what a crafty MC would make the brothers as goodbye gifts when they go back to the human world.

Also, this got REALLY REALLY long.

Lucifer

(Unromanced)

This guy is hard to make stuff for.

His aesthetic is VERY tight and leaves no room for mistakes

So a simple winter scarf, in business-black, is probably the way to go.

Somewhat lux yarn, cashmere/silk or alpaca/silk, so it has a sheen

He travels to the human world sometimes, and Diavolo has winter themed events in Devildom sometimes, so a scarf isn’t totally impractical.

He would appreciate the amount of time you spent making it, even if he didn’t get a chance to wear it that often.

(Romanced)

Let’s get more personal, now. You still have the same problem with his aesthetic, and the fact that if you want to give him something ~~personal~~ he won’t be able to wear it openly. His pride says no.

He’s stern in public, but affectionate in private.

You knit a medium-sized decorative pillow cover for his bed, in his signature wine-red.

It’s simple and elegant and can sit on his bed like it’s something he picked up in a Hellhome Goods store, and only *he* knows it’s a private gift.

After swearing him to secrecy, you get Solomon to help you charm the pillow, so it never pills up or wears out, and it maintains your scent forever. (Actually, it’s fair to say you do this for all of the romanced gifts).

“I thought, you know, if I can’t be there with you every night, something of me can?”

Awkward MC is awkward.

He not only appreciates how much time went into the gift (who knows how busy you are better than Lucifer?) but that you spent that much time thinking about him.

Mr. Acts of Service over here. Every stitch is something you did *for him*

You assume he’ll just leave it on the bed, and maybe, if you’re lucky, it’ll help you be the last thing he thinks of at night and the first thing he thinks of in the morning.

Maybe he’ll smile when he sees it, and some of his weariness will lift.

Oh, if only you knew.

Mr. “Stern In Public” wraps himself around the pillow every night. Well. Every time he manages to sleep. Which, let’s face it, isn’t every night.

But when he DOES sleep, it’s with that pillow. If he can’t sleep wrapped around you, this will have to suffice.

Finds he doesn’t sleep well when he travels, because he refuses to bring the pillow with him.

If asked, he says it’s because it’s not important.

But he just doesn’t want to lose it.

It’s too important to him.

Mammon

(Unromanced)

You’ve seen this boy’s room.

You’re not spending hours and hours and tons of money making him something.

You love the guy, but you’ve seen how he takes care of his possessions.

Most of what he owns is chucked aside when the next new-shiny comes along.

You know he loves you to bits and he’ll be careful with whatever you give him.

But “careful” has a different definition for Mammon than for some of the others.

So you knit him a hat. A trendy, slightly-too-small hat in black with a small yellow stripe on the brim.

You can use some lux yarn because, for a single-skein project, investing in cashmere or mohair or something isn’t too awful.

It looks really great on him - the fluff of his white hair, the small yellow stripe, then the wash of black as contrast. It makes his eyes pop and his skin look even warmer.

He wears it to a shoot one day and the photographer loves it

Now everyone wants one

But he has the only one because it’s handmade

Suck it, losers!

The Avatar of Greed finally has something everyone else wants that no one else can get!

(Romanced)

Yeah, you’ve seen his room. You’ve practically lived in his room. But you know he’ll be careful with anything you give him because he loves you.

It would break his heart to have to ask you to fix something you made for him.

You know he’s going to suffer when you leave

You want him to know that you’re always there, even if you’re not *there*

So you knit him a sweater

A big, oversized sweater out of super soft chunky wool with tons of texture.

You finish it early so you can wear it around your room for a few weeks. On the rare nights you sleep alone, you sleep in it.

Again, get Solomon to enchant it.

Now it smells like you.

You wouldn’t notice, but a demon’s sense of smell is far stronger.

“I know it’s not, like, fashionable or anything. But it’s comfy and it can be…..a portable hug?”

His face turns red and he winds up stammering. Obviously. So he puts it on to avoid having to look at you.

Chucks it on over his tshirt. He immediately pulls the neckband back up over his face to take a deep inhale from the fabric.

He looks really cute in it

(He looks really cute in anything, let’s face it)

Might start crying.

Hug him pls.

Any night he feels lonely (which is most nights) he wears this sweater. Falls asleep in it half the time.

It really is like a hug, and the boy needs all the hugs he can get.

Leviathan

(Unromanced)

Out of all the brothers, Levi is the one who will appreciate STUFF. No matter what you make for him, he’ll love it.

It’s limited edition! No one else has anything like this!

So this boy is getting crocheted plushies.

(They’re called amigurumi, and he’ll appreciate knowing that)

You make a mobile for his room

Hanging from it are little plushies of all his favorite sea creatures

Henry 2.0 is the biggest

But there’s a few jellyfish

A whale

You had to completely invent a pattern for a kraken, and it came out okay!

You had some extra yarn, so you made a few extra jellyfish

They get suction cups.

Now he has jellyfish in his tanks and outside his tanks

Spends the next hour rigging up the mobile over his tub so he can see them before he goes to sleep and remember how much his true friend cares about him.

(Romanced)

This took….time to make.

You had to basically invent two patterns from scratch

There was a LOT of frogging.

And swearing.

When Levi opens the box and pulls aside the tissue paper, there’s two crocheted figures

One of each of you

(The one of you may or may not be dressed as Ruri-Chan)

“You made these…..for me?”

Tell him you made ONE of them for him. You take the one of him and hug it, “This one comes with me. So I’ve still got you.”

(Don’t let him cry!)

(Too late)

Then you show him the best part - each figure has a magnet in one hand.

When they get close to each other, the magnets snap together and the figures hold hands :)

Even though the two amigurumi will be in two separate realms, those magnets will want to find their partner.

Levi is floored - this is just like something out of an anime! Like two halves of a locket or something!

He can’t even find words. Possibly not for the next hour or two.

But he makes the cutest little squeaks and the verbal equivalent of keysmashes.

Like Lucifer, he sleeps with your gift. But he also carries it around his room. It has pride of place on his desk, and he purchases a stand so you can sit with him while he games or does his online schooling.

He talks to it like he would talk to you, especially on busy days when you can’t actually talk to him on the D.D.D.

It eases the feeling that you left Devildom and forgot about him. Eases - just a little - the jealousy of every human in your world who gets to talk to you. Because none of THEM have a handmade you. Just him.

Satan

(Unromanced)

This guy is either the easiest one to make for, or the hardest.

Like, you could make him a stuffed kitty. Or knit him a tie. But he’s not a super sentimental guy (unless romanced) and, in the end, that’s just stuff. His room is FULL of stuff.

Soooooo, you take out your sewing skills and sew him a traditional Sherlock hat - the deerstalker one, the one that never was actually in the books, but is still associated with the character.

The most straightforward of the brothers, Satan is indeed touched that you spent so long making something for him and he tells you so.

Insists he’ll wear it when solving mysteries.

You laugh, but he actually does wear the hat when reading mysteries now.

It reminds him of the trip to London - how he got to solve an actual mystery, save his brother, and see the sites with his friend.

(Romanced)

YouTube made it look so easy.

It’s just paper, right? Paper and thread and a needle. You can sew clothes and stuffed animals. How hard can it be to sew together pages to make a book?

Oh, my sweet summer child.

You considered actually pulping and making your own paper, but after the seventh ruined batch of signatures you’re grateful you talked yourself out of that one.

You also considered an actual leather binding, but go for boards and a more simple Japanese sewing technique.

This project is the perfect thing to give to Satan - not just because it’s a book, but because making it is causing you SO MUCH RAGE.

Who needs firewood when you have the ruined attempts of your gift?

You may have thrown various attempts on the floor and stomped on them before chucking them in the fire.

It takes weeks but you finally get the book together. Now the REAL work can begin.

Every book the two of you read together. Every book you discussed. Every book you recommended to him. Every single one gets a page - a title, a date, and a discussion of your discussion of the book.

The book itself becomes a tour through your growing relationship.

While not as stern as Lucifer in public, Satan is also definitely fond in private - he’s completely unsurprised to receive a book as a present, but once he begins leafing through it, the semi-smug smile vanishes.

He looks shocked, and his hold on the book gentles.

His fingers run down the page, tracing your handwriting on a page particularly precious to him.

Speechless for a few minutes, he finally returns with only “I love it.”

Said so softly and sincerely that you can’t doubt his sincerity.

There are blank pages at the end and he begins to use them to document newer books he’s reading - ones he wants to discuss with you later.

Asmodeus

(Unromanced)

Good luck keeping your gift a secret!

Asmo loves craft and crafty things, so he’s always curious about what you’re making and fascinated with the process.

Probably helps with suggestions for the others, especially for a romanced brother (although WHAT you see in them is beyond him, after all, what can THEY have that Asmo doesn’t?)

Because he seems to pop up out of nowhere, he’s already seen his gift a few times. Thankfully, he thinks you’re making it for yourself.

Bonus, he’s whiny and jealous about it, and obviously wants it for himself. So, score. You know he’ll like it.

It seems simple; a pair of fingerless gloves in his signature hot pink. But the yarn is mohair lace (you’ve cursed at it many, many times for tangling on you) held double with merino/silk black yarn.

The gloves are lacy and airy, sensual and soft. They feel wonderful to wear, and look great with a majority of his outfits.

He absolutely squeals and hugs you when he opens up the gift - the gift he was so jealous of! Of COURSE you were making it for him this whole time!

Wears them constantly. His Devilgram pics start having a lot of “what am I holding?” themes. Cups of coffee or hot chocolate. Someone else’s hand. A ticket for an absolutely fabulous play. And a LOT of peace signs and finger-hearts :)

(Romanced)

This one requires the cooperation - willing or not - of everyone in the house.

You start with your DDD. That’s easy enough.

Since you’ll need Sol’s help anyway, it’s easy enough to plunder the pictures on his phone, too.

The rest of the brothers you get, one by one. Belphie’s you steal while he’s sleeping, although you found nothing useful on it. Beel just lets you borrow his phone. You ask to borrow Mammon’s while he’s gambling and he doesn’t notice that it takes you an hour to give it back. Satan - the real photographer - must be taken into your confidence - you might need his help later anyway. But he’s particularly close to Asmo, and knows how to keep his mouth shut.

You stalk Lucifer for a few weeks. You ask Satan for advice. You consider asking Diavolo to just order Lucifer to hand over his phone.

Finally you just ask him for it.

Getting a hold of Asmo’s phone is the hardest bit. You have to wait until he’s deep in a spa day, hanging around in his tub with both a sheet mask AND cucumber slices.

Then you make off with his phone. And go through the photos.

His wonderful Devilgram-worthy pictures you ignore. You start looking for the ones that he rejected, but kept. The one where both of you cracked up laughing right before the photo snapped. The one where he dropped his hot chocolate and then stole yours.

The two of you in clay face masks and toe spacers? Yep. The one you took of him with super-wide eyes as he put on mascara? Definitely. Selfies of you two surrounded by his brothers, by Sol, by Simeon, even a few with Luke.

The one Satan took of the two of you dancing at one of Diavolo’s balls, so lost in each other that the rest of the ball might as well not exist? Of course.

You combine them with the ones taken by everyone else in the house.

Culling them for the best takes weeks. Because you don’t just want the ~~prettiest~~ pictures or the ones designed for social media.

You pick the ones with emotional meaning, ones of important events, but mostly you choose pictures of genuine laughter and affection. Ones that show how much the two of you love each other, and how much true friendship exists in the house.

How much he’s not alone, and how much he is loved. How much the people around him appreciate him.

With Satan and Solomon, you gather and enchant a simple glass cube.

It displays these photos, gently lit up, like the digital picture frames in the human world.

“I want you to remember me,” you say quietly. “I want you to remember how much fun we’ve had, and how much I love you for you.”

Not gonna lie, Asmo cries.

The cube moves around his rooms depending on where he is - it’s by his tub if he’s taking a bath. It’s on his vanity when he’s putting on his makeup. He credits it with helping his relaxation and makeup game.

It’s always on a nightstand by his bed before he goes to sleep. Sometimes he just lays on his back, puts the cube on his stomach, and watches memories float through it.

What you wanted - for him to remember that he’s loved for more than his sexual prowess - comes true. The pictures remind him of the life he has outside of a bedroom.

He starts spending more time with his brothers. He starts taking more pictures.

His followers appreciate the diversification in his content :)

He appreciates how much you love getting texts of those photos - the not-social-media-ready ones, but the REAL ones.

Beelzebub

(Unromanced)

I mean, you could just bake the guy a dozen cakes.

But then he’d eat them and they’d be gone.

And you can’t make him anything that looks like food, because he’d eat it.

You’ve finished your gifts for half of the brothers before you even figure out what to make for him.

And then it comes to you…..socks.

He’ll use them.

He won’t eat them.

They’re not the most interesting gift, but you’re running out of time.

You actually manage to find a pattern covered with colorwork triangles that mimic his usual shirt.

You get Satan to charm them for you - the problem with handmade socks is that they wear out FAST. Not anymore!

Beel LOVES them.

(To be fair, he’d probably love anything you gave him)

Once he knows they won’t wear out, they become his Game Socks.

Like most athletes, he becomes superstitiously obsessed with the socks, wearing them for absolutely every game he plays.

Is convinced they help him win.

(Romanced)

You encounter basically the same problem as above - what on earth to make him?

You want something that reminds him how much you love him, and it absolutely can’t be anything he could even be tempted to eat, because he’d never forgive himself.

You try a number of times to build a small tapestry loom, but that skill seems to be beyond you.

Finally you have to beg Lucifer to pick one up for you in the human world.

Once you get it, you’re off and running.

Now, just because things can’t look like food doesn’t mean it can’t be inspired by it.

Red yarn, the exact juicy red of an apple - but here, just an abstract circle. Mixes of pale cream, yellow, and red in a triangle - an abstract pizza slice.

Those cookies Barbatos makes? There. The broccoli-cheddar soup you learned to make for her? Now just an orange blob with tiny green squiggles. And on, and on.

And buried, scattered throughout, little woven hearts.

The hearts are made of slightly different yarn, puffier and thicker, so they stand out just a little bit.

In the end, you have a decent-sized wall hanging, full of texture and shapes that are just reminiscent enough of food to bring a smile to Beel’s face, but not enough to actually be worth eating.

He passes the hanging every day, and every day he brushes his fingers over the yarn or through the fringe; a physical reminder of you.

Belphegor

(Unromanced)

This guy is probably the easiest one to make things for.

Is it soft? Is it cuddly? Can he use it as a pillow? Can he snuggle it like a stuffed animal?

Click “yes” on any of those questions, and you have a happy - well, a slightly less annoyed - Belphie.

Which is why you take this as a challenge. The easy answer - a pillow - is BORING. And the other easy answer - a blanket - would take WAY too much time.

So, like Levi, he gets a plushie.

But not just any plushie.

He gets a plushie of Lucifer.

Lucifer…..on a pastel unicorn.

Belphie starts cackling the moment he opens it, which is fair, because you laughed a fair bit designing and making it.

He starts leaving it where Lucifer can find it, then saying that the elder can’t do anything about it, because MC made it and there’s no way he’d want to harm anything made by MC.

Satan tries to steal it.

In the end, an “anonymous” Devilgram is created, dedicated to the “adventures” of this particular plushie.

It’s all fun and games until Diavolo wants one.

(Romanced)

Well, for your boyfriend, the time and effort involved in making a blanket is just fine.

You debate endlessly - comprehensive color scheme? Granny squares or stripes? How heavy?

You go with your gut instinct - this isn’t a boy who cares about color schemes or blanket styles.

(Just look at his clothes, seriously.)

He cares about one thing - comfort.

You find the softest, smushiest yarn you can, and a pattern you can tolerate working on for like 100 hours.

You go old-school; a granny square blanket like the ones that pretty much every person had thrown over the couch in the 70s and 80s. The perfect nap blanket.

Black… mostly black, with some bright accent colors. Kind of obnoxious accent colors, actually. You figure it’ll appeal to his (dubious) sense of humor. Also it’ll piss Lucifer off seeing it around the house, clashing with literally everything in the oh-so-perfectly-decorated Gothic interior.

This one requires….special enchantment.

A little bit of ritual, and that blanket will fold up into a tiny square; easy to carry from place to place.

Belphie is torn between wanting to carry it around everywhere, like his pillow, and to leave it in the attic room, always waiting for him.

Depending on his mood, he’ll do one or the other.

But no matter what, he also sleeps juuuust a little bit better under it, snuggled up under your love.

You make him the Lucifer plushie, too. It’s too funny not to :)

1K notes · View notes

egcdeath · 3 years

Text

checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;)

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me.

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in.

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there.

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy.

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise.

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was.

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy.

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now.

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what.

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup.

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another.

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you.

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side.

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent.

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t.

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale.

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you.

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries.

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared.

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper.

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home.

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance.

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell.

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious.

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.”

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat.

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case.

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you.

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times.

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm.

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall.

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat.

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…”

You nodded again.

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly.

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted.

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!”

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement.

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less.

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless.

You finally won.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #dark!reader #ransom drysdale x dark!reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey x you #knives out #knives out fanfic #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

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