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cheesecakethots · 8 months

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“Whore.”

You could’ve sworn the teacup in your hands cracked a little from how hard you’re gripping it. If you were Illumi, it would’ve shattered into a fine powder by now. But you’re not, which makes you susceptible to being called such things.

They’re at it again. You’re unsure as to what you’ve done to upset some of the butlers and maids, but god do they not like you. No matter. You hate everyone in this stupid boring ugly manor anyway. Huh. Maybe that’s why they hate you, too.

It must’ve been a shock to see Illumi of all people one day bring home his future wife. One he never cared to mention to anyone else beforehand, and one that was still kicking and screaming over his shoulder.

You’re not really sure how long you’ve been here. Months? A year now? However long it’s been, it didn’t take anytime at all to realise that maybe you’re not as safe here as Illumi swears you to be. His mother most definitely hates you, but, oh well, she’s never really tried anything, as far as you know.

The help started muttering things when Illumi wasn’t around, things that hurt more than you wanted to admit. When you didn’t go running off to Illumi at the first few instances of it, it got worse, as though they knew you would never tell him about it.

First off, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being your saviour when someone says mean things to you. Secondly, you may hate these assholes, but you have a conscience.

Only last week Illumi came into your shared bedroom, absolutely drenched in blood, asking if you could shower together. You quickly found out that whoever he had been torturing wasn’t dead yet, and he still had more to do.

Thinking about what Illumi does to people he doesn’t care about, those he’s only hurting for a job, makes you shiver at the thought of him actually harming someone who did him, or you, wrong. But, despite your mercy on them, this time you’re considering just telling him. Only a little.

You’ve had a notably stressful day, being pranced around by his mother who’s insistent on ‘training’ you to be the perfect wife for her son. Her explaining to you that the family expects at least six children from you both had you rushing to the bathroom to vomit.

Then you ran into his father, on your way back to your room. He doesn’t seem to actively dislike you, but he scares the absolute shit out of you. The man seems to think you’re some house pet rather than an actual person with thoughts and feelings, but you suppose that’s only a modicum better than wanting you dead.

You also bumped into Illumi’s grandfather. You’re not sure if you can bring yourself to hate him, but you do hate the look of pity in his eyes whenever he sees you. Sometimes he’ll save you from a lecture Illumi’s mother is giving you, so he’s nice in that regard. He’d never free you, though, so he’s just another kidnapper you can’t become friendly with.

You eventually got back to your room, expecting a nice nap before being forced to attend family dinner, only to find Illumi had gotten back earlier than expected. You cringed at how hungry he was, and not for food, but just allowed him to do as he wished. You were too tired to argue. After he was done, he seemed to take note of how quiet and exhausted you were. Too bad, dinner time. You hated dinner times more than anything else.

You ate the admittedly lovely food in pure silence, but quickly became sick to your stomach at hearing Illumi and his mother discuss the prospects of you becoming pregnant. You didn’t eat anymore after that. You’re pretty sure his brother, Milluki, made some comment about you that Illumi didn’t like, which explains why his wrist got snapped in half a few seconds later.

Illumi tried spoon feeding you when noticing how full your plate was, but you managed to convince him that you weren’t hungry. That got you another lecture from his mother about how you’ll soon be eating for two. You were tempted to tell her that if you ever got pregnant you’d throw yourself into Mike’s jaws, but managed to refrain.

After that, you finally got to go to bed. It wasn’t something you were looking forward to anymore; you struggled to sleep when Illumi was home because he’d spend the majority of the night just staring at you.

“Can I go outside?”

You don’t remember why you blurted it or where the thought came from, but you remember the confused blink Illumi gave in response.

“Um.. just for.. ten minutes? O-Or five..? I just want to sit in the garden by myself for a bit… If not, it’s alright..”

You hated how pathetic you sounded, unsure as to what Illumi was thinking when he stared at you with that expressionless face.

“Alright.”

“What?”

“Would you like me to ask a maid to bring you out a cup of tea?”

You didn’t really think about his words too much, just happy you got something your way for once, and nodded rather enthusiastically. You should’ve said no.

The first few minutes of being in the garden, sat on the bench and allowing the cool nights breeze to settle on your skin had you relaxing for the first time in a while.

“Your tea, mistress.”

Oh. It was one of the ones you were sure hated you, and behind him was another. Oh, well. You took the tea from his hands, thanking them nonetheless.

It was much more bitter than you liked it, but you didn’t complain. You didn’t really want tea in the first place. They didn’t leave, but you didn’t complain. Illumi probably asked them to watch over you, maybe to make sure you didn’t try to run. It’s alright, you still have a nice view to relax with.

“Whore.”

Your eyes widen a little, and your grip on the cup increases. They continue muttering amongst themselves, but you catch small, demeaning phrases that you’re certain are aimed at you.

Why are you a whore? You’d never even had sex before you met Illumi, and if you had, it wouldn’t be their business. You’re hardly allowed to interact with anyone other than who Illumi allows you to. Where would you have the chance to sleep around? The insult doesn’t make much sense.

That’s what you tell yourself, despite the fact that your shoulders and hands are shaking and you feel something cold and wet running down your cheeks.

Shit.

You put the cup on the floor, hands moving to cover your face and wipe away any evidence of tears. Illumi hated when you cried.

Why are you still crying? What they said doesn’t make any sense. Stop crying, enjoy the view. You don’t have long left before you have to go back inside.

You’re still crying. You don’t notice that it’s gone eerily silent aside from your own muffled sobs, too busy working on shutting yourself up.

“[Name].”

Shit. Shit!

He’s been sat next to you for god knows how long now, and you didn’t even realise. God, this sucks.

“Why are you crying?” Illumi asks, and you can feel him move closer to you on the bench.

“I-I’m not,” you say, a hand still covering your eyes. What excuse do you give? If you say hay fever will he never let you out in the garden again? If you say you have a cold, will he keep you inside your bedroom for a few weeks? Months?

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him staring at you.

“Would you like to stay outside for a bit longer?”

Oh.

“Ye-Yeah. Y-Yes please,” you eventually reply, gulping down another sob.

He doesn’t leave, but you’re less bothered by his presence than usual. Despite it being… him, it’s not horrible to have some company, even though you’d never admit it out loud.

You’re not sure how long you sit outside before he stands, prompting you to do the same. Neither of you say anything, not until you reach your bedroom and Illumi tells you in a tone softer than you’d usually hear from him that he has something he must do, so you’ll be sleeping alone tonight.

You turn to go to bed, but he grabs your wrist. He doesn’t look at you for a moment, seemingly considering something. Then, he stiffly leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead rather robotically. Sometimes you wonder if he is a robot, it really would explain a lot.

The kiss ends soon after it begins.

“Get some rest. You look bad.”

You huff a little, but can’t bring yourself to actually be offended due to the thinly veiled concern in his tone.

The sleep you get is better than you expected. Maybe not having a mass murderer eyeing you up while you try and rest is a reason for that.

Illumi doesn’t show up for the entirety of the next day, which is a little strange. He likes seeing you off in the morning, giving you a kiss before he departs - you’re certain he copied it from a romance movie you used to enjoy watching from time to time. You don’t question his absence too much, you don’t exactly enjoy his company, after all.

The day you have is better than the last. Illumi’s mother seems to be a bit less of a bitch than usual. That’s a win in your book.

It doesn’t take long for you to be back in your warm bed, wrapped up in covers and drifting off to sleep.

You wake up to the feeling of something wet hitting the tip of your nose, and quiet breathing above you.

“Are you awake?”

You are now. It’s pitch black in the room, but you can make out Illumi looming over, his hair framing around you like some makeshift cage.

Still sleepy, you groan a little, “Illumi? What… time is it?”

Something wet hits the bed.

“2:57 AM.”

Huh. You breathe in through your nose. Illumi absolutely reeks. Metallic, is it? You’re not sure it’s the best idea to comment on it.

“Oh. Okay.”

Another drip of something onto the blanket. He doesn’t seem to be in the talking mood.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“… Yes.”

Another.

You gulp. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t think so.”

Another drip, this time it hits your arm.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes narrow in the darkness.

“No.”

The silence is deafening. Your hands clutch onto the end of the blanket. He leans impossibly closer, and the stench of whatever is on him becomes all to familiar. He’s smelt like it before, but never this strong.

“How long were the help bothering you?”

“Since I got here.” There’s little point in trying to lie about it now.

“If you hide something from me again I’ll break three of your fingers.”

A little specific, but the threat certainly does the job.

“Okay. I’m… sorry.” You’re not.

Finally, he pulls away, eyes still trained on your face.

“Go to sleep.”

You don’t. You’re certain that you can’t, at least not for tonight. Especially not after hearing him turn the shower on, and after he’s done leave the room once more.

Instead, you sit and stare at the ceiling, and wonder if any of those in the basement will even have three fingers left of them, by the time he’s done.

#tw yandere #tw.yandere #yandere #yanderecore #yandere illumi zoldyck #yandere illumi x reader #yandere illumi #yandere hxh #yandere hxh x reader #tw implied noncon #implied noncon #tw noncon #tw vomit #tw vomit mention #tw angst #tw pregnancy mention #tw pregnancy

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tender-rosiey · 1 year

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swear on love — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I am alive!! better late than never but here’s my gojo coming back drabble (ceo gojo has been thrown into a corner)

something your son has learned is that if his dad, satoru, swears on his love for you then he will never break that promise.

like the first time he had asked his dad to take him to the amusement park he saw on the tv, satoru beamed, ruffling his son’s hair and telling him that he will.

when your son told him to promise him, satoru instead said, “I swear on my love for your pretty mama that I will take you there.”

it makes you flustered and makes your heart flutter—maybe even cringe a little, but who complains about having a man down bad for them plus he somehow makes it cute.

in addition to that, satoru never fails to look at you whenever he makes that promise and god knows that his gaze makes you feel weak in the knees.

he also goes to you right after, almost by instinct, to hug you and call you his ‘pretty wife’ and the ‘mother of his child’ — ‘and future ones’ he adds, but you’re quick to smack him when he does.

nonetheless, your son was quick to learn that it was the only type of promise his dad wouldn’t break.

it was october 31 when your husband has last made a promise to his son.

while the three of you were chilling in the living room, satoru was suddenly called for. he had to go to shibuya. your son was bummed, of course, but reluctantly let go of him.

“I won’t take any time buddy, don’t worry,” he said, patting your son’s head.

your son squirmed a bit before speaking up, softly, “you will come back safely, right?”

satoru simply noded with a smile.

your son, pouting –something he definitely inherited from his dad—looked up to him and stuck his pinky finger out, “you promise?”

your husband only chuckled, “I swear on my love for mama, champ.”

your son’s grin was unrivalled as he gave his dad thumbs up, “okay! I trust you!”

before departing, satoru took you in his arms and gave you one last kiss, giving you a promise of your own of coming back soon.

it has been 19 days since then.

everything has gone to chaos; everything was going wrong in all the possible ways. people you care about were dying left and right and the only thing you could do was protect your son with everything you got.

you’re often reminded of the time when your son had asked you, a week after his dad had been stuck in the prison realm, “mama, did dad break his promise?”

you could only smile sadly at him and whisper, “no, honey, he is just—going to fulfil it a bit late this time.”

now, you were with yuji, toge, shoko, and angel, along with some others, to finally get satoru of the prison realm.

yuji was a bit nervous and asked, “what if it…doesn’t work? or something happens—“

“don’t say that!”

all heads turn to your son who is barely holding his tears back, “dad said that he will be back! he promised me! he never breaks his promises!”

he looks at you, eyes pleading for assurance, “you know that, right, mama?”

tears of your own threaten to spill as you nod weakly at your son who runs and hugs you tightly, mumbling, “daddy will be back safely; I know it.”

you smile and pat his head, “I trust both of you.”

when they finally go through with the opening of the prison realm, it disappears right away.

your son’s grip on your shirt tightens as his eyes search frantically for his father everywhere around him, “where is he…?”

meanwhile, kenjaku smiles menacingly while looking at gojo, the newly freed man, “your wife and son must be pleased that you’re back, huh?”'

gojo smirks, “as am I, but I think it’s none of your business.”

both stare into each other before gojo quips, turning his back to the man, “well, I will meet you on december then!”

“oh? why is that?”

gojo stretches and walks to pick a few flowers. kenjaku is left confused as he watches the white-haired sorcerer make a bouquet.

“to put it simply, my wife and son are more important than you,” he smiles, “and I wouldn’t want to have two anniversary deaths on the same day.”

kenjaku cackles, “so you think you will win?”

satoru grins, “I will win.”

and without a word, he teleports to you.

“hey sweets!—“

you punch him in the guts and he yelps, “that’s not how you greet your husband—“

you then pull him into a very tight embrace, cutting him off once again, “I thought I lost you, asshole.”

you fist his shirt in your hand and bury your face in his chest before full on sobs escape you.

gojo’s eyes soften and he starts rubbing your back soothingly, “didn’t believe I would come back? you wound me doll.”

satoru nudges you lightly, “what do you think of the bouquet?”

you look at it and fondly roll your eyes.

he’s back.

your son runs to him screaming, “dad, you’re back! you’re back! I knew you would! i told them, but no one believed me!”

your husband picks your son up with his free arm and rests his forehead on his, “thanks for trusting me; sorry for keeping you wait.”

he’s here.

you shake your head, lightly, before nuzzling into his chest, “it’s okay…you’re here.”

“mama is right!”

satoru kisses both your foreheads before whispering, “I am here.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @luciferspenguin- @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso

do not copy or plagiarize or I will domain expansion yo ass

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coco-loco-nut · 1 month

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Hii!

Can I please ask for an angsty fic with Max, where the reader defends him from Jos after not finishing his race in Melbourne...idk if you remember when Max kept his helmet for four hours after a race because he was afraid of what Jos would have done to him after not winning...and the reader basically tells Jos to get lost even if she's like 5'4 and definitely not as intimidating as them both lol.

And then maybe after the win in Suzuka, they "reconcile" but she still reminds him to act right around her boyfriend, who's now a man and not a little boy he could pressure like he once did.

Sorry if it's too long!! Thanks for taking your time and reading my request!

Guard Dog

Pairing: Max x Reader

Summary: You are sick and tired of watching Max take Jos' shit

TW: verbal abuse

A/n: thank you soooo much for the rec, I love writing these out so much <3

requests open masterlist

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

"Maxie... are you okay?" you wait patiently by the door to his driver's room, careful not to barge in like Jos would, as you have for the past year since you first witnessed Jos' beratement of his son. He is sitting on the couch with his helmet between his hands. The fire causing an unpleasant start to the race, and you are just glad you got here first.

"I'm okay," his voice cracks and you step into the room, closing the door behind you. "I know it wasn't my fault, but I can't help but feel like it was my fault," Max looks in your eyes, the fire brewing behind them. You were genuinely the sweetest girl he's ever met, and to get you mad took a lot. God help you if Jos shows up, you are tired of Max feeling bad even when he podiums.

"You're right, you didn't do anything wrong, the car failed you today," you stay calm, sitting beside him and cuddling into him. Max stays quiet, enjoying your warmth, and decompressing from the start. He can understand why the fans were so happy to see him lose, in fact, if he wasn't himself, he would join them. No, the fear of his father is what has him on edge. Rightfully so, because a few seconds later the door is slammed open again.

"Max, what the hell did you-" Jos starts and you launch yourself off the couch. Jos and Max were big guys, and you were average height for a woman, 5'6 or so, but you didn't seem like it in that moment.

"Shut the hell up and leave. You have nothing useful to say and you are going to shift blame to Max who had NO fault in the DNF," you snarl, setting yourself up as a barrier between the two, Jos still in the doorway and Max on the couch.

"Girl, I don't know who you think you are, but I am Max's father, and I can-," You cut Jos off before he can continue.

"No, you aren't his father. A father doesn't talk to his son like that, you are simply a man who shares the same last name as Max. A father is someone like Carlos Sainz Sr or Lawrence Stroll. No, you are a man- sorry a boy in a man's body- who can't cope with the fact that he doesn't race anymore and wants the man who shares the same last name with him to be impossibly perfect and win every single race, even when the car breaks down." You sneer at the man. "You need to leave, before I call security and make them remove you," you don't back down, instead you step closer. Max watches in both awe and fear.

"I-"

"Leave, Jos, now. Don't make me repeat myself," you say, practically slamming the door behind him. You turn around and look at Max, seemingly calm and normal. He looks at you bewildered.

"That was the sexiest thing ever. Thank you, Schatje, you didn't have to do that," Max hugs you, a large weight off of his shoulders.

"Of course I did, who else will be your guard dog?" You smile at him, squeezing him tighter. "Now, get changed and get back to the garage," you tell Max, stepping out to the room. You let out a deep breath, surprised with how you treated Jos and stood up for Max. A couple minutes later, Max rejoins you, quickly stopping inside hospitality for a snack.

The two of you avoid Jos, going extremely low contact, not that he was trying to. Jos would never admit it, but he was embarrassed at how you spoke to him, and his retreat allowed him to ignore it. Instead, you and Max enjoyed your time together in Japan. The both of you were aware Jos was there, but chose to ignore it. After Max won, Jos warily approached the two of you.

"I wanted to congratulate you on winning. You drove well," Jos says stiffly, silently calling for a truce. You let Max take the lead on the conversation.

"Thank you," he says, feeling like a little boy again, but accepting the temporary truce.

"It was good seeing you Jos, but we need to go," you interject, sensing the still tense atmosphere. The older man, still a little scared of you despite your sweet demeanor, lets you go, not quite willing to cross you again.

"Love you, Maxie"

"Love you too, Schatje,"

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen #i hate jos verstappen

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phantomrose96 · 3 days

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Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 2

(Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 1)

Chapter 2, because @ciestess voiced an idea that absolutely consumed my entire mind and I could not rest until I made this

...

Danny’s eyes tracked the swing of gunfire raining bullets across the horizon. Tucker reloaded, crouched, dodged left and pivoted, another blast of bullet confetti launched through a gaggle of zombie heads. He tossed the magazine and reloaded. Click. Ching. Danny flinched when a zombie smashed a hammer clean through Tucker’s head.

“God. Fucking…” Tucker pulled out of his hunch. He unclamped his fingers from his controller like bug legs unfurling. He extended the controller to Danny, bouncing it in his grip. “Your turn.”

“Huh?” Danny asked, as if he hadn’t been watching Tucker’s game the whole time.

“You. You’re up. I died.”

Danny accepted the controller, reloaded the screen, and jogged about a hundred feet forward before the first horde of zombies took him out football-style from the left. The death screen rolled.

“Oops,” Danny said.

“Not your best work.” And Tucker took the controller back. Tucker shot a few spare glances to Danny while the level restart loaded in. “Is it Vlad?”

“No. Well, yes,” Danny answered, flopping back into his normal position on the Foley attic armchair. Tucker’s mom had planned to toss it ages ago, before it became Danny’s chair. “But at least he left when my parents went all zombie mode into the basement.” Danny picked absently at the scabs of leather flaking from the armrest. “It was just weird.”

“I don’t mean this as an insult, but it’s definitely not the first time your dad’s gotten some math wrong,” Tucker said. “He blows up like three things a week doesn’t he?”

“He does. But he doesn’t care when he gets that math wrong. This one was like I broke something important.” Danny’s expression soured, and he picked a leather flake clean off the chair. “Vlad did, I mean.”

“Does any of the math actually work?” Sam offered from Tucker’s desk. She leaned an elbow around the back of his chair, head tilted to Danny. A pencil dangled from her loose fingers, nib-half worn to the History of an Invention report she was actually working on. Tucker had half-assed his earlier in the day about the palm pilot. Danny had not done his. “Like, it’s all crackpot theory, right? Do ghosts even follow math?”

“I think they follow some math. It’s not magic that makes the ecto-bazookas work, or the Fenton-phones work, or—well the thermos DIDN’T work—until I made it work.”

The unspoken thing Danny had been not-quite-saying hung in the air. He said it this time.

“So I’m wondering if I did it. Like the Fenton thermos. And now maybe they’re gonna do the math all over and realize the missing piece of the equation is one half-ghost son.”

“Well the order is backwards, for starters,” Sam said. “Thermos worked because you pumped ghost-energy into it. How would you have done that to the portal? You were human when you walked in.”

“Sam’s right. What do you think you brought to the table exactly? Button-slapping abilities?” Tucker loaded up the next level. “It was their portal, and their math, and it worked. There’s a million-billion kinds of math and they probably just forgot one thing.”

Tucker took a headshot and died. Mechanically, he handed the controller back to Danny.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Ask Vlad. He’s got a portal.”

“Like Vlad’s gonna tell me.”

“Just promise to be his diligent little son minion or whatever. He’s easy. Wait, let me do the next level. You know I like the cyberpunk levels.”

“It’s not your turn,” Danny said, reeling the controller just out of Tucker’s wiggling grasp.

“I’ll let you do two in a row for your next turn.”

Danny knocked Tucker away, distracted just long enough for a zombie cyberbeam to launch from the horizon and take him out through the head.

The screen washed sepia. Danny stared at it. You died.

…

Danny hadn’t really meant to stay the night at Tucker’s place. They’d just gotten really far in Man vs. Zombie, and Sam had gone home, and Danny was just resting his eyes between his turns with the controller.

So when he woke to the bright strip of sunlight beaming into his eyes through the attic skylight, his first thought was Fuck.

He was awake, here, morning, school. Fuck he had not actually done his History of Invention report, despite the stupid amount of grief it had already caused him this weekend. He pulled his face out of the armrest, now pineapple-patterned from the decaying leather, and pawed for his phone fallen on the floor. If it was still early enough, he could maybe still afford to desperately half-ass something before sixth period science.

He flipped his phone open. A text from Jazz. “Don’t come home. Make up an excuse.”

“…Fuck,” Danny whispered, through the sensation of his heart launching itself into his throat.

He scrambled upright, whole body shaking at the mercy of adrenaline shock so soon after being pulled from dead sleep. His mouth was dry, teeth unbrushed, wearing his old clothes from yesterday, report not done, Don’t come home, Don’t come home, Don’t come home.

They knew. He’d fucked it up. Somehow they knew. The math. Something. And it had to be with guns blazing, because Jazz would not send that text if they’d taken the “We accept you” angle.

Were they coming for him? On their way here? Tracking by his phone? Did they like Mrs. Foley enough to not SWAT-slam her against the wall when she opened the door for them so they could come capture the ghost pretending to be their son?

Fuck.

Danny was upright. Danny was standing. Danny was shaking. Danny wasn’t actually sure what the next thing was he was supposed to do.

Tucker’s ball of blankets rustled from the couch. “Mmph?” he asked, articulately.

“I have to. Go deal with my parents, I think,” Danny said, because any plan felt a little better than no plan. “I think they know.”

Danny was a ghost. Danny was gone. Tucker sat upright, alone, blinking himself awake. He was staring at the You Died sepia screen still displayed on monitor, now burnt into the plasma of the tv.

…

Danny paused with his human hand slick on the Fenton front door. The gears in his mind turned as his plan quickly unraveled into no-plan. He had no plan, right? What was his plan? Handle this Man vs Zombie style—open the front door ready to dodge wide, because both zombies and parents liked to camp behind closed doors with bazookas at the ready?

“—absolutely absurd, and entirely unscientific, with no probability of being true. It goes against everything we know about neurology.”

Oh, Jazz. Was Jazz enough of a bazooka-deterrent? Probably not. Knowing his parents.

Danny turned the knob. His heart hammered. If bazookas, dodge left.

The first thing he noticed was in fact the no-bazookas. It was what he was most looking for. And so it was Jazz’s expression he did not notice until second—whites of her eyes wide, snapped to Danny, with a look that would be accusatory if worry hadn’t won that battle. Her cheeks were pale. Her hair was unbrushed.

He noticed his parents third. Compulsively, he rocked back onto his right foot, still outside the doorway, still outside the threshold of the Fenton family household.

Seeing his parents tired was of absolutely no shock-value to Danny. It was at least a twice-per-month tradition to see them haul themselves up from the basement sweaty and glaze-eyed at 7am, babbling excitement about some new ecto-spectral-hoozy-whatsits whose concept had shimmed into their minds at 8pm and now existed, fully operational, 11 nonstop hours later.

So it wasn’t the exhaustion on their face. It wasn’t the stagnant smell of sweat or the paleness of their faces or the stains on their clothes.

It was the way they looked at him. Like their whole world had fallen apart with his foot passing over the doorstep.

“Danny,” Jazz said, choked, a break in the silence. “Things are…! A little weird here. So maybe, if you wanna just get to school, I’ll finish clearing up—there’s a misunderstanding Mom and Dad have with their math. I am state finalist in Math League and have been studying college-level calculus in preparation for school applications so I’ve offered to help them fix their math, or prove to them—”

“Danny,” Maddie said, an echo of Jazz, but it felt worse. Danny scanned her hands for anything pointed enough to be a weapon. They were empty. “Danny can I just ask you something honestly, just quickly? Jazz is right. I’m just trying to clear up an issue with our math. And I won’t be mad. Whatever the answer is, I won’t be mad. I just want an honest answer.”

She stepped closer. Danny fought the urge to match her with a step backwards. Her eyes roved over him in a starved way, looking for something.

“Were you there when the portal turned on?” she asked.

“No, I wasn’t,” Danny answered. He wasn’t sure what to do with his face to make it look convincing. “It just. It needed some time to boot up, or something, right? That’s what you two said.”

“That was our guess ,but we don’t really know. The security tapes are wiped. We tried to make them EMF-resilient but a very, very strong blast of EMF could still corrupt them.”

“Yeah. I mean the portal’s gonna do that, right? When it turned on? Ripping open the Ghost Zone that’s—gotta be huge EMF.” Danny’s focus bounced between his mother’s eyes. “Just a guess. I really don’t know. I was in bed, already, whenever the portal started working.”

Left eye. Right eye. Why was she looking at him like that? Like she was sad. Was this part a trick? Make Danny let his guard down, go hey Mom need a hug? and that’s when the bazooka-whipping starts? It made his ribs feel scratchy. Stop looking at me like that.

“Have you felt anything weird at all, since the portal started working? Any gaps in your memory? Any parts of you that don’t feel right? Is there any part of you that feels like it’s changed in a way you can’t explain?”

She reached a hand out. Danny instinctively recoiled.

“Uh, yeah. They taught us about this in health class. They call it ‘puberty’ there.”

“Danny,” Jack said, and his voice was scratchy from disuse, from a long and uncharacteristic amount of time spent not speaking. “Did you die in the machine?”

A beat. A moment. Like when the zombie sends a hammer through your head.

“I’M alive!” Danny declared with a crack in his voice, with hands slammed to his chest. “Look at me. What are you talking about?”

“It’s the only math that works,” Jack continued, his words like chalk, his voice too dead. He looked too much at Danny. “If one of you two walked into the portal, and died in it. And I don’t think it was Jazz.”

This was bad. This was weird. Danny had ghost powers, sure. ‘They can’t kill me I’m already dead,’ was a funny joke sometimes. But it was funny as a joke. He was a ghost sham, really. A faker, a LARPer, whatever Tucker had called it. He was a human who was just kind of a freak now. More of a freak than he already was. He looked dead, for someone who was super-duper still alive.

He’d buried that worry, already. They weren’t allowed to bring it back.

“Look… at me!” Danny continued, mouth dry. He threw his arms wide. “Look how super alive I am! I’m awake! Using energy! Eating food and sleeping with my human body. I’ve got flesh and blood and bones and stuff! I’m not a ghost-expert but ghosts don’t have that.”

This was weird. This made Danny feel like something was scratching to get free from inside his rib cage. It twisted his entrails. Sure Tucker and Sam had thought he was dead, for those first horrible few minutes, but then he changed back to a human and the nightmare ended there. Jazz never called him dead. The ghosts called him freak and halfa and whelp, but never ‘one of them.’ That was his whole thing: being different from the ghosts who became ghosts by something so normal as dying.

He was not dead.

“If you died in the portal, your ghost wouldn’t have been ripped out of your body. It would have been allowed to stay, and then you’d be…” Jack hesitated. “I don’t know what you’d be, but you wouldn’t be alive.”

“Dad,” Jazz said, and she stood herself bodily between Danny and Jack. “What an absolutely messed up out-of-line thing to say to your son! You don’t know that! Dad you’re tired, and just because you weren’t able to solve your math problem in one night doesn’t mean you get to treat Danny like this! I said I’d help you with your math! Now apologize to Danny.”

Jazz looked over her shoulder to Danny, her expression falling at the sight of Danny’s face.

Danny backed up over the door threshold. He shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with this. This is weird. I’m gonna go to school now.”

“Danny, I promise they’re just—”

Danny turned on heel. No backpack, no change of clothes. He took to the street without a single school supply and moved, and moved.

It was supposed to be guns-blazing. Molecule by molecule. Headshot you died. He’d prepared for that this whole time, in the shower, in his dreams, in his daydreams in class. He’d duck and dodge and explain himself over and over until they understood him.

Danny wasn’t sure he was capable of explaining himself anymore.

…

Danny knocked the heavy iron knocker. He was in ghost form, as a threat. He wondered if he still smelled like yesterday’s sweat now that he wasn’t wearing yesterday’s clothes. Now he was wearing the clothes he died in.

No one answered the door. Danny phased himself in.

“Vlad!” he called, and his words echoed along the slope of the two elaborate winding staircases that twirled and met at the top like caduceus. Gold-plated banisters. A security camera buried somewhere in the ceiling, no doubt.

Danny phased into the library. His eyes roved the three stories of bookshelves wrapping the perimeter like a sheath. Gaudy. Audacious. Like Vlad would ever read that much. Danny racked his brain because some something in here was the secret to opening Vlad’s laboratory. Jazz had told him. Some gold something to be touched, and pressed down, or pushed up? Or it opened to a button. Or a keypad, maybe.

Danny spat a curse. He was being stupid. He was frazzled. He wasn’t thinking straight.

He dove into the floor below. Intangibility was the only key he needed.

The sheetrock was cold, even when he wasn’t touching it. The darkness was so piercing it made static jump in his vision, some weird trick of the brain Jazz had explained where, in the absence of all light, the brain hallucinates its own. It came with a sensation of pressure against his eyeballs, and a complete disorientation of direction, and he simply just kept going down.

Danny emerged into a wash of cold air. Cold like metal was cold. The low lights of dials and clicking machines were bright to his eyes previously dunked into the pitchest nothing. He drank it in, eyes grateful for light no matter how little, inner ear grateful for orientation that had left his head swimming and his stomach tight.

His feet tapped down to the stone ground, and the air that breezed past him was chilled.

“Vlad!” Danny called again.

Nothing.

He moved by the floor lighting, which ran in trim along the perimeter of the laboratory rooms. It lit things from beneath, made machines gaunt and specimens into sharp geometries of darkness and flesh. It made the Fenton lab feel warm in a way Danny had never considered it warm.

His feet clacked. His breath puffed.

“Vlad!”

He followed light, followed a wash of green miasma percolating from some far room and catching on the particulate of water and dust that disturbed with the air currents. Danny disturbed it too, walking through, wearing its shade of green which his shadow robbed from the wall behind him.

“Vlad. I swear to god Vlad.”

He crossed the threshold of the portal room, where the dusting of green ambience became a medallion wash of golden-green coating, painting every surface of the room. The Fenton lab was one single expansive room, portal anchored into the far wall and facing all the dead and empty air in front of it. This was different. A much smaller room, walled on all sides save for the simple doorway, and each surface reflected the color back deeper and heavier. It was like a fishtank in the wall of an aquarium lit radiant aqua-blue by all the lights within, but green instead, pure ecto-green.

Danny approached the open portal. He stared into its placid swirls, mesmerized, and scared of it, in a way he hadn’t previously felt about the portal in the Fenton basement.

“Ah, seems the cat is a good mouser after all, it dragged you in my boy.” The words came sing-song. They came spine-shivering for Danny, who felt them like hot breath on his shoulder and reeled back, pivoted, fire crackling to life in his palms.

Vlad stood at the doorway, a solid 20 steps from Danny.

“Vlad.”

“So I’ve been hearing.”

“I need you to explain the portal.”

“Ah, I see you’ve spoken to your parents.” Vlad stepped in, washed in the ecto-green which muddied his ruby red eyes. He held his hands behind his back, cape trailing, a smirk on his fanged face. “Last I heard they weren’t taking the news very well.”

“What news. What did you tell them?”

“Me? Nothing. In fact, very kindly for your sake I even tried to drive them away from the answer but… We know how stubborn your parents can be.”

“What answer?”

“That you’re dead, Daniel.”

Shock washed like ice down Danny’s spine. It sent prickles like spider legs across his skin.

“Well, I suppose there’s still chance for some doubt. It could be Jazz. She could take the fall for you, if there’s any benefit to that at all.”

“I’m a halfa. We are halfas,” Danny said.

“A silly made up word by a silly child,” Vlad mused, and the light smile left his lips. “We are dead.”

“I’m not dead,” and Danny’s words were small, and they were childish.

“You are. I am. Embrace it. It’s nicer this way.” Vlad took a few steps closer, lionously tall in his saunter, feet clacking the ground. “It’s very freeing. After you’ve died already what is there left to fear?”

“I’m alive.”

“You’re a dead body with its soul still stuffed inside it like a Christmas goose. A lot of things in your body don’t work anymore, but ghosts don’t work right anyway and it is, for all its defiance of nature, a perfectly symbiotic relationship.” Vlad’s smile brushed his lips again, warm. “It’s nice to share this with you. Isn’t it nice to share things with people?”

Danny’s heart was beating too fast in his chest, and it was a human heart, a human beat. “I’m not dead,” he declared.

“Your wounds heal quickly because the ghost piloting you only needs to remember form. It stacks cells back into place and calls it good. You’ll endure fatal injuries as you no doubt have many times in your fights, but they’re trivial because physical trauma is not what kills a ghost. It’s what creates one. You’ll necrotize in places but it’s okay, because you’ll carry on, and it will bother you only if you let it bother you, if you’re too sentimental about the puppet you’re still inside.” Vlad closed in closer, neck craning to appraise Danny. “Ghosts love a facsimile of life so you will keep your heart pumping, your lungs breathing. You’ll eat and you’ll sleep but you’ll find you won’t perish if you don’t. It just won’t be a good time if you want to keep occupying your flesh form. Take better care of it. You won’t get another.”

“You’re psychotic. And you’re wrong.”

“I have all the math to prove it.” Vlad leered from over Danny’s shoulder. He circled the boy, knocking Danny’s balance, who still on a hair trigger stood ready to fight. The light from the ghost portal painted Vlad’s face like the phases of the moon as he moved. “Did your parents explain that part to you properly?”

“No, because they didn’t get the math right.”

“Oh they’ve gotten it right. This time. It only took them two decades longer than it took me.” The portal rolled like static, and its fizzling pattern crashed like an ocean wave across Vlad’s cape. “No amount of man-made power is sufficient to drag the entire fabric of the Ghost Zone up against our own, tear a hole through it, and anchor it to a stable frame. It requires something with a pull on the Ghost Zone, a strong pull, and that thing is a human life at the moment of an extraordinarily violent death.”

Danny backed a step away from the portal, from Vlad, but the walls boxed him in. He swam in its green light.

“You stepped in and you turned the portal on, that’s what you thought, right, Daniel? Pressed a careless button on the inside and now here we are. Silly parents for not finding that button first.” Vlad’s face hardened. “No. Jack and Maddie knew about the button. Maddie explained it to me over the phone. What engineer designing and building their own portal would forget the location of the on button? They’d pressed it from the outside. It didn’t work. And so you pressing the button was not the important part. It was you dying to the electrocution that clicked everything right into place. And while your ghost should have been torn from your lifeless corpse and pulled to the Ghost Zone you instead pulled the Ghost Zone here. Your ghost got to stay put. You opened the portal. You became the undead freak you are. And now we’re here.”

Danny’s eyes bounced between Vlad’s. His cheeks felt hot, like he was enduring an accusation of wrongdoing. And he had none of the knowledge to refute what was being said.

“You’re messing with me. You’re wrong,” Danny shot back. He thrust an arm out, drenched in the fog of the portal. “If the portal needs a person to die in it then explain your portal! Are you so casual about it? You killed someone? You’re admitting to murder and you think I won’t do anything about it?”

Anger flashed like a storm across Vlad’s face. His aura swelled, pressing down with a pressure on Danny as Vlad halted and cast his shadow clear across Danny, coating the back wall. “The killing of other people with the wanton carelessness of half-baked machines is the domain of Jack and Jack alone. I’ve brought no such harm onto anyone else.”

“Then how do you have this portal?”

“This portal? This portal that I’ve had for 20 years? Which I opened when I solved the piece of Jack’s broken math that he was never able to solve until this morning?” Vlad stalked closer, hunched, imposing. Danny stepped back. “My boy Daniel you’ve had it so easy. You had it so simple. A truly clean break. So clean so lucky. A single lethal dose of electricity and it was already over. I’m jealous. You never even suffered.”

Vlad stepped closer, striking distance, arm extended. Danny flinched, but Vlad only swept his cape around, clenched in his fist, and pivoted to approach the portal.

“Put out of your misery before it even started.” Vlad slammed his fist against the portal rim, and the explosive metallic clang bounced through the rooms. His laugh belted out. “I should have been so lucky.”

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A sophomore in college. A man actively in the midst of sabotaging his social life to chase a woman who was already deeply in love with Vlad’s best friend who he hated more every day. He wasn’t sure what he ever enjoyed about Jack’s bumbling ineptitude, or his loudness, his brashness, his poor social skills, his bad breath, his mullet. Maybe Vlad had gravitated to Jack because deep down he loved how superior it made him feel to surround himself with the likes of Jack Fenton… And now, he hated how enraged it made him to watch Maddie’s eyes skip past his to focus on Jack Fucking Fenton again and again and again and again.

But surely there was hope still. Surely it was a matter of time before the rose-tinted glasses fell away and Maddie saw bumbling and inept and every such word in the basket when she looked at Jack. There’d come the day she tested the waters with Vlad to complain about one of Jack’s little quirks, and they’d find solace together in all the things Vlad was that Jack wasn’t, and all the things Vlad had that Jack didn’t. And he’d be gone, back to bumble elsewhere, and it would be just them.

The day didn’t come. It wouldn’t come. And maybe Vlad needed to change himself for Maddie. If he listened to her and Jack’s ghost ramblings, if he could put Jack in his place and solve the things Maddie couldn’t, it would show her. She’d understand.

Because that was the thing about Jack. His math was never right. Enduring Calculus 1 with Jack was all it took to prove this to Vlad. How many times he’d caught a single error on a single line for Jack, like a dropped stitch that would unravel the whole sweater. Every problem, without exception. Jack only passed on his homework grade with Vlad’s help. On his tests, he failed.

So Vlad was staring at Jack’s equation, full of bogus math, which Vlad knew was wrong because Jack had penned it, and Vlad had not yet fixed it himself.

“I’m telling you Jack, it won’t work.”

“Bogus V-man it totally will!”

It wouldn’t. But Vlad wouldn’t fix it for him. Not yet. Vlad would let Jack embarrass himself first, fully in front of Maddie, watching on, judging. Vlad would solve it for her. After. Once Jack had made a fool of himself for the hundredth time since college began.

He leaned in to study the portal frame. The gears were turning in his head already. He didn’t hear the whir of the power source catch.

…

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A tube ran down his nose and into his lungs, supplying oxygen for lungs which were failed by a diaphragm sloughing itself away. He was poisoned from the outside-in. Irradiated by ecto-energy none of the nurses or doctors could fully understand. It damaged his DNA. First obvious in the skin of his face where the blisters of his ecto-acne drained and sloughed. “Acne” was the wrong word. An unkind word. They were boils where the blast had cooked his skin, microwaved his cells. The skin on his body blackened over time. Organs decayed. Vlad Master read a lot about radiation sickness. He knew everything he had to expect.

Jack and Maddie had stopped visiting. They were dating now. It was on their last visit they’d told him, and Vlad hadn’t taken it well, and he’d perhaps burned a few bridges with the words he chose. It was deserved. Considering what Jack did to him.

He’d found the error in Jack’s math, by the way. Errors, but all the rest paled in impact compared to the lambda. The ecto-energy. The necessary ecto-potential to pull the Ghost Zone here. How stupid. How idiotic. For Vlad to die to a machine so botched in its construction.

When Vlad was released from the hospital, it was not because they’d cured him. It had been because there is a certain cruelty in making a 19-year-old live the last of his days bedded down in a white-walled room with just his books, his equations, and no one coming to visit anymore.

He was released with bedrest instructions. Vlad did not heed them. In his beater car, every cell of his body aching, he drove. At the materials lab, he disconnected his oxygen tank and moved through the lab space with the tube dangling loose from his nostril. No one was Vlad Masters’ friend. No one cared to stare long at his ugly boil-ridden face. No one stopped him as he hauled sheet metal, and supports, and bolts and wiring and resistors and power tools, checked out with a valid student ID, from the lab. The lab inventory room would not be seeing these back.

It was a prep bunker, buried beneath a vast lot of empty Wisconsin land, that Vlad hauled his materials. He and Jack had discovered it as freshmen. Poked through its bowels with flashlights and quipped and laughed over how eerie it was. Deep beneath the sheetrock, boxy rooms carved out of walls of stone. Shelf upon shelf of dusty canned foods, and shotguns sealed in cases fastened to the walls. The locks had rusted with water damage.

His arms ached until they throbbed, dragging beams of metal across the stone floor, scratching chalk-mark stains into the ground. His skin sloughed, inflamed, burning to the touch. Vlad didn’t bother to rest, because these injuries would never heal anyway. He hauled, and welded, and wired up his circuitry and resistors with a care and caution Jack would never have bothered to practice. He checked it against his math by flashlight. He took naps on the cold stone floor and woke with deep purple bruises on every part of his body that had pressed against the ground.

His appetite left him. His lungs filled with mucus. The boils on his face had spread down to his chest, his shoulders. The touch of his shirt chafed them, so he worked without one, a figure of skeletal rib ridges jutting from tight skin that bloomed with the projection of his shadow against stone walls.

He knew why Jack’s math was wrong.

A silly mistake. A stupid mistake. Anyone with half a mind for the paranormal should have realized the Ghost Zone was not so easily at your beck and call. Not without chumming the water with something it would rise to feast on.

And in that violent death, what would happen to the ghost? It would stay, wouldn’t it? If it successfully anchored the Ghost Zone to the portal it stood inside, then by definition the ghost would stay?

And was that death? Yes, in a way. But it was a death one would get to keep living. As opposed to the death Vlad was headed for, whose coldness and finality scared Vlad more than anything he could put to words.

He’d fixed the oxygen tank back to himself. He couldn’t work without it, hauling it about on a little dolly with him, back and forth, while he fetched and affixed the last of the plating he needed to craft the frame of his silent soulless portal.

He’d stolen a generator from the sports storage shed. It was meant to be enough to power the portable stadium lights they hauled onto the fields for late games, an absolute obelisk meant to cast light across an entire football field.

Surely, it contained enough power to kill one simple human.

Vlad fixed the last bolt in place. Jumper cables clamped generator to portal wiring. It was a pure skeleton. A paltry thing, like the bones of something already picked clean. Built in haste, sloppy, by a 19-year-old whose fingers were too inflamed to clutch a wrench any longer.

He could have asked Jack for help. Maddie. But he wouldn’t let them have this. They had to solve the portal on their own. They didn’t get to know his hard work. They did not get to save him.

Vlad would save himself.

A ghost anchored to a body. What was that? What monster was that?

Vlad moved. He coughed mucus from his lungs. It made it hard to breathe. So he moved slowly, and crouched, bony jutting angles, painted blotchy purple, all bruises and skin, sloughing away.

He crouched, because the portal he’d constructed was not large enough to hold him standing up. He bowed inside it, a small thing, a pathetic man of little life. He wheezed. He hurt. His eyes burned.

And he held in his hands the remote to flip the generator switch, and connect the circuit, and bring to life the math Vlad had so kindly corrected out from under Jack’s grip.

Vlad did not. Because throwing the switch would kill him.

Deep in his animal brain, his dying brain, he knew this intimately. It filled him with a drowning fear like paralysis. He did not want to die.

He would die if he did nothing.

It would be this one throwing of the switch which could save him. Which would burst the portal to life right through his heart. Electrocute it out of its rhythm, slaughter him like a pig on spot and… maybe… hopefully… drag the Ghost Zone here. And whatever he was, dead, would stay.

And whatever he was, dead, would be better than this.

Vlad held the remote in his clammy hands.

And from within the humming skeleton of his portal, his fingers caressed the on button.

…

The portal sung its happy contentment, mused in its healthy green aura, staining all the slabs of rock wall. Danny swiveled his head, recognizing now the bunker this had been before it had been a laboratory.

“I’ve harmed no one, Daniel,” Vlad concluded, his voice too measured for the horrors it had spilled forth. Too calm against the blossoming terror its words had wrought across Danny’s face. “I opened the portal to save myself. You’re lucky, Daniel. It was because of my fast thinking that your father is not a murderer. I took that honor from him.” Vlad’s head tilted to the side, suddenly sympathetic. “Although, you’ve maybe made the title whole for him.”

Vlad reached out, Danny shot away.

“Dad didn’t kill me,” he choked. “I did this to myself.”

“How lucky Jack is, to always dodge responsibility for his actions.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t. If you believed me, you’d have to accept you’re not wriggling out of this. There’s no denial you can bring home to your parents. If you believe me, then this is reality.” Vlad smiled, a playful glint to his fangs. “I suppose I should have more sympathy. I quite like being this way. It is so much nicer than wasting away to death, like I was. But you. You were healthy before this. This killed you, and it didn’t save you from anything.” Vlad cocked his head. “Such tragic fates, both of us, due to the carelessness of Jack Fenton.”

Danny shook his head. His heart beat—his human heart beat—all too fast in his throat. It made him sick. It made him feel like the walls were closing in around him. This was Vlad’s doing. Vlad’s trap. Vlad’s prison he’d been forced to join.

"That's not true. I'm not like you."

“Of course not,” Vlad said, sweetly. “How sweet denial is. Deny it if you like. Call me a liar. But if you ever want to come to terms with what your father did to you, consider coming to me. I understand you in a way no one else will.”

Danny gave no response. He gave no acknowledgement of Vlad’s words. He took to the air, phased himself up through the sheetrock that had been packed atop the doomsday prepper bunker. Up through the mansion, which had been built atop the portal beneath it, and not the other way around. Into the open sky, he breathed fresh air not stagnant and damp beneath the ground, bathed in light pure white from the sun and not tainted green like the bowels underneath him.

And he flew back toward the portal that made him, leaving Vlad with the portal from which he’d made himself.

...

(inspiration post from @ciestess)

#sham sacrifice #danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #vlad masters #danny fenton #YELLS AND THROWS THIS AT YOU #ive been spinning around like a top on this idea #tw: suicidal ideation

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jennifer-jeong · 3 months

Text

[Fluff] [Genshin Men x Reader] What Made Them Fall For You?

Xiao, Wanderer/Scaramouche, Diluc

CONTENT

Headcanons on what makes the genshin pookies fall for you <3 Fluff, gender neutral reader, men falling for reader, reader is not traveler but is friends with them, mentions of character's trauma, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR NOTES

I hope to eventually write about all the men >:) it will probably take a while to get to it but I’ll try to keep each one short to encourage myself to finish them all hehe.

XIAO

I think Xiao would start to fall for you because you see through his tough, mean guy act. You can tell that even though his words are harsh and he’s telling you to leave him alone, he’s just protecting you. You might not see it at first, but as you understand his condition, his karmic debt, you understand him. Your realization makes you feel warm knowing that Xiao is really just an innocent soul who wanted to keep you safe. He wants so badly to never hurt anyone ever again and “repent” in solitude even though he has nothing to really repent for; he was forced to kill by his previous master and his karmic debt only comes from killing the remnants of old gods and absorbing their debt.

You start to hang around him more as a result and, much to Xiao’s dismay, he doesn’t hate it. In fact, he actually enjoys how you reignite the warmth in him, the warmth he hasn’t felt in so long since his fellow Yaksha have passed. But did he want to let you in? Shouldn’t he push you away? He’s been alone for so long, why change that now? He felt like he didn’t deserve to enjoy company again, that he didn’t deserve you and your kindness. But maybe just this time… just once, would he allow it.

WANDERER

I think Wanderer would start to fall for you because you make him feel human emotions like he’s never felt before. He’s always searched for a “heart” in the form of a gnosis, thinking it would make him human and make him feel loved and wanted. But even when he had it, it didn’t feel right. Even now, with his anemo vision, he feels more, but still not what he wants. But with you, it feels perfect. Others would probably describe what he feels as something like “butterflies in my stomach” but since he probably doesn’t really experience physical things like that, being a magical puppet and all, he thinks about how you make his vision glow. When he feels a surge of emotions, it feels like he’s using his vision. It feels powerful, happy, strong, and warm, like how a light breeze feels on a sunny afternoon.

You know about his past, what he did, and how the world wronged him. He’s been so traumatized and can barely comprehend his emotions. So when you reach out to him after he regains his memory and a new anemo vision, you try to help him through his emotions in the gentle way that you do. You’re so soft with him and it makes his vision heart ache. He believes he doesn’t deserve you but you try your best to show him otherwise. As you two get closer, you never really notice, but the wind always picks up just a little bit when he sees you.

DILUC

I think Diluc would start to fall for you because you don’t just see him as “the young and rich son of the Ragnvindr family estate.” You see him for him: Diluc. You see a beautiful soul with a broken heart that has put up walls that he intends to never break down again. Others might think that Diluc is just cold, but you and the others close to him know that no matter how cold he may seem, the pure fire that burns inside him always spreads its warmth to those around him. He’s believed for a while now that barely anyone can see what he’s hiding underneath, that people want him for his money, his property, his material things. But you prove him wrong time and time again. You sweetly say hi to him every time you see him not because you want to put on a facade to get on his good side. You don’t help him break up a fight at the tavern and clean up after because you want a monetary reward. You don’t bake him an adorable strawberry cake for his birthday because you want something back. No, you do it because you care, because you have so much love to give, and Diluc feels so lucky to be a part of your life.

He feels his feelings grow for you as time goes on. He feels you getting closer and he barely hesitates to let you in. You didn’t break down his walls, you politely made a door for yourself to enter and it makes you both laugh to think about it that way. He stays reserved around most others but always holds the door open for you, physically and metaphorically.

Thanks for reading!

Part 2 (will link whenever I finish it!!)

|| MASTERLIST <3 ||

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hazbinwhoree · 2 months

Note

Adam x f!reader

after a one night stand with Adam, around a month or two later she reveals she’s pregnant with his kid..

his reaction and maybe his life when the baby arrives him failing at changing a diaper

him falling asleep on the couch watching tv with his baby on his chest with a tiny spot of drool on his shirt 🥹

bonus

Lute holding the child and then the baby pukes on her

Father Adam

Adam and (Name) had been friends for a long time. Just friends. Until one drunken night, they can’t pretend anymore, and they hookup. The one night stand shakes their friendship, and they don’t talk nearly as much over the next two months.

That’s why Adam is so surprised when he opens his door to find (Name) in tears.

“(Name), what’s wrong?” “Can I come in? You should maybe sit down for this.”

Adam has absolutely no idea what (Name) is about to throw at him, letting her in and sitting next to her on his couch. (Name) pulls something out of her pocket and hands it to Adam. Adam felt the world stop. It was a pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test.

He’s silent for a long minute before shakily asking, “You’re sure it’s mine?”

(Name) hits his arm. “Yes, I’m sure, you’re the only guy I’ve fucked in like a year.”

Adam is silent again, before snapping out of his daze and taking (Name)’s hands into his. “I… I love you.” The tension that had been between them since the one night stand was finally put into words.

Tears poured down her face as she threw her arms around Adam’s neck. Adam pulled her into his lap and (Name) buries her face in his neck. “I love you too.”

The nine months flew by, Adam and (Name) learning to live as a couple before they had to learn how to live as parents.

Luckily, years of friendship made it easy, and their relationship had very few bumps.

Adam was fast asleep when he was abruptly awoken by (Name) shaking him, telling him when he woke in a small, scared voice, “My water broke and I’m having contractions.”

19 hours later, their son was born. Adam, the egotistical bitch he is, insisted on naming their son Adam as well. (Name) allowed it, and they celebrated the arrival of Adam Jr.

They took him home a day later, and Adam basically went through the five stages of grief. He loves his kid and he’s proud to be a father of a child he actually wanted, but he realizes he has no idea how to be a dad, and is now worried he’s going to fuck up his son.

(Name) assures him he won’t fuck up their child and Adam finds himself believing her.

The first night, Adam sleeps straight through the baby crying. The second night, the same thing happened. The third night, (Name) shook him awake and grumbled “Your turn.”

Adam drowsily made his way to the nursery, and crying baby at three in the morning was now his least favorite thing. He sighed, picking his son up out of his crib and carrying him with him to the kitchen.

He bounced and shushed baby Adam while he prepared a bottle of milk. Thank god it was simple enough, all he had to do was heat it up. When he was done and bringing the bottle to his son’s lips, he immediately stopped crying and Adam sighed in relief.

Adam never woke up from the baby crying, he slept like a rock, but (Name) would wake him up and they took turns with the night feedings.

Once Adam half woke up to see (Name) breastfeeding their son in bed next to him. “Me next,” he murmured, before promptly passing back out.

The one thing Adam couldn’t seem to get a handle on was changing diapers. His son had peed on him twice. And something about baby poop smelled especially bad, and he gagged everytime he had to change a poop diaper.

He was such a baby about it that (Name) did most of the diaper changes.

Three months in, and (Name) had two favorite memories.

The first one was when she’d come home from the store to find Adam asleep on the couch, baby Adam asleep on his chest. Despite being knocked out, Adam still had a secure grip on the baby. They were both drooling. Like father like son.

The second was when Lute was holding baby Adam and finally getting comfortable holding a baby when he suddenly threw up on her shirt.

Adam thought it was hilarious. Lute did not.

Adam isn’t the world’s greatest dad by any means, but he’s trying his best.

#hazbin adam #adam x reader #fluff #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin lute #x reader #hazbin valentino #hazbin lucifer #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin niffty #oneshots #oneshot

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sports-on-sundays · 6 months

Text

people change / CL16 / Part 1

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - You wish you could just forget about the relationship. It's hard when you had a son together.

Warnings: 'Y/s/n' means 'your son's name', you are free to imagine the son as whatever age he acts because I leave that unspecified, mention of breaking up/divorce, broken family, censored cussing, getting drunk, toxic relationship, me sucking at writing kids (how do they even act???)

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: This was heavily inspired by the song People Change by for KING & COUNTRY at the end there especially. I listened to it while writing. So you're free to look that up and have a listen. Link to part 2 / Link to part 3

"Hey, sweetie," you say as you buckle your son into the car. "How was your day at school?"

"Fun... But Mama, I didn't know what to do."

"Hm? When didn't you know what to, love?" you ask, concerned.

"Well, we did papers and pictures about our mommies and daddies and our houses and stuff and I didn't know, Mama..."

You stop after he says this, pulling your hands away as they tremble. Your heart, at those words from your son, feels like it's being wrenched out of your chest, and you cough into your arm. "O- Oh, sweetheart..." you clear your throat. "Well, why don't you first draw pictures and write about me and my house, and then you write and draw about your daddy and his house..."

Your son does a pouting face at this. "Mama..." he complains. "Why can't you and Daddy be like other kids' mommies and daddies?"

"Love, I don't think this is the time to be talking about this. Let's just get driving home now." You hate to shut him down, but he's asking too many questions that you just can't answer.

He's asking too many questions that are making you feel too confused and guilty.

"Hey, buddy. What's up?" you smile as you get out of the car to help your son pack his bags into the trunk, and then get in the backseat. You're doing this right outside Charles' house. You're picking him up from his weekend with his dad.

The little boy shrugs as you buckle him in. "I want my grey bag, Mama! Daddy gave me some food for the ride."

"What do you say?"

"Please!" he pouts.

You nod, and give him his bag. Charles is always sure to equip Y/s/n with a bagful of healthy snacks for the hour and forty-five minute drive back home.

The whole ride, Y/s/n is unusually quiet. Even when you try talking to him, he gives short answers and makes no effort to continue the conversation. Which is very unusual from the usually frisky and excitable little boy.

When you get home and go inside, he immediately goes to his room, still not saying anything.

You sigh, feeling worried.

Did...

Did Charles do something?

Even though the two of you separated for big reasons, you've never felt too worried about Y/s/n going to see him every other weekend, except for maybe at the beginning. Over the years, you're pretty sure that Charles has gotten more responsible than how he once was.

"Dinnertime, love!"

Silence.

"Love?"

"I'm not hungry!"

You sigh, the worry sinking deeper. "You should have saved some of your dad's snack for later, then! I made dinner for you!"

Silence. Again.

You walk down the hall and knock on his bedroom door, before gently pushing it open. The little boy is sitting on his red bed. In his hand is his Ferrari hat. He's blankly staring at it.

Oh God no. What did Charles do? What did Charles say? Doesn't he understand the unspoken boundaries about this?

"Y/s/n?" you say gently, sitting down next to him. "What's wrong, sweetie? You know you can tell me. I'm listening."

The boy looks older than he is right now. You feel a sharp pang in your chest as he murmurs, "Why do you and daddy live in different countries? How come I have two houses, two bedrooms... two everything? How come, Mama?"

It takes all you have to not tear up. You wrap your arms tightly around him at this. He leans against you, hugging you back.

"Andre and Alex have a mommy and daddy who live in the same house. How come you and Daddy don't?"

"Y/s/n, it's really complicated, love. But, can I ask... What has got you thinking of all of this, love? What has got this on your mind?" You speak in a very gentle tone, rubbing his back. Obviously, this is upsetting him. Really, though, what kid wouldn't be upset?

Your son looks at you in hesitation. "I'm not allowed to say..."

You feel another pang of worry. "Love, it's okay. You can tell your mama anything."

"But Daddy told me not to."

You swallow nervously. "You're not doing anything wrong by telling me. I'm giving you permission. I can't have you feeling this upset, love. You can tell me anything that's bothering you, even if your father told you not to." Y/s/n is too much of a good kid. You don't know where he gets it from.

You wipe your son's watering eyes, trying to reassure him. He sniffs, before saying, "You won't tell Daddy?"

"Tell Daddy what?"

"What I'm gonna tell you."

You bite your lip. "Of course not, love. I won't tell your daddy."

He nods, before saying, as he starts to really cry, "Daddy cried, Mommy... I wasn't allowed to know but I couldn't sleep because Daddy forgot to read me my story. So I was going in to tell him to snuggle me... because I couldn't sleep. But Daddy was crying..." Y/s/n sniffs, and continues blubbering, "Daddy was talking to someone on the phone and he was really sad... I don't know why Daddy was crying, Mama. He said he was sad because he missed you and me to the person on the phone. Daddy was so sad so I don't know why we don't make Daddy happy and why can't my mommy and daddy be like my friends' mommies and daddies?" He lets out a sob, snuggling into you. You're speechless as your son continues, "I went and gave Daddy a hug because he was sad. He said he missed you. He asked me why I was up and said I was in trouble and said I wasn't allowed to tell you he was sad and crying. He said even daddies cry sometimes," he sniffs and lets out another sob. You hold him tight, eyes wide. "I asked him how come he was sad and he said he didn't know and he loved me and then we went to bed. I don't get it, Mama."

You try not to tremble.

Fighting off tears, because the last thing Y/s/n needs is to see his mom cry on top of it all. Not sad tears, though. Angry tears.

Why can't Charles just let go? He's so possessive and obsessive. F*ck him and his Monaco flat and his boat and his Ferrari and everything f*cking else. Why would he let his son see him so vulnerable. Doesn't he care? F*ck him.

Why can't he just let go?

You walk down the hall of the mall, your son's little hand in yours, heading to the food court because eventually, Y/s/n's complaining about how 'I'm hungryyyyy!' got too annoying, and you gave in.

Suddenly, though, his little hand slips out of yours. You look down at him in confusion, starting to say his name. He starts running away. You're about to go after him, but suddenly freeze when the little boy shouts, "Look, Mama, look! It's Daddy! Daddy! Hi, Daddy! Hiiiii!"

And sure enough, Charles Leclerc stops as soon as he sees his son, a grin spreading across his face. He adjusted his cap to be lower on his forehead, clearly trying to go incognito here. But he bends down, and the moment little Y/s/n reaches Charles, his father scoops him up into his arms, standing up with an, "Auwgh," noise, as if it were really hard for the strong man to pick up his light son. Charles holds him tight, in an embrace, before saying, "What's up, buddy? Where's your mama?" Y/s/n points, and Charles looks up.

Your eyes meet. And everything stops. The voices, the music, the whir of the escalators, the lights, heating, and air conditioning all making their own sounds, the people walking past- everyone else living their own lives disappear.

And it's just you and Charles, eyes locked, staring at each other.

Heartbeats or seconds or minutes, you don't know. You feel a certain electricity that hurts. Shocks you. Maybe Charles likes how it feels though. Maybe he loves that, with his adrenaline seeking lifestyle. Because, after all, he doesn't look away.

But in the same way, you don't either.

Finally, it's your son that breaks the trance you seemed to go into with your ex-husband, by saying suddenly words that stress you out and tear you apart at the same time: "See, Daddy?" He pats his father's cheek, which has a little bit of facial hair. "You don't have to cry anymore... You don't..." Suddenly, he looks a little scared, realizing he wasn't supposed to say that, but finishes softly with, "You don't have to miss Mama anymore, Daddy, because she's right here..."

There's almost a pleading in your son's eyes. A longing. You feel yourself start to tear up, but you strive to hold them back. Y/s/n. He loves us. He loves his parents so much. He just wishes they would love each other.

Charles shakes his head in surprise, stroking Y/s/n's hair, "Buddy, it's okay. Don't worry. I'm okay. I don't-" he falters for just a moment before finishing quickly, glancing to you nervously, "I don't miss Mama anymore. Don't worry."

"But I miss Mama." At this, both of you look at your son in confusion.

"But Y/s/n, Mama is right here," Charles says carefully, taking more steps closer to you. "See? Do you want to go with M-"

"No!" your son suddenly snaps, and says as if it is the most obviously thing on earth, "When I'm with Daddy, I miss Mama. When I'm with Mama, I miss Daddy. I don't wanna miss you guys!"

All the sudden, it's too much for you. All of it. Before Charles can do anything else you say quickly, your voice obviously cracking and your breath shaky, "Charles, can you take him home today? I'm sorry-"

"Of course, Y/n. I-"

You turns, jogging away. You need to get out of there.

But as you run out, you hear Charles call after you, "Y/n! Y/n, wait! Y/n, we're going to talk on the phone tonight, okay? There's things we still need to go over!"

At around 3:00 A.M., Charles calls. While you're worried to answer, you're also relieved. The fact that you're still awake at 3:00 A.M. shows how much anxiety you've been feeling about getting this call from Charles.

When you pick up, you murmur softly, "Hey, Charles."

"Sorry I'm calling at this hour. God. I just had to make sure Y/s/n was sound asleep. I'm, uhm," he pauses to clear his throat awkwardly, and continues in a softer, more delicate voice, "I'm sure Y/s/n told you about the phone call the other weekend..."

"Y- Yeah, he did. What did you do? Did you scare him into not telling me? He was crying," you say, your voice becoming harder and harder as you speak.

"What?! No! I just asked him please not to tell you. That was it. Maybe he was crying because..." Charles trails off.

"Because why?" you snap, although the sinking feeling within tells you exactly why.

"Y/n..." he sighs loudly. "Because our son loves us and doesn't get why... w- we... don't- don't, uhm.... love each other." The facts that he falters so much on that last phrase, that it's so hard for him to get out, sends a pit in your stomach. Of dread, and anger.

And without another hesitation, you just say it. "Charles... you still love me, don't you?"

There's silence over the phone. Sickly, disgusting, terrible silence. The anger rises up in you higher and higher, like a pressure, trying to push you on your tipping point. So finally you snap, probably way too loud, "Charles, what the hell! F*ck you. I hate you, you f*cking asshole. You're too much of a f*cking coward to even say it! Just like you've always been!" Your voice gets louder and louder. "Just like you've always been! Too much of a f*cking coward to admit anything! You tricked me! You had me thinking everything was peaches and cream, but it wasn't! You were being a terrible person and played innocent, and whenever I asked you anything, you did the same exact thing you still do. You just keep silent. Charles, I know you'll never grow, I hate that my son has to see your sorry ass every other weekend, and if I knew it wouldn't break his sweet little heart, I would wish your pathetic silent self would just fall off the face of the earth so I didn't have to ever have to listen to your stupid, pathetic silence ever again."

"Y/n, I-" You hang up. Charles doesn't try to call back.

Years ago.

Charles came in and stumbled into your arms, as if you were the one that needed to take care of him. You were tired, having stayed up with your fussy baby boy nearly all night, with no help, and you wanted to cry. You didn't want Charles to stumble in, drunk, right into your arms, as if he was the one who needed help. No. He was the one causing the problem. He had reeked of alcohol. He didn't get drunk this often, and you knew exactly why he was doing it now, although he'd been too scared while sober to admit it to you. It was the argument you'd had, and his way of coping was going out, getting drunk, and coming home to his wife and baby at three in the morning, wasted. Now, while drunk out of his mind, he was able to murmur, his words slurred tremendously, "Y/n... I'm sorry, love... You should've come with me tonight. I had fun... We could... make up for that argument..." He had a sickly seductive tone in his voice.

You felt rage fill up in you. Did you forget about your son? The son that you and I created together? Did you forget about that? Instead of letting any of that rage escape you, you just brought him to the bedroom and helped him into bed. You left him, walked to the living room, sat down on the couch, and held your aching, tired head, pulling at your hair, as tears escaped your closed eyelids.

Your world was spinning. Everything was wrong.

The argument. You had started it. And yelled at him. About how he was a coward and never told the truth. Even though you loved him. You thought. You must've. You... You had a son together. You yelled at him for telling you he was working when he wasn't. You yelled at him that he wasn't helping you at all and that you were going out of your mind. You said you felt like a single mom because he was never around, never helped, and never tried to. He lied and told you that an event he had mentioned that you were excited for was cancelled because he had found out more things about the event that he didn't want to deal with himself. He was becoming more and more selfish, showing who he really was more and more every single day. It just made you think- what is he doing when he gets drunk? What else is he being dishonest about?

Eventually you stopped loving him. You loved your son much more, so you broke it off. The final tipping point was when you suspected he had cheated, although nothing had ever proved that. But that was when you finally broke it off.

He was heartbroken. He held onto you. No, Y/n, please don't do this. I'll try better. I'll try better. You had told him that he had been saying he'd try better for the past year.

He had cried. Maybe even sobbed. You only saw him sob twice. Once was one time when he was drunk out of his mind, and the other one was that night when you told him you were breaking it off. I guess Y/s/n has seen him sob a third time, though.

He had said to you that he still loved you. You had said if you loved me, you wouldn't have done this. And that was the end of it.

Or so you thought.

You can't believe you're here. You can't believe he convinced you. You set up for your mother to watch Y/s/n while you drive into Monaco and.

Well, yeah. Go to Charles' God-forsaken house. To meet with him. 'Have a talk' as he put it. 'In real life.' So he can 'see your face and expressions.' And 'understand better.'

Charles opens the door. He's wearing a black t-shirt, grey jeans, and has his usual assortment of different bracelets on his wrists. And a disgustingly expensive watch. As you walk into his (beautiful) flat, you see that it hasn't changed much since you left and moved a couple hours closer to home, back in France. Just a little cleaner. But just like how it was when you lived here, there's still a stray toy on the floor here and there. As if reading your mind, he bends down, picking up a few of them, before putting them in a basket in the corner of the room. He runs his hand through his messy, wavy brown hair, looking a little awkward. "Why don't you sit down?" he asks softly, gesturing to the couch by a nod of his head. "Make yourself... comfortable... Uh... I made some cookies. Consider it a peace offering. And I... I really tried to make them good, too. I'm just going to go grab them." And before you can think or react, he's walking out of the room to grab them.

When he returns with the cookies, he sits down next to you, holding the little plate out to you. You hesitantly take one, nibbling off a little bite, nervously glancing to Charles. "It's fine..." you say. In your taste, too sweet (and slightly gooey) but besides that, alright. "But I just want to get this over with, okay? Charles can we just... have this talk? So I can go?"

Your ex husband stared down, before nodding slowly. "Yeah... Of course." He falters, before murmuring, "I love our son just as much as you do. And it hurts me to see him-"

"My God, Charles, shut up. I know what this is about. It's about you being selfish," the bitterness in your voice surprised even yourself, "You're being selfish because for some twisted reason, you still want to be with me, and you're using my son's pain as an excuse. You're just as you've always been- selfish, lying, and making excuses."

"Y/n, no it's not!" he snaps, his eyes pleading. "I- I- I want the best for our son."

"Charles, do you still love me?"

He stares at you. Hesitates. Falters. He inhales a shaky breath, before looking down at his hands in his lap. "All these years I've never dated another woman. All these years the guilt has crushed me."

"Shut up!" you spit. "It's not guilt, Charles, of hurting me your or son. It's guilt because you wouldn't wanted to be with me longer. It's selfish. You're f*cking selfish!"

He practically begs, "Please, babe, just listen-"

"What did you just call me?"

He stares in surprise at what he just said. He swallows. "I'm sorry- It- It just came out..."

You glare, and shout, "You still love me, you dick! I hate you! You- You cheated on me!"

He cuts you off by grabbing your arm suddenly. There's a desperate look in his eyes. "Y/n... No, I didn't... I swear it on my life.. On my job, on everything I love... I would..." You're shocked to watch as a singular tear gently rolls down one of his cheeks. He's holding back more. The salty, warm tear drops right onto your palm. You wipe it off. Charles eyes plead with you as he murmurs, his voice cracking, "I would never cheat on you..."

You stare, trying to form more words, not knowing what to say.

But Charles continues, "I don't know where you got the idea I cheated on you... I know it was hard and I was being..." Suddenly there is guilt and grief openly painted all across his face. "I was being a terrible person... Giving up the most lovely, sweet wife and baby I could've ever asked for... I was young and stupid, Y/n...Y/n... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I swear I mean it...

"I would do anything for this to work."

Another tear falls.

"Y/n... just listen... I need you to hear me out..."

He sniffs. He seems so broken. Vulnerable. Honest.

"It's all my fault, Y/n. I know. I know. I'm sorry. And I get if you're afraid... I would be, too... but, Y/n... I wish you could just understand that... that...

"Y/n, people change."

Author's Note- Just wanted to say if you guys liked this and want a part two, I'm totally open to writing that! Let me know if you want a part two, and if you have any ideas, shoot! Like should I end this happy? Or not...? And in what way? If no one gives me ideas, I'll just come up with it, but you guys are extremely welcome to let me know!!! Thank you! <3

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lazycats-stuff · 3 months

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Artist toddler batbro! Can't help but draw/ paint at least once a day and at the end of the day batfam is anticipating who will be the lucky family member that'll receive which ever art piece their youngest has created that day (sometimes the art piece is on the walls or floor of the mansion but no one has the heart to be angry when little batbro is just proudly presenting his art)

Toddler batbro *leaves a paint covered tiny handprint on the wall*

Bruce: alfred, frame that

Oh my, that's cute. Oh my God... Aww. Also, I know it's short, but this is all my inspiration is willing to give at this moment. Next time, I'll try to write more.

Summary: (Y/N) is an artist.

Warnings: None, really fluffy

Every child has a talent. Whether that be in sports or arts, every child has a hidden talent for something. Even if some kids are average, there is nothing wrong with it. Bruce, amongst his four older sons, had a toddler. Yes, a toddler.

How did it happen?

A one night stand. The mom couldn't take care of (Y/N) and Bruce took him in and the other 4 accepted (Y/N) as if he was their blood brother and Bruce was grateful that they did it. Of course, they had to change their schedules to accommodate to make sure that (Y/N) was a priority. Of course, no one minded to do that.

And speak of talents? While his four older sons had their own specialties. Damian had his knowledge of blades and martial arts, Tim for his hacking and detective skills, Jason for his accuracy with guns and other firearms and Dick with his acrobatic skills.

(Y/N) was an artistic child. He didn't show it at first, but as he got more comfortable, he started asking for paper and crayons. Crayons slowly evolved into something more and (Y/N) would draw daily. It could be anything. It could be a couch or even Titus. Maybe it would be one of the boys too.

And, at the moment, there was a big honor in the house. What that honor may be? (Y/N) handing you his own artwork. It became a tradition and sort of a competition between everyone. Everyone wanted to see what (Y/N) has created that day.

It was considered the biggest honor in the manor, to get a piece of paper, created by (Y/N). It makes everyone's day when they get an artwork. Dick nearly cried. Damian was close to crying too. Alfred and Bruce got one too and the two grown men, who have seen stuff... Safe to say, they nearly broke down into tears and shambles.

Nearly.

But there was a one problem in this entire story. (Y/N) wouldn't limit himself to drawing on paper. Oh no. Many parents would punish the child if the child drew on the walls or floor. Right? Well... Not if you are (Y/N) Wayne who is clearly artistically talented.

(Y/N) would often draw whenever he could, even if that meant on the wall or the floor. And whoever saw (Y/N) drawing on the floor or the wall, didn't have a heart to even yell or be remotely angry, especially since (Y/N) had that shine in his eyes when he was showing them their art.

Bruce wasn't supposed allow (Y/N) to paint over the walls or the floor. That's what Bruce was supposed to correct. A correct thing to do... Right? Well, Bruce didn't know. Parenting doesn't have a book and a set of rules, but Bruce wished he had some sort of rules so he could solve this.

He can keep on dreaming when it comes to universal rules for a perfect parenting style.

But he has actually decided what he was going to do, without a doubt. (Y/N) was allowed to doddle and draw wherever he wanted. That was something that was relayed to all the other members, whoever, they put certain restrictions.

No drawing in their rooms without supervision. Bruce's study was also off limits if there is no supervision. And only at home is doodling and drawing allowed.

Because Bruce is just ready to frame it all. Alfred already has frames ready to go.

It was always fun.

As of now, (Y/N) was doodling on the wall, just sitting on the floor, without a care in the world. Bruce and Alfred were walking by, stopping when they saw (Y/N) drawing. This time, it was just a simple handprint.

Bruce was smiling and instructed (Y/N) to go wash his hands and then eat. Bruce and Alfred looked at the handprint on the wall.

" Alfred, frame that. " Bruce said and Alfred did just that. Took out a frame and made sure that handprint was framed. And it looked adorable.

" He is growing up too quickly, Master Bruce. " Alfred said said as he looked at the little handprint.

" I agree Alfred. " Bruce said sadly.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader

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queenimmadolla · 1 year

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I need a part in the penny verse where the whole Eddie telling baby bump penny that her mom is going to be a MILF comes into play.

Like one we day the reader is picking up penny from school and maybe another kids dad flirts with her or like a new neighbor of theirs does and maybe Eddie’s reaction to that

Not even gonna front with you, I've been sitting on this for a min because I wrote it and then freaking forgot about it. I did take some creative liberties, but I think you'll like what I got for ya. Ps, ‘baby bump penny’ had my heart throwing up, I always forget that we get her in different phases of her existence and she was once in reader’s belly 🥹💘

to everyone else, sorry, I can't link shit but this is a follow up to a ton of other pennyverse entries so you can search that on my tumblr until the links work again. and i'm trying the keep reading cut again, let me know if it fucks up the post.

(dad!eddie munson x mom!reader)

Summary: Something's been bothering you these last couple of weeks and you won't tell Eddie what it is. Like that'll stop him, he's determined to figure it out.

warnings: a creepy (and freaking terrible) dad hits on reader, implied unwelcome advances, crude comments about reader and the female body (eddie sets this fucker straight), protective!eddie :)

Eddie knew you. He knew every fiber of your being, every marker in your past, all the ways you liked to style your hair, how you decided on what makeup to put on that day—if you even wore any—,the different types of silence you’d sink into and what they meant, your body (god, he was intimately in tune with it), and every different smile you wore. Eddie knew you.

He just didn’t know exactly what went on in that beautiful head of yours. Eddie was positive he had a sixth sense catered only to you, it’d let him know whenever there was something wrong, something bothering you. It prompted him to approach you, watch you even more than he already did. Putting himself metaphorically in your shoes usually helped him figure it out the rest of the way, but for this particular occurrence, he had nothing to go on.

For the past couple of weeks, since Penny had started preschool, you’d moved your work schedule around to go in earlier so you’d be out in time to pick Penny up from school and snag the baby from Maude and Wayne, who watched him while you and Eddie were at work.

Eddie noticed a change in you. It was minor at first, a little frazzled when he’d get home, but you hid it well. Now, you looked bothered. Always zoned out, with a frown on your face. You never left the house like that, always gave him and the kids kisses before you went on your merry way (well, as happy as you could be going to a desk job), so it had to be something that happened after you left home that bothered you.

It wasn’t work, you’d rant to Eddie about it if you had a bad day but you liked to leave work problems at your desk when you left it, something about not being paid to worry or think about work after hours.

It bugged the fuck out of him. He’d tried to approach the subject before, leaving you openings to tell him what was going on but you always shrugged it off and went on about your day as if you hadn’t been upset over something. You couldn’t hide it completely, though. Not from Eddie, he could still see those split seconds where your mind wandered off and the corners of your lips twitched down.

Given how stubborn you were, Eddie decided he’d need to take a more hands on approach. Since he suspected something was happening after you left home in the mornings and before he got home from work, he’d have to be present for that timeframe.

He’d left work around lunchtime, Norm was understanding about it and didn't really care all that much since it was a relatively slow day for business.

His son had been delighted when he picked him up from his Grandpa and (grandma) Maude’s, squirming and wiggling in her hold until Eddie got a hold of him. Baby Wayne had immediately placed his hands on Eddie’s jaw, urging his dad to bend his head so he could rest his forehead against his own, those big eyes of his fluttering shut the moment they connected and soft coos of dada mumbled in between them, unlike Penny had, Wayne caught onto the baby babble of mama and dada. Penny hadn’t because one of you was always helicoptering around her so Princess Penny hadn’t felt the need.

Eddie would never get over how much his baby seemed to love cuddling with his parents, everytime baby Wayne was affectionate, he turned into goo, melting in his chubby hands. They lingered in the trailer for a couple of minutes while Eddie and big Wayne discussed how things were going in the apartment, though it had been more than a year since they’d moved in. Naturally, Wayne had asked why he was stopping by so early to pick up the baby so your change in demeanor came up in conversation.

“Mmm, I been noticin’ ‘er actin’ odd whenever she comes to pick up little man. Seems fine when she gets ‘ere. ‘S when she leaves, she seems a little…”

“Hesitant?” Eddie supplied and Wayne nodded, mouth pressed in a firm line.

It was then that Maude Maple spoke up, something the widow rarely did in the presence of anyone other than Wayne, and it was with great hesitance.

“She—she mentioned something once, about the pick up at Penny’s preschool. She didn’t go into too much detail, I think she’s bothered by it.”

“Looks like I’m on pick-up duty today.”

After leaving Wayne and Maude’s and asking the latter to give you a call at work to let you know he picked the baby up, Eddie spent the rest of the afternoon with baby Wayne. It involved a food fight—yes, Eddie flung some back at him, he had it coming, when Wayne had decided he was done being fed and done with food that wasn’t coming from your boob so he’d thrown the macaroni at his dad’s face—a shared shower to rid evidence of said food fight, jamming out (terribly) on toy musical instruments before Eddie gave him a bottle and some cuddles while he put Wayne down for his nap. . . And fell asleep with him.

You came home to a suspiciously quiet apartment, a little too clean, save for a couple of toys in the living room. You found your boys in Wayne’s nursery, both of them in the crib.

It was a heartwarming and comical sight, Eddie’s legs were dangling outside of the crib and the baby was curled up on his chest, though he stirred at the sound of the door opening, pushing himself up off his dad as he blinked lazily at you, mouth parting to reveal a couple of little white nubs in his gummy smile, teeth coming in.

He cooed softly, once. When you didn’t immediately go pick him up, he let out a stream of coos, loud and demanding but still loving as he tried to entice you over. When you still stood there giggling, he got mad, seemingly joining you in your laughter with his fake and very forced sounding baby laugh which quickly morphed into fake cries as he pushed himself to his feet and stood on Eddie’s chest, clinging to the bars of his crib as though he were a locked up criminal.

Eddie groaned, hands moving to grab your son and you finally made your way over, picking Wayne up—much to his utter delight—to relieve Eddie of his weight.

“Ouch, dude. You can’t just stand on people like that, it’s rude.” He croaked out, as his son’s weight was lifted off of his chest.

Eddie couldn’t even be annoyed, not when he could see Wayne scrambling eagerly in your arms, face rubbing into your neck, chest, cheek, anywhere the little guy could reach in his desperation and excitement to be as close as he could to his mama.

After giving Wayne’s tummy some tickles, amplifying his excited wiggles with a few ‘so excited, so excited’s, you leaned over so the both of you could stare down at Eddie, amusement cloaking your pretty features.

“I think it might be time to get you a big boy bed.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh and then groaned once more as he tried to sit up as much as he could, which wasn’t a whole lot given the fact half of him was hanging out of the crib.

“This is gonna be fun,” he mumbled, but eventually he was able to maneuver himself out of it without breaking it. He placed his hands on his lower back, arching until it gave away to a satisfying pop.

“Oh, yeah. That’s good.”

“Daddy’s so silly, huh?” You asked your son, bouncing him in your arms as you placed a kiss on his curly head before directing your next question to Eddie, “Is everything okay, baby?”

“Just peachy, honey.” He was definitely gonna have to ask you to rub his back tonight. “Wanted to have some one-on-one time with him, even if he regularly abandons me the moment you’re in sight.”

Eddie reached a finger out to tickle Wayne’s stomach, smirking when he laughed and tried to hide further in your hold.

You smiled at their interaction, though the joy quickly flitted from your expression, “Do you want to watch him? While I go pick up Penny?”

Another obvious tell something was wrong: you’d chosen to come home, put an intentional stop between getting off of work and picking up Penny. It was almost as though you needed time to prepare yourself, which was a giant freaking red flag to Eddie considering you used to drive straight over to her school and wait for her.

“Why don’t you stay with him? I can go pick her up.”

The light returned to your eyes.

“Really? I mean—I don’t mind, I don’t want to get in the way of your bonding time.”

“He’s clearly over me,” The sentence was whispered at his son with fake aggression, which left Wayne a giggling mess once more, Eddie chuckled and gave his son’s chin an affectionate squeeze and wiggle, “I’ll pick up Princess Penelope, she loves the disapproving looks people give me.”

“Shut up!” You laughed, leaning up to give him a kiss before he snatched his keys off the counter.

“I’ll see you soon, beautiful.”

“Say bye-bye to daddy!” You encouraged your baby, bouncing him a little against your hip. “Buh-buh.” He waved his chunky little hand, smiling wide for his dad.

When Eddie collapsed into the door, hand clenched over his heart, you added, “Blow daddy a kiss!” Baby Wayne lifted his palm to his mouth briefly before extending his arm out in Eddie’s direction, “Mah!” Eddie pretended to catch it, smacked the invisible kiss over his mouth and blew one right back at his baby before he forced himself out the door.

His kid was so cute, it was a federal offense. The drive to Penny’s preschool was short, thanks to living close by. Eddie hopped out of the van–he and a couple of the guys from the shop installed a backseat prior to Penny’s birth–and made his way to the waiting area. Eddie had never gone to a preschool as a kid so he couldn’t exactly judge the pick up and drop off routine, but Penny’s preschool rarely allowed anyone in. They simply walked up to one of the entrance doors, rang a special doorbell attached to the building, and one of the teachers or aides or whatever would verify the adult picking them up if they didn’t recognize them and then bring the kid out.

Which meant Eddie had to stand around with other adults. There’d been a couple of them already waiting when he’d arrived, so he’d made himself comfortable on a nearby column as he waited, mind once more preoccupied with reasons as to why you didn’t seem to enjoy picking Penny up anymore. You liked Penny’s teacher, could it be one of the aides giving you a hard time? No. That’s something you would have told him.

Eddie was so distracted, he hadn’t noticed another body settle against the wall across from him.

“You a new dad? Haven’t seen you around before.”

“What?” Eddie blinked, roused from his thoughts. The guy across from him looked like he was in his mid thirties, dressed in a skeezy suit that looked like it belonged on a car lot rather than an office, and had really big, overly white teeth he couldn’t seem to put away.

“Not a new dad, a new dad to this school. Although, you do look a little young.” The stranger clarified with a shrug.

There was something about him that Eddie immediately disliked. He could tell this was not only their first interaction, it would also be their last.

“No, I usually do the drop off.” Eddie stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, eyes flashing back to the entrance door just in time to make eye contact with one of the aides, he saw the recognition in her eyes before she closed the door again and felt less annoyed with the situation knowing she’d be retrieving Penny.

He hadn’t really left room for conversation, but the guy still continued.

“Gotcha, gotcha.” His head bobbed around, Eddie thought if he listened carefully enough, he could hear his brain rattling in there, “I used to be on drop off duty myself, but I hated getting the kids ready. I’ve got four of those little monsters, every little task takes goddamn near twenty minutes.” Oh, no. This guy didn’t say it with annoyance, no, he seemed contemptuous when he talked about his kids. Eddie didn’t like that.

“Wouldn’t be so bad if my wife could just get a grip on them,” Maybe she could if she had help, you’re clearly useless, “Name’s Neil, by the way.” Eddie just raised his chin in acknowledgement. One would think ol’ Neil would catch on to Eddie not wanting to talk to him, but one would be wrong. “Yup. ‘S why I’m not on drop off duty. Sure, the pick up has its faults, kids always smell like a stale fart from all that running around and they’re babbling non-stop the whole ride, but I think you’ll find you’ll like being on pick-up duty,” Then he leaned in, like he was telling a secret and whispered out, “Most of the hot moms do the pick-ups.”

That sixth sense Eddie had for you? Yeah, it was on freaking fire, hot red and jumping around. He was positive he now knew the reason behind your discomfort with picking Penny up.

Some fucking creep wouldn’t leave you alone. Eddie’s jaw ticked, hands clenched into fists from the insides of his pockets. He didn’t say anything, but that wasn’t necessary with this guy.

“Man, you should see some of them. You gotta wonder why they only have one kid, I’d be all over that.” He gave a low whistle before he let out the most unflattering of cackles.

“You missed most of the show, but there’s this one mom–god, the body on this one. . .and she’s always done up, think she works in an office or something, but she’s a sight for sore eyes. A real MILF. She’s only got one kid, too. Little girl she picks up, so you know she’s tight.”

Eddie would be committing a crime, because he knew he was talking about you. He was going to murder this asshole. He was gonna strangle Neil with his own intestines and get rid of the body in the town dump where he belonged.

He must have not noticed the crazed glint in Eddie’s eyes because the idiot kept going, “I know what you’re thinking, I’m not actively planning on doing anything. Haven’t seen her in a couple of days, pretty sure she’s working late or something because she’s gotta be snatching this kid up late. Heard she’s married to some greasy mechanic and a pretty little thing like that coming to pick up her kid with these dads around? Shit, I wouldn’t be letting her out of the house. He’s signing her up for this. You gotta wonder if she likes the attention. She’s got this shy thing going on, though. Always so meek when I’m chatting her up. Not like my wife.” Neil’s face contorted in disdain, “Four fucking kids, man.” Okay, Eddie would be murdering him on behalf of you, and his wife. And the rest of the human population. He’d had enough, it was time to make sure this shit wouldn’t be continuing. “You got any pictures?” Eddie asked, feigning interest for the first time since he’d come up to him. Neil scoffed and dug around in his pocket, “Wife won’t let me go anywhere without them, you know how it is. Constant reminders and all that, like she doesn’t trust me to not forget.”

Eddie tried not to snatch the photo out of his slimy hands, frown deepening when he realized Neil’s story about having a wife and kids was not in fact made up. Four beaming little faces stared back up at Eddie, with a pretty fifth smile in the picture. She was severely out of her husband’s league, seemingly juggling all the responsibilities on her own, all of them underappreciated and unfortunately stuck with him.

“Beautiful family,” He commented, eyes flashing to the door just as it opened to reveal Penny and the aide. He returned the photo and pulled out his wallet from his pocket by its chain. Eddie flashed the photo inside to Neil, who immediately looked like he was going to shit himself. The photo was of you sitting on the couch, Wayne sitting between your legs and Penny standing on the cushion next to you, clutching your shoulder as you all smiled for him.

Eddie slipped the wallet back into his pocket, and just as Penny began to run over, he leaned in to whisper like Neil had earlier, “Here’s what’s gonna happen: you're not ever gonna talk to my wife again or I’ll fuck you up. If you so much as look in her direction, I’ll kill you. If you think about her, I’ll beat you 'til the bones of my knuckles break through the skin. I’ll make sure you experience pain like you’ve never felt before. Bones can heal, but I promise you they don’t grow back, you pathetic fucking worm. You don’t deserve your wife, who gave you four fucking beautiful children, and you don’t deserve your kids, either. If I ever see her in public, I’m gonna tell her that so you’d better start appreciating her now. I’ve got a friend who wants a ton of kids and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me sending him their way. Got it?” Neil, good ol’ clammy, pale faced Neil swallowed hard and silently nodded as Penny finally reached him, arms already outstretched. Eddie swooped her up before she ran into him, relishing in the way her arms wrapped tightly around him in a hug. And this fucker was annoyed to have four little people who gave him these.

“Hi, sweet pea! Daddy’s just gonna finish up this conversation with Neil here and we’ll head home to mama, okay?”

Penny nodded eagerly, turning her head to stare inquisitively at the man she knew was her friend Izzy’s dad.

Eddie took Penny’s backpack off of her with her help and slid it over his free arm, “I’m glad we understand each other, Neil. And if we don’t, my buddy Steve’s on speed dial.”

He smirked as he walked away, leaving Neil both dumbstruck and terror stricken. Eddie didn’t even stop when he recalled a small inaccuracy Neil had mentioned, calling over his shoulder, “And we have two kids!”

What a jerk.

“Tell me about your day?” Eddie asked as he slid open the backseat door and leaned forward so Penny could climb into her booster seat. “Oh, boy, daddy! It was long! First, teacher said we were gonna draw with crayons but she change-ed her mind and we got to paint with our fingers instead!” She displayed her clean, paint free fingers for him as Eddie buckled her in, “Oh, yeah? Did you paint me a picture?” “Yeah, ‘s in my pack pack. But we only gotted to paint for a little while ‘cause Stanley tried to eat it.” “Not again, Stanley.” “I know!” Penny filled him in the rest of the drive home, while he got her out of her seat, the entire walk into the apartment building, only stopping when he opened the door for her and she caught sight of you. “MOMMY!” She let go of Eddie’s hand to run into your waiting arms. “Hi, baby! Did you have a good day at school?” You asked after you’d gotten in a good cuddle squeeze. “Uh huh! I painted with my fingers!” Penny ran back to Eddie and dug around in the backpack now dangling at his side until she retrieved a very poorly folded piece of thick paper. “I gotta show Waynie, first!” She bypassed you and ran straight for her baby brother, who was clutching the seat cushion of the couch and bobbing up and down. He’d be walking any day now. Eddie set Penny’s yellow backpack down on the counter as he closed the distance between you, arms wrapping around your middle to pull you flush up against him. “I don’t know how you do it, they make you wait forever.” He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours as you laughed. “It’s not that bad!”

“Yeah, well, regardless, you should be having a much easier time picking her up.”

It was easy for you to read between the lines and pick up his real meaning. Your eyes widened in surprise for a moment before they softened, and you leaned further into him, hands resting on Eddie’s shoulders. “Thank you.” You’d been afraid to mention the invasive and unwelcome attention you’d gained from one of the dads. Ashamed. He’d been vulgar, blatant and creepy. Even on the days he wouldn't approach you, you could still feel his eyes on you, on your body. It made you feel gross and cheap, even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. You’d politely tried to get away from him when you’d find yourself in that situation, but where you went, he followed. Soon, you’d begun waiting in your parked car until Neil left, and when that wasn’t good enough, you’d either go home and wait until just before they closed–which you hated because you didn’t like to keep Penny waiting there when she could be at home–or wait in the parking lot at work until you’d make it when all the other kids were mostly gone. It was draining, and made you dread the end of the work day.

“You never have to thank me,” Eddie leaned down just as you leaned up to kiss him, mouths mingling a little more on the wet side since you knew neither of your kids’ attention was on you. When you finally broke away, Eddie licked his lips and sighed. “Seriously, though. I don’t know how you do it. Men are gross and creepy, I wanted to deck him before he even really said anything. And what he did say–ugh. Let me know if you see his head turn in your direction, honey, ‘cause I made a promise I’m eager to not break.” You hummed appreciatively as you leaned up for more kisses, “My hero.”

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lilrainbowcloud · 3 months

Text

Echo

Pairing: Percy Jackson x Child of Apollo Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff maybe

Word count: 1.25k [masterlist]

Requested by @almost-gabrielle

An arrow sailed through the air as you calculated the distance between you and them. Concluding that you won't make it in time, you decided to turn on your weapon to the person who you were once familiar with.

The arrow planted itself on the trunk of a tree nearby, wheezing past Backbiter and Riptide from clashing together again, earning a gasp from them. Stunned in place momentarily from a third party as you ran towards them.

Your dominant hand knocked another arrow to the bow as you stopped in front of Percy, raising the tip towards Luke. You were horrified from the deathly stare Luke had given Percy from yards away when you went looking for them.

Not knowing what was happening, you felt the need to protect Percy even if he just had been in camp for a short amount of time. But with the gift of being able to acquire the knowledge of prophecies, due to your father being Apollo, you had the conscious thought of who's in the right or wrong.

“[Y/N]? What are you doing here?” Sounding more shocked than irritated, a shadow of guilt and shame passed his face for one of his longtime friends from the camp had witnessed his becoming.

“Could've asked you the same thing, Castellan.” The usage of his last name did earn a reaction out of him. Displeased as you had never addressed him as such. You readjusted your grip on the tail end of the arrow.

“Give me a chance to explain things to you, [Y/N],” Lowering his double edged sword, his demeanor and tone changed as that of an adult consulting a child. Or one that was trying to manipulate. You knew of those tactics used.

“Don't listen to him!” Percy exclaimed from behind you. Then, he told you of Luke’s plan to recruit and to restore the being of Kronos.

Horror filled your veins as you listened to how absurd the string of words were.

“How-, why?” Was what you managed to give out as your eyebrows furrowed looking at the son of Hermes in front of you.

“One day I’ll make you understand,” Taking a few steps back, you almost didn't see the portal that had opened up behind Luke in which the direction you thought he was going, “And you will join me,” Looking over your shoulder, he spoke directly to the boy behind you, “Especially you, Percy.”

Then he disappeared.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“No, no. I'm fine,”

Just then, you saw that he was gripping his bicep, a dark flow of red was blooming on the fabric of his flannel. A grimace on his face.

“Oh my god, Percy.” Without a word you guided him to the infirmary after making a makeshift tourniquet by sacrificing your overshirt. Being in cabin 7 meant that you had access to the infirmary at all times in case of emergency. And this was an emergency.

Cleaning a wound and healing it with a salve was a common occurrence in your days. Muscle memory took hold of you as you sat Percy down on one of the beds and ordered him to stay still as you worked on his injury.

It was quite between the two of you. The only sound coming from your working and the soft crashing of the water near the river. The celebration from your team winning Capture the Flag had died down as everybody dispersed.

Both too occupied with racing thoughts trying to process what had happened. You both lost a friend and what you had considered your family.

Pulling your mind and focus back into reality, though it felt like you were trudging through muddied water each step making you sink deeper, you took a seat next to Percy on the bed. Exhaustion took over every fiber of your body as your tired eyes stared into the wooden wall.

“How are you feeling, Percy?” Managing a turn of your head towards him, you saw him shaking his head slowly, unfocused eyes trained to the wall in front the same as you. You felt awful for him to experience such a thing. And to ask such a stupid question. But it was a natural question one might say.

Of course you're not okay.

Betrayed by the person who got you to accept and introduce your new life only for them to turn it around.

Feeling drained, you stood up to leave him be. Maybe your presence was not required. Maybe he needed the company of his best friend? Who were you to him anyway? The best thing you could offer was your aid to his injury and perhaps nothing more.

Saying your goodbye to him, you stood to take your leave.

Only, you were gently pulled by your wrist making you stop.

Looking up at you was such pleading blue eyes curtained by soft blond curls. He truly was the son of Poseidon as you watch the colour of the sea swirls in his eyes reflecting the state of his mind even in low warm lighting. For a moment, you were in awe, mouth falling open slightly.

“Could you, maybe,” Averting his gaze to his balled fist in his lap, suddenly shy though he hadn't let go of your wrist, “Stay here?”

With me? Was what he had meant to say. It didn't get past his lips but you thought the same. You pitied him for what he had to go through this summer.

Although you haven't spent enough time together, you did however admire him for his bravery and determination in taking your shared destiny of being a half-blood by the reign and guiding through the trenches of your fate fearlessly. In your time of being a camper here, you had never met one demigod with the likeness of him.

Did you develop some sort of affection towards him? Maybe a little.

Or a lot more than that.

For Percy reminded you so much of your past friend.

There was a time before you were exposed to this other world, the world of your divine lineage, you had a close friend that he had resembled from the appearance down to his personality.

When Percy first landed in the infirmary, the air had been knocked out of your lung as the thought of him being your past friend was true. But upon learning his name and background, you lost your hope.

Because you had lost that friend when one day, when your scent had attracted too many monsters, it had hurt him in the process of you trying to fend it off.

To him, who was a mortal blinded by the Mist, he didn't understand your action of running away. Without saying goodbye.

To your younger self, it was the best option as to not get him involved and possibly intertwined with the mishaps of your life. Even if it was not fair to anyone.

It was better to save himself from you.

Though it still tugged at your heartstrings in that moment of him holding onto you.

Do you indulge in your feelings for a lost person that you might have considered as a lover, or put aside your selfishness and stay as a friend?

Before you could come up with a conclusion of your own, the heaviness of your heart pulled you back to reality, and right back into his ocean eyes.

You felt like drowning in them.

“Okay, I’ll stay with you.”

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson angst #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson #pjo #pjo tv show

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aphroditelovesu · 4 months

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Hi I have concept questions rate the yandere Greek gods, and who is most likely out of them with sexually assault or rape reader any gender I don’t know it came in my mind after I found out that Ares has never raped a women or man in my opinion that is a really shocking thing coming from the god of war I mean when comes to gods it’s a pretty good standard because I have read about so many sexual assaults in Greek mythology. for example obviously, Zeus is most likely going to force himself on reader he has done it many times and then the other one is Poseidon he did it with medusa if I remember correctly, so he is most likely to do it, and he has done it with other people and then Eros I don’t know why I just think he would do it and Apollo would do it and I actually thought Ares would would also sexually assault reader, but after finding out that he never did with anyone I don’t he would force himself on reader since he has never done it in Cannon fun fact, one of the sons of Poseidon raped his daughter and when Ares found out, he was furious and killed Poseidon son. Hades, this is another god I think he would not force himself on reader. But I’m not sure about Dionysus maybe he would and Hephaestus is another god who would force himself because he did it with Athena if I remember correctly. Aphrodite, maybe you would do it too. Hermes is another god I think he would do it too. What do you think can you Frank them from? Who is most likely to do it to who is least likely to do it and never do it at all.

tw: talk about rape/sexual harassment.

I would say the same ones you mentioned above.

Zeus and this one doesn't even need explanations. Poseidon, depending on the version, is said to have raped Medusa, but this is the Roman version and not the Greek, so it depends on which myth you prefer, but I think he would be able to force himself on the Reader.

Apollo would do it if he was rejected by his beloved, and he wouldn't even think he was doing anything wrong. Eros would also force himself on his darling if he was rejected in a very cruel way, then he would force them to be his.

Although there are no records of Ares forcing himself on anyone, as we are doing a headcanon and I don't work with canon but with the voices in my head, I would say that he could force himself on the Reader. And he wouldn't even need much for that, it can easily be motivated by jealousy, pure lust or just because he wants to mark the Reader as his.

Hephaestus... It's complicated, the reason he tried to abuse Athena is because of Poseidon, in a way. Poseidon became jealous of the closeness of Athena and Hephaestus and incited the god of forging to make unwanted advances on the goddess of wisdom, thinking that she liked him. He never actually raped her, it was more like harassment, but he came on her thighs and a child was born from that. Bizarre? Yes. Would he abuse his S/O? Look, it depends. I think that if Hephaestus was really consumed by obsession, by jealousy, he could force himself on his darling.

Hades would never force himself sexually on his darling. He can kidnap them (and he will), he can lock them up but he will never do anything against their will, sexually speaking. He doesn't want to be like his brothers and loathes it, so he would never touch the Reader without their consent.

Dionysus would do it too. He is delusional enough and the reason he would abuse his darling could be motivated by how delusional he is. The god would be so delusional that he wouldn't even realize that the Reader doesn't want to sleep with them.

Hermes would only do so if he wanted to dismantle power over his S/O. Like, he did that to them because he can, because they are his and that means he can take them wherever he wants and whenever he wants. A form of control and psychological torture, in a way.

I think Aphrodite would be the only one of the goddesses to abuse her darling, but for her, she would not be committing abuse but rather showing how much she loves them. And for her, the goddess of love, also the patron saint of prostitutes, what better way than to have sex with her darling? Even if it's not consensual.

#ask #yandere greek gods #yandere greek mythology #greek gods x reader #concept #yandere concept #yandere Zeus #yandere poseidon #yandere hades #yandere hermes #yandere dionysus #yandere Hephaestus #yandere Aphrodite #yandere ares #yandere apollo #yandere Eros

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hippielittlemetalhead · 5 months

Text

Part 3 (One of Us) of 'Never Took The Time (To Forget)' previously known as 'Hopper Adopts Steve But Make It Sad'

Part 1 (Hop fucks up), Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce Edition)

Here's a bit more for you filthy animals 😘

Much like he's come to expect from the small soldiers these children have fashioned themselves into he's not surprised when they come pouring out of whichever of the twins' rooms they shoved themselves in like codependent sardines. He's not surprised by the looks of anger and disappointment and confusion. Claudia Henderson's kid -Dustin- looks on the edge of tears with a grim set to his mouth that reminds him of when the kid's mom is beyond words in her slow-burning fury. El and Will have matching looks of disappointed confusion.

What he's not expecting is the way Mike and the younger (usually more volatile) Sinclair are holding onto an incensed looking Lucas. Lucas who has always been the polite one when it came to addressing adults and the one to preach caution and thinking plans through. Lucas who has been quiet and withdrawn since Hop came back, spending his days at the edge of Party affairs when not helping in the rebuilding efforts around town or sitting at Max's bedside.

"What the fuck, Hopper?" The kid spits out and that seems to snap the rest of The Party into action. Will goes to join the two holding Sinclair back but Dustin starts near incoherently yelling in that screechy pitch only that kid seemed to be able to hit about bullshit cops and useless adults and to let Lucas go. "He idolized you, man! Would tell us all the time that you were 'one of the good ones' that if we ever needed anyone and he wasn't there, to find you. That you would take care of us because that's just what you did for people. Because you were good!"

"Lucas, chill out man." Mike pants though he's also glaring daggers at Hop.

This is where Joyce (god bless her) decides to step in. "Lucas, honey-" She says with her soft voice and big wet eyes and that warmth she seems to infuse into everything she touched. "It's complicated. There's some things you just don't understand and-"

"No! You two don't understand! Steve is GOOD. He's good and he cares and he takes care of everyone else and he always kept us safe." The kid seems to be losing some of his steam, pulling at his friends less and resigned to shaking in barely contained fury. "He gets hurt and he gets back up and he apologizes for taking a fall in the first place! He's just Good."

"I know he's been good to you kids and I appreciate that, I really do Lucas." Joyce says, her voice a little stronger, that steadiness returning. "Sometimes people in our lives can do bad things to others and we don't see it because we care about them and that's not always a bad thing. But we have to remember that the people who were wronged are allowed to be upset and that's normal to feel and-"

"You mean like Jonathan?" The room goes quiet. Will looks resigned but not surprised by Lucas' question but the rest of the kids look just as confused as him and Joyce. "Did you really think Steve broke his camera -in the school parking lot of all places- for the hell of it? Did you seriously never question it?"

Hop feels something twist in his gut. He had been so caught up in the search for Will and wrangling a frantic Joyce that he hadn't paid any attention to small-town squabbles like two teenagers having it out in the school parking lot, the destruction of personal property or what might have triggered it. He looks over the kids' heads to see Jonathan and his stoner buddy standing just outside his door. The friend looks confused but Jon is looking at his mom who hasn't noticed him yet like a man preparing himself for the gallows.

"Mom." Joyce's eyes snap from where they were locked on Lucas up to her oldest son. "Mom, I-"

"What are they talking about Jon?" It's quiet. Quiet and scared because everyone in the room knows that whatever secret reason Lucas (and maybe Will?) seems to be the only one to know Steve had for picking a fight isn't going to be good. Jonathan's mouth opens like he's going to say something but no words come out. "Honey, what did you do?"

"He took pictures of Steve and his friends the night Barbara Holland disappeared."

"Will?" all eyes except Lucas' (who is still glaring daggers at Hop) are on the two brothers. One scared and almost pleading the other disappointed and resolved.

"He hid in the bushes and took pictures of Steve and his friends with Nancy and Barbara. There were pictures of Barbara at the Harrington place before she died and he never told anyone. But there were also-" He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes like he can't look at his older brother who has hung his shaggy head under everyone's heavy gaze. "There were pictures of just Steve and Nancy. Alone together. In Steve's room."

There's a sharp gasp that he thinks came from Joyce but he's too busy watching the young man he's come to consider a son. His head is still lowered and his shoulders are curving in on themselves as he shakes off the hand his long-haired friend tries to place on his shoulder.

"Oh baby," Joyce's voice is wet again. A tone of horrified disappointment to it that Hop has only heard her use when talking to or about one other person. "Tell me you didn't."

"Then he-" Will clears his throat like this one is what gives him pause. "He was caught developing the pictures in the school's darkroom. All of the pictures. And he had zoomed in on Steve's window. Nancy was the center of the shot." The kid's eyes flit over to Mike (who is now turning an interesting shade of red as he glares at Jonathan) before he blushes and looks at the ground, "She uh-"

Lucas does not seem to share Will's newfound hesitance in the face of an enraged Mike Wheeler. "Most of the upperclassmen argue if she had a bra or not but they all seem to agree she didn't have a top."

"Oh my god." Everyone was frozen as Joyce began to crumble. "Oh my god." He reached out to catch her, her nails digging into his arm through his shirt sleeve as she stared unseeing at her oldest son.

Jonathan started forward. "Mom, I-" a hand in the middle of his chest stopped him. "Will, please, I need to-"

"Just stop, man." Lucas sighs. "You started this shit, you gotta deal with it before you hurt someone else besides Steve."

"I didn't mean to hurt Steve."

Hops feels himself frozen to the spot in a way he's not used to anymore these days. His mind is working overtime picking out all of the charges that could have been pressed even against a boy of 15/16 if any of the kids in Harrington's inner circle had told an actual adult about the situation. The veritable legal hell that would have been brought down on Joyce while searching for a son legally assumed dead.

"Is that what you told yourself when you helped Nancy cheat?" And it just kept getting worse.

Joyce gives off a whimper and the kids gathered make varied sounds of shock and disgust.

"They were broken up."

"Were they? Cause everybody at school and half the town seems to all know about you and Nancy disappearing together when Steve was still calling her his girlfriend and then you all showed back up to school, Steve beat to hell again and Nancy hanging all over you. The basketball team STILL talk about it."

He's heard enough. "Alright, that's it!" He yells out over the children yelling and Joyce demanding answers and Jonathan's friend trying to say something about there being some sort of explanation. "This doesn't help us help Steve."

Lucas shakes off the loose hold Erica and Mike still had on him and crosses his arms as he rolls back his shoulders and tilts his jaw up to fix him with a glare. The kid's stance is almost arrogant but Hop can't help but notice the way he rests his weight on his off side, his shoulders back and his posture straight without his chest puffing out ridiculously like Hop is used to from teenage boys gearing for a fight.

"I think you've helped enough, Hopper." It's quiet and biting and he lets himself have a moment of grief for the childhood these kids lost, and the fact that he's almost positive Lucas didn't pick up this easy confidence from anyone else in their monster fighting club but Steve. "You and Mrs. Byers want to play nice now cause you feel guilty and that's all well and good but what happens when Steve does something else you don't agree with without explanation? Or he and Jonathan or Nancy get in another fight? When we finally get rid of Vecna and the Upside Down for good? What happens when you don't feel guilty anymore?"

"I can't make any sort of promise you lot will believe. And lord knows I'm pretty shit at keeping them anyways. I just want to be able to try."

"He mourned you, you know. When we were told you didn't make it." That weight is back in his chest. "He held himself together around us but there were- there were moments we could tell. He and El really bonded over that. Over you. Over losing you."

"I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't. You didn't want to know."

"There's no way I can make you believe me. That I want to fix this."

"We want to, Hopper." Dustin butts in, placing a hand on Lucas' shoulder and limping up next to the other boy. "But from what you and Mrs. Byers were talking about... There's just a lot that makes a lot more sense and it doesn't inspire a lot of faith in either of you."

"We need to discuss this as a Party."

"Okay."

"That means letting us take care of it. Steve's one of us and you hurt him."

"I understand."

"So you and Mrs. Byers have got to wait till we say you can talk to Steve. That he's ready for it."

"Now, kids-"

"No they're right, Joyce. We fucked it up on our own and- and he trusts these little shits more than he trusts us right now. We've gotta do the same."

Joyce sighs, "Fine."

She's not happy about it and honestly neither is he. But if the last few years and his stint in a Russian gulag and the subsequent escape taught him anything it's maybe he needs to trust his people to do what they need to do.

The kids scurry back to whichever of the Twins' room they came from, led by a newly determined and involved Lucas and a furiously muttering Dustin. Jonathan and Joyce make their way to the kitchen and Hopper decides he's going to let them have that conversation in as much privacy as they can with a house as full as theirs.

Hopper sits in the living room, runs his hands through his hair that's finally growing out and pulls them down his face before resting his chin on steepled fingers. He hates sitting and waiting and relying on someone else for the next steps. But all he can think about is the sound Steve made. The look in his eyes. The pride in his voice the last time he heard him say, "My Hop."

That's it!

He stands up so fast his bad ankle protests and his knees pop. He limps to the front door, yelling out to the house that he has to go, has something to do. Calls out he has his walkie and that El needs to be ready on time. Then he's out the door.

Part 4.1

More coming soon! Hopefully! Work went from an active team of about 12 to 5, not including the managers we lost ssssooo... Yeah fun times. 🙃

So here's a tag-list, hope I didn't miss anyone. Feel free to yell at/with me in the comments or ask box. If you see your old tag in my list tell me your new one so I can fix it.

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @katdeerly @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @child-of-cthulhu @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @rocochen20 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus

#Never Took The Time (To Forget)#nttttf verse #hopper adopts steve #but make it sad #rambler writes #stranger things fic #hopper pov #lucas sinclair #The Party loves Steve

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artists-ally · 27 days

Note

Hello sweetheart 😘 I really really adore your writing so much ! So, I dare to send in an idea as well 🥰 maybe you're dating Harvey but he barely had time for you lately, so one time he wants to surprise you with dinner at his apartment and you enjoy your time together. Then you both end your evening with lovely passionate smut and lots of cuddles afterwards. In the morning he wakes up before you and takes time in admiring you, realizing how happy he is to have you ? Hope that's not too cheesy ❤️ thank you so much in advance!

{Warm} Reader x Harvey Specter

This has been sitting in my inbox for god knows how long. I thank you for your patience my dear. I love this idea so much, and this song Warm by SG Lewis is just perfect. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. P.S. nothing is EVER too cheesy for me to write <3

Word Count: 3,998

Warnings: Just some good ole fluff and smut, some very soft dom!Harvey.

Tagging: @rosedpetal @blacktreacle22

Summary: After a particularly brutal month in the office, you've noticed some changes. Harvey is just... not present. Rather than demanding his attention, you just simply float by, knowing eventually he'll return his negligence. And boy does he ever.

~~~~~

“Yn, you really just need to grow a set and tell Harvey he’s being a jackass,” Donna scolds through the phone.

I roll my eyes, “Donna, I told you before. I don’t mind. He’s focused on winning this case, and it quite literally is the life and death of this firm. So, while I appreciate your ‘words of affirmation’, I didn’t ask for them.”

“I know, I just hate to see you so neglected.”

“Oh please,” I pff, flipping my head to move a chunk of hair out of my eye. “Neglected is probably the last thing I am. I can entertain myself. I actually haven’t minded the space. Every once and a while it’s good to go back to the basics. I’ve finally learned how to take care of the plants, I can make a mean lasagna too. I’ve even gotten back into reading. For fun.”

“Sheesh, clearly something is wrong if you’ve been reading voluntarily.”

I snickered. “I don’t know, I saw a book recommendation on instagram and fell in love. Childhood penpals turned strangers, turned back to penpals and she found out he’s the world's biggest rock star and he’s been writing songs about her the entire time.”

“Sounds exactly like the fairytale mushy-gushy shit you love. How you found Harvey to fill those shoes I’ll never understand.”

“He’s just… I don’t know, exactly what I need? My life is perpetually disorganized and he’s too organized. We balance each other out. It just works, and I love our life. I love our dynamic, and I love him. Since he’s so busy, and I have the energy and mental space to, I don’t mind picking up the slack. Again, things will balance themselves back.”

Donna sighed, and I knew that flat line was on her lips. “I know, you’re always so insightful. Optimistic bitch.” I cackled a laugh. “But in all seriousness, Harvey needs you. You’re right, he is too organized. He needs you to unwind him. I know how he is, and he needs a kick in the ass every once in a while. So, if by the end of the week, he doesn’t come around a little, just push him. He’ll fold. Especially for you, and that ass of yours.”

A smile bloomed onto my face, the door of our apartment building coming into view. “Thanks Donna, I’ll let you know how tonight goes. Maybe I’ll stop by the office in the morning and bring the crew some coffee, a few bagels as well.”

“This is why you will always remain my favorite. Now go eat that Chinese food, you sexy son of a bitch.”

“How did you know I had Chinese food?”

“Because I’m Donna.” Then the line went dead.

Psycho. My psycho, but still a psycho.

I did indeed have a takeout bag hooked in my elbow filled with Chinese food. Sesame chicken and wonton soup for me, beef and broccoli with pork lo-mein for Harvey. I got a small order of pork fried rice and some scallion pancakes to share. I was about ten seconds away from crouching in an alley and eating myself into a coma.

The city streets were just beginning to fill up with Friday night festivities. Those heading to lavish dinners or exotic clubs, dressed to the nines with pristine hair and outfits. I looked down at my beat up orthopedic sneakers that kept the never ending foot pain of being a museum tour guide at bay. Here I was, surrounded by the most eccentric and busy place on earth, with absolutely nothing to do.

And that felt amazing.

I scurried up the steps to the apartment building, greeting our doorsman with a smile and a wave. He gave me one back, pulling open the big glass doors. The mild April chill vanished and the comfortable, still air caressed my cheeks. The elevator door chimed open, chimed closed, and ascended to the top.

21… 22… 23… the floors climbed and climbed. What was I going to watch? The new season of Bridgerton was out, I could watch that. No, the next season can’t possibly be as good as Charlottes. Maybe a movie? Didn’t that second Dunne one come out? I’m not sure I understand the first one enough to comprehend the second.

The ding sounds, and I step off, juggling my keys as I rattle off more ideas in my head.

There's always The Big Bang Theory, maybe Two Broke Girls? Nah, I’ve seen those a thousand times. Maybe I should watch something new. No, nothing sounds interesting. I could try to read, but I don’t wanna risk spilling anything on my book. Once in third grade, I was eating a bowl of cereal in the morning, and I spilled the entire thing on my book. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie was never the same again.

When the door opened, I toed off my sneakers, kicking them in the corner. I threw the keys in the bowl and hummed a song aimlessly. In the kitchen, I pried a plate out of the cabinet and began to spoon food onto my plate. I won’t tell Harvey, but I stole some of his lo-mein.

“Yn,” a voice spoke.

I spun so hard I knocked my hip into the kitchen island corner, a scream bubbling out. “Jesus fucking christ Harvey! You could warn me next time, fucking hell.”

My heart thrashed in my chest, my eyes going a little wonky from adrenaline. I swallowed, bending at the waist to catch my breath.

“Sorry, my love,” he smiled, coming to raise me from my hunched over position. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“A simple text would’ve been lovely,” I sighed, rising to my full height. “What the hell are you doing…”

All words died on my tongue as I looked around. The table was decorated with a white cloth, candles skewed about. There were flowers in a vase on the counter, beside it a card with two small boxes. There was champagne chilling in a metal bucket of ice, a box of chocolate covered strawberries and cherries next to it.

“Harvey, what’s all this for? Our anniversary isn’t for two months.”

He grinned, that smirk going right to my chest. “No, it’s not.”

“Then what's all… this?” I waved my hand around, noticing a few balloons blown up and taped to the archway. I somehow completely missed the rose petals lining the floor.

“It’s because I love you,” Harvey grabbed my hips, pressing our fronts together. “You’ve been… dealing with me for weeks now. My absence, my constant mood swings and lashing out. And I know what you’re gonna say-”

“That I know you’ve been stressed and need some time to focus on the case?”

Harvey tilted his head, a flat expression on his lips. “Yes. That.”

“It’s not a big deal, Harvey. I know how important work is to you, and I know that you’ve really needed to focus so the firm doesn’t crumble and-”

“But I need you to know that you are a thousand times more important than work,” he says, placing his palms on my cheeks. He kisses me softly, stealing the air from my lungs. “Then the firm,” another kiss. “And anything that has to do with that hellscape. I love you, Yn. And I don’t know what I would do without your constant flexibility with my chaotic life. So this is a very small token of my appreciation. The first part, at least.”

I hummed against his lips, letting my arms lay across his shoulders. I kiss him deeply. “The first part?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, hands falling down my back, a less than PG-13 flex of his hands on my ass. “First, I want you to open those little boxes. Then, we’re gonna eat and have some dessert.”

“I feel like there's more to this list,” I smile, making my way back to the counter to get our food. One second to the next, Harvey gripped my arm and pulled me back into his chest. I could feel his desire pressing into me. “Looks like I’m right.”

“You’re always right,” he whispered, breath tickling my ear. He kissed the side of my neck, leaving a little bite below my ear. “Go sit, I’ll get the food.”

A new thrill fueled my body, propelling my steps to the dining room. I sat, playing with the end of the table cloth as Harvey brough everything over. The champagne, the card, the boxes and the food. Before he made his way to his seat, his palm cupped my neck and he tilted my head back. His deep, lust filled eyes locked with mine before he kissed me again.

“Open whichever you’d like, darling,” he sat opposite me, tucking the napkin across his lap.

“Just because I did what anyone would for their love doesn’t mean you need to shower me with gifts, Harvey,” I said, giving him a pointed look.

“And if I bought them just because I wanted to?”

Point taken. I read the card, a picture of a polar bear wearing sunglasses on a beach with a coconut in its hand plastered on the front.

Classy. It made me giggle nonetheless.

To my Yn,

Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you. Thank you for being here, even when I wasn’t. I’m sorry for my absence, I promise I’ll be more conscious of my time spent at the office. I love you, more than I ever thought I’d ever be able to love anything. You are everything I’ve always wanted, and everything I never knew I’d need. After this last month, I didn’t understand just how badly I craved you. Your smile, your laugh, your warmth. The taste of you in the morning, and those adorable snores at night. No matter how many times I do it, I’ll never get tired of kissing you. Never tire of taking your breath away. I’ll never get sick of you being the first thing I see when I wake up, and the last thing before I sleep.

You are forever entwined in my soul, Yn. And I wouldn’t dare to imagine it otherwise.

I love you. <3 Harvey

I looked up at him, tears lining my eyes. He just winked at me, fork scraping his plate as he shoved a mouthful in.

“Fuck you for that,” I sniffled, brushing away the tears as I blinked. “That was so uncalled for, you didn’t need to do that to me. That’s so unfair.”

He smiled, “I know you love that shit. And before you ask, Donna didn’t come near me when I was writing that. It all came from up here.”

I laughed as he touched the side of his head. “Good to know all those years at Harvard Law taught you something other than corporate jargon.”

“Open the boxes, little devil,” he sipped his champagne, nudging the boxes towards me.

Both were a dark blue velvet, unlabeled. They were closed with a silver ribbon. The first one I grabbed was about the size of a book, and something rattled inside. I undid the bow, lifting the lid. Inside was a Kindle. I gasped, pulling it out and looking it over.

“Harvey,” I grinned, mouth falling open. “You did not.”

“But I did,” he smiled brightly. “Unlimited.”

I could jump his bones from across the table. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Well, after you find out I got you a case, a Pop Socket, and one of those stands with the remote clicker so you don’t even have to hold it, you might love me a little more.” I squealed, pushing out of my chair as I crashed into him. We nearly tipped backwards. Harvey laughed, rubbing my sides as I latched onto him. “I knew you’d appreciate this. I know we haven’t been together much, but I remembered you showed me a video of some girl who had one.” “You remembered that?” A new set of tears choked my voice.

“Of course I did. And I also remember you telling me that if I bought you another set of earrings you’d use them to pierce my ears, so that option went out the window.”

I swatted his chest, Harvey’s smile easy as he eased me off of him. “This is perfect, thank you so much.”

“Of course, my dear. Now open the next one.”

What could be better than a Kindle Unlimited? With a stand AND a remote to turn the pages for me. Harvey has no idea what he’s done, I’ll literally never get out of bed again.

Practically ripping the box in half, I take off the lid and peer inside.

I blink a few times, looking from him to the box. “My passport?”

“Yup.”

“I feel like there is something I’m not getting here.”

“There is.”

“Are you gonna tell me or make me guess?”

“I’m not that mean,” he rolled his eyes.

“I mean you have been ignoring me for the past month,” I feigned being upset, letting out a little yelp when he threw a piece of broccoli at me. “You're literally four years old.”

“We’re going to China.”

Everything stopped moving. I dropped the box, my small, navy blue passport skittering across the floor. My ears buzzed, my fingers buzzed. “I- What?”

Harvey grinned. Fuck, I missed that grin. “We’re going to China. We won the case last night, and I am desperate for some time with you. You’ve always wanted to go, so why not now? I have everything set up. We’re gonna stay in the mountains, we’re gonna go hiking and see some shows. I also know you’ve wanted to-”

“We’re going to China?” I had to make sure I heard him right? I’ve been learning the language for years now, engrossed with their rich culture and history. The cuisine, the art, the music… everything. Had I been in a different timeline, I would’ve moved there.

“Yes, my love. We’re going to China. Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” My eyes nearly fell out of my skull. “I can’t take two weeks off of-”

“Yn,” he cut me off, knowing I was going to spiral into a never ending list of reasons of 'why this and why that'. “It’s all been taken care of. All you have to do is pack a bag and get you cute ass in my car on Sunday morning. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“But-But Harvey… what the FUCK? WE’RE GOING TO CHINA? Oh my god, I have to call Donna.”

“Can you call Donna tomorrow? I have other things I’d like to do before you go blabbering to her about how amazing and awesome I am for planning this.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Donna planned this, didn’t she?"

“She did find the panda place. And the art festival. But everything else was my doing. You can applaud now.” Cocky, arrogant son of a bitch. My cocky, arrogant son of a bitch, but one nonetheless.

I looked at him, dumbfounded. He did all this for me, just because he had a crazy workload. I feel like it should be the opposite, me pampering him, congratulating him on his huge win. Not him fueling my book obsession and planning my dream trip.

But it was yet another reason I loved him more and more every day. He just did these things, without prompting. Without need. He felt like he was neglecting me, leading to… all of this.

We ate our dinner, chatting about anything other than the case. I asked about it, twice, and he completely side-stepped my attempt. I wanted to know, but if he didn’t want to talk, I wouldn’t push. I told him the plot of this terrible Mafia romance book I finished earlier in the week, and he listened to every grating, awful point I made about it. All with a dopey smile on his face.

Harvey cleared the plates, setting them in the sink. He brought more champagne, the strawberries and the cherries. In a calm silence, we devoured them, eyes raking over each other. I risked a look below the table, seeing just exactly where he wanted the next phase of the night to go.

“You looking at it makes it worse, you know,” Harvey leaned back in his chair, my legs propped in his lap. He stroked his hand up and down, fingers dipping into one of the holes in my jeans.

“Good,” I smiled, a sinful intent in my eyes.

He looked from my smile to my eyes and back down. With a curse, he threw my legs off his lap and pulled my chair close to his. Harvey enveloped his mouth with mine, the sweet taste of chocolate mixed with the sour berry and tarte champagne. Every flavor on his tongue became my own.

I was in his lap the next second, legs folded against his thighs. Harvey kept me firmly planted. Steady. He wouldn’t dare let me fall. I got lost in him, suddenly aware just how long it had been since I truly had him. Truly tasted him. Truly craved him.

He stood, taking me with him. The familiar route to our bedroom whirled by. I landed on the bed with a soft bounce, tugging on the collar of his shirt until he laid on top of me.

“So demanding,” he whispered on my lips. I wrapped my legs around his hips to emphasize my need. “Fuck… I love it when you get like this.”

“You made me this way, Harvey,” I pleaded, eyes catching him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to give you what you deserve,” Harvey sighs. It’s not heavy, but it’s noticeable. “Let me take care of you, Yn.”

“I just need you to-”

“I know, my love. Let me worship you. Treat you how you deserve. You’ve been so patient with me, now let me return the favor.”

Well, I’d be stupid to deny him.

Delicately, he kissed down my torso, lifting my shirt over my head and throwing it for tomorrow's problem. He removed my socks, then my jeans. From ankle to knee, he kissed and bit my skin, making me squirm against the sheets.

Every nerve ending in my body was on fire, the tips of my fingers and toes pulsing with anticipation. With the last remaining pieces of my clothes gone, he spread my legs, kneeling to the ground.

The sight of Harvey Specter on his knees between my thighs was… empowering. Not that he hasn’t tasted me with his tongue, I’ve just… always been on top. Never so… exposed.

A heady sigh left my lips, body going lax with the first pass of his tongue on me. I clenched my legs against his ears, muffling my whines. He pushed them against the mattress, eyes pinning me as he sank his teeth into the muscle of my thigh.

“You know better than to hide those pretty moans from me, my love.” Yes, I do know better. “Scream my fucking name if you want.”

I just might.

He made quick work of me, practiced movements easily sending me up and up and up. He’d slow back down, torture me with more bruising marks on my thighs while I writhed and begged for him to let me release. I arched up off the bed when he added his fingers.

I was so close, a month's worth of pent up desire threatening me all at once. My mind and body were on fire. I couldn’t hold off any longer. I chase that high, circling my hips against his face. His hands, firmly planted on my inner thighs, I shook, that month long ache finally subsiding before roaring back to life.

When I thought he’d stop, he kept going. Around and around and around his tongue went. Teasing and sending an endless supply of pleasure through my body.

“H-Harvey,” I gasped, my body up in flames over his never ending devotion.

“I’ll stop when I want to. Fuck Yn, you taste so sweet. Almost as sweet as hearing you beg for me to let you cum. Can you take one more?”

Again, I nodded, content to let him spend however long he wanted at my aching core. My second release came much sooner than the first. He didn’t bother teasing me, knowing it would ruin all his hard work if he stopped. With a few more sweeping passes, he licked me clean, sitting back on his heels to look at me. He wiped my cum off on the back of his hand, giving me a wicked grin.

“You are so fucking beautiful, all laid out for me to do as I please,” Harvey said, beginning to strip.

“Please Harvey, have me. Any way that you like.”

He chuckled, kneeling over me. “I will, but like I said, I want tonight to be all about you.”

“Well I want you to fuck me.” I am not very good at being subtle.

“How can I deny you when you ask so nicely,” he purred, closing our lips together, I parted my legs for him, desperate for the friction of his body on mine. His chest, his stomach, his hands lacing with mine. I needed all of him all over me.

It didn’t take long for him to slip inside me, every inch of him stretching me in the most desirable way. I hummed as he stilled, his need clear in the way his arms shook to keep still.

“Move, please please move,” I begged, threading my hand in his hair. With a reluctant drop of his head, he rolled his hips into mine, our bodies finally meeting in full.

“I was trying to be gentle,” he reasoned.

“Fuck gentle, I need you. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know my love, I know.”

With each thrust into me, a new sensation bubbled inside me. My toes curled, my back bowed, my eyes fluttered shut. He quickened his pace, heavy breaths falling from his lips into mine. His air was mine. Every muttered curse and moan and praise went straight through me. He needed me as much as I needed him.

~~~~~

With my mind not fully awake, I lazily fling myself off my stomach and onto my back. My arm knocked into something hard, and I squinted against the morning sun. Oh, Harvey.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, crashing back down against the pillow.

He chuckled, kissing the hand that accidentally hit him in the face. “It’s okay.”

“Are you going into the office?” I asked, still keeping my eyes closed. Man this bed is so comfy…

“No?” He said, a question in his tone. “Why would I?”

“Why else are you up so early?”

“I was just looking at you, my love. It’s been a while since I’ve just… looked at the love of my life. Taken the time to appreciate just how fucking stunning you are.”

My heart melted, a lovesick feeling welling up in my chest. I turned over, facing the handsome lawyer and grinned ear to ear. “I’m sure I look fabulous after last night.”

“You’ve never looked hotter. Lips swollen from mine, hair a mess from my hands… your body covered in my-”

“Okay,” I snatched his lips between my fingers, silencing his next words. “I did just wake up, at least let me shower before you destroy me again.”

“Only if I can quote on quote destroy you in the shower before I cook you breakfast and fuck you again on the counter.”

My eyes snapped open, meeting his blown out pupils. “You certainly have a vivid imagination for…” I looked over at the clock on the side of the bed. “... eight thirty-seven AM.”

“Wait till you find out I’ve been awake since six. With nothing to do but plot all the ways I could ruin you.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, offering my lips as a peace offering. He quickly accepted, kissing me deeply. “Man, I missed this.”

“More than you could ever know.”

#harvey x reader #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter smut #harvey specter fanfic #harvey specter x you #harvey specter suits #harvey specter fanfiction #harvey specter #smut #writing #my writing

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st-kitten · 6 months

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WARNINGS: (m.) masturbation, nicknames (baby, babygirl, good girl, princess, pretty girl) little megumi being painstakingly adorable

life as a single father trying to make ends meet was hard for toji fushiguro. his job as a security guard for some company didn't pay much. whatever he earned went into bills, rent, and groceries, leaving next to nothing for him to save or even spend. how he wished there was a simpler way to earn. he'd be exhausted by the time he came home and crashed, only to be woken up by megumi. as much as he loved the kid, getting him ready for school and out the door was harder than an mma fight.

all the babysitters he hired were useless. most of them agreed just to get into his pants so, when they found out that they were hired 'because' he couldn't be home, they left in disappointment.

toji never relied on his neighbours either. partially because they were too old or kids themselves, with parents who also hired babysitters. the closest anyone ever came to being a candidate was his next door neighbour, you.

but he vowed to never approach you. even if it meant leaving megumi to cry midday, over a glass of spilled milk. why?

[flashback]

toji had just helped megumi catch the school bus. waving him goodbye, he went back inside the building. the days got colder each passing day, which meant that he was going to have to repair the broken heater and buy some warm clothes. how ever was he going to afford it in time?

collecting the mail, he stood in the temporary warmth of the elevator, yawning. he really wanted to go back to sleep. his work began at 10 am, so he still had two hours, maybe he could take a nap. or fix that heater himself.

he stood in front of his apartment, looking through his pockets for the keys when he heard muffled noises from the apartment next door. he had only seen you once, when he accidentally took your mail instead of his and had to give it back to you. you always seemed distant and cold, so hearing you softly, yet loudly screaming a series of "yes! yes! keep doing that!" at 8 am made him wonder what the fuck was wrong with you.

he let it slide. people had lives.

but you didn't stop there. when toji came back from his work at night, holding a bag of vegetables, he heard you again.

"oh god! yes!"

and two days later when toji brought megumi home early as he got sick in school, "just like that, baby!" he had to keep babbling random trivia to his son so that he wouldn't hear you. how many times is she going to do this?

when it was toji's day off, and he was taking a nap on the couch, he heard you moaning again. it wasn't that loud, but the single wall between your apartment and his did a terrible job at muffling it. toji was glad that megumi was at school.

[back in present time]

months had passed by and he was still not used to hearing you. he'd forgotten what you looked like, so he didn't recognise you whenever you passed by him or even when you were in the elevator with him. all he knew was that he hated you for being so disturbing.

the day he was dreading finally came when he wanted someone to look after megumi for the night as he had to cover someone's shift, and not a single person was available. with an ale tankard of reluctance, he rang the doorbell, truly expecting you to open it naked, some angry fucker peeking from behind 'cause he didn't get to finish...

so when you opened the door looking the complete opposite; wearing loose sweatpants, a barbie hoodie, house slippers and your hair tied in a messy bun, half a banana dangling in your mouth... toji held back a sigh of relief.

"hey... i'm toji, i live next door," he said, trying to sound sincere.

"i mow woo yooah," you said, chewing the banana quickly, and swallowed it.

"right... listen, i gotta cover an extra shift and i need someone to look after this brat for the night."

you held back a laugh upon hearing him refer to his son like that. you'd only seen megumi from a distance. but, you had no reason to refuse.

"sure! i'd be happy to!"

toji was still unsure about this, but there was no backing out now.

"cool. i'll send him in twenty minutes." toji vanished before you could say anything else. you chuckled to yourself. for a man of his size and built, he sure was a chicken when it came to communication.

you cleaned your living room before he could come back. your place was kid-friendly enough. you made sure you prep the kitchen in case he hadn't had dinner.

your doorbell rang and you scurried to open it.

"here's a list of things you'll have to do... he's... a little tough. but he's a good kid."

you took the list and gave it a brief look and nodded.

"alright, megs, you're gonna be staying with this lady today. i'll be back soo-"

megumi began tugging his father's pants grumpily, upset at his words.

"don't be like that, kid..." toji sighed. he didn't like to exhibit his personal life in front of others.

"please? i'll get you ice cream."

megumi's ears perked upon hearing ice cream. "chocolate?" he cooed.

"yes. now go inside."

clutching a tattered dog plushie (with two heads for some reason), he stepped inside your apartment, looking down.

toji knelt down to meet his eyes. straightening megumi's sweater, he said, "i'll be back tomorrow morning. behave, okay?" megumi nodded, almost on the verge of crying. you held back the 'awwws'.

"alright... i'm trusting you. don't f- mess it up," said toji, looking at you with a glare.

"i won't..." you just smiled solemnly. you'd say the same if you were in his position.

toji wanted to tell you to not have sex for that one night, but he chose not to add fuel to the fire. who was he to tell you not to fuck? if anything, he was mildly jealous that you got to enjoy it so much.

toji left and you turned back to megumi, who was standing in your living room, anxious to move a muscle.

you sighed. "hello, megumi. i'm y/n." you crouched down and held out your hand to him. he hesitated before holding three of your fingers and shaking them. you smiled.

"sorry about this... you don't know me at all and now you're stuck with me. must be weird."

megumi stayed silent. you got up and went to the kitchen, which was open and visible from your living room easily. you opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of chocolate milk that you'd gotten free with something.

"would you like some?" you shook the carton. megumi loved chocolate in any form. not wanting to sound too excited or desperate, he gave a curt nod. you poured him a cup of milk and handed it to him.

"you can sit down wherever you want."

megumi scanned the room and spotted a bean bag. he'd never seen one. he looked at you and then back at it.

"you wanna sit there? sure!" you placed a hand on his head and led him to the corner. you held his cup for him while he tried to sit. he immediately sank into the bean bag, hearing the sound of tiny malleable balls that shifted as he sat down. megumi's eyes widened as he tried not to bolt out of there. when he was settled down, he found it pretty comfortable. he liked how he could stretch his legs and sit at the same time.

"comfy, right?" you said, handing him his cup of chocolate milk. the way he held it with both hands made you want to scream in a pillow. no way that asscrack of a man was his father.

you went over the list once more. it was simple. bedtime was 9 PM, no allergies, likes sweet food, but easily gets a sugar rush, etc. you laughed at the numerous spelling mistakes in it.

"so, what do you like to do?" you asked, sitting down on the floor in front of him.

megumi didn't like talking to babysitters. mostly because they never paid attention to him. he didn't like how they bossed him around. or how they got mad when he asked them if they could play with him. so he would stay silent. nobody ever asked him what he liked to do, so your question caught him by surprise.

he thought about it. what did he like to do?

"paint..."

"you paint?" you asked. you always liked the idea of kids drawing and painting.

megumi nodded. he was obsessed with a box of paints his father had bought him ages ago. the paints were long dried and over. but he still dipped his brush into them, watering them and painting with whatever colour came out of it.

you didn't have paints or brushes that he could use... but an idea struck you and you wondered whether he'd like it.

"wanna paint my room?" you suddenly said.

megumi's eyes lit up with curiosity. won't your walls get damaged? what if he spilled paint on the floor? or on you?

"the walls in my room are sad and empty. i have some paint cans that the painters forgot about when i was renovating. there are some colours still left. what do you say?"

megumi nodded. you got up and went into your room, searching for a shirt you give him as overalls. you pulled out the paint cans from under your bed. you took an old shirt of yours and brought it to him in the living room.

megumi had finished drinking his milk, so he thought he'd keep the cup back. hearing you call his name startled him and he dropped the cup, watching it shatter into pieces. he tensed up and felt his eyes water. you were going to scold him, punish him, maybe even hit him. he deserved it. he broke your cup.

"oh my, are you okay?" you rushed to his side, crouching and checking him for wounds.

"sorry... sorr-" megumi tried his best not to cry. he was expecting an earful at any moment now.

"why?" it was all you asked.

megumi looked at you in shock.

"cup..."

you chuckled sympathetically. "so? cups break all the time."

"i break cup..."

you stood up, unsure of how to convince him that he did nothing wrong.

"okay... you broke the cup." there it was. you were angry. megumi was going to get scolded.

instead, he watched you pick another cup from the shelf. you took the cup, and angling it far from megumi, you threw it.

"and i broke a cup too. guess we're both clumsy..." you shrugged and picked up the pieces, swiping the rest with a broom and tossing them in the garbage.

megumi didn't know what to say. had he really done nothing wrong? it was just a cup... yeah, just a cup.

"come, let's paint my room," you held out your hand to him. slowly, he grabbed it, walking behind you towards your room. your hands were soft and warm. and you didn't pull him or drag him. instead you were walking slower just for him. why were you so kind?

you brought him to your room and asked him to help you spread newspapers on the floor. then you handed him a shirt, helping him put it on since it was huge for him. he looked like a penguin.

"megumi... please, i'll give you more chocolate milk, but can i please take your picture? you're too cute," you asked, clutching your heart.

megumi blushed and nodded, looking away.

you clicked at least twenty pictures of him in your shirt, holding a thick paintbrush, standing on newspaper barefoot. you made a mental note to send these to toji.

"alright, pick your colours."

megumi carefully scanned each colour. then he looked at you. he didn't want to mess up this opportunity. it wasn't every day that he got to paint a wall instead of paper. he wanted to make sure you'd like it.

you seemed the type of person who would appear stern, but on the inside, you were really soft and caring. like a marshmallow. he wanted the room to suit you. being the observant kid, he looked around the room and learned that you liked necklaces, most of which looked like fancy saturns (iykyk). you also liked flowers as there were vases on your nightstand, windowsill and some were on your bookshelves. you also had a lot of books. what really caught megumi's attention was that you had three guitars hung on the wall. your room was totally your personality. he knew what he wanted to paint.

megumi pointed to a few colours and you handed him a few brushes of different sizes. he dipped one in red paint and began painting a few strokes on the wall (only after glancing back at you a hundred times in case you changed your mind). you sat on the bed, watching him focus. he was definitely smarter than kids his age. you admired him.

after a while, you left the room, telling him that you were going to make dinner. curry rice got an approval from him, so you occupied yourself in the kitchen, humming to yourself. you wondered what all he had painted in your absence. you didn't really care about the wall; you only hoped he'd feel safe enough to be a child.

you finished cooking and plated the food, setting on the kitchen island you used as a dining table. you pulled a chair and stacked some couch pillows on it, increasing the height of the seat. you called to megumi, but he didn't answer.

you stepped into the room to call him for dinner again, but no words came from your mouth as you stared at your wall, awestruck.

megumi had painted so many flowers and vines that ran across your wall in different colours. he'd even mixed a few colours and created new ones. he drew the saturn orbs matching your jewellery in the center of some flowers. though he could only paint a part of it and couldn't reach higher, the wall looked full of life.

"megumi..."

he looked at you, anxious to hear what you had to say.

you stood behind him, admiring the wall.

"you made my wall magical. this is so beautiful!"

megumi had a tiny smile on his face.

"you're an artist, gumi" you said, ruffling his hair, and he blushed at the nickname you gave him. nobody ever gave him a nickname apart from his father. people would often forget his name.

he felt his chest swell with pride and happiness. he did a good job.

"let's put fairy lights on the wall!" you chirped and he nodded.

you helped him out of his shirt, tossing it into the laundry basket. you sat him down on the high chair and you both sat down for dinner. megumi liked the food. but he truly loved how you let him be himself without bossing him around. it finally dawned on him that he had broken your cup, painted your wall, and was eating your food and you had absolutely no problem with it. he felt himself breathe freely.

after dinner, he helped you clean the room and stick fairy lights all across your room. you went overboard with it, but when you switched them on and lay on the bed watching them twinkle, it felt worth it.

"we did a good job, today." you gave him a high five.

megumi yawned and you took it as a sign to prep him for bed. toji forgot to give you his toothbrush, so you tore him a new one. you wouldn't dare let a child sleep in the living room, so you tucked him in your bed. you were so glad you bought that expensive comforter because seeing megumi snuggle into it turned your eyes into beating hearts.

upon his request, you tucked in his ominous dog plushie with him and bid him goodnight. megumi fell asleep easily, snoring softly. you made rounds to the room to check on him and felt your heart melt every time. he was definitely an active sleeper. his positions would get bizarre every time and you'd pull the comforter on him properly each time.

you finally slept on your couch around midnight.

toji didn't sleep a wink. the world's most boring job had him awake all night, opening gates for rich snobs who partied and returned to the semi-residential building at odd hours.

the only thing on his mind was megumi. he prayed that you weren't fucking someone with him in the house. he wondered if he'd eaten. he wondered if he was asleep right now. he hoped you gave him his demon dog to sleep with.

when dawn broke, he was out of there. he drove his dying truck straight to the parking and dashed out of the car. he decided to grab his and your mail, just so he'd have an extra excuse to knock on your door.

he didn't bother asking you for a key. he just yanked open the letterbox and it easily came into his hand. he grabbed whatever was in it.

"did you hear apartment 707? so loud.... that too in the morning"

"how could i not? but, im not surprised..."

toji heard two ladies gossip, waiting for the elevator. 707... his apartment was 706, so it had to be you. he was going to murder you.

he sped in and out of the elevator, rushing to your place. expecting to hear the sound of sex, he stopped in his tracks... you were not having sex? your door was conveniently ajar and toji spotted a few empty cans of paint outside.

he opened the door, peeking in, only to see... his adorable five year old son, jumping around and dancing with you to a christmas song, decorating a large tree in your living room. (christmas tree farm by the one and only... blondie)

if toji could explain how much he wanted to giggle at the sight, he would. but he only watched the two of you, leaning against the doorframe, hands folded, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"where every wish comes true!!!" you sang, hanging the ornaments miscellaneously. megumi poked your leg and you picked him up, helping him tie a bell around a branch.

you swayed and danced to the beat with megumi on your shoulders, who laughed loudly.

toji felt his heart melt upon hearing his son laugh. he hadn't heard that sound in a long time.

he looked around and spotted a plate of half-eaten pancakes and glasses of milk. did you drink milk with him? he held back a laugh.

as you turned around, you spotted toji and nearly threw yourself in the tree.

"dad!" megumi chirped, happy to see his father. toji took it as an invitation to come inside. seeing megumi almost as tall as him, he chuckled and looked him in the eye.

"here's your ice cream, stinky," he said, holding a bag full of ice cream cups.

megumi giggled.

toji smiled widely and you sobbed at how cute the kid was. you placed him down and he ran to his father, clinging to his knee. you took the ice cream bag from toji and placed it on the kitchen counter taking the contents out.

[next song: under the tree by sam palladio]

you handed megumi a cup of chocolate ice cream and the uselessly small wooden spoon that came with it.

"which one do you want?" you asked toji who had yawned at least a dozen times by now.

"anything is fine."

you tossed him the pinkest strawberry ice cream cup. he rolled his eyes, but began eating it anyway. you sat next to him on the couch. megumi insisted on sitting under the tree, on the tree-skirt, looking up at the lights and the ornaments from below.

"oh! look!" you said, pulling your phone out to show toji pictures of little megumi in an oversized shirt holding a paintbrush.

"what's this?" toji asked. though his kid looked cute, he still didn't know what happened when he was away.

"yeah, he painted my wall," you replied.

"HE WHAT?" toji asked, surprised. megumi never misbehaved. but i guess he finally snapped.

"yeah! it's so beautiful, i can't stop staring at it," you began mumbling.

this kid ruined your walls and you're happy about it? he thought you'd scold him.

"come, i'll show you," you signalled him to follow you and toji did, worried about the mess his son had made.

he also did not want to see your room, given that he'd heard you have sex plenty of times for it to etch in his mind like a song that just doesn't fucking leave.

he was not expecting for your room to be so... pleasant and unsuspecting. you had a queen-sized bed with fluffy pillows, plants in the room, some equipment on the desk. hell, instead of sex, it smelled like coconut.

you showed him the art megumi had blessed your wall with.

"he's great at painting!"

toji's eyes widened at the intricate designs on the wall. had megumi really painted this? was he this good at it?

"it's... good..." toji didn't know what to say. he felt really sad that his son was capable of something so great and yet toji couldn't do more for him.

you smiled, somehow understanding what he was feeling. it was the same thing you felt about yourself when you realised your love for music.

toji asked you to send him the pictures and you complied. he looked around your room in silence, not knowing what to do. but he decided to address the former elephant in the room.

"can i ask you something?"

"sure," you said, looking down at your phone.

"i don't have the right to pry in your personal life, but... next time you have someone over, keep it down? i don't want megumi to hear... that..."

"huh?"

"you know... what you and your boyfriend do..."

"i don't have one?"

"then whoever you bring home to fuck... just please, keep the volume low," said toji impatiently.

"i didn't bring any... oh, you heard that!" you said as it dawned on you.

"yeah, whatever that is..." toji wanted to hide his face. it felt like giving a child 'the talk'. and you weren't that old too...

"toji..." you called, holding back your laugh. he wondered what was so funny.

"i'm not having sex in here. what you've been hearing..." you almost held it back... "was me recording for quinn."

"huh?"

you sighed as you explained, "it's an app for people who like listening to spicy stories... i'm one of their narrators... i try to pick times when people are busy or not here... but oh my god, i'm so sorry you had to hear that..." you said with a laugh, grabbing his arm apologetically.

toji digested every word you said.

"why on earth would you do that?"

"it pays really well, you know..." you shrugged.

now you had toji's attention. "you get paid for speaking dirty?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"and narrating, reading lines, moaning, whimpering, shouting... the works."

"that's an odd job..." he commented. it truly was. he had no idea things like these existed.

"i'm a singer by profession, so this is just a side hustle. my room is soundproof so i can't hear outside noises, but sadly..."

"you're not ashamed?"

"why would i be? it's great that people like it. you should try listening to some."

"please, no," toji held his palm out to her. he heard you chuckle. "aren't you worried that people might find out about you?"

"of course i don't use my real name."

toji shook his head in disbelief.

"i know you're ancient, but try it someday. who knows, you might end up liking it," you said, showing him the app on your phone.

toji stared at you with a blank face. he wasn't that behind the times, was he? he snuck a glance at your screen, his eyes falling on your username in a corner. embarrassed, he swatted your hand away and you chucked.

"anyway, thanks for looking after my kid." toji got up and left your room as you trotted behind him.

"anytime!"

toji left with megumi, after thanking you once more and making his kid to the same. megumi had definitely enjoyed he spent with you. he wished he could do it again.

a few days passed by and megumi started to become more interactive with you, waving at you, telling about his day when you rode the elevator together, giving you some small sketches he made after you gave him a sketchbook and some colour pencils.

toji still hadn't warmed up to you, but he wasn't as dismissive as he used to be. in fact, he had gotten slightly curious about you. you lived a quiet life, or so it seemed on the outside. but he knew what you did and how unbothered you were about it.

why would people pay to listen to strangers moaning? it seemed bizarre to him. he tried to ignore it.

he was stuck on another night shift, leaving megumi with you. he was glad that his son didn't mind you. and you'd proven to be a capable babysitter. yet, all he wanted was to be near his son. home. the night couldn't get over any sooner.

toji sat in the booth provided to him, watching the streets. nights when people came and went by were just as boring as when nobody showed up. he contemplated taking a nap, but the last thing he wanted was to be fired for slacking off. especially when the night shift paid him a bit more.

he turned side to side in the swivel chair, groaning in frustration. so far, he'd watched eight mma matches on his phone, cussing at how pathetic they were. nothing entertained him enough to keep him awake.

that thing embedded in his subconscious mind suddenly resurfaced, making him gulp in guilt. he could do it. it's not like she'll know... as if he was being watched, toji switched the light off in his booth and discreetly took his phone out, lowering the brightness and pulling out a tangled pair of earphones, and plugged them in. he downloaded that app, signing in with a random email he'd created ages ago.

[mention; compromised: victoria pedretti, on quinn]

he remembered her username and typed it in. not wanting to dwell too much on it, he clicked on the first 'story' he saw. he didn't read the description. he had no idea what he was to expect. thankfully, the audio started with some context. he instantly recognised your voice. based on what he understood in the first few minutes of the introductory chapter, it was a story about an agent watching over the witness she was supposed to protect. he realised that it was a woman x woman story. not that he minded. he just enjoyed listening to your voice. you surely had a singer's voice.

the more he listened, the more engrossed he was in the plot.

"i can stay on the line, sure..." you said, as your character stood below a hotel, at a distance, watching the woman you were on the phone with, from the window, keeping an eye out.

"you're not wearing anything underneath... i might not be the only person watching, you know," you chuckled. your laugh sounded better all over, probably due to the recording quality. toji paid attention to everything he heard.

"...tell me where you're touching...does it feel good?"

"i wanna see your other hand on your breast..."

"do you want me in that room?" your voice was laced with quick breaths...

"now i'm gonna hang up...no, not to touch myself... I don't care that you're close!"

toji sighed in exasperation, truly engrossed in the story.

"wait, shit, there is a man... fuck i think he's armed..."

toji had never clicked on 'next' that fast in his life. okay, he was hooked. when he first heard about this from you, he thought it was just audio-porn. he didn't expect a full on story with a plot, internal monologue, the background noises. it was as if it was happening around him.

the next chapter had you grunt and scream as you fought some attacker. how on earth did she record this shit? was she also fighting in the apartment? he smirked, realising what a double life she was leading.

"i saw that smirk, don't get any ideas..." you said coincidentally and toji had to look around him for a moment.

"you're very, very distracting..." your voice seemed closer whenever the background music got fainter. maybe it was the mic or some technical tweaking. but it really sounded like you were speaking in his ear.

your pants were now mixed with small laughs. it sounded blissful.

"don't ever be sorry for kissing me..." toji was surprisingly okay with hearing sounds of you kissing, probably another woman.

"oh, these lips... can i? touch them? fuck..." you moaned slightly... and then laughed. "did you just bite my thumb? you're so bad... i might have to punish you."

toji had to grasp his phone tightly as heard you make out, hearing your breaths mingled with the sounds of your lips moving against someone else's. you sounded so different, so confident.

"you like that, don't you? me on my knees... touching you, licking you, tasting you..."

fuck

toji knew you were saying this to a woman, but he couldn't help picturing himself in her place. your hums, whimpers, breaths, they were all elevating his senses. he felt his pants tighten.

"yes, fuck..."

"i love your neck..." you panted. toji raised his head, gulping.

"you're so hot... fuck... me..." your moans had started to get louder, breathier.

"what if i don't wanna hurry? what if... i wanna make you beg for it?" toji instinctively let his hand wander down his body, to his pants. he loosened his belt. he slid his pants and boxers down just enough for his dick to spring out, harder than he expected it to be. your constant moans, whimpers and dirty words became music to his ears as he stroked his cock slowly.

"tell me how good it feels..."

toji groaned, quickening his speed, his eyes closed, his mind visualising your face. he imagined you doing everything he heard you do on the phone. touching him, licking him, tasting him... he fisted his cock to the sounds of your sweet voice, shamelessly.

"so good..." he hissed, as if to answer you, gliding his fist up and down his thick veiny cock, its tip glistening proudly.

"come for me, yes! yes! yes! fuuuuck..." you moan loudly, dragging the last word, breathing shakily.

"god..." toji gave up any restraint he had and let his cock burst like a dam, spoiling his pants.

he was high. high on your voice, your moans, your words. he wished he could experience it for the first time again.

a shrieking honk from the gate snapped toji back into reality. he zipped back up in a hurry, shoving his half-hard cock in his pants. he tied a jacket around his waist to hide it and scurried out of the booth to open the gate.

toji came home early in the morning, feeling floaty. he couldn't forget last night's events. not when you were right there. next door. probably recording the next one. toji didn't know how he was to face you, but he was damn sure about hearing you again.

and hear you he did. for days. he was finding the plot interesting too. but he was addicted to your voice. how were you so confident? how did you manage to record the perfect moans. did you have help? did you get off just to get a good audio? all these questions plagued toji's mind. he really wanted to ask you about it.

but how was he to do it without sounding like a creep? or worse, a pervert? but then again, you did till him about it yourself.

so, when he had to collect megumi from your house after coming back, he came up with the simplest excuse.

"see you later, gumi!" you ruffled his hair, watching him run to his father, who told him to go inside and wait for him.

before you could shut the door, he shoved his foot inside. "hey, uh... i had a question."

"come in..." you moved aside.

you were hungry, but didn't have the time to buy groceries. so, instant ramen it was...

toji followed you to the kitchen, rehearsing the imminent conversation in his head.

"what's wrong?" you asked, looking at his tensed brow.

"i'm a little starved for cash. megumi's birthday is coming and i want to give that urchin something good this time."

"awww..."

"you uh..." was he really going to ask that? would she even listen? "you were talking about that..."

you on the other hand, knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. so many of your friends had tried to do that same. the fact that toji was considering doing that made the composer in you mildly excited.

"you want to earn cash on quinn, am i right?"

toji's head shot up, looking at you, slightly horrified and ready to get his ass kicked out the door.

"alright."

"wait, what?"

"i'll help you... sell your voice."

"are you serious?"

"do i look like i'm joking?"

"would i even... be able to... you know..."

you leaned on the kitchen island, looking at toji, who had sat down in a chair across from you.

"just do it..."

"you expect me to do it just like that?" he asked.

"what, like it's hard?" you snorted.

toji just looked at you blankly. "you mean, you do it just like that?"

"women are expert at faking it, you know?" you smirked.

toji scoffed in disbelief, rolling his eyes.

wickedly, you began panting, whimpering, opening your mouth as lewd moans spilled out of you. you gripped the edge of the kitchen island, and whined, "yes! toji! just like that!"

toji felt like he'd been shot in the head... both, his heads... he felt a bulge in his pants. hearing you moan and actually seeing you moan were two different things. the way your eyes shut tight, brow creased, mouth opened and chest heaved, toji couldn't take his eyes of you.

you saw his reaction through squinted eyes and stopped, reverting to your normal self, scratching the back of your head, completely unbothered.

"so yes, toji... just like that..." you said, without the moans this time.

toji gulped.

"so, do you wanna record a demo? i can send it to my agent. if she likes it, she'll ask you to record a proper script."

toji sighed... what was he getting into? he didn't actually imagine himself doing it. would it be embarrassing? no, fuck it. he could really use the extra cash.

"no one can know," he said sternly.

"you can use a pseudonym. you can literally put an emoji as your name."

"whatever. as long as nobody can trace it back to me."

"i guarantee you they won't. let's send an anonymous demo, 'kay?"

"fine. but, i don't know how to do this shit. it's too... fucking dumb."

you chuckled. "it is. dumb and fun. but doesn't it make you feel... like a king, knowing that the world gets off to your voice?"

toji scoffed and smirked. oh, how he wished she knew that he had been getting off to her voice nearly every damn night, palming his dick, picturing you saying all those dirty things to him.

he followed you to your bedroom where you had set up your mic, your laptop, you desk, under a labyrinth of wires and cables. he was made to sit in the chair facing the mic. the fuck am i doing...

you tapped on your laptop, leaning forward on the desk. toji's hammering anxiety took a break when he realised how close you were. your tits were practically in his face. he'd only ever seen you in baggy clothing, so this was a pleasant surprise. they were big. but they'd easily fit in his hands. he was a little disgusted by the fact that he was severely attracted to you.

"okay... what would you like to say?"

"i don't know..."

"what are your go-to swear words?"

"uh... fuck?"

"and?"

"i don't swear because of my kid... so, i don't know... this is difficult, y/n..."

"what do you have to fear?"

she was right. what was he to lose? to fear? nothing. he knew how hot was. he knew ladies threw themselves at him. he knew his sex appeal was impeccable. so then why was this so difficult?

oh, he knew why. you. it was because of you. the way he'd listened to your moans all week, stealing glances at you whenever he saw you, and now that he was in your bedroom with you...

fuck that! this bitch just faked an orgasm in front of me without a problem. i can at least spit out a few sentences.

"how do you start?"

"well, i usually have a script and there's good enough build up."

"so, give me one of your scripts."

"really? you wanna say, 'touch my pussy'?"

"fuck no. ugh, this is frustrating," he groaned loudly, leaning back and running his hands through his hair.

"hey, wait, that's good!"

"huh?"

"say it again."

"this... is frustrating?"

"tojiiiii," you rolled your eyes and smacked his arm. "say it like you did before. with the groan and all."

"i can't just do it on command."

"do you want me to leave you here alone with a gravure magazine then?"

toji's narrowed his eyes at her. "you read those?"

"no, but, you get the point."

toji sighed. you thought of another way to get him riled up. if a sexy audio wasn't gonna happen, then an angry one it was... there were plenty of angsty stories in demand. you clicked on record without him knowing.

"stop acting like a virgin, toji," you said and he shot you a glare. you let your mouth run a marathon, "no, for real, you're a grown ass man with a nice, deep voice. you look like you'd be pissed off if someone so much as looks at you wrong. or worse, if someone tries to mess with your son-"

"watch your mouth," toji growled, grabbing your jaw with his fingers, pressing it tightly.

"or what?"

"or you regret ever letting me in this house. that kid fucking loves you. you keep him out of this. do not... ever use him... to use me," he snarled.

you pressed the spacebar to stop recording. toji pulled his hand back, putting two and two together.

"that... was something."

"i mean it."

"sorry... but damn, angry toji... is sexy..." you commented.

"yeah? you like that?" toji said with a smirk. you squealed, regretting not recording that.

"SAY THAT AGAIN." you began recording again.

toji let out a deep chuckle. "you want me to say that again, pretty girl?" oh, he was starting to get into it.

you nodded.

"beg for it..." toji whispered, slightly closer to the mic. he watched you hold back another squeal.

"use your words, baby."

you were almost jumping up and down at how good he sounded. you really wanted to use his voice. you figured your agent would ignore yours and focus on his.

you exhaled, "please, please say it again!"

"hmm..." toji's baritone voice reverberated in the mic. "that doesn't sound so convincing, princess..."

you banged the air above the desk, pursing your lips and grinned.

"please please please! i'll do anything!"

oh, toji was starting to see the fun in it. "anything, you say..."

"yes! whatever you say!" you too were blending well with him.

"get on your knees, then baby..." he said brusquely.

your jaw dropped, morphing into a wide smile as you silently cheered him. toji found your reactions entertaining. true, you'd been doing this longer than him, so you were probably used to hearing all that. you were genuinely enjoying him.

you gave him a thumbs up and he made his closing statement, making sure to murmur, "good girl..."

you stopped recording and grabbed toji by his shoulders, shaking him. "AAARRRRGGGH. you are a natural!!!!!"

toji smirked. that was oddly easy to do. mostly because you helped him into it.

"well, i'm not one to brag..."

"no, please brag."

"heh. do you think your agent will like it?"

"she will eat it. she will want to become it."

"how much do you make exactly?" he asked.

"i had to do a lot of small freebies until i got my big break. i made [good amount] per episode. i've done three stories, each with twelve chapters. im working on a fourth one... so it's incomplete."

that must have been the one toji had listened to the first time. he did click the first thing he saw. he'd been replaying the first three episodes over and over, coming undone to them. but now that you'd said there were more...

"that's actually very..."

"rich, right? i was surprised too."

"so, you're gonna send it to your agent now?"

"yep. she'll like it. under what name do you want it?"

toji thought about it. he couldn't have this traced back to him. not with megumi's life at risk. it had to be something entirely random. yet meaningful...

"how about... 707?"

you grinned. that was a smart pseudonym. "done."

"well... tell me how it goes. and once again... not a word about this in public. what happens in this room, stays in this room," he warned you.

"WAIT SAY THAT AGAIN!"

toji chuckled as he stood up to leave and rejoin his son. before he did, he inched closer to you and whispered in your ear, "beg for it, babygirl."

you groaned and flapped your hands, fanning yourself. "you're so good at this!"

you'd sent that clip to your agent and got a response from her a few days later. to say the least, you were surprised by her request.

so, you stood at toji's door, phone in hand. he opened it.

"'sup?"

"it's my agent."

toji shut the door behind him, not wanting megumi to hear anything.

"what'd she say?"

you simply held out your phone and the text she sent you.

'WHO IS THAT?' 'GIRL LOCK THAT MAN IN THE BASEMENT' 'he's got the job if he wants it. i just got a killer script! the only condition is'

toji raised an eyebrow at the last message.

'you both have to do it together'

#toji fushiguro #toji #fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x y/n #smut #megumi #Quinn #spicy #neighbours #asmr

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vivwritesfics · 5 months

Text

No Need To Ask - CS55

Chapter Thirteen - The New Norris

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

Big things to come

1.6K words

Series Masterlist

Carlos’s pawn was the first to go. He sat back in his chair, waiting for Y/N to ask her question. The pawn was clutched tightly in her fist as she sucked in a deep breath. “What do you want from me?” She asked him as she stared deep into his brown eyes. They were gorgeous, but they were deadly.

Carlos lot a lazy smirk crosses his face. His shirt was unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up. You’ve never guess that he was in England for a funeral. “I don’t want some sweet wife that I can easily scare and manipulate,” he answered.

Y/N glared. “That wasn’t what I asked.”

“Try again next time,” he said and began moving his pieces.

They went several goes without anybody stealing a piece. At last, Y/N had his knight in her possession. This question was a bit easier, more direct, and designed to rile him up. “So, you can cheat on me. But what if I was to sleep with another man?”

“You mean that little Australian rat?”

“Just answer the question, Carlos.”

Carlos cleared his throat, but his features remained cool and calm. “Simple. I would have him killed. And maybe you, as well.”

“You’d have me killed?”

“That’s what I said.”

Suddenly Y/N knew what she had to do, knew how she was going to get power over him.

They continued playing, Y/N’s game maybe not as good as it could have been, since she was concentrating on other things. Carlos stole one of her pawns. They hadn’t discussed what he was to get if he stole a piece, but Y/N had just guessed questions, the same as her.

“Do you want to be my wife?”

It sounded like a proposal, but it wasn’t. And it scared Y/N. If she answered wrong would he be rid of her? Toss her to the side like a used rag? But, if she said yes, he would know she was lying. She’d done nothing but cry since she’d arrived in Spain.

“No,” she answered honestly, heart beating erratically. “But I want to. I want to want to be your wife.” And that was the gods honest truth.

As the game continued, so did the questions. Y/N was winning, and therefore she got her questions answered. Sometimes Carlos wouldn’t answer directly, leaving her to try ago, but, by the end of the game, she found out all she needed to know. She knew exactly what she needed to do to force his respect.

Because it wasn’t something she had to earn, she wasn’t going to strive for respect from this monster. She was going to command it.

On their last day in England, Carlos had the meeting with the other heads of family. Y/N spent those last few hours wondering the halls of the house she once called him. it still felt more like home than the building she shared with her husband. She spent time in her bedroom, where her possessions still were. Lando would probably keep it that way, waiting for the day she finally came home. Even if that day was never to come.

It was strange being in that room now. So much had changed since the last time she was there. She looked through her wardrobe, picking out some outfits to take back to Spain. Packed away some black heeled boots and made her way down to the library, to try and get into her mothers desk one last time.

This time, she didn’t care if she destroyed it to get its secrets. Lando wouldn’t care, either.

So, while Lando was being announced as the new head of family, Y/N was using whatever she could find to get into her mother’s desk. She started with a screwdriver to pull apart the drawers. When that didn’t work, she moved onto smashing the entire thing apart.

The desk didn’t hold secrets, as Y/N thought it would. One drawer was full of pictures of Y/N, Lando and their father. The few normal moments they had as a family. Christmas morning and their summers getaways. They were cute, good memories, but they weren’t what Y/N was looking for. So, she kept searching.

There was one other thing Y/N’s mother kept in her desk. A manila folder that was covered in dust. Brushing off the dust, she opened the folder and pulled out a piece of paper.

An agreement. The agreement of Y/N’s hand for Carlos. She read down it, through the details, what each family would gain from this. Her mothers signature sat at the bottom of the paper, along with her fathers and Sainz’s signature. And then there was the date.

Seven years ago. This paper was signed seven years ago. The agreement was put into place seven years ago. Her fate had been decided for her seven years ago.

She tore it up. There was no telling what the consequences would be, but she did it anyway. It had been sitting in this desk for the last five years, anyway, who but her would know if she destroyed it?

Y/N picked herself up. Rage like no other bubbled up inside of her. For the first time ever, she couldn’t wait to get back to Spain.

She waited in the living room for Carlos and Lando to return from their meeting with the heads of family. Carlos already had their bags ready to go, in the corner of the room. She sat on the couch, playing with Lando’s cat. Well, he used to be their cat, but not since Y/N moved to Spain.

“Oh Suki,” she mumbled as he held him up above her, his little front legs stretched out. “I’d take you with me but you’d hate the heat.”

Suki let out a little noise and Y/N let him down, pulling him into her chest. He sat there, rather unhappy, but the ragdoll cat let her hold him close. He didn’t purr, but he didn’t try and wiggle out of her grasp, either. “Thank you, Suk,” she whispered and kissed the top of his head.

The door opened and Y/N let go of the cat, letting him run off to explore. She herself stood and brushed off her skirt, smoothing it down. The outfit of today was a black skirt with a loose, white blouse. She had cute black boots with white socks that just about peaked over the top. It was cute.

She barely got any time to say goodbye to Lando. As much as Y/N wanted to wrap her arms around him, to ask him how the meeting went, ask if anything was different now that he was Norris.

But Carlos didn’t give her much of a choice. He let her say a quick goodbye, let her throw her arms around him, but then they had to go. Y/N would have fought back, but this wasn’t Carlos’s thought. This wasn’t because he wanted to be nasty that they had to leave as soon as possible. Carlos had obligations in Spain he had to attend to, meaning they had to leave the minute the meeting was over.

During the plane ride back to Spain, Y/N sat where she wanted to. Carlos sat opposite her, and Y/N didn’t move away. She watched the clouds coming past as she sipped her drink.

Nothing much happened on the plane journey, and I won’t bore you with the details of the car journey back to the house. Y/N and Carlos didn’t speak. It wasn’t uncomfortable, they just didn’t need to.

That night they slept in separate beds. That was to be expected. Yes, Y/N had stood up to him, but not that much had changed.

It wasn’t until the next day that she stepped up her game. Y/N strode up to Carlos’s office door and knocked. She went to knock, but, as with every time she had tried before, his men stopped her. But Y/N wouldn’t let that happen “I am his wife and I will go where I like,” she said and knocked once again on the office door.

She didn’t wait for a reply before she pushed into his office. He could have been fucking anybody, and Y/N wasn’t going to care. But he wasn’t. Carlos was simply doing paperwork when she walked in.

She strode over, body filled with confidence, and leaned against his desk, looking at her husband. “I want to go shopping,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Go on, then,” Carlos answered and grabbed a notepad from his desk drawer, making a note of something.

Y/N leaned in closer. “I want to go shopping, Carlos. That means I need money and permission.”

Carlos put down his pen. He looked at his wife and pulled his wallet from his pocket. “Miguel!” He shouted and one of the men guarding the door ran into the office. He stood, staring at his boss as he waited for his command. “You are to take my pretty little wife shopping,” he said and Miguel nodded.

They had an exchange in Spanish; Y/N only just managed to pick out a couple of words.

So, Miguel took Y/N shopping. He didn’t speak to her, just watching over her as she picked out different dresses. Most were black, some short, some longer. Y/N picked out some shoes to go with them. They were elegant, expensive dresses that she was going to use for every day wear. Carlos’s card paid for everything. Y/N didn’t care for the price tags as the filled Miguels arms with bags.

When she was satisfied with the success of her shopping trip, Miguel drove her back to the house. She headed straight to her room, putting away her new dresses and shoes. And then she got changed into one of them, the one she deemed to be the sexiest. That was what she wore to give Carlos back his card.

When she walked into the office, his jaw was on the floor.

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