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definitelysel · 13 hours

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PICK YOUR DOMESTIC HUSBAND 🛒

WHICH HUSBAND IS ON THE DOMESTICITY MENU TODAY?

featuring: diluc, alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, neuvillette.

synopsis: glimpses into married life with the genshin men.

warnings: implied fem!reader, occasional pet names, ooc (I have a sparse idea how diluc works, mention of "activities" (just mention I can't write smut pls), silly goofy ah loser coded men, mild swearing (damn, heck)

a/n: *stretching my back and crunching my neck.* I'm back from the dead. apologies for the choppy writing. thanks for the support on the other posts, if only I could write 50-page essays thanking everyone. <33 :')) not proofread.

DILUC 🍷

PRODUCT NAME: BREAKFAST AND KISSES IN BED. Diluc always hated the Knights of Favonius…

He hated how most of them just stand around like buffoons and do not partake in any actual work that involves saving Mondstadt. He wouldn’t admit that he enjoys playing Batman. He hated them all except for one.

One he was willing to forgive all flaws of. "Knight of Favonius…always so inefficient,” He scoffed at the pathetic sight of the hilichurls trying to dry roast a few knights roped to a wooden stick for their dinner. “Seriously, You’re so right Master Diluc.” Diluc’s head turned so fast at the sound of a new voice. When did you get here? Were you always there and how did he not sense you around?

That’s simply how you always were. A hard worker amidst slackers – he always termed despite Jean trying to explain that others work hard too. Perhaps that’s what caught his attention, honestly, he would never know what did. “G’morning…” He murmured against your skin, head buried in the crook of your neck, your flushed bare back pressed against him. “5 more minutes…” he heard your soft and groggy voice evoking a chuckle from the usually passive man. “Have I ever told you…how beautiful you are?” Diluc muttered against your skin. You smiled and turned around, “You always do. I remember my Dark-Knight Hero crying at the altar.” You pressed a finger against his chest, while he scoffed at the memory. “Don’t remind me about that, Kaeya doesn’t let me live that down…” He sighed, his brother consistently brought up the matter of him crying whenever he was losing an argument. Foul play if you ask anyone. “So…breakfast downstairs or in the bed?” He planted a kiss on your cheek while you hummed out a response, “Bed, you didn’t exactly go easy on me the previous night.” You recalled the events of the passionate night the day before. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end. “I am so sorry–” He panicked,” You're not in pain are you? I promise I’ll be gentle– I knew I should’ve been more considerat–” You stopped him by pressing a kiss against his lips. He groaned at the feeling of your soft lips touching his hands tangling themselves in your hair.

“I’m kidding silly… you should stop taking things so seriously unless you want me to start searching for grey hairs amidst those red locks of yours.” You snickered out seeing him release a breath of relief.

If the Darknight Hero really does exist, he's probably just someone in disguise. When he gets up in the morning to brush his teeth, it's the real him. He was his real him in front of you. People may call him a loser for such vulnerability…he was a loser for you.

ALHAITHAM 🌱

PRODUCT NAME: READING BOOKS OUT LOUD. One would say married to someone like Alhaitham was nothing short of a nightmare. They weren't 100% right. Shrouded beneath the aloof and meticulous personality resided someone who was in complete denial towards being loved. He loves it.

Who was he kidding? Nobody in a million years thought someone could put up with his insufferable personality — said Kaveh, his unpaying tenant. That was until he ran into you during his time as the newly appointed Scribe. You were like a painter, splashing heaps of paint in his 90s black-and-white life. Was eating ice cream always this enjoyable or was it because it was with you? Was the gossip between co-workers always this interesting or was it because it included you?

Why was his heart having an entire Queen’s rock and roll concert talking to you? Was it cardiac arrest or– He almost shuddered at the thought of it being what they called love.

“You’ve got flour on your face, sweetheart.” His teal eyes blinked amusingly into yours, a faint smile curling up his lips. You must have saved a nation in your previous life to land this man as your husband. Beige shirt perfectly sculpting around his abs – contrary to him calling himself “feeble,” hair slightly tousled and slight sleepiness in his eyes. He might not act like it but he was a little child whose needs had to be tended to like the coffee mug in his hands which you made, like usual. You wouldn’t want a cranky Alhaitham now, would you? “Hmpf, not my fault, this cooking book is completely bogus!” You rubbed your cheeks with the back of your hand, wiping away any remaining flour. “This is so boring…if only someone could provide their poor wife with some entertainment.” You always resorted to theatrics to get him to do things for you, albeit begrudgingly. “No, the same tactic is not going to work again.” “Please…” “No…” He groaned, tone almost pleading not to put him through the torture again. “During better or worse!” You resorted to the ace up to your sleeve. WEDDING VOWS! “Stop quoting the wedding vows.” He sighed in defeat. The most intellectually gifted man in the nation couldn't win against his own wife. Ironical. He got up and grabbed a book out of the bookshelf; a small fraction of his much larger library.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Alhaitham lazily flipped through the pages earning a rebuke. “More emotion! You are ruining the scene.” Alhaitham sighed and cleared his throat, “I love you most ardently…” His tone was feathery soft, emotion surging in it. A smile crept up as he stared at you endearingly.

“That’s much better. Though I seriously think Mr Darcy should’ve said– Miss Elizabeth, allow me to kiseth thy lovely lips.” You mimicked the deep voice of the character with the failing British accent. “Please have mercy on Jane Austen’s ghost and let her enjoy the afterlife.” Alhaitham chuckled and continued reading as you continued baking. It was a shame that a man of such talent only paid attention to the truth itself and not to the people around him. If only the searching eyes of the ordinary say the exception to his indifference, you.

This was your biosphere, just you, him, novels and food encapsulated inside your small home.

ZHONGLI 🪨

PRODUCT NAME: ALWAYS ON HIS MIND. What is the best but the most useless flex you have? Being married to the Geo Archon. The inability to just tell the whole world that you are married to the frigging god was painful. You yourself were surprised by your ability to control yourself. Zhongli was a man of carefully curated words. Instead of words, straight-up poetry flew out of his mouth. Everyone knew how much he adored his wife, every vendor, every acquaintance, heck even Venti. Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's mysterious consultant. Handsome, elegant, and surpassingly learned. Excellent memory. A master of courtesy and rules. The amount of poor women who have tried to grab his attention. "Mr.Zhongli, how does this look?" the woman, who he remembered meeting over a history discussion 17 days ago. "Hm?" his amber eyes shifted to gaze at the hairpiece the lady was holding. "Most exquisite.." He remarked, seemingly going into deep thought. Instead of a compliment, he said something that made the woman back away, "Such beautiful craftsmanship...may I ask you to tell me where you found this? I wish to buy one for my wife–" he paused, seeing the lady vanished after pointing at the shop where she got it from. "Zhongli, you should be able to tell why people approach you..." Hutao sighed, standing beside the rather oblivious gentleman. "Let's just continue...we've got customers to find!" Hutao started walking alongside the railing, hoping to find people in need of funeral services. "Maybe we should go and ask peopl– Zhongli??" Hutao looked around for the Consultant, who was caught up chatting with a shopkeeper over some earrings. "Zhongli!" Hutao called out to him, causing his head to turn towards the director. "Oh, apologies...It seems I got too carried away. These earrings caught my eye...I'm sure [Name} would love them.." he mumbled, staring at the jewellery. "I'll take them." "Mister Zhongli? What about the payment..." The shopkeeper meekly asked, causing Zhongli to turn his head fully at Hutao; gazing expectantly. Hutao should've expected this... "Zhongli, we are out here to find customers! Not buying gifts for [Name], her birthday is months away!" "They say the best things should be done first. After all, why must I wait for one specific day to express my love for my beloved?" Zhongli asked curiously and Hutao shaked her head; love was clearly out of her expertise. Zhongli, he is particular about everything. He only attended the best operas and focused on the perfect ratio for the creation of an authentic dish. On a typical day, all you will glean from him is a few pieces of useless trivia, because he particularly enjoys sharing these fun tidbits with you. He was particular about you and your likings. A smile on your face was what he wanted by the end of the day. For being someone alive for 6000 years, he could proudly say that he loved and cherished something– someone.

"Wait here, Director Hu...Perhaps I should get those flowers over there to accompany the hairpin and earrings..."

WRIOTHESLEY 🐺

PRODUCT NAME: BATTLE TO BUY A DOG OR NOT.

"Wriothesley, I want a dog!" You crossed your arms, staring down at the Duke who was glued to the chair in his office. “But why? That’s just unnecessary responsibility…” Wriothesley sighed, rubbing his temples. This was the 3rd time this month you’ve brought up this topic. Was he that incompetent in terms of filling his role as your significant other? Perhaps not with the never-ending paperwork. Oh, how he wished people would just stop committing crimes. “I get lonely in the Fortress…I want a child.” You put forth your point by using the term ’ child’. Child, dog same thing. You hoped to finally convince him this time.

“We have Sigewinne.” Wriothesley pointed at the head nurse prepping tea in the room with the back of his pen. “I am sorry, Your Grace but playing the role of the child is out of my job description.” The Melusine replied indifferently, pouring freshly seeped tea into the three cups. “Fine, we will go get one…I’ll schedule a meeting with the owner of the pet shelter. Happy?” He asked you, chin resting on his palm. Perhaps getting a dog was a good idea as he was guilty of being unable to spend quality time with you… “No way…” “Isn’t that..?” “The Duke of the Meropide–” “He rarely appears in public..” Wriothesley held out the door to the shelter for you, hoping you would go in and it would finally save him from the gaze of curious onlookers. The two of you walked in, only to be pounced upon by a big dog. “Kal! You sly dog! I knew I shouldn’t have let you out!” The caretaker yelled at the big ball of black fur who had tackled Wriothesley to the floor and was aggressively licking his face, tail wagging in delight. “Are you okay?” You asked your fallen husband, who just chuckled in response. “I am good just– Okay stop! I understand your gesture of love.” Wriothesley got up as the dog encircled him. “This one is so adorable…” you gasped at the cuteness radiating from the dog and its big brown eyes. “You’ve got a keen eye! This is Kal, Shiloh Shepard, one of the finest dogs out there.” The caretaker combed her fingers through the thick and groomed black coat of the canine. “He seems to have taken a liking to the Duke.” The caretaker continued as the dog ran back to Wriothesley, peppering his face with licks. “He even looks like you.” You teased as Wriothesley stared at you in disbelief. You did not just compare him to a dog…he even did a double take at the dog to confirm. “We will take this one then…” He chuckled in amusement. Never had he imagined marrying you and on top of that getting a four-legged beast. Needless to say, Wriothesley proudly walked out of the shelter, holding the big dog in his hands like a child. It felt complete ever since getting Kal; like your own little family. Wriothesley wouldn’t admit it but he loved the dog, despite it hogging all of your love and attention. He didn’t expect to be fighting over cuddling rights with a dog!?

He watched you and Kal sleep peacefully on the couch, keeping him company while he finished up his work. He felt a sense of gratitude…people of the Fortress knew little of the crime he once committed. The only one who still remembers it like yesterday is Wriothesley himself. And no matter how much glory or repute he has earned, he still considers himself to be the same old Wriothesley he's always known.Neither a good person nor a complete villain. He's just another soul, still living on in this world. However, your eyes always reassured him in ways he couldn’t describe. Everything was perfect…

[Name]!! YOURDAMN DOG PISSED ON MY COAT!! Maybe not that perfect…whoops.

NEUVILLETTE 🌊

PRODUCT NAME: HELPING THE OTHER DRESS.

Monsieur Neuvillette, The Iudex of Fontaine, always wondered how his life had come to this. 500 years of serving his position as the Beacon of Justice, a lovely, beaming baker somehow broke the monotony. Well, calling you just a baker was now an insult. With your ring finger bejewelled, with one of the rarest gems– an ode to his undying loyalty and representation of his eternal love. “It’s astounding how a covert mission conducted by melusines could’ve landed someone such as myself a lady like her…” He muttered to himself, seeing his full form in the mirror. “Talking to yourself, again?” You leaned against the door frame, lopsidedly smiling at the peculiar antics of Fontaine’s most distinguished man. “Ah, apologies…I didn’t think you would notice me conversing with myself. Now I find myself in a rather awkward predicament.” He chuckled. Dear god, this man was so beautiful that his beauty was almost blinding with the morning sun perfectly hitting his face.

“Say ah,” You requested and he complied. Who better to take constructive criticism from other than your husband? “New filling?” He covered his mouth while chewing on the croissant. “Yup, how is it? I was experimenting with some Rainbow Roses and these Inazuman berries I bought.” You blinked curiously, waiting for some input. “Hmm it is very pleasant, it is fascinating how you manage to maintain the freshness of the fruit…” You smiled at his compliment, before noticing him struggling with the jabot around his neck. “Need help?” You offered and he nodded his head. “This is absurd..it usually isn’t this difficult.” He frustrated replied, it was amusing to see the cool and collected man all worked up about clothing. “I suggest simplifying your outfit.” You attached the jabot and secured it in with the teardrop brooch, fixing the ruffles.

“Thank you. I do prefer my outfit as it conveys the message I wish for it to convey.” He explained before staring at you. You knew that look, he looked at you with his eyebrows slightly creased when he was hesitating from saying something. “What is it?” “Do I get a goodbye kiss before I leave?” “Pfft! I didn’t think you would take that seriously!” Conclusion: this man was wayyy to cute.

Neuvillette is a solitary person. Neuvillette is not known for his personal desires.

He was deemed as someone with unassailable impartiality. If only they knew that perhaps the Iudex was just a wee bit biased.

a/n 2.0: the crust will come off...hopefully. i wonder if it's possible to guess which one of them is my favourite??

don't steal, copy, plagiarise, or translate.

©definitelysel

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 days

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I LIKE IT BETTER WHEN YOU CAN'T KEEP WARM | ODXNY

✮ tags ; heavy themes, gender neutral reader, mentions of past suicidal ideation, getting together, romantic tension, angst to fluff, extremely lovey-dovey ending, some implicit and suggestive content (lit one paragraph n non descript), themes of touch starvation, small height difference (reader is shorter)

✮ wc ; 6.3k (this is so shameful bye forever)

✮ a/n ; every time a semester ends i lose my mind and me writing this in several hours straight is evidence. if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a character study with the central theme of loneliness, i'd have two nickels - which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

i will spare you the insane rambling for the authors note at the bottom of this fic.

✮ synopsis ; he wants something. to live maybe. and if he could be a little selfish, to be with you. he wants that, too.

Bright.

Could just be the dark room he keeps himself in talking. His computer system and encrypted Internet browsers are all in dark mode - and his desktop set-up doesn’t have any L.E.D. strip lights to keep him company. He prefers it that way, the ambiance a better environment to work in when he’s doing his usual rounds. Down to the programs U.I. - Odxny spends most of his time in perpetual darkness. Cozy and familiar - totally safe and secure. Nothing but the low whirrs of a computers fan and the faint blinking of routers to keep him company.

You’re the brightest thing he’s had on his screen in a long time. You’ve got white walls and no precaution, really. You’re sitting at your own desktop - and he can see everything of your life in the background of where you sit. There are photos of you graduating high school, being around unnamed friends, vacations and trips, and head shots like the kind you take for a resume. It’s all so personal. Bookshelves, trinkets, poorly made clay sculptures. Posters of musicians you like and Studio Ghibli movies. Evidence of life surrounds you like a halo.

Awful. Angel comparisons to someone he’s only known for a day make him wonder if he’s more pathetic than he thought. He probably shouldn’t think so hard about a stranger, a real stranger. Thrim generated randomly, though he thinks it sounds like a name. Finds it fun to say, for better or worse.

Natural light pours in from a window nearby, casting shadows in your room. He already knows you, in a way. He did the background search. Where you were born, raised, grew up. The schools you went too, the career you seek. Bits and pieces of you are all scattered in his memory and are not at all thorough. He wasn’t really trying for that at the time, just needed to know if you were dangerous. There’s a cognitive dissonance. To know a life so thoroughly and to witness it is completely, and utterly different.

There’s miles between you. Must be thousands. He can’t remember the last time he’s really met someone, though. It’s hard not to notice that this feels akin to that. Like the embers of a campfire, glowing but not burning. A comfortable warmth.

Bright. His screen is very bright talking to you. Even obscured behind the mask, it’s a little difficult to look at it and leaves him on edge - restless and mildly painful.

When his vision adjusts though, there’s clarity. A person, a stranger - with an exceptionally nice laugh and who is exceptionally trusting. Odxny tries not to think too hard about the feeling of warmth that flutters at your overflowing sincerity.

The conversation is easy.

“Does that mean you trust me now?”

Odxny pretends to think on it. “Enough to keep you around.”

“See you later.”

“See you.”

You accompany your last words with a wave - short and sweet. Darkness pulls him in, back where he started. He has a mild headache from all the light.

You pick up on the language better than he thought you would.

He underestimated you. Can you blame him? Your choice is language is ArnoldC, for fucksake. Sure, he has limited knowledge on esoteric languages but can it really be in-depth enough to show you the basics.

(It can. Or at least, Od presumes this to be the case because you’re rather helpful in Incri’s hacks and Incri is hardly helpful to anyone in the world, no less the server.)

You pick up on things quickly with little guidance - always to the point and not usually making many errors. He has to commend your abilities and give you credit where it’s due. It’s not a hard language to learn, but for anyone with no familiarity with coding at all he’d expect there to be a learning curve. Even if you had coding language, it’s not like you knew SQL coming in.

You fit strangely well into the server somehow. You’re happy to learn and nonplussed about helping with small things, though you don’t know these people at all and have no reason to participate in their nonsense. You talk to Incri fine, and manage to get Pep to accidentally reveal telling information. Odxny finds all of this rather… entertaining maybe. More than impressive, really.

He has a hard time making sense of the feeling. He would hope you don’t think you’re under duress - given the fact your relationship in two days has been pleasant. Then again - maybe he’s missed some social cue and you do think that. It’s possible. After all, he doesn’t actually remember the last time he’s spoken verbally to anyone with very, very few exceptions.

He manages to call you again after the fact - opens the call with sincere and heartfelt congrats and feels pleasant seeing you take the compliment in stride.

You land on the subject of programming again, inevitably. He interrogates you a little more over your choice in language - almost like he can’t help himself. It’s basic curiosity. You had said you were the best in ArnoldC. A little research proved that to be true, presence of you in the forums of various esolang pages. He landed on many things. You’re the best at ArnoldC, but you also know Brainfuck for some ridiculous reason.

He thinks you’re a little ridiculous in general.

“It’s really for the love of the game, huh?”

You nod when he asks this. Smiling, bright and unbothered with a soft edge of smug pride that makes the muscles of his face twitch up. “Mhm. I like my little collection.

Odxny doesn’t doubt it for even a minute. He’s seen the proof, but perhaps he doesn’t need to mention that. “Your trophy case of ridiculous language?”

Your eyes come to life all of a sudden. “Wait. A real trophy case would actually be so cool.”

He pauses, blinking as the words sink before a smile breaks onto his face helplessly. “That was not to enable you.”

“Too late. I’m already looking up the ugliest wood trim display cases I can find.”

The laugh comes naturally. “You really are just like this?”

You look proud again. “What? Fun?”

Yes, Odxny thinks but doesn’t say. “Baffling.”

You ask Odxny to elaborate and he does. The conversation flows with frustrating ease. So easily that he mouths off about his plans to you without a second thought. He doesn’t know why he does it. Not really. He’s thought it through over and over - so it’s not like he needs to disclose it. He made his choice.

He thinks about moving it along. About ending the call or simply brushing past without going into any detail.

When he glances at the screen, you’ve got a pillow in your lap and your eyes completely focused on him. There’s that feeling again, alarming clarity in your gaze and brightness that causes him immense unease in the world he’s made of nihilistic, apathetic darkness. There’s a plan, always has been. He’ll do this and disappear and the world will soon forget him. If it happens that way, than at least this loneliness is a choice he’s made for himself and not something the world has cruelly decided for him.

His lips move faster than his head, than even his heart. Compelled by a nameless and brilliant force. “I don’t have any reason to stay. I’m just — tired. Of everything.”

“No reasons? Nothing makes you happy here?”

His response is measured. Quiet. It’s not secret. He finds his voice crumbles around the words anyway as if they’re a confession. “Not for a long time. I don’t feel much of anything, really. It is what it is.”

You frown. He’s seen it all before. Heard it all before. “That’s…”

He cuts you off quickly.

“We just met. And we’ll be strangers again soon enough.” He says with as much conviction and resolve as he can possible manage. Who he’s convincing remains unclear. “So, not to be cold but..you know.”

The disappointment in your face leaves an impression, but you relent. He tries to make amends for the depressing conversation of talking again and you perk up so genuinely it makes want to cry, in a distant and foreign way.

“Catch you later, then.” He says, and closes at out the call. The room falls dark for the second time. He blinks a few times to get rid of the light clouding his vision.

Wnpep is eager to teach you on the third day.

You’re eager in reply - matching energy with sharp wit and enthusiasm. Wnepep is a better teacher than Incri by several miles. Evident in how much faster everything falls into place for you. Not that you really need too much help in the first place. You break down the crumbling walls of an insurance scam with ease and come out of the other side more accomplished.

It’s a noble last hack, Odxny thinks. Not unsurprising from Pep - unofficially the most sane and likeable member. He figured it’d be something like this less than a matter of personal vengeance.

You go back and forth for a bit in admin chat. Od types an apology about winding you up and tries not to read too much into the innuendo of it as you reply back with your own faux offended replies. He insists he’s somewhat sorry, and you’re far from believing him.

He finds himself grinning at his screen while he texts you mid conversation. When the realization hits, he almost curls into himself from embarrassment - a hand covering his mouth like it’ll do away with the grave sin.

The inneundo happens twice in one conversation, before you get to call under the premise of a victory toast.

A brief conversation about the last hacks barely leaves room for much else except Odxny plans of total isolation.

“Mm. I should’ve known it would come back to this. Why do you care what I choose to do with myself?”

That baffles you in a terribly genuine way. “Am I not allowed to care about another person?”

Odxny speaks honestly. “You are but I mean…” He trails off. He knows how he feels. “I’m not really a person anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no one. I’m going to be no one. You have other things to fill your life with.”

There’s a vulnerable edge to his voice that he winces at when he hears it. It’s true isn’t it? All of it is true to Odxny, but especially where he says you have other things to fill your life with. You might share the same hobbies, but he’s seen it. He’s seen how different you are - your livelihoods, your existence. You’d be missed if you suddenly disappeared. Odxny knows the same isn’t true for himself. It’s been like that for a long while now.

(It’s crushing. That’s what makes your very ephemeral existence feel like a burden. Why it casts the shadows of doubt on choices he made, about how he would live so long ago. You care, don’t you? At least, more than anyone else in his life in the present. You care so undeniably, and so obviously and it is all so simple to you.

He almost envies it. Almost resents it, too. It’s such a small shred of humanity, the barest forms of sincerity but it is painfully raw. A split nerve. An open wound It’s not like the server, all of whom have accepted this distant fondness. It’s a delicate thread - spider silk accuracy and just as much strength. There’s conviction in your missing him and it haunts him.)

You think of what to say for a long time before landing on it. “I do. But I can care about multiple things at once,”

It sounds like I care about you too closely. He finds himself shivering. He’s truthful with you, unsure of how else to be when it comes to these conversations.

“That sounds burdensome.” He says. “Isn’t that exhausting?”

You don’t lie to him either. “Sometimes. But it’s worth the trouble.”

“Why?”

“Because I like your company,” You reply. Soft sincerity in your words. More clarity. More painstaking light.

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Why not?”

“If it was that simple then -“ Then it makes it seem like things could be different. He doesn’t say that. Stops himself before it can happen. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue. Why do I feel like I need to prove this to you?”

He’s almost afraid to look at your face, wincing when he sees how knowing you look. Not in a condescending way - but genuine, full blown understanding. Like you see through him.

He wonders if he knows you as well as he thought he did.

Your face is so sympathetic. “Are you sure it’s me?”

He cuts the conversation short on his own - making an awkward transition from the topic at hand into whatever he can manage. It’s an awkward fumble - a poor attempt at distracting both of you from this line of thinking. You’re kind enough to let him have it. He asks about your hobbies. You tell him about how you like to try the weirdest things and combinations you can find in a restaurant.

He finds it suits you.

A lot of things suit you. Even your piss poor attempt at the Terminator that he quickly mimics - possessed by god knows what.

You laugh when he does. Brilliant and bubbly and characteristically warm. You say the words through giggles.

“That was so bad!”

“It was a lapse in judgment,” He replies back defensively, smiling against his will. He finds himself laughing too.

“I like your laugh, by the way.”

He pauses caught off-guard. “Oh? My laugh. Oh, uhm. Thank you.”

You make a face that he can’t read. Knowing. In a different way than the last. He feels nervous.

“I have been laughing quite a bit, haven’t I?”

You grin. Smug and deliriously happy. “Sure have.”

He looks away from you. “Ha...Odd.”

You giggle again. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, nose scrunched in genuine delight. It’s a pleasant sound but not because it’s particularly wispy or floaty or delicate. But it’s real. Pleasant in the way the white noise of park during summer. Pleasant like the varied playlist overhead in a record shop. Pleasant like a moment of humanity tucked between everyday. He clears his throat.

“I like your laugh, I think.”

You laugh again, gasping with faux offense. “You think???”

He tries not to feel so grounded by that sound and fails. “Yeah. I think. Laugh again.”

He tries not to add please. You shake your head like you’re reprimanding him.

“No, no, you have to earn that. Make me laugh.”

“Nevermind. Shut up.”

You do laugh again that time. He joins you soon after. “And now you laugh? At me?”

The conversation moves again, comfortable like a tide. You ask about his favorite language and he tells you as much. You’re quiet and growing cheeky, listening to him talk.

“So you do like coding.”

“Maybe a little.” He replies, not giving in. “You remember far too much of what I say.”

The conversation comes to a close again. He thanks you for how nice its been and you make an off-handed attempt to get him to change his mind. You could always talk more. The implication delicate beneath it.

We don’t have to forget each other. Odxny brushes past it - but says he’ll see you tomorrow anyway.

Extorting Elimfs childhood friend (?) is an easy enough endeavor. Odxny texts you through out - to ask advice on what things to take when he leaves.

He calls you again when its over too. He can’t find a reason for it - nothing that makes sense. He just wanted to call you. He hasn’t wanted something like that in a while, but he tells himself its fine. This is the last time you’ll ever know each other.

So its fine. He won’t waver.

He’ll just.. call you.

He asks you on your weed habits, mildly surprised when you tell him you smoke and take edibles sometimes too. The conversation loops back to the fund at one point. You don’t hide your displeasure about the whole thing today.

You’ve talked about it already. No need to keep bringing up. But you seem to feel so strongly and Odxny can’t figure out why. Can’t shake the feeling of wanting to know why every single time.

“Is it really so hard to believe I’ve come to like you in a few days?” You ask, after probing.

“In a way that matters, yes.”

You frown at him when he says that. It’s the most upset he’s seen you look, if he can call it that. You’ve never been upset when he’s been rude or insulting - but this is bothering you. It doesn’t help him pull away from you.

He says it again. Reinforces how temporary this all is. He’s trying to convince one of you. Both of you, maybe, of his unimportance.

“I don’t think that little of you.”

He finds it hard to reply to that. It’s that feeling against. It makes him uncomfortable. It’s not empty platitudes or some vague sense of responsibility for his life. All of it is real, and all of it is meaningful in how plain it is. You make it seem easy.

“It’s life. It’s normal. People come, people go.”

You shake your head. “Not for me. I can’t forget you that easily.”

He wishes you would. He’s painfully, painfully relieved that you wouldn’t it. He voices neither thought.

“Then- try! You’re putting so much on yourself, and for what? You don’t stand to gain anything.”

You shrug. “Peace of mind. Knowing you’re still out there.”

It’s heavy. The implication is heavy. He’s not going to kill himself. He doesn’t want that anymore, though he thought about it. At the beginning. Loneliness is more painful when you have memories of what not being that way was like - he thinks. At the start of all that loss, the hollowness bared an almost painful gravity inside of him.

It’s like being told to breathe or blink - becoming conscious of what was once a natural function, how full life was once when it’s escaped. He doesn’t want to kill himself, but living is meaningless.

These things aren’t paradoxical to him. They haven’t been for all this time.

(They weren’t until he met you at least. A mirror of wanting. Odxny looks at you and sees life reflected back. Despite it not being his, its moving. It’s beautiful in a human way, reachable. Tangible. Earned.

Wherever you are. Whenever you’re together, the black hole inside of himself seems to fade back into average planetary darkness. He becomes cruelly human again, feeling warmth and laughter.

He’s tells himself he’s not afraid of dying and that’s mostly true. He’s most afraid of living. Afraid he won’t be able to learn it again.)

He manages to tell you some of what he’s thinking. He has no clue how to start over. He doesn’t know if it’s possible. You don’t feed him any false hope, but he tells you how he sees it. You’re feeling pity for him right? And you should figure that out sooner rather than later.

“Is it really that easy for you?”

You shake your head. You’re smiling but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “It isn’t. But I have to try.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?”

“What?”

“Is this…?”

He cuts the call off when he hears himself, unsure of what answer he’s hoping for. The realization dawns on him too much, too quickly. The feeling of hope is loud in his chest but there is another feeling, embarrassing in it’s swiftness that follows shortly after.

Oh.

The servers shuts down after a mildly sappy adventure to close up shop. The closest Odxny has gotten to flirting with you in his own way. He’s sad to see everyone go, despite there being no other choice.

It’s easier than he thought it’d be. To give you his number he means, even after shutting the entire server down. After leaving everything behind. He gives you the choice to make. Call me if you still want it - a silent promise.

Maybe because deep down - some part of him always wanted to make this choice. Just maybe.

Your voice is different over the phone line. A little clearer, spoken softer. Just as lovely as it was the first time he heard it. Maybe more. Maybe.

The city beneath him is bright. So bright. It doesn’t hurt to look at, he thinks.

You call him every day.

You’ve been doing it for months.

He thought, at some point, you’d let up or start to forget. He’s been waiting on it to happen as horrible as it sounds. Like some self-fulfilling prophecy, he’d slip back into the background as is natural. A proof of his nonexistence, if you will.

You don’t forget though. He almost wonders if he’s dreaming when it happens. There’s a routine between you two, these days. You have your own life that you’ve been living the same as normal. When it’s night time for you, though - you hop onto your desktop and call Od like you’re two very average people.

There’s nothing solid to define your relationship aside from friendship as is. This is less frustrating than he expected it to be. Getting to know you better has only made him like you more. Your relationship is solid in a strange way. It’s been about six months total, and as corny as it sounds - Odxny feels like he’s known you for his entire life. You understand him in an intimate way, with vulnerable tenderness and radical acceptance.

He kind of misses the privacy of his old stomping grounds, but he doesn’t mind speaking though discord. It feels… normal. In a not displeasing way. You mostly talk to talk about whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it’s your job search, other times it’s your part-time or friend drama. You’re vibrant as always. Without the wall of anonymity, Odxny gets to know of you like he’s just your average person. He finds he really, really likes that.

You play games together frequently. He’s never been interested in cozy gaming, but you play Minecraft and Stardew Valley together per your request. Odxny streams himself playing Ocarina of Time for you on Discord in the background sometimes too, and you keep it on when you’ve got work to do or you’re cooking or something else. There’s something very mundane to it.

You’re not doing anything with him today though. You’re calling him on facetime, rather than at your desktop. You’ve made the executive decision to laze around and Odxny has no problem joining you though you speak less than usual as a result of being sleepy. You had a long shift yesterday so perhaps Odxny can’t blame you.

“Need to get better shoes. For walking and stuff.” You say thoughtlessly. The corners of his lips twitch up.

“Yeah?”

You nod. Your face is smushed against your pillow at an unflattering angle. He smiles a little.

“Yeah. I’m on my feet for like nine hours when I serve and it hurts wearing flats. Need something sturdier even it diminishes my drip.”

He laughs at that. “Please never say that again.”

You continue onwards. “Decreases my aura, even. But alas, utility comes first.”

He snickers as he glances at you through the phone. You’re propped against one of his monitors as he does work on his computer. He’s getting back into programming for the love of the game, just seeing what he can do.

“Want help looking?”

“Feels a little ridiculous asking a super pro-hacker to shop Sketchers with me.”

“You seriously thinking of buying Sketchers?”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I’ll get tipped more if I get the light-up ones.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hater.”

You break out into genuine laughter as Odxny shakes his head in despair. It’s something you’d do, no doubt. You sigh.

“I really do want a break from work.” You roll around on your mattress. Odxny can hear your rustling but can’t see you much. “The chains of capitalism shackle me in place. Woe is me.”

Odxny thinks on what you’ve said for a long while in silence. The question comes up every now and again though he’s never brave enough to ask it. His ludicrous amount of disposable income however is still sitting in his bank, collecting dust. It’s been six months and he’s hardly made a dent in it.

“Do you want to come visit?” He asks, cringing at the sound of his own voice. The words are strained and a little too eager. “I can pay the difference for expenses for wages and stuff. And, uh. Uhm,”

He loses his train of thought trying to speak, worsened by the way you pop onto his screen when he says that. Your expression is unreadable to him, comfortable and even. You smile a little as you lift the phone so he can see what you look like laying in your bed. Your face is in full view.

“It’d be a little weird to visit you before we start dating officially, no?”

His eyes go wide at the implication. You grin, mischief and mirth making your eyes practically beam. He can feel a blush crawl up his neck as soon as he registers it.

“Excuse me? Why are you saying that like it’s already been decided?” He bites back, not sure what else he could say.

“So you don’t want to date me?”

“I didn’t- you - damn it,” He groans at his own bluster as he giggles on the other side of the line. So cheeky. Damn him for liking it and damn you for being cute. “…You are saying you like me right?”

Your face softens. He can feel his heartbeat quicken. “Uh-huh. Just wanted to take it slow. But I’ve liked you for a long time.”

“How long is that, exactly?”

You shrug playfully and the fact he can’t be within reach to kiss you feels especially harrowing. “A secret.” You smile again, all trouble. “So. Wanna date?”

“Terrible confession. Zero stars,” He says petulantly. He leans back in his chair and finds himself smiling uncontrollably. “Fine. I guess.”

Your laugh fills his room. He doesn’t get tired of hearing it. His face hurts from smiling.

He manages to stave off on the anxiety of you coming to see him for a lot longer than he thought possible.

Making arrangements proves to be a little difficult. You have to tell your roommates that you’ll be gone for a while but promise to still pay rent and explain to your boss where you’re going. You have a good enough relationship and have been working long enough for them to agree to keep a spot open so you can start working when you come back.

After that, there’s the matter of Visas. Odxny goes out of his way to make that process go much faster than normal, though he doesn’t actually tell you. Once all of that’s sorted, there’s living arrangements. Try as you might to insist to live somewhere else, his place is too spacious for him to let you stay anywhere else. You can take the guest room.

He pretends that all of this is just happening in his imagination. He doesn’t even know the last time anyone came over, let alone lived with him. He does his best to make things presentable, and makes a guest room for you to live in should you desire. He even buys more decor (plants and things) to make it look… less like a cave and more like a home.

Nothing really feels real until the day arrives though. It’s a long flight and difficult trip. You refused to let him pay for the tickets so he moved it around to get you into first class both ways through other methods.

You text him the terminal, the arrival time, any and all delays. Still. None of it feels real until he’s already waiting for you near the bags. He can feel his heart race, his lungs short of air. He’s never experienced something so ridiculously contradictory in his entire life. He wants to run away while feeling stuck in place.

The anticipation nearly kills him.

He would recognize your voice anywhere though. Like he did for so many days alone in the dark. A hand waves high, shouting as loud as it can.

“It’s you!”

The sound of sneakers skidding across tile floors make his breath hitch. His eyes go wide as you stand still in front of him, luggage in hand and a million-watt smile on your face. He feels his heart beat so loud, he wonders if he’s going to throw up.

“Hey.” He says, dumbly.

“Hi!”

The adjustment period to living together isn’t what he expects.

It’s been a long time since he’s been so close to another human being. It becomes clear that you’re really living together though when your things end up in the bathroom completely incidentally. There’s something about finding your sleep shirt on a towel rack that makes reality settle in. You’re living together.

He’d be stupid not to notice the purposeful distance between you. An attempt to be thoughtful and not overwhelm him. It’s never awkward when you’re together. You eat together, watch movies and play games while sitting too close on the couch. You’ve been on a date in the two weeks you’ve spent, and it barely took any convincing on your end to make him go along with you.

Isolation aside though, Odxny is not clueless to the conventions of modern dating. You avoid touching him too casually. He doesn’t blame you, but he can’t help but crave your presence with a little more bittersweet longing as the days pass. He has to get past it or bring it up eventually, but it feels like something he’s never going to get over somehow.

The opportunity to do so gets thrown at him all at once. You’ve been living together for sixteen days. A conversation about love languages is what undoes it.

“Whats your love language, Od?”

He gives you a quizzical look. “Dunno actually. Never bothered to look.”

“I’d guess… hm. Quality time maybe? Or words of affirmation.”

He shrugs as he sits next to you on the couch, glancing at your phone as you read through the different ones. “What’s yours?”

“Physical touch. I’m super touchy. With anyone who will let me, honestly. Bad habits.”

Odxny gives you a long look as you say it. He debates if he should bring it up.

“You don’t have to be so careful around me, you know?”

You look up at him, startled by the comment. Several things pass over your face before you settle on an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s not like I don’t want to. I just don’t want to be too much for you.”

“That wouldn’t happen.” He says automatically. You laugh good-naturedly.

“Your confidence is assuring, but you underestimate how touchy I am. I’m afraid of I get my hands on you, I’ll never let go again,”

He thinks he wants that more than is normal. He shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”

You give him a long look, seeming struck by an idea, before humming and standing up. You turn around with your hand out towards him. His brows furrow in bewilderment.

“Have some faith.”

He takes your hand and stands up with you. He likes that he’s taller than you. Staring at you, he feels your fingers clasp around his hand and his heart thuds - loud and messy.

“Your room or mine?”

“What?”

You laugh. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Or don’t actually, but I don’t bear lewd intentions.”

He crinkles his nose at the word usage and laughs. “Shut up.”

“Just trust me, okay?”

He concedes with embarassing swiftness.

“Okay.”

You lead Odxny to the guest room you’ve been living in for the last two weeks. The bed is well-made and all the new furniture he bought is occupying so many of your belongings. It makes him dizzy. You shut the door behind him as you lead him in. It just feels especially surreal.

Wordless, you let go of his hand and hop up onto your bed. Once you’re laying down, you prop up on your side with your elbow and pat the empty space next to you, smiling at him as you do. Once it clicks what your asking, he can feel his face grow hot. He can’t refuse it though, and he doesn’t want too.

The sheets you bought together smell like you. Between there’s practically no distance between you at this angle. He’s gotten to look at you plenty through these few days but it’s different. You scoot impossibly close to him until there’s nothing separating you.

Your breath is warm - a soft exhale leaving your lips as you inch closer.

“What’re we doing?” He asks in a murmur, stone stiff. You smile, coyly.

“Touching each other.”

He frowns at the joke. Your expression goes a touch serious right after. The sincerity is debilitating. “Can I touch you?”

He nods. Can’t do much more than that.

He stares at you with impending, long-suffering longing as you bring a single hand to his face and cradle his neck. He flinches unintentionally, but pulls your hand back when you try to move it. He wants this. You relax a little when he does that.

Your hands are softer. Softer than a heartbeat. He can feel the various cuts and scars from years of working against his skin but they’re still so soft. He can feel how warm you in such a brief touch his chest aches. Your hands cradle his face tenderly, thumb brushing across his lip with a smile brighter than thousands of lights. Something in your expression wreaks havoc on his heart. Something so raw and so gentle and so full within it - all directed towards him.

It’s been so long. So long. He’s never wanted something so bad he couldn’t remember needing. He’s never wanted to be closer to someone than he does to you in the moment.

“You’re handsome,” You say, so sweetly. Not a confession, but gentle appraisal. It’s rare he cries but he wants too. “I like looking at you. Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” He rasps, gravel in his voice unfamiliar.

You hum a little. Closing the space between you with a press of lips. It’s not chaste. Odxny is grateful for how long and how deep you linger. He wants it so badly. He wants you in some damning and unforgiving way. How could a human being feel so warm? Feel so pleasant with so little?

You press your foreheads together. His hand trembles when they grip onto your waist but you encourage him just a little. It’s just a kiss. His heart might beat out of him. It’s just a kiss. He thinks he loves you.

Your hand moves away from his face. You let it go underneath his loose shirt to touch his shoulder, running your palm down the plane of his chest. You squeeze his waist, and wrap your arms around his back and pull him to you until your bodies touch somewhere in the middle.

You guide his face to your neck and chest as you hold him. He grips onto you tight in response, a gasp in the back of his lungs at the sudden sensation. You coo above him, soft and light - your fingers threading through his hair and nails massaging his scalp.

Your voice sounds above him, despite how deep in a haze he is. He can’t do anything but cling to you with impossible longing. You speak softly as you pet him. Your heartbeat soothes his.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You tell him. There’s that familiar clarity that makes him want to cry. “I’m glad you let me come with you.”

He can’t think of anything to say back. It’s a soul-shattering emotion. “I love you.”

You laugh wetly above him. “I love you, too. So much.” And then much softer. “Let’s be together for a long time.”

You lay in each others arms until sunset. In small talk and silent murmurs. It takes him hours to work up the courage to kiss you again - but only minutes to take it further.

It’s desperate. Terribly. Inevitable. You’re beautiful in a way that is undescribable, best expressed through his teeth on your neck and his hands all over where he can reach - each grip and thrust and bite a reminder. You’re pretty when you’re pleased, warmth reaching up inside of him whenever you make the right face.

He buries himself in you. You’re soft and warm and beautiful and he wants to stay with you. Time is a thief. He damns the sun when it tears you from him come morning.

He decides to make breakfast when you wake up. Nothing complicated. You go to shower after him and he plates up toast and eggs and other various things. It’s half done when you come downstairs.

Your skin is still damp, and you smell of vanilla and soap. Your coffee sits in a cup on the table as you pad over to him. He turns to look at you as you reach your hand up and cup his face. You pepper a kisses along his cheeks stopping at his lips for the last one before you’re satisfied.

He fails in his attempt not to blush.

“Morning.” You grin. He tries not to be sick at the domesticity of it all and fails.

“Yeah. Morning.”

You sit at the counter and drink your coffee, glancing outside the window. “It’s bright outside.”

Odxny can’t tear his eyes off of you. “Yeah...” He agrees. He’s not torn his gaze away. “Very bright.”

✮ a/n ; i want all real life compsci men to kick rocks but odxny sweeped me off my feet in a way i can only describe as humiliating. he is a bit like astarion for me in that i see a lot of myself in him at least in the past. he is also incredibly babygirl and uhm . other things (fine. he's very gorjus.) but i truthfully was most compelled by his idealized idea of isolation. as the fic will show it resonated with me as a fellow compsci dork who also tends to isolate like crazy LOL

this fic was like a demon that possessed me. literally no meds, no caffiene - just balls to the wall demonic possesion of needing something out of my system LMAOO. and adhd of course. im working on all the other stuff too i promise. consider this a short interlude 👍🏾

#seekL x reader #odxny x reader #seekL #odxny #girl how the hell am i meant to tag this #normal fandoms tagging ettiquette means no fic but i dont think it applies here #what is my problem so genuinely

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kisseobie · 2 days

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could you do what o6 ideal girl is??💗 love your posts btw!!

p1harmony and their ideal girl

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: none

a/n: ofc u can and thank u :] by the way, i didn’t specify any race, nationality, or ethnicity because as a woc myself i find it strange when people act like we’re a rare desire and only certain idols would be romantically attracted to someone who isn’t korean or east asian lol

✴︎ keeho

most p1eces would probably agree that kyo would naturally be attracted to a girl who exudes confidence in herself, but isn’t arrogant and simply knows her worth without making it everyones business. keeho, although a sweetheart that would be incredible at helping you fight your insecurities (which everyone has!), wouldn’t want to be someones personal life coach at every moment. craves a girl who has an independent lifestyle, loves to let loose once in a while, and isn’t intimidated by having an equally confident partner. being as naturally funny as him isn’t a requirement in my opinion (he of course wants to be the comedian of the relationship), and i actually think he would prefer someone with a personality like jiung’s, someone passionate, maybe a bit reserved, and focused on themselves! he would also loveeeee a girl who dresses nice and can do makeup well, shows skin sometimes and has her nails done a lot.. i think femininity would be really attractive to kyo <3

✴︎ theo

i think taeyang is looking for someone who can match his energy well, be a source of comfort for him when he’s particularly stressed/exhausted, and is confident in her own morality. he seems like the type of boy to be interested in a girl who sees the world in a deeper way than most care to, someone who can teach him life lessons and make him a better version of himself. very attracted to femininity as well, especially when it comes to silhouettes. a big fan of slip dresses and such! i think theo would also really like someone who’s a bit more emotionally mature than he is, and makes him feel like the youngest for once, because he often does feel the weight of being the oldest in his group. despite seeking maturity, he still wants his girlfriend to have a similar sense of humor. wants to have lots of laughs within his relationship!

✴︎ jiung

the most likely member to fall for a lovely lady who mirrors his own personality! jiung is the epitome of hard work and passion, and i really do think he would seek out the same qualities in a lover. not a big fan of someone who would constantly need to be coddled, i think along with keeho, he is really attracted to independence and wants a partner that can handle balance between love and work! needs someone who knows that although his love for you is unwavering, there are other responsibilities and priorities that will often take up his time. i can see jiung swooning for a girl who is very kindhearted and soft spoken <3 being the one in the group who isn’t too fond of physical contact, any girl that shows her love with words of affirmation and acts of service is a winner of his heart! is obsessed with the idea of receiving hand-written poems of love from his girl, and also secretly likes a bit of a height difference, whereas i think the rest of the members wouldn’t really care abt that hehe

✴︎ intak

tak would loveee a confident girl who almost plays into the “hard to get” trope, as cliche as it sounds. he’s a big baby but is also the type to let intrigue walk him like a dog, therefore he’s probably the only member that would “chase” a girl until she finally opens her heart to him (and she eventually would, because honestly, who can resist him?). i think he’s the one who i would say has a combined tastes of all of the members. he’s very sensitive despite his light hearted nature, so i think he would value someone who can be in tune with his emotions and doesn’t shame him for it (kind of like soulie!). i think he would also really enjoy a fashionable gal who matches his own aesthetic, very slick with dark color palettes and silver jewelry! i think some canker sore girls might roll their eyes at this but i honestly think he would really be attracted to someone who models or does some type of work in the fashion world, not for superficial reasons, but because he enjoys that sorta thing!

✴︎ soul

i don’t think that shota has too specific of a preference for personality types, and it doesn’t really make a difference to him if you’re incredibly outgoing or very shy. he honestly just wants a partner that can silently understand him in a way most people can’t, someone who isn’t judgmental and just perceives who he is as something normal, something lovable. as long as that mutual understanding and trust is present, he’s not the picky type, in terms of personality, looks, style, hobbies, etc..! if he had to choose though, i think he’d want to be with someone who can bring him out of his shell when needed, not forcibly of course, but someone with just a general confident and friendly aura would inspire him to attempt to match your energy. (this is obviously very keeho inspired, since soul has always mentioned how comfortable he is with him, i think he would fit really well and be very happy with a girl who has similar vibes as kyo!). but like i said, the only thing that really matters to him is mutual understanding :3

✴︎ jongseob

for seob, since he really enjoys a lot of side hobbies such as photography and skating, i think his main attraction would be towards a gal with a consistent hobby, definitely more on the artsy side! like keeho, i think he would also be really attracted to someone who enjoys fashion and isn’t afraid to dress how she wants to! not too adamant on his lover having a set style, actually really appreciates someone who tries out different styles and surprises him everyday with a new look! would prefer to date a girl who isn’t camera shy, as photography is one of his favorite things and he would obviously want his girl to be his muse and personal model <333 doesn’t like being babied and treated like a kid, so an age gap (2 years or more) isn’t really in his line of sight .. would rather date a girl in the same grade as him or born in the same year!!! i think he’d also be the type to really enjoy banter in a relationship, that type of dynamic is really fun to him :DD

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

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honeyedgifts · 2 days

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“When’s the last time you went outside?”

Sunday blinks, looking across the table. You do not sit beside him, but rather on the edge of the piano’s bench just a foot away. You’re not playing any pieces at the moment, shoulders relaxed and posture slumping compared to how it was when you played only a little while ago.

“Hm…” Sunday eyes you curiously, placing the cup he was sipping out of back on its saucer. “Well, I believe I was outside just an hour ago. I had to come inside the building from somewhere, and that’s outside.”

“Haha,” you say rather blandly, which he only smiles at. “As ridiculous as your response is, it’s still an answer, sadly enough.” You fold one leg over the other. “The last time you went outside, not to travel between buildings: way too long ago.”

“I suppose,” Sunday doesn’t argue. “Why does it matter?” He looks to his left, outside the large window. All there is to see is some landscaping, bushes cut up and maintained to keep shape, pretty flowers and perfect green grass.

“Maybe because you’re as pale as my grandma,” you say, no niceties to your tone, and Sunday just looks at you. There are no surprises here as you give him a deadpan look. “Being stuffed away doing Family business really gives you a jaded outlook to life. If you can’t remember the last time you’ve really been outside, just to enjoy it, just to be a living being, then what’s the point of even being one at all?” You huff loudly as you turn your attention to your piano. Your fingers hover over the keys, mimicking notes but not pressing down to create the music that is undoubtedly playing out in your head.

Sunday leans back in his chair. He hums at your words, closing his eyes as he thinks. After a moment, he says, “you sound like my sister.”

You laugh. He smiles.

“Is that why you come here to work when you’re stressed out?”

“Who said I was stressed?”

“Mm. Don’t need to say it.” Like you know everything, which you don’t, you start to very casually play a tune. Quietly, but it is still noise, beautifully crafted, and that directs attention. But no one interrupts, and the conversation is still private, despite the open setting. “You like to look so complicated, but you’re really simple, Sunday.”

“Hmm. Really?” Sunday takes another drink of his tea. You snort.

“Yeah. But that’s not a bad thing. You think I’m simple too, right? Ignorantly so.” You cast him a knowing look with a tip of your head as your fingers continue to play across the keys of the piano. “Maybe I am ignorantly simple. But you like me anyway.”

With that, you commit to your song like second nature, your leg subtly moving up and down as your foot presses on the pedals of the piano to reverberate the sound across the whole cafe. Heads turn to watch the perfect posture of your back as you sway with the tune. Sunday looks back to the paperwork he brought with him, scattered on his table beside the cup of tea.

You’re a smug creature. Ignorant, just as you had said. You definitely share similarities with Robin, like your shared musical experience and optimistic attitude toward life- but Robin would never be so… crass. Sunday has been around long enough to hear you cuss under your breath when your leg cramps, when you miss a note that no one else hears besides you (and him). He’s seen you eat food off abandoned plates that haven’t been bussed yet (disgusting, but it is… excusable only in the dreamscape, he supposes, since you cannot get sick or catch disease here. And look at him now, so used to you, he’s making excuses and reasoning for your gross habits). You’ve talked long enough now that you’ve shared details about your history, and none of it is particularly impressive.

You don’t know anything. You’re nowhere near Sunday’s social status and importance- but even so, you’re cheeky. ‘You’re as pale as my grandma’- really?

Privately, something no one would ever see, Sunday rolls his eyes, and tilts his head toward your music. Yes, despite it all, he likes you anyway.

#this is written ridiculously and kind of horribly but WHO CARES? not me #sunday hsr #Sunday x reader #hsr sunday #hsr Sunday x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr

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coryosbaby · 1 day

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loser!jace velaryon with a slight older and dommy reader. she loves teasing him in public settings till he begs and then overstimming him to tears. maybe a mommy kink in there sometime. god i love jace.

18+, MDNI !!

LOSER! JACE VELARYON, to start off, has had a crush on his betrothed since he was a child. He thought he could never have a chance with such a beautiful and alluring woman, a goddess in disguise as a human being. But when it was time for him to find a wife, boy was he surprised. She had fucked him stupid before the two of them were even wed.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON had never been experienced. He had heard about the acts of sex from the men around him because of the prostitutes they took to bed. But he was raised better than that and he didn’t see a point in those sort of indulgences.

Until he met her. Then he became the neediest and most infatuated man. He even grew out the locks of his hair so she could yank on it more when he enjoyed his meal— the one between her thighs, of course.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON starts calling his wife mommy. Mummy, to be exact, because of his accent, but for the sake of the word let’s just say mommy. He doesn’t know exactly where the satisfaction from the word derived from. He thinks it may be because she’s a tad bit older than him and makes him feel nurtured and loved.

And Gods, does he sound so beautiful and sweet when he says it. It slips off his tongue in pretty, whiny words. “Mommy, can I touch you here?” “Mommy, I need you.” “Mommy, you’re so warm.” It’d be a shame if no one got to experience the desperate sound of his cracking voice when he’s just on the cusp of release.

Which is why his wife decides to tease him. LOSER! JACE VELARYON is at a wedding celebration when her palm skims over his most perfect spot. She notices the way his thighs tense up and he tries to keep composure— he’s in a seat at the dinner table, but that doesn’t mean the others around him aren’t at risk of noticing.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON tries not to sound so whiny when the men of the court ask him questions. He grabs ahold of her hand that’s squeezing him— a beg to stop this now, because this is important, mommy, because we can’t do that— but he can’t resist her for long. No, it’s a mere five minutes before he’s excusing him and his wife for a leave to one of the mostly empty corridors, his eyes on her corseted back and imagining the way she looks spread open on his fat cock. Gods, he can’t wait.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON is pushed against the stone wall of the corridor, eyes rolling and mouth falling open when his wife drops to her knees. She looks beautiful, a true Targaryen beauty. He’s never seen someone so perfect. His hand finds its way into her hair— it isn’t done up like usual. She must’ve been expecting this.

Her fingers deftly undo his trousers, smiling when his girthy length slaps up against his stomach. He’s all flushed pink and wet, aching for a hole to fill, and she knows it.

“What a naughty boy you are,” she teases, in that angelic lilt of hers. She trails a finger up his length, and he lets out a groan. “Getting all worked up in front of all those people. Tell me, husband. What do you think they’d do if they knew their little Velaryon prince was whining like a girl for his beloved’s mouth?”

He bites his lip, eyes scrunching closed.

“They would think…” he breathes out a sigh when her tongue laps at him teasingly. “They would think im a whore, mommy.”

“That’s right, sweet one. Because that’s what you are, isn’t it?”

He nods, because he knows it’s the truth. Her hand wraps around him and lightly tugs. His hips move against the sensation, and his wrist moves up to be bitten by his teeth. She notices, and grabs his elbow. His arm is back at his side in a second, clutching onto the cool surface of the stone wall.

“No,” she says. “Let them all hear you, little prince. Let them hear you when I taste this sweet cock.”

He lets out a whine, watching as she takes his glittering, pink head into your soft mouth. She suckles him gently, playfully, and hums like a kitten at the taste of his precum. He’s delicious. She could eat him up for hours.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON is soon crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as she works her hand over him still, her fingers dripping with his first—second?— release. He can still hear the ongoing party as he shakes against the wall. He doesn’t know how long it’s been.

“Mommy. Mommy, it’s too much, please..”

“Don’t be difficult, Jace. Don’t you want to make me proud?”

Fuck, he wants it so bad he can’t breathe. He nods, plump lip quivering. He wonders when the party will be over…

LOSER! JACE VELARYON lets out a tiny whimper of fear when he hears the sounds of footsteps moving down the corridor. He comes to his senses for a mere moment, regardless of the fact that his wife’s hand is still pumping his cock. But she’s clever and she’s calm— she presses her hand to his shoulder and uses the leverage to push him against the corner of the corridor, a corner that has an extra wall built onto it and makes a tiny nook of secrecy and disretion. Jace hears the voices of his relative Alicent Hightower and her traitor knight, Sir Criston. Vastly approaching still, while his beloved’s hand works his dick, she speaks in a hushed whisper.

“Filthy, naughty boy. Cock out and covered in cum. You just couldn’t wait, could you?”

He can’t help it. LOSER! JACE VELARYON cries out his wife’s name, face twisted into carnal pleasure, and cums. Creamy white squirting all over her wrist and dress, balls drawn up tighter than a rubber band. He thinks she might’ve put a spell on him, this woman.

She smiles, listening to the awkward and rushed sound of Alicent and Sir Criston leaving the corridor when they realize the adultery occurring. Jace’s wife brings her fingers up to her mouth and gently sucks the spend off her thumb.

“You’re doing so good for mommy. I think you can handle one more. Don’t you think, little prince?”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

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fluentmoviequoter · 14 hours

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All The Reasons We Can't

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (Lucy's roommate)

Summary: When you move in with Lucy Chen, you don't expect to fall for her ex-boyfriend.

Warnings: unspecified age gap (r is younger than Lucy), angst, fluff, spoilers for s6! (it's canon-divergent but still has spoilers)

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

A/N: If you are looking for a happy ending for Lucy and Tim, this is not the fic for you lol.😆

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Lucy!” you call, waving from your seat in the back of the restaurant.

She rushes to you and pulls you into a tight hug. “Thank you so much for coming,” she whispers into your embrace. “I needed this.”

“You’re my best friend, Lucy, I’ll always be here for you.”

Lucy nods as she releases you. You take the seat beside her rather than across from her. She’s dealing with a lot, and you know that she needs a friend right now.

“So, how long are you staying in town this time?” Lucy asks as she picks up the menu.

“Uh, about that,” you begin slowly. “I was thinking I’d just stay this time. You’re here, a lot of other things I love are here, and I just- I think it’s time to stay in LA for good.”

“You’re moving?” Lucy exclaims. “Please don’t be kidding, I can’t take that right now, girl.”

“I’m serious,” you promise her. “I’ve been looking for a new job and a place. Lucy, I want to be close to you; I need you in my life all the time, too.”

“It’s been too long,” Lucy agrees as she takes your hand. “I do have an idea though.”

You hum, inviting her to share, and her smile grows.

“Why don’t you move in with me? Tamara moved out, so I have the room. Even if it’s just temporary until you find your own space, I’d love to be roommates.”

“Are you sure? That’s a lot of change, Luce, and I don’t want to get in the way of you processing everything.”

“I’m really sure.”

“Then, yeah, I’d love that, Lucy.”

Lucy squeals, drawing the attention of an older couple sitting across from you. You wave awkwardly before they look away, then laugh with Lucy. Moving in with her sounds perfect and being right there for each other is part of why you decided to move.

“Hello,” you greet when Lucy returns from work. “Dinner is in the oven.”

“You’re the best friend ever,” Lucy sighs. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Wasting time until we met online mostly,” you answer. “How was today?”

“It was- uh, it was better. Tim and I still have a lot of work to do, mostly on ourselves. We’re going to try to be friends, though, because there’s no way either of us could ever just go back.”

“I get that. Being friends will be good for you, Lucy, even if it’s hard. Especially since you have to see him every day.”

“Yeah, it’s just still hard. Really hard sometimes, to wake up and remember he’s not there.”

You pull Lucy into a hug, which she gladly accepts. The oven timer dings, and you release her with a smile and an apology to finish preparing dinner.

“What would make it better?” you ask. “I know you’ve been thinking about it.”

“Honestly, I know I’m not ready to get out there yet, but I think seeing Tim with someone else – even just platonically – could help. He deserves it, too. For everything that he did and didn’t do, he’s a great guy, and he needs a friend or two that he can be himself with. Or does that sound selfish, like I’m trying to push him away to forget?”

“It doesn’t sound selfish at all, Lucy. You want the best for him, and if he’s trying to be friends, it seems like he wants that for you, too.”

“Yeah.” Lucy taps her fingers on the counter.

“I’ll get you a sign for the door,” you joke, trying to make her smile. “Lucy Chen, Platonic Matchmaker.”

It works, and Lucy smiles as you slide two plates onto the counter. She’s your best friend, and if she thinks Tim Bradford needs a friend (even after breaking her heart), then you trust she’s right.

“Hi,” Tim greets softly when the elevator opens.

Lucy nods once in greeting as she steps inside. “Good morning.”

Tim presses his lips together in the awkward silence. He knows he made the right choice by letting her go to get the better things she deserves, but it doesn’t make this part easier. “Big plans this weekend?”

“Not really,” Lucy replies. “My roommate is making me dinner tomorrow night and we’re just going to hang out, I think. Tamara and some other friends are coming over this weekend.”

“That’s good. You got a new roommate already?”

“I did. A friend I met a few years ago moved here, so…”

“Nice.”

“Yeah.” The door opens and Lucy steps forward. “Plus, she knows every little thing there is to know about me and you.”

Tim’s eyes widen and Lucy laughs as the elevator door closes behind her. Shaking his head, Tim smiles because Lucy looks happy again. His phone buzzes with another reminder about her cop-iversary, a term she coined to celebrate the anniversary of when she graduated to short sleeves. It’s the first year he hasn’t celebrated with her, but he’s still celebrating for her.

On the day of Lucy’s cop-iversary, you wake up early to surprise her with her favorite breakfast. When you have the food done and decorated for her big day, you realize that she should be awake by now. You walk to her bedroom door and knock lightly.

“It’s open,” Lucy calls from inside.

Gently pushing the door open, you see her finishing her hair. With the last clip in place, she sighs and looks at you. Her eyes are bloodshot, she looks tired, and there’s no sign of excitement for her big day.

“What happened?” you inquire.

“Yesterday was awful. A cop got shot, and I got roped into an undercover thing that almost blew up in my face… I’m just stressed and tired, I think. Everything’s piling on, you know?”

You extend your arms toward her, and Lucy hugs you tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “What is that amazing smell?”

“That’s your cop-iversary breakfast. Go eat, I’ll tidy up in here for you.”

“I love you,” Lucy sighs. “You’re the best person, friend, roommate, human, ever.”

“Back at ya,” you reply happily. “Now go before you run out of time.”

Lucy presses her hands together in another silent thanks as she walks backward out of her room. If she hadn’t told you about the rough day yesterday, her room would have. There are some clothes spread around on the bed and floor, her desk is disorganized, and there’s an overflowing backpack shoved in the corner. Her go bag, you realize. You pick a place at the back of the room and begin gathering the loose items; it’s the least you can do for your best friend.

In the kitchen, Lucy takes a bite of food and closes her eyes in appreciation. Before she can continue eating, someone knocks on the door. As she stands, she grabs a piece of food from the edge of her plate and pops it in her mouth on the short walk to the door.

“Kojo!” she squeals.

She drops to her knees without greeting Tim, opting to welcome Kojo into the apartment rather than the man who brought him over. Lucy takes the leash from Tim and leads Kojo to the couch.

“Can I come in?” Tim asks from the hall.

“Yeah,” Lucy answers, not looking away from Kojo. “What are you two doing here?”

“Heard about yesterday,” Tim says as he closes the door. “Thought you might want some Kojo comfort.”

“Kojo comfort is my favorite.”

“Happy cop-iversary.”

You survey Lucy’s room once you’re finished. With a satisfied nod, you turn toward her door. As you open it, you realize that Lucy has company.

“Sorry,” you say softly as the man looks toward you.

You recognize Tim Bradford from Lucy’s description of him and the pictures she refuses to delete. Now that they’re friends, it’s fine, but you didn’t approve of the folder while she was lying awake every night.

“I’m just gonna…” you trail off and walk toward your room.

“No, you can stay,” Lucy says. “You live here, too. This is Tim. Kojo and I will be right back.”

Lucy stands, and Kojo follows quickly behind her. She gathers her plate from the counter before she and Kojo disappear into her room and the door closes behind them.

“Hi,” you tell Tim. You remember that Lucy never actually said your name and offer it.

“Nice to meet you. And glad to see Lucy got a good roommate,” Tim replies.

You nod and look toward her door before you drop your voice to say, “Thank you. Lucy told me how you’re trying to do everything right after the breakup. Friends and all that. Plus, she needed to see Kojo today.”

“It is quite literally the least I can do,” Tim replies.

“I disagree. You seem like a great guy, Tim, and the fact that you’re trying at all means a lot. To me, at least.”

Tim isn’t sure how to respond to that. He blames himself for so much of what has happened recently, yet as he stands here with you, that guilt and the memories fade. He just wants to know about you.

“So, you and Lucy have been friends for a while?” he asks.

“Long-distance friends. We met online and then ran into each other in person a while back. Everything just kind of fit between us.”

You’re taking up every thought in Tim’s head, he realizes. Even as you’re talking, he wants to know more, to know you. But then a small voice in him points out that you’re young. Whatever it is he’s feeling doesn’t matter; you’re younger than him, younger than Lucy, and there’s no way you’d be interested in him. The realization fails to silence the other voice that whispers about how he feels alive, like himself again.

“How are you?” you ask. “Not just like how are you, I mean. Uhm… How are you doing with everything?”

The whispering voice rises to a yell. Tim’s heart knows exactly what it wants. Back to life in his chest, Tim acknowledges its cry that he needs you. Tim Bradford has feelings for Lucy’s younger roommate.

“I’m sorry if that’s overstepping your boundaries,” you add when Tim doesn’t answer. “It’s just that Lucy had me, Tamara, plenty of people to talk to after the breakup. From what she’s told me, you may not have had that same community to help you.”

“I don’t,” Tim agrees. His heart hammers in his chest as he wishes he could come home to you and your arms, where nothing else would matter.

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugs half-heartedly and offers a small smile. You see right through them to the sadness and guilt beneath. Living with Lucy has accustomed you to touch and physical affection, and you don’t think twice before you hug him.

Your arms wrap over his shoulders, and the brief moment where you think he will pull away ends when his strong arms tighten around your waist. He drops his face to your shoulder and holds you tighter as he clings to you. You feel it, and Tim does too, as he melts in your arms and releases the baggage he’s been carrying for far too long.

“You have people now,” you whisper.

Tim nods against you and raises one arm toward your shoulder to deepen the hug before he pulls away.

“Do you have your phone?” you ask, your hand still on his arm. “I can give you my number so you can call or text any time you want.”

Tim passes you his phone and watches your eyes as you type your contact information. As you place it back in his hand, you repeat your invitation.

“Anything you need, just to talk or listen, I’m here, Tim.”

“Thank you,” Tim replies. He holds your eyes for a moment then asks, “Is Lucy going to give Kojo back?”

You tilt your head back and laugh, and Tim smiles at the sight and the melodious noise. “Nope,” you answer.

“Maybe I should take her roommate to get even,” Tim jokes.

You smile at him as you shake your head. “Take a seat, she’ll be a while. There’s plenty of food, too, so help yourself.”

Tim happily takes a seat, more than willing to pass the time with you while Lucy gets comforted by Kojo. The minutes pass quickly as you and Tim get to know each other. When Lucy’s door opens again, Kojo trots to Tim’s side and Lucy calls that she’s just getting her stuff and she’ll be ready.

“Great, I’m a chauffeur now,” Tim grumbles.

“Tim, you should come over more often,” you suggest. “Only if you’re comfortable with that, of course. I think it would be good for all of us, though.”

You pat Kojo’s head as Tim promises, “I will. And if you ever want to come to my place or meet somewhere, you have my number.”

Lucy emerges before you can answer Tim, and she hugs you tightly to thank you for the cop-iversary present. She tells Tim he’s free to go, to which he rolls his eyes but leaves anyway. You know that you’ll be texting him soon.

“You hugged Tim,” Lucy accuses after he leaves.

“What?” you ask, turning back toward her after watching Tim leave.

“I’m not mad. You’re really good for him.”

“Lucy, I promise it was not my intention to-“

“I know,” she assures, reaching for your hand. “But Tim and I are friends, he clearly likes you… If you want to try, I’m rooting for you.”

“Thanks.”

She picks up her bag and steps toward the door. “You didn’t ask how I knew you hugged him.”

“Cologne?” you guess.

“Happiness. I saw it on him too, and it’s been a very long time since it was that obvious.”

After she leaves, you unlock your phone and see that Tim has already sent you a text. With his comments and Lucy’s approval, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t pursue whatever it is that’s blooming between you.

“Thanks for the hug and the talk,” you read. You smile as you type a reply: Meet at my favorite restaurant on Friday for more?

The message says ‘delivered’ then ‘read,’ but there’s no reply. A minute passes and you lock your phone. Maybe you misread everything, and he really did just need a hug, and now he’s done. You try to shake it out of your head and begin to clean the kitchen. You’re nearly done when your phone rings.

“Hello?” you answer as you dry your hands.

“Why?” Tim asks.

“Hmm?”

“I’m older than you,” Tim points out. “And I dated your roommate and then dumped your roommate. I kept secrets and lied and nearly lost my job. There are more reasons than I can count that this wouldn’t work.”

“I know you’re older than me. And I don’t care. Tim, for all of the reasons you just told me that this- that we wouldn’t work, did you think of any reasons we would?”

Tim exhales before he admits, “No.”

“Then I’ll see you Friday, because both of our hearts already know, and for every reason that your brain tells you no, my heart is telling me yes. If yours isn’t, tell me now and we walk away.”

“Mine is too,” Tim whispers.

“Good.” You smile as you say, “Hey, can you get the early bird special, so our first date is cheaper?”

“What do you care? You’re not paying,” Tim replies, an addictive, teasing lilt in his voice.

“I’m glad you came over today, Tim. I needed that hug, too.”

“See you on Friday for more.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #the rookie #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯#the rookie spoilers

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tgmsunmontue · 3 days

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Second time lucky...

College AU featuring Bradshaw!Twins Bradford and Bradley, a Jake Seresin with a crush, and a long-suffering Javy Machado.

“He’s so fucking hot,” Jake whines and Javy rolls his eyes, clearly sick of hearing about it but Jake just can’t help himself.

They’re watching a group play ultimate frisbee, a sport they’ve both learnt to come to appreciate watching when the teams differentiate themselves by shirts and no-shirts, the women stripping to tanks and everyone wearing the shortest-shorts they apparently seem to own. Jake approves, even if he doesn’t really understand how the game itself works. But the guy is playing, and Jake has dedicated a lot of time to watching him.

He’s been seeing the guy everywhere on campus, can’t seem to walk anywhere without seeing him and it’s really fucking distracting. He goes to the pool, and the guy is there. He goes to the gym, the guy is there. He goes to the library, the guy is fucking there. He’s not in any of Jake’s classes thankfully, he does get some reprieve, however if the guy was in a class he’d have an actual chance of learning his name.

“Where’s your infamous charm now? Why don’t you just go and ask him out?” Javy asks. While there are a lot of names being thrown around, it’s impossible to tell which one belongs to the guy in question.

“I… I can’t.”

“Seriously? You can’t? You’re actually… oh my god. You actually care about getting rejected by this guy.”

Part of Jake wants to snap that he doesn’t care. And that he doesn’t get rejected. However he has to admit that he usually doesn’t get rejected because he generally only asks people who are a sure thing. People who have made their interest known. With this guy, he just doesn’t know. Sometimes he thinks that maybe yeah, he’d totally be down to going out with Jake. Maybe. And other times there’s definitely zero interest. So it’s not like the guy is blowing hot and cold. More like… barely lukewarm and cold. Maybe once or twice he thinks there was something, but it had been gone so fast he’s pretty sure he imagined it.

… … …

“I think I’ve found you an in. The guy is a member of the Delta Frat. And he’s a senior. That’s why he’s not in any of our classes.”

“He’s in a frat?” Jake asks, pulling a face.

“Yeah, and I am totally judging your taste. Because not only is he in a frat, but his name is Bradford Bradshaw.”

“Oh god…” Jake groans, because that is one hell of a name. But he has a name now, and he recognizes it as being one yelled out while watching ultimate frisbee, so it sounds like it is probably the same person.

“And, because they’re a frat, they’re having a party on Friday night to celebrate… the end of the week probably. I don’t remember. Anyway, I got the details. You owe me.”

Jake feels like he might throw up.

Javy has gone to all this effort for him, he can’t just not use it.

… … …

They stand in front of the house and it doesn’t seem like there’s a party and they look at each other hesitantly before Javy shoves him into motion with a push to his shoulder.

“Just walk up and knock. Come on.”

He huffs out a breath and squares his shoulders. He can do this. He raises his hand to knock and then the door is opening away from him and there’s a guy standing there looking at them, wide smile on his face, and at least he looks welcoming rather than asking them who the fuck they are.

“Oh, hey man, just go straight in. Mickey’s out the back heating the grill, think Bradshaw’s in the kitchen. You’re a bit early, game doesn’t start for another hour.”

He exchanges a look with Javy, because that would have been useful information to have, and he also feels empty handed, like maybe some chips and dip wouldn’t have gone astray, because it seems far too settled, too quiet, considering they’re having a party, and Bradshaw is in the kitchen. Chips and dip would give his hands something to do, something to hold onto. Reaching out to grasp hold of Javy just doesn’t elicit the image he’s at least trying to portray here.

There’s posters and scarves for different teams. A pair of silicon boobs is sitting on a shelf beside what Jake is pretty sure is a bong. Beside which is a dildo. Okay then. They walk further into the house, and there he is. Bradford Bradshaw, in the kitchen as promised, poking at an assortment of Jello shots in the fridge. They’re arranged like a rainbow, and it gives Jake a little flare of hope, because so far, the house had been very… frat bro aesthetic.

“Uh. Hi. I’m Jake.”

“Hey man. Bradford. I think I’ve seen you around. Swim team right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jake manages to croak, because that also bodes well for him, that the guy has at least noticed him enough to know that. “I’m actually here to see if you’d be interested in going out sometime,” Jake says, surprised his voice sounds fairly level given how badly he feels like his insides are shaking.

The guy has looked up sharply at that, his eyes have gone wide and he’s suddenly looking supremely fucking awkward and Jake shrinks inside. God. He’s about to get rejected. At least he can just leave. And maybe transfer to another college. Or country.

“Oh… dude. I’m flattered. Seriously. Uh. Look. You want the good news or the bad news first?”

Jake isn’t quite sure how there is any good news to come out of being rejected and he just shakes his head, is already stepping back, heading toward the door. But the guy is quick, slaps his hand against it and looks at Jake likes he’s an idiot. Sue him, maybe he is.

“So, bad news, I’m mostly pretty straight. And I know that without any shadow of a doubt,” Bradford says, like he’s trying to somehow let Jake down gently, but he seems happy or eager about something, like crushing Jake is somehow making his night. “So, while I don’t really bat for your team I did say I have some good news. I have an identical twin brother who is very not straight, so… lets go find him!”

“Uh, what?”

“An identical twin. Well, identical enough. So if it’s all this you want to get up in on, then I have another model that I think would be very, uh, interested,” Bradford says, gesturing at himself and Jake despairs of himself, because unfortunately he is very much interested in getting all up in that. He looks to Javy, who has followed them, and he’s glad, because they’re walking down the street past other houses. He’s pretty sure he’s not getting pranked or anything, most people don’t invent something like an identical twin out of thin air as a joke…

“How do you know? That he’d be interested?” Javy asks, and Jake blinks, looks between them, because he hadn’t caught that, his mind too busy processing the idea that there are two guys that look like this and that he wasn’t going mad thinking he was seeing them everywhere.

“What?”

“Would you believe twin telepathy?”

Jake raises an eyebrow disbelievingly and scoffs.

“No.”

“That’s a good thing, he doesn’t buy into any of that bullshit either. What he has been doing though is whine about this guy…” he says, turns to give Jake a quick up and down glance which makes him flush a little, because this is still the guy Jake has been sort of drooling over the last few weeks. “You happen to have a toothpick on you?” Bradford suddenly asks, apropos of nothing and Jake glares at Javy when he snorts.

“Yeah, I have a couple. Why?”

“Oh yeah, you’ll do. He’s been mooning over this guy with an oral fixation that won’t stop flicking a toothpick with his tongue. And buddy, I don’t know how many guys are walking around with a supply of toothpicks to fellate, but I’m pretty sure I’m about to fucking play cupid.”

Javy is outright laughing now and Jake punches him in the arm, wrestles away from the noogie Javy tries to give him in retaliation.

“What’s his name?” Jake asks, trying to straighten his hair, no idea how close they might be getting, but they’ve been walking pretty fast for about five minutes now.

“Bradley.”

“Your parents named you Bradley and Bradford?”

“Our parents think they’re hilarious. Last name Bradshaw remember.”

“Yikes.”

“It’s fine, means we’ve got thick skin and a decent sense of humor. Although, while I can commend you on your taste, he is definitely the more boring twin. See if you can make him come to the party, I made the Jello shots especially for him.”

Oh. That’s kind of sweet Jake realizes, showing support through no-doubt alcoholic Jello shots arranged in rainbow colors.

“I’ll ask him.”

“Good thing you’ve got balls and are doing the asking, because he’d never get around to it. Anyway, this is him,” Bradford says, and he’s just pushing the door open and kicking his shoes off and Jake exchanges a look with Javy and just follows after him, scrambling a little to keep up as Bradford just calls out a general welcome to the house, telling anyone who can hear him that it’s only him, and not someone here to steal their shit. From somewhere there’s an answering yell about them having nothing worth stealing and Jake blinks, because he’s in the dorms, and this isn’t a frat house, but it’s still a shared house of some sort, smaller for sure. Then Bradford is banging on a door, and Jake sucks in a deep breath, because this must be Bradley’s door. His bedroom. Oh shit, suddenly this feels far too personal and he feels like he’s shaking.

“Bradley!” Bang bang bang. “Bradley stop jerking off and answer your door man.” Bang bang bang. “Dude, come on, I will open this door on you…”

Then the door swings open and there is another man standing there, the spitting image of Bradford, but he looks furious, eyes flashing, knuckles white where they’re gripping the door and Jake swallows nervously, but also a little turned on. That anger isn’t directed at him after all.

“For fucks sake Bradford, I’m trying to study!”

“Yeah, not anymore you’re not. Here. I come bearing gifts. You can thank me later.”

Then Jake is being grabbed and hauled in front of Bradford like a human shield and the change in expression from anger to surprise on Bradley’s face is immediate.

“Uh, hi.”

“You’re the guy from the library,” Bradley says and Jake nods.

“Yeah. I didn’t realize you had a twin brother.”

“Yeah, my whole life.”

“Um. Did you want to… um. Get a drink sometime?” Jake asks, and the way Bradley is looking at him is still surprised, like he can’t believe Jake is there. And Jake hadn’t ever planned to do this in front of Javy and somehow, the identical twin of the guy he’s got a crush on. Well, he was told going to college would give him new life experiences.

“What?”

“A date. Or something. Or just studying together if you don’t have much time. Just, uh, I wanted to ask you out.”

“And my work here is done,” Bradford says, taking a step back and making a bow. “I’ll see you round. You want to come back with me?” Bradford says, turning to Javy with the last question, and Javy’s giving Jake a little salute, slap to the arm and he’s leaving with Bradford; leaving Jake there alone.

They stand there awkwardly looking at each other and Jake’s wondering if he should maybe just leave, because Bradley hasn’t said anything else, not even yes to Jake’s jumbled date asking.

“I think I’m just going to go. Leave you to it.”

“No! Sorry… I’m just. You want to go out with me?”

“Yeah. I’d like to… get to know you.”

“Yeah, okay. That would be nice. What’s your name?”

“Oh shit. Jake. My name’s Jake Seresin. It’s nice to meet you.”

The smile Bradley gives him is breathtaking and Jake can’t help but smile back, his stomach feeling like a kaleidoscope of butterflies has made itself at home, but he feels a lot less nervous now.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

They kind of stand there and just grin at each other for a few moments, and Jake feels so relieved that Bradley seems to be into him.

“Oh. Did you want a drink, or to… go out somewhere? Now?” Bradley asks.

“Well, we could go to the party. Just walk there, say hi, then walk back…”

“You don’t want to actually spend time at the party?”

“No, not really. I was only going to meet you, so… Think your brother might like to see you there though.”

“I think the last thing Bradford wants is me there killing his vibe, but sure, a walk sounds nice.”

… … …

As they walk their arms brush and bump occasionally and Jake finds himself unable to stop smiling. He’s also pretty sure he’s blushing, but Bradley is definitely blushing, so Jake doesn’t care. They’re walking slowly, ambling really, neither in a rush. They’ve talked about what they’re studying, their families, friends and now…

“I need to teach you how to tell Bradford and I apart. For a start, he’s left handed. He’s also taller and heavier. I’m the oldest though, but you can’t tell that from looking.”

“Hopefully I get to know you well enough I’ll just be able to look and easily tell you apart. Your parents can tell you apart, right?”

“Yeah. Mostly. As long as they’re actually paying attention. Our voices changed when we went through puberty. We sound pretty much the same now, except for the part where he sounds like a typical frat-boy jock.”

“You do seem to have very different personalities,” Jake concedes, and part of him is glad that Bradley seems more chilled out than Bradford.

They’re back in front of the Delta Frat and Bradley is pulling a face and rolling his eyes, and Jake laughs, reaches for his hand to tug him inside.

“Five minutes. Ten max and then we can leave. Okay?”

“Okay. I’m holding you to that.”

Jake grins and then pushes the door open. There are a lot more people here now, there’s music and a football game being projected onto a white wall in the living room. There’s a keg and the smell of cooking meat. It’s still early, no-one appears drunk, although he’s sure that’s a certainty considering someone is setting up beer pong. Bradley is rolling his eyes and Jake pokes him for good measure, it’s not his scene either, but he’s not going to judge his peers if they want to take part.

“Bro! You made it! Oh my god, you’re a miracle worker already!” Bradford says to Jake, slapping him on the back and reaching out to give Bradley a fist bump. “I made you Jello shots! Rainbow Jello shots!”

“Of course you did…” Bradley sighs.

“It’s sweet of him,” Jake murmurs in Bradley’s ear, because he doesn’t know either of them well, not yet, but he imagines one of his siblings trying to be supportive by making him rainbow colored drinks at a party and it is sweet.

“They’re Redbull and vodka, caffeine and alcohol, avoid at all costs.”

“One won’t hurt…”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a paper-wrapped toothpick, strips the paper off and runs it around the inside of the shot glass, loosening the Jello so he can better suck the entire thing into his mouth. His tongue is running over the bottom of the shot when he realizes exactly what it might look like, because Bradley is watching him with hooded eyes and he swallows, nervous again.

“You and your fucking toothpicks.”

Jello now gone Jake sticks the toothpick in his mouth and rotates it 360, raises an eyebrow.

“I think you have a thing for my toothpick…”

“I have a thing for a guy who might have an oral fixation. It’s been five minutes; can we go now?”

“Lead the way.”

“You guys leaving already?” Bradford asks.

“I have better things to do,” Bradley states and Jake snorts.

“Yeah you do! Go. Have fun.”

“Oh my god…”

“I’ve only known him like an hour, you walked right into that one,” Jake says, grinning, letting Bradley pull him out of the house.

“He’s the worst.”

Jake isn’t going to agree or disagree, because he’s pretty sure Bradford would die for Bradley, but also if anyone pointed out to him how much his siblings loved him, he’d also deny it until his dying breath. He does laugh along with Bradley though, as they walk back to his place, and he doesn’t miss Bradley’s eyes flicking to his lips, where the toothpick is still being worried at between his teeth. They’re almost back to Bradley’s when he slows to a stop and turns toward him, and the street is quiet and empty.

“Can I kiss you?”

Jake quickly takes the toothpick from his mouth and throws it into the nearest bush.

“Yes, yes you definitely can.”

(FYI - all photos (and children) are my own. I haven't gone and posted pictures of someone else's kids without their consent etc.)

This fic fills the "Frat Party" square on my Top Gun AU Bingo card, as well as the "Free Space" which can be either a College AU, or Bradshaw Twins AU.

#Hangster #Top Gun Maverick AU #Sereshaw #College AU

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sebastianswallows · 2 days

Text

The English Client — Nineteen

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: angst, fluff, smut, dubcon, manipulative Tom, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, light choking, hair pulling, penetrative sex, dirty talk, creampie, cuddles

— WORDCOUNT: 4.8k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

“So, what did you think of it?” asked Tom.

They had a bit of champagne both during the intermission and after the opera was over and then decided to luxuriate in another cab ride to get home. She hadn’t said much since, although on her face Tom could read traces of exertion that he could not attribute to mere tiredness.

“It was… quite sad. And beautiful. And tragic, so tragic, oh I hate it. Thank you for taking me.”

Tom smiled brightly and placed a hand on her lap, feeling her leg beneath the silky dress. “How do you mean?” he asked.

She looked at him briefly from the corner of her eye with something that Tom recognised as suspicion.

“You bought tickets to it on purpose, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he grinned.

She shifted her leg out of his grasp and looked away, out of the window. She’d been quiet all night and Tom had the growing sense she was upset with him. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that she understood exactly what he wanted her to. The car stopped at her street. She got out while Tom leaned over to pay the fare — not with “real” money this time, he’d spent enough of that — before hurrying after her.

“May I come upstairs with you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then come over to my flat.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Whether it was the tone of his voice or just that one magic word, her resolve faltered.

“On one condition,” she said with her arms crossed, her coat puffed up around her like an owl.

“Alright,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets smugly.

“Apologise to me.”

“For what?”

“For not calling me beautiful.”

Tom sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Any number of men there would’ve been only glad to,” she frowned, “and some would have, if you hadn’t scared them away.”

“Of course I had to ‘scare them away’. You’re mine.”

“Doesn’t sound like it to me.”

“Why does this matter so much?” he asked with a cocked brow. “It’s self-evident, you don’t need to hear it.”

“Then I don’t need to go home with you,” she said and turned around.

Tom sighed and gripped her arm and waist at once, pulling her into a smouldering rush of kisses between which he mumbled that yes, she was beautiful, he knew she was beautiful.

He didn’t really like the idea of her being in his home, but he invited her with a purpose tonight. The opera and this all tied together in his attempt to draw her into the idea of running off with him, of leaving everything behind, of trusting him… Tom threw her coat on top of his over the chair by the entrance, letting the garments entangle. He kissed her again, his lips slow and patient this time, and held both her hands to pull her further in. Her hands moved to his waist as he gripped her face, holding her still for him to keep on kissing while he pulled her backwards, through the open door, into his bedroom.

“I’m still —” she started, only for her complaint to be swallowed up by him, “— still angry with you.”

“Hmm… Why?” asked Tom, smiling against the corner of her mouth.

“Because you picked it on purpose, that’s why.”

He looked into her eyes. Only the light of quiet night reflected in them from the street outside and drank in her anger, her sadness, and her naked love for him.

“Tell me what made you think so,” he whispered, bringing one of her hands up to his lips.

“So you don’t deny it.”

“Tell me. I want to hear the accusations right out of your pretty mouth.”

Her fingers, tipped with claws, sunk into the sides of his suit and scraped against the velvet.

“It was a story of betrayal.”

“Yes,” he said, dipping toward the cup that held her breast.

“And love.”

“So true…”

“And the virtues of elopement.”

He trailed the tops of her soft flesh down to the valley between her breasts then tugged her dress a little lower, unpacking her like a gift. His other hand circled her waist, moving behind her as she spoke, searching for the place from which he could undo her.

“You’re missing one aspect which, as far as I’m concerned, was the most appealing,” he said with a little smile. He found the row of buttons that stretched along her spine and started playing with them. “It breaks my heart a little that you didn’t notice, in fact.”

She looked at him with doubt but indulged him. “What?”

“The scenery. The vastness, the swaths of green and grey, the vales of Scotland…”

Her head tilted back into a cheerful laugh and Tom took the opportunity to kiss her throat. She tasted sweet as she always did, her flesh warm and welcoming like the home he never had. Mellowed citric scent and dewy moss and powdered sugar, she was the most luxurious thing he’d ever allowed himself to have. He sucked the taste of everything about her deep into his mouth.

“I never took you for a mountain man,” she said, the purr of her voice sinking into his lips.

“You thought I prefer long walks on the beach?”

“No,” she giggled, “more of a swamp creature.”

“Insults now, I see…”

“Or something of a heartless desert.”

“I think you would enjoy Scotland,” he continued, moving his kisses down her neck while at her back he began unbuttoning her dress.

Her feet were steady but her hands shivered as she slinked his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

“It has quite a special place in my heart,” said Tom.

“Why?”

“Why do I like it?” he mused, letting his lips play across her clavicles. “Because it’s wild, I suppose, and open, and still filled with secret places. And perhaps because that’s where I went to school.”

She hummed and rubbed her cheek against the top of his head. “You never mentioned that before… And here I thought you went somewhere warm with lush green fields.”

“Somewhere in the Midlands?” he chuckled. “There’s nothing mid about me, sweetheart.”

She laughed and hit his shoulder, shaking her head chastisingly.

“So you want to take me there?” she asked, pulling back to look at him.

“Why? Do you want to go?”

She levelled a slitted gaze his way but her lips were still smiling.

Tom looked into her eyes as his fingers finished unbuttoning her dress, as he pushed it down her body, as it fell around her feet... When he cupped her waist he could feel her tense through the opaline shift she had beneath. His hands travelled a little higher to her ribs, her breasts, her neck, feeling all those little details that he couldn’t see. With a gentle caress of either side of her face, he unhooked her earrings and let them fall among the folds of her discarded dress. His fingers went upward further to her hair and there he played in its curls until he found the pins that held it all together. She clung to his stiff white shirt, pulling it taut around his torso. Her lips were caught somewhere between a smile and a plaintive, frightened frown.

“You’ll let me?” he asked in a whisper as if he wanted to keep their most intimate exchanges secret even from the shadows in the room.

“Let you what?”

Tom smiled, his fingers playing in her hair, loosening it further until it fell messy and free in a cascade around her shoulders. Without answering her he fell to his knees. There were many things he saw her as, depending on her uses, but in small moments like this when the world was far and all the doors and windows locked he could see her as a person, even if he knew she was a muggle. She could be an enviously lovely thing to behold. Troubled, besotted, clueless, pure… Oh, how he wished she was a witch. And how he dreaded the inevitable moment — which was perhaps the only thing his mother taught him — when she’d learn he was a wizard, more real and terrifying than pretenders like the Baron and his friends, and left him. The only choice he had, the only real choice, was to leave her first. But he could not do it before convincing her to help him get the book, and with her his only ally, he was trapped in this illusion of a choice.

Tom resented being trapped.

She looked down at him with eyes that smouldered in the dark. Tom leaned forward and planted a kiss over her tummy and felt it tighten underneath.

“Tell me, Tom,” she commanded, which should have had less of an effect with her voice trembling. “Let you do what?”

“Let me do everything,” he said, looking up into her eyes as he rested his lips above her womb. His bowtie bobbed as he swallowed the knot in his throat. He needed to play her right tonight, to make her feel desired, wanted, hunted, make her believe she was the thing he was really after.

Tom lowered his face to nuzzle the sweet-smelling flesh, the perfume that lingered on her clothes and the hints of evening sweat that dripped beneath. His hands played around her hips and he pulled the slip a little higher, inching it up her thighs to reveal her. With a smile, he nibbled at her flesh, moving his attentions lower and lower. She stood above him, breathless, and threaded her hands through his hair to tangle there and hold him. With a chuckle, Tom opened his mouth and slid his tongue out to taste the sweet edge of her lips still wrapped in silk and lace. Her hips canted toward him even as she wavered on her feet, moaning low and pleasured. With his thumbs, he eased her panties lower and pulled her flesh apart. He felt her fingers fist into his hair and pull, messing up the curls that he had spent an hour taming. He traced her opening and dragged his tongue across it, gathering her slick and licking upward until his tongue met her clit and curled to hold it. He pressed his lips to it, kissing it at first then suckling it, coaxing the shy button out to meet the warm wetness of his mouth.

“Tom!” she gasped, and he felt her thighs tense around his face, “I can’t… I can’t…”

“Shut up,” he growled into her folds. “You can. Stop denying me everything.”

She mewled but let him drink his fill. Tom hugged her legs to steady her, and to the tune of her plaintive moans, he buried his face in her softest flesh and sipped from the cup of her pleasure. After a few more suckling kisses her clit pebbled on his tongue, and as he flicked it up and down he couldn’t help but grin at how loudly she moaned.

“You’re good with your mouth in so many ways,” she giggled distractedly, her head falling back in a daze.

“And I certainly know which of your lips I prefer,” he said with a smirk. “Ow!” She’d gripped his hair harder and pulled in revenge. “If only you knew who you were dealing with,” Tom mumbled.

“A brat and an upstart,” she smirked, petting his curls and easing his face back between her legs once more.

He smirked and placed soft kisses on her throbbing hole, teasing wetness out of her just loud and messily enough that she could hear. As if caught in a storm she wavered on unsteady legs but Tom held her, wrapped his arms around her legs, and held her bottom in his hands as he drank her. She was hot against his mouth and swollen, and Tom worked the pleasure out of her as if he couldn’t get enough. And then he stopped. She was shaking on her feet when he stood up. She clung to him while he rubbed up and down her arms, waiting until she caught her breath. Her lips, beautiful and bitten bloody, were parted with her gasps and standing close to her as he was he could even hear how fast her heart was beating. His own just about matched its pace, but Tom was far better at pretending to be calm.

“Why did you stop?” she complained. “I was so close —”

“You told me you couldn’t go through with it, didn’t you?” he asked with a cocked brow.

She whimpered, too dazed to be angry, but her hands, warm and deceitfully soft, travelled to his throat. She was so different during these intimate moments when she reached her peak by his fingers or his tongue or got close enough to taste the heights her heart could reach before it all came crashing down. Here, alone with him, she was neither afraid nor tired and focused on work, but vaporous and clear like a moonlight beam across a lake with quiet sighs and wounded moans and sweet fragrance in the air. Tom’s hands of their own will held her gently by the shoulders and pulled her close into a hug that was as comforting as it was possessive. He closed his eyes and smiled at the feeling of her clinging to him, her heart still thundering, her breathing stilted. He loved these signs of how much she was his…

“Sit down on the bed,” he whispered with a kiss to the shell of her ear.

“If I do, what then?”

“That’s up to you and how bratty you get.”

Her hands fisted in his shirt but after what he’d done to her she didn’t have the strength to deny him anymore. She untangled her feet from the pool of the dress on the floor and stepped back but stopped with a sudden gasp.

“Ow! Damn it…”

She’d stepped on her earring. Tom cursed silently and lifted her quickly in his arms to carry her to bed. Sapless and smiling she leaned back on her elbows to look at him while Tom undid his cuffs.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re just so beautiful,” she said. Her voice had steadied but her eyes still had that mellow, sultry look to them. “Not just handsome the way men sometimes are, but truly beautiful…”

He tried to smile but something in him faltered. “I’ve never really appreciated that,” he admitted with a shrug as he threw the cufflinks back onto her dress.

“That’s a shame. I wish it brought you as much happiness as it does me. Just the sight of you can make me smile for hours…”

Tom paused as his fingers were loosening his bowtie. He’d been confronted by such flattery before, some far better worded and ardent, and whenever he had something to gain he responded in kind. But for some reason, he couldn’t get himself to do it now. No more than he could do it earlier that evening… He did think her beautiful, somewhere underneath the layers of his resentment of her muggle blood, but the knowledge was tainted by too much for him to say so. Not even the prospect of her aiding him get the Delomelanicon could sway him. He finished pulling loose the tie and threw it behind him then kneeled on the bed beside her. With his free hand, he trailed a path up her leg and pushed it gently to the side, forcing her to hold him between her thighs.

“Still dripping for me, are you?” he grinned as his fingers reached her core again. He smiled as he rested his head on her chest.

“I can’t believe you, Tom,” she sighed, pretending to be tired. “First you toy with me, then you ask for more...”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop denying me everything?” he whispered, closing his teeth around the curve of her clavicle.

He eased a finger gently through her folds, gathering her slick, then pushed it up into her tight warm hole. Her back arched as she gasped, writhing beneath him. Tom bent to close his lips around her nipple while with his free hand, he gripped her waist and pushed her higher on the bed to rest atop the pillows. His bed was even smaller than her own, the mattress harder, the pillow far less soft, but she didn’t seem to mind or notice. His finger slowed and curled inside her, pulling from her a long, low wail and snake-like squirming.

“Do you like that, sweetheart?”

“‘s good,” she whispered, the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

“Oooh… So all that soreness is gone, is it?”

“You’re horrible, Tom,” she purred and spread her legs a little wider.

He chuckled and nibbled at her ear. “What’s so good then? Tell me…”

“You,” she sighed, canting her hips into his gentle thrusts. “Your flesh… inside me…”

He let himself lay just a bit more heavily atop her while he peppered kisses up and down her throat and back to her puckered nipples. He added another finger inside of her and moved them at a slow and soothing pace while he settled himself atop her. He straddled her thigh and rubbed himself against it, cock straining at his trousers. He moved from one breast to the other while the hand between her legs pressed deeper, fingers flexing against that spongy spot that made her sound like she was crying. With a twitch of her whole body as if something tried to pull her up out of her flesh she shivered in a sudden orgasm.

“Aaah! Tom!”

“I’m right here,” he whispered, lips hovering over her skin. “I have you. You can let go, I have you…”

She covered her mouth with a shaky hand but it did little to muffle her whining. Her whole body arched as if she was ready to snap while Tom gently worked her through it.

“What is it, sweetheart, hmm? It’s good, isn’t it?”

She bit her lip and nodded in a drunk, disjointed way. He smirked and kissed her, coming up to cover her with his whole body.

“You feel so good,” she murmured, chest heaving as pleasure slowly left her behind, sated, happy, in his arms.

“And you,” he whispered as he shifted quietly, “are so sweet.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, watching him from lazy slitted eyes, her head lolling on her shoulder.

He undid his shirt as quickly as he could and unbuttoned his trousers next, slowly and methodically taking everything off and throwing it down to the floor.

“You’re not already tired are you?” he smirked. “I have you now,” he whispered, leaning down to nibble at her neck, “if only for a little while. And I intend to take you.”

He kissed every inch of her skin he could reach while he worked the slip off her and sighed with satisfaction when their bodies brushed their nakedness together. With slow and careful movements he eased her legs around his hips and covered her again, kissing her lips in the dark as he brought his cock up to her centre. He swallowed her gasp when he entered her. She huffed petulantly and turned her head away, and all around him Tom could feel her body closing up. He brought a hand up to grab her arms and pulled them away from him pinning them down by the wrist together while the other gripped her neck. He felt her moan beneath his palm, felt her legs go lax around him, and like a flower plucked in just the right way she opened up beneath him.

“You’re getting wetter,” he grinned, pressing deeper into her soft embrace. “Do you like this, hmm? You enjoy not having a choice?”

She bit her lip and looked up at him dizzily. Her hair was a tangled mess and there was a dusting of colour on her cheeks — shyness, or anger perhaps — but her eyes were glazed with pleasure. Tom let his weight down onto her and pressed his feet against the bed to reach further into her until he felt his tip press right against the end of her.

“Tom, please,” she whispered, “I don’t want any more…”

“But I do, I want everything. You know I always do. I thought you’d understand,” he whispered, pushing a little deeper, stuffing her full. She whined and arched her nack, her naked breasts rubbing up against his chest. Tom shivered and nuzzled her cheek and swallowed back his moans. “You’ve never gotten what you thought you should have, did you?” he hissed against her blushing skin. “Not even as a child… Especially as a child.”

She didn’t like that, but there was nothing she could do about it except try to bite his neck. Tom moved away from her attempt and laughed, his hips jolting hard enough to make her gasp and forget what she was doing. It took hardly any of his strength to hold her down, even though he wasn’t exactly built like a Quidditch player. And, to a certain extent, he thought she wanted to be held like that. To be pressed down and covered, every part of her body touched somehow from the sweaty grip around her wrists to her legs around his waist, her sweet insides forced to open on his cock, her heart beating next to his.

“Why say something like that?” she breathed through bitter tears.

“I’ve given you a lot of pleasure tonight. And now I’ll give you a bit of pain as well… Give you that bit of everything that nobody’s cared to give you before, hmm?”

Her body jerked in little struggles but he pacified her with his thrusts. He angled his hips back, then forth, and pushed languidly up into her in a steady, soothing rhythm as if rocking her to sleep. It took everything from Tom to keep his noises down, to not moan too loudly at the intensity of the feeling. Her head fell back into the pillows, into the soft crown of her hair, and her breathing stuttered with muted sobs. He kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck, and finally let go of her wrists to trace a hot path down her body again. He cupped her breast and played with it, plucking at her nipple until he felt it harden again, then held still for his hand to slip between the two of them, searching for that spot of hers he knew so well.

“Aaah! You t-tease…”

“Is this better?” he smiled, pressing slowly in and settling deep while he flicked her clit.

“M-maybe… mmm…”

He chuckled and licked across her lips, lapping them until they opened. All around him he could feel her melting, her body losing its fight, playing to the tune he set. She looked dazed in the half-light, drunk on him and floating, half in the world of the living, half elsewhere in her head… His hips began a steady pumping in and out of her, skin against soft skin, their most fragile parts dragging wetly against one another, pulsing hot and steady like their hearts. He reached up to hold her head, fingers threading through her hair as his hips kept their hungry pace, moving hard and deep, chasing immortality inside her body. With a sigh, Tom closed his eyes and breathed her, filling up his senses with the hot slick of her skin, the softness of her lingering perfume, and her sparse sweet breaths of ecstasy. Her arms came up to rest around Tom’s shoulders, pulling him in closer as if she hadn’t fought him at every step that night. He nibbled at her ear and angled his hips sharper, shoving into her as if to punish but managing only to please. His body rocked her own beneath him, swaying as if in a dance.

“Oooh… Tom!,” she moaned, voice muffled by his flesh.

“Yes, yes, I have you… Fuck, oh fuck, I —”

He didn’t know what he wanted to say, but he felt it. Every part of him was focused on her, and was happy, and felt like it belonged.

“Tom,” she whispered, her back arching in a way that made her tighten impossibly around him. “Tom… inside me, please…”

“That’s dangerous, my love,” he grinned — although he knew there wasn’t any real risk so long as he remembered to cast the spell once they were done.

“Please…” she whimpered, wrapping a leg around his waist to pull him closer.

He kissed her cheek in submission and gripped her hip to hold her still. Her channel clung to him and he felt his cock being sucked on until he could barely move.

“Oh f— there you go, darling,” he moaned, his body trembling with a lick of flame crawling all over his skin.

“Tom,” she gasped, “I’m close… touch me more, please…”

He obeyed. Tom removed his sweaty palm from her hip and brought it to her clit again. “Is this where you want it?”

“Yes! There, right there…”

He flicked her nub the way she liked it, in that playful and punishing way that always made her cum, while he started pumping her with all he had until she started shaking. She whined and clung to him, nails digging into his back, her body arching, and around his cock he felt her cloying drips of pleasure leaking out.

“That’s it, good girl,” he groaned, teeth braced against her neck, fist growing tighter in her hair.

To the sound of his name whispered by her on and on, his hips shoved his cock in her until a fire burst beneath his skin and his sac pulsed. His mouth was restless at her neck, her chest, laying fast and heavy kisses on her hardened nipples. He soothed himself with suckling just as her core did when it pulled his seed out of him in greedy little clenches. He pressed deep, to the very end of her, and stopped there. Her voice sounded broken and lost but her body took him, took every drop he spilt right at the entrance to her womb.

“Tom,” she cried, her body trembling, muscles going soft.

He kept sucking on her nipple as he finally finished spilling, nibbling it a little harder than he should. He could feel his cum pooling all around her cervix, around the head of his cock, covering him in his own hot and sticky mess then slowly dripping out to dirty both their thighs. He shivered at the feeling.

Everything felt even better now than the first time they’d made love, and if Tom were thinking clearly, he’d be worried. It was close, too close to how he’d felt when his soul was splitting… Only this time it wasn’t to bind his soul onto an object, but to cleave it together with her own.

“Oh, no… please, don’t stop, don’t, I haven’t —”

“Stay tight like that for me,” he breathed. “Just like that… Forever…”

She dug her nails into his skin, not really listening. Her heart was high up with her airy moans until her pulse had settled and her core closed up around him, yearning silently for more. Her panting breaths ruffled his hair, tickled his ear, cooled his sweat. Tom nearly giggled. He pulled himself up but stayed inside her and was almost too afraid to look — too afraid of what it would mean to feel as if he was in love with her. He could barely see her through the dark but he knew that she was at her most beautiful just then. He was still dizzy with her, the sight and the sound and the taste, and the feeling of her rushed through his body as if she had slipped into his blood. Her eyes were closed and tears were beading at the corners. Tom kissed her tears away, kissed her lips, and brushed the hair off of her forehead. Then, with a low groan that was almost a purr, he gently pulled himself out of her body and fell to the side.

“N-no, not yet,” she whined, reaching for him lazily.

She was already starting to shiver as her body cooled. Tom smiled and manoeuvred her into his embrace, pulling her leg over his hips before bending to drag the duvet over them from where it lay bundled up at the edge. There would hardly be enough space in his bed for both of them to sleep if they weren’t somewhat laying one on top of the other, but this suited him just fine.

“Is this close enough, my little brat?”

“Close enough.”

Tom chuckled, and right above his heart he felt her smiling.

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle fanfiction #Tom Riddle smut #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient #my notes for this included ''shorten this considerably''#I did not manage it

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h0neylevi · 5 hours

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“Shit shit shit shit shit—“

The sound of your hurried footsteps follow the string of curses as they travel like an echo down the hall, but Levi doesn’t so much as look up from the kitchen sink.

He had tried to get you up earlier, tempting you with the promise of freshly brewed coffee and a hot breakfast, but you insisted on five more minutes. Then inevitably, five more turned into ten which turned into fifteen, and now you’re rushing to get ready and out the door on time for work.

Now he’s had to improvise–turning your breakfast into something portable you can eat on the drive. It’s a skill he’s had to perfect over the years of living with you. To say that time management wasn’t your strong suit would be an understatement. So, Levi moves on to packing your lunch, listening with a small grin at the sound of the tap of your toothbrush against the bathroom sink, followed by clothes hangers being slid back and forth in the closet as you rush to find something suitable to wear to work.

“Have you seen my black turtleneck?”

“In the dryer.”

He schools his expression into something more mild when you finally round the corner a few minutes later, knowing that you’re already stressed about being late. Smiling at you in an I told you so kind of way would only sour your mood further.

“I slept right through my alarm,” you say.

All five of them, plus his gentle prodding to get you out of bed. He doubts you were even conscious enough to remember him trying.

Your eyes flit to the coffee pot to find a travel mug already filled and waiting for you, right next to a neatly assembled wrap that you can only guess is your breakfast. Your expression visibly softens at the sweet gesture.

“Your lunch is packed too,” Levi says, motioning to the insulated lunch bag sitting on the opposite counter.

Even though you’re pressed for time, you step forward to embrace him.

“Thank you, Levi,” you say into his shirt. “You’re a lifesaver.”

His arms wrap easily around you, but there’s lighthearted reproach in his words when he says, “You say that like I don’t have to do this every other day.”

“Well, if you hadn’t kept me up so late last night, I wouldn’t be rushing.”

He shoves you away then, not forceful enough to indicate you’ve said anything to upset him, but you can tell that the mention of the night before has provoked him by the subtle shade of pink that spreads across his cheeks.

He clicks his tongue. “Pervert.”

You lean back a little, still lightly clinging to his waist with a grin. “You’re weren’t saying that last night when my lips were wrapped around your—“

Levi’s palm claps over your mouth before you can finish your sentence, but it does very little to muffle the sound of your laughter that follows.

He leans into you a little, his other hand anchored to your waist to keep you close. “You’re going to be late.”

Deciding he’s endured enough for one morning, you pull away and go to gather your breakfast. “Yeah, yeah.”

You carry it into the next room and Levi quietly follows, your lunch bag in one hand and travel mug in the other.

“I’ll stop by the store tonight,” you say as you gather your coat by the door. “I saw this really good recipe last night that I’d like to try for dinner.”

Levi simply nods. Dinners are usually your preferred meal to cook, so he’s not surprised you already have something planned. “Sure.”

When you get your coat on, he hands you your things, then finishes off with a quick kiss.

After years spent co-existing together in your apartment—sharing everything from body wash to toothpaste and clothes—you would think that having his lips on yours wouldn’t still elicit such a strong feeling, but it does. It’s a wild and frenzied sensation, forming in the pit of your stomach before it swoops like a flurry up into your ribcage.

You linger by the door, starting to regret not getting up earlier so you could see him a little longer. “Thank you for getting my things ready.”

Levi nods again. “You’re welcome.”

When he leans against the doorframe, you take the moment to press another kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

A mixture of minty toothpaste and the familiar scent of your perfume swirls in the few inches between your bodies, and Levi has to take considerable effort to not lean in again.

“You’re going to be late,” he reminds you for what feels like the nth time.

But despite that, your feet stay planted in the doorway. “Say it back and I’ll go.”

“I love you too.” He rolls his eyes, but relents just the slightest bit and kisses you again. “Now, go.”

#levi ackerman x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi fluff #levi ackerman fluff #captain levi #aot fic #Levi drabble

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cheddaryouthanme · 16 hours

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My MattDrai Fic Recs, in honor of the upcoming MattDrai SCF

One-Shots:

what does daylight look like

By notthequiettype

" "Matthew," Draisaitl says, and shifts on to his elbow so he can look up at Matthew. "Don't-- please don't say this was nothing to you."

There's an expression on Draisaitl's face that Matthew's never seen before, a carved wrinkle between his brows, the corners of his mouth turned down. He looks sad, worried, and Matthew's struck by how much he doesn't look like a stranger, a guy across the ice, a target for Matthew's agitation. Matthew feels an almost tilting sense of vertigo for a second. "It wasn't nothing." "

As close to fluff as I can stomach, but that extra bit of sweetness makes this one so enjoyable to read and re-read. This is a "people in the NHL are gay and the world is fine with it" fic where the biggest obstacle to their relationship is playing for divisional rivals in the same Province. However, this suspension of disbelief is rarely taken too far, or done at the expense of having Matthew and Leon feel like real, layered people. Because of this, the story's earnestness feels earned, rather than saccharine.

(come on, come on, come on) get through it

By anonymous

"Matthew really doesn’t know where Leon’s head is at, on the rare occasion that he pulls stuff like that. He wants Matthew to himself; he doesn’t care if Matthew fucks other people. He wants Matthew to fuck other people so he can want Matthew to himself."

This story does not get the love it deserves. Who are you, anonymous, so I can give you the flowers that you so deeply deserve? This fic only receiving 208 kudos on AO3 is one of the greatest injustices of our time. If I had to guess, I'd say it has something to do with the angsty nature and (spoiler!) ambiguous-but-seemingly-not-optimistic ending. But the angst is worth it, friends! It's so incredibly well-written that by the end, you're left with so many lingering emotions that you just have to re-read it to process it further. The prose - particularly in the sex scenes, which carry hefty emotional weight because of the fuck-buddies-with-baggage nature of Matthew and Leon's relationship - is phenomenal, and would put most published hockey Booktok writers to shame. More people need to read this fic.

Edmonton 10

By Helenish

" “Well?” Leon said coolly. Leon wasn’t just an Edmonton 10, Matthew reminded himself, which was really a 6 but it was dark and you were horny, but an actual anywhere in the world smokeshow. All he had to do was shut up and play along.

“Okay,” he said. Leon’s smile turned smug. Great dick, Matthew chanted to himself in his head, world-class dick, really, big and uncut, a little curved to the left, from a guy who was freshly showered and smelled like pine trees, who’d like it too much and get up in his head about it after—

“Thought so,” Leon said, sounding almost bored. Matthew dutifully pictured his entire body filling up with cool, purple liquid, because the shrink had said they could pick any color they wanted, but it didn’t stop him from leaning forward and looping one hand around the back of Leon’s neck to draw him closer. Leon let him, his smile starting to falter, and Matthew slipped his hand up to cradle the back of Leon’s head and kissed him, an easy, tender brush of his lips. He pulled back enough to look into Leon’s eyes, holding his gaze. Leon blinked. Matthew smiled."

If I had to recommend one MattDrai fic to a new reader, it would be this one. It's just perfect. It's funny, it's sexy, it's grounded, it's surprisingly emotional, but above all else it's so, so, so well-written. All of the things that, in my mind, exemplify what makes MattDrai fanfiction so great.

(mild spoiler!) Without giving too much away, the 💔 part at the end made me gasp the first time I read it because of how well it hit the bulls-eye for me as a character beat and emotional climax. Impeccable storytelling.

Multi-Chapter:

let me look at you by isozyme

"Leon feels awkward and unsettled until they get home and he has Matthew naked in his bed, where he’s able to put his hand around Matthew’s ankle and let out the air that’s been stuck in the bottom of his lungs. Matthew looks awful — pale, battered, and end-of-season skinny. He’s scruffy and still has acne in his beard at almost thirty years old and Leon has no idea why he wants to fuck this guy so bad. And worse — wants to kiss him and protect him from the shitty parts of his family and show off to Connor how hot it is when they're in bed together."

This one is McMattDrai (Tkachuk/Draisaitl/McDavid) in case that's a dealbreaker for anyone. It shouldn't be, though! Because this story is incredible, and I waited eagerly for each new chapter to be published when it was put on AO3 last summer. Funny, blunt, unexpected, raunchy, tender at times, and a bit kinky. This story never failed to surprise me by going exactly where I hoped it would go one moment then veering hard right in another direction the next. You're not going to find a lot of 10 chapter fics this rich, descriptive, committed, and unique throughout.

head above water by yourblues

"He gives Matthew a cocky little smirk about it, like it’s supposed to be impressive that he didn’t need instructions to find them. Awful, Matthew thinks. He’s awful, and yet all Matthew wants is to get his hands or his mouth or literally anything on him. There’s been something hooked behind his breastbone all week, pulling him toward this with a single-mindedness that Matthew usually only feels with hockey. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to think straight until they’re done here."

This whole work is great, but for me the story reaches untouchable heights in the 5th chapter that very few other fics have ever been able to reach for me. I find myself re-reading it as soon as I'm done every time. Take my word for it, even if you only read the 5th chapter (read the whole thing though, because the build-up is worth the payoff, trust me).

#nhl #nhl players #hrpf #hrpf recs #mattdrai #mcmattdrai #mattdrai recs #ao3 #matthew tkachuk #leon draisaitl

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anemoiashifts · 2 days

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shifting tips / advice that don’t suck !

♡getting offline.

i know i know it’s hard, but being bombarded with different information about a certain topic can be so overwhelming & create room for overthinking which can effect performance. looking in places outside of shiftok or shiftblur or shift whatever. putting more effort into trying to figure out what something is instead of doing it will drive you insane because there is no answer to what shifting is. hence, “theories” & shared experiences. there is no concrete reasoning to shifting backed by science so don’t try & find them or you’ll be looking forever.

♡music.

did you know you can use music to manipulate memories ? the brain is so so bad at remembering things due to how much information we consume daily. when you visualize & listen to a sound or music, your brain can register that as a memory.

♡smell.

this one also aligns with the one above. smell is heavily tied to memory, also. by watching a show we are shifting to & pairing it with a certain scent like a perfume or candle, we can create a link between the two. then, spraying during shifting attempts can help us visualize & associate that piece of media with where we’re focusing on.

♡shadow work.

find out why you’re shifting. happiness ? you don’t need to shift for that. love ? you don’t need to shift for that. if you want to that’s fine but is shifting a bandaid for something deeper ? discover that. really think & consider where you’re going & if you’re in the right mentality to handle it. you aren’t in a television show episode or an oc, you’ll be a living human being in a very real & interactive world. figure out your intentions.

♡put in effort.

this may be a little obvious but you have to want to shift, to shift. you have to put in work & effort to shift & take another approach if doing the same method 10x over hasn’t worked for you. “we shift every second” sure but you didn’t shift into your desired reality in the past thirty. “im saying an affirmation & rolling over & hoping ill wake up in my dr” & how has that worked out for you ? just because this has maybe worked for other people, doesn’t mean it'll work for you. everyone is different. people require more time & effort to get something right then others just like subjects like art or english come easier to students.

♡perfection.

not everything has to be perfect. script isn’t completed ? so what ? you’ve been saying “im not ready yet” for the five months. don’t put off good things out of fear of them not being exactly how you want it because it will never be perfect because perfection isn’t real. if you don’t have everything figured out — that’s fine. why ? because life will sort itself out. this remains true right here & in your desired life. if it’s any comfort, everything will fall into place.

♡neutrality.

if you’re someone who wakes up after an attempt saying “i’ll never shift, i hate this reality” then you’re kinda sabotaging yourself in a way. your creating the mindset that this is the “bad” place when shifting is “good”. that’s not true. everything is entirely neutral until you define it as such. in addition, you are focusing more on the “haven’t” & giving that more attention to & what you give attention to will only grow until it’s so big you can’t see anything else.

♡listening.

people who want things don’t sit & complain about not having them, they persist & would do anything to get their desires & live in that reality. instead of saying “i didn’t shift” & sulking about it, take it as a learning experience to see what does & doesn’t work for you; your body is showing you what not to do so listen to yourself.

#desired reality #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting #shiftok #shifting motivation #shifting realities #shifter

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wisteria-winter · 3 days

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Pillowstatic, Lucifer's Commission

Inspired by @onesidedradiostatic 's #lucifer's commissions saga

Synopsys: The greatest artisan of hell gets one peculiar commission from one of the Vee’s.

Words: 3636

Started writing this a while back, it’s very much just one for fun. The characters might be a little more domestic, specifically the Vee’s

________________________________

CRASH

The sound of glass shattering spread through the room. Chards glistening on the floor like newly fallen snow. It was an accident. Valentino just lost his grip. It had all just slipped through his hand.

“This is the THIRD TIME! This month.” Vox screeches though his shaded screen. Anger clear, despite the distortions hiding his expressions. “If you keep forgetting the strap one more time, I’m not playing Wii with you guys anymore. Ever!”

“You said that last time too, Vox.” Velvette reminds, focusing more on her phone than whatever the two of them have going on.

“Well, this time I mean it! Do you know how annoying it is to replace my screen?”

“Oh. Don’t be like that Voxy, it was an accident.” Valentino tries, acting as harmless as he can.

“And YOU! I’m not talking to you, AND I’m removing your WiFi privileges until this is all fixed! How do you expect me to hold a conference looking like THIS!?” Vox retorts, pointing at his glitched out screen face, which had a clear indent where the remote had hit.

“Vox! How can you do that, to ME?! How do you expect me to work without WiFi?!” Valentino retorts, thinking only of himself.

“...” Vox isn't impressed.

Not getting a response he starts to work backwards with, “How about I get you something to make up for it? I could draw you a picture. Anything you’d like.” Trying to placate Vox, though he can’t really hide the contempt within, “Even if it’s the radio demon.” He really can’t understand Vox’s obsession with Alastor.

“Hmph. You did that the first time.” Vox has his back turned and arms crossed. He won’t give in that easily, not this time at least.

“How about a pinup? I’m sure it would...” Val gave a sigh, “look nice in your collection.” Dreaded river Styx, why is this the only thing that placates him?

Vox does perk up at the suggestion, but is quick to steady his resolve. “And you got that, the last time.” He says before crossing his arms again in annoyance. “And they forgot his antlers.” Like, how could they have forgotten his antlers? Did they not even look at the reference pictures? He- uhh- Sent a lot.

“Fine.” There is one thing that Vox doesn’t have, or rather, doesn’t have anymore, and he has been bugging them about it for quite some time. Valantino gives in and sighs, “What about a new body pillow?” he asks in the most monotone manner.

“Really!” Vox excitedly exclaims, uncrossing his arms and turning his face towards Val with glee, before realizing what he just did and going back to being stoic. “Yeah, I think that would suffice.” Though, glee and excitement are still present in his voice. Valentino gives the little dork a smile, despite how weird the circumstances might feel.

“Good. Then I’ll send the request to our merch department and see what they can do.” Valentino takes out his phone and starts writing something while mumbling under his breath that, “It shouldn’t be too hard to change an Angel picture to an Alastor one.” He then turns to Vox and asks, “What kind of-”

“I heard that! I’m not letting you create some sloppy half finished, inferior, mass-produced pillow. I want it to be an authentic, one-of-a-kind, high quality pillow that won’t rip at the seams and smells just like him.” Vox sounds exceedingly stern, why does the pillow mean so much towards him?

“Vox.”

“Okay, it doesn’t have to smell like him. But it has to be really good quality. There has to be an artisan that can make the best pillow in hell, right? Get that person.”

“Vox. What are you on about? What do you want me to do? Spend 50k just so you can get a nice body pillow of Alastor?” He says in disbelief. There is no way-

“Yes, exactly that.” He looks towards Valentino as smug as he can with his broken face. “Or else, no WiFi.”

“Ugh, fine. Do you want to commission them for the image too?” Val says with a dead tone, he has given up, given in, no use in fighting this stubborn brat when it concerns Alastor.

“Of course, it has to be special. Also, make sure that they don’t forget his antlers, and tell them that his hoofs are red and that the red claws are not gloves, but claws, just like mine and that his arms and legs start black at the tip then gradually melt into his skin. Oh! and don’t forget-” Vox rambles on, seemingly lost in thought.

Valentino just looks at him disapprovingly, wondering in a long whisper ‘w~h~y~?’. In essence, Val isn’t really looking forward to the coming conversation with the ‘best artisan in hell’, whoever that might be.

________________

Lucifer gets a phone notification. Ignoring everything in his surroundings, he takes his phone out and looks at whatever it may be. Huh.

“And here I thought you cared for dear Charlie's exercises.” Alastor says also ignoring the exercise and taking more interest in what Lucifer may be up to.

________________

A few moments before.

Charlie has assembled everyone for some team building exercises. There are some colorful balloons bouncing softly around her on the floor. The plan is to have a few exercises where everyone is in pairs. For the first part, the goal is to keep one balloon in the air for as long as possible, but you can’t touch it more than twice in a row.

“So then, Angel, who do you want to team up with?” Charlie asks, happy as always, making sure that their, now only, actually resident is comfortable playing.

“I’d like to go with Husk if that works.” Angel says.

“Yes! Sounds perfect! Husk?” Charlie responds, delighted over him showing engagement. This might actually be a really progressive day.

“Yeah, sure, works.” Husk agreed.

“Now then, Alastor?” Charlie then moves her attention to their one and only hotel manager. It would be nice if he participated more.

“I'd rather stay out of this one, wouldn’t want to accidentally pop one of your lovely balloons and ruin your diligent work.” He responds cleanly.

“You don’t have to worry about that, I have many more!” She says before stopping herself. “But I understand.” He’s already doing so much it doesn’t feel right to pressure him.

“Thank you dear.”

“Then Vaggie, does teaming up with Niffty work for you?”

“Yeah, but what about you?”

“Oh! Well, if Alastor won’t participate then we’ll have an uneven number of participants if I join, which wouldn’t work as-”

“I understand, it's alright, I’ll go with Niffty.” Vaggie gives her a soft smile, to which Charlie’s shines even brighter.

They all team up and get their balloons, though before they can start; Lucifer walks in and wonders what they are up to. He also positions himself between Alastor and Charlie as a small attempt to shield her from the sketchy and untrustworthy sinner.

“Dad, how about you join in?”

“I, sure, sounds like fun.” He answers, thinking he’d team up with Charlie for some father daughter bonding.

“Great! How about you team up with Alastor?”

“No.” They both respond in unison.

“Aww, come on. You two are always bickering, this could be a great opportunity to help you create some enjoyable memories,” Charlie says, wishing for everyone to be on friendly terms. “And it would mean a lot to me if you two were able to get along.” She ends, giving her dad some puppy dog eyes.

“Charlie...” Lucifer starts, not fully knowing what to say, before being interrupted by Alastor.

“Well, if it means so much for you dear, then I guess there is no choice than for me to join in the fun.” He says focusing on Charlie while approaching. “Though I guess that if the big boss himself doesn’t want to join, then I guess I’ll have to team up with you my dear.” He continues with a mischievous smile as he rests his arm on Lucifer like he’s a table.

“NO!” Lucifer retorts loudly, pushing Alastor off and away from him, letting the sinner fall to the floor, before composing himself. “I mean- I’ll join. I’d do anything for my sweet Char Char.” He tries to look at her softly, showing how much he cares. Though his expression quickly turns sour, seeing how she’s moved to Alastor’s side, helping him get up. Why does she care so much? Especially over a sinner who is clearly only bad news.

After helping Alastor up, she turns towards Lucifer. “Dad! This is exactly why we need the bonding exercises, what if you hurt Alastor?”

‘Why would I care about that?’ Lucifer thinks before answering absentmindedly. “He’ll survive, I didn’t even push that hard.”

Charlie just gives him a disapproving look.

“I told you I’d join.” He says defensively, why did it feel like she thought he was in the wrong?

“So, how are we to start, dear?” Alastor asks Charlie sweetly, ignoring Lucifer before turning to him with a gloating smile, making Lucifer's blood boil. In contrast, Charlie brightens up and goes into her presentation mode, restating the rules so that Lucifer hears them as well, and then proceeds to give each pair their own balloon.

It starts off quite well, though Alastor does accidentally pop some balloons with his sharp claws. Resulting in him and Lucifer electing to use their canes instead. To Charlie’s delight, everyone seems to be enjoying the exercise. It’s working!

Then a notification can be heard. Lucifer loses any focus he had on the exercise and takes out his phone, ignoring the balloon slowly descending beside him.

“And here I thought you cared for dear Charlie's exercises.” Alastor utters as the balloon hits the floor. He also moves closer to get a look at what Lucifer might be up to.

Lucifer, taking note of Alastor’s approach, makes sure to hide his phone from the demon’s view before reading what it says. -

Hey, Luci! You just got an... interesting(?) order, They’re willing to pay 50k for you to make an image of an Alastor and put that image on a body pillow, a very high quality body pillow btw, where super adamant about that Also, got a bunch of reference photos, so you don’t have to worry about not knowing who this Alastor is I’ll send them over soon I got a bunch of notes they wanted you to follow and they are like, super specific and detailed, but like, whatever right? Anyway I’ll send them too, Or do you want to come and pick it all up? (it’s a lot to send)

- And it said a lot, he had to re-read it a few times just to get a grasp of what it was about. Someone was willing to pay him 50k for an Alastor pillow?! 50k! Do they want him to use angelic wings as filling? Do they want him to embroider the image? Maybe? Yeah, sure. He can do that. Though that still leaves the big question of, WHY ALASTOR?! Ugh, Luci was not looking forward to having to spend so much time having to deal with seeing images of that one. -

Thanks Crymini. I can come and pick it all later today Did they want anything else or just the pillow with the costume image?

Think that was all, he seemed pretty irritated when he came in though So, maybe add some extra stuff to keep em happy? (If you want) (He did mumbled something about it having to smell like this Alastor dude, but it’s not really in the request, so think you can ignore that)

- ‘Yeah, sure’ Lucifer tries to write for some moments, before giving up and leaving his only employee on read. He’s going to meet her later anyway.

“So, what does the little picture box say?” Alastor interrupts.

Lucifer turns towards him, started by the closeness of the demon, Lucifer screams, drawing everyone’s attention. “Nothing.” He says as he scrambles away, getting some distance. It would be the end of him if Alastor knew any of this. Lucifer quickly composes himself.

“Dad? What happened?” Charlie asks calmly, approaching them.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing, though I find it quite sad that he’d place more importance on a supposed phone than the exercises you’ve worked so hard on dear. Quite a pity indeed.” Alastor responds.

She gave him a humoring smile then turned towards her actual dad to ask more directly. “What did she say?” Only considering the possibility that the only one who’d contact her dad, would be her mom.

“What?” Slightly panicking and wondering how Charlie figured him out. “Oh, nothing, just a few things, nothing important. Anyway, how about the next exercise, what do you have planned sweetie?” He tries to play off.

Charlie looks at him a bit confused but decides to leave it be and lets the focus shift towards the next exercise, as suggested. All while Alastor looks at the king with utmost suspicion, wondering what Lilith might have said that was so important to hide.

________________

Lucifer walks into the empty little shop and is greeted by his one employee. They converse a little and he grabs all of the images and the long list of requirements that were basically telling him to be as accurate as possible. ‘Huh? Alastor has hooves,’ he thinks while ignoring the disturbing amount of artistic rendition of how they look.

Opening a portal back into his room with everything, he starts to look through everything, putting all the images all over his room so that he can get a better overview of it all. When done he starts his creative process, drawing up some initial drafts. Though the more he draws the more he realizes that it’s going to take quite a while for this all to become perfect.

________________

At the end of the week his garbage can is full, Alastor pictures are all around and no real progress has been made. He needs a break, a breather.

After a while of just meandering around the hotel he hears some sounds from the kitchen, one of them sounding to belong to Charlie, so he makes his way there. Arriving he sees them all having fun, walking closer, he notes that they are mostly looking in books. Why read in the kitchen?

“Ah, your majesty, and to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?” Alastor asks, delighted, catching the devil off guard.

“Just wanted to check out the ruckus in MY kitchen.” Lucifer straightens his suit, ignoring Alastor and focuses on what Charlie might be up to, meeting her gaze. She gives him a quick awkward smile, before her attention drifts elsewhere. Thinking nothing of it, he approaches her. “So, Charlie, is this another one of your redemption exercises?” He asks with cheer and a smile.

“Kinda, it was Alastor’s idea though.” Ugh. "Isn't it great? What’s a better way to show appreciation than making something together?” Her glee and delight is so radiating, he finds it hard not to smile, as she continues her explanation.

“We are working on making a full course meal, Angel and Husk are in charge of the appetizer, Niffty and I are working on the main meal and Vaggie is in charge of the desert, while Alastor is supervising, giving us pointers. Oh! How about you join in too? You could help Vaggie with dessert! How about it?”

“Sure.” He agrees, for how can he say no to that face?

________________

“So Vaggie, what are we making?” He asks approaching Vaggie who seems to be looking through a book.

“I don’t really know, was thinking maybe an apple pie?” She answers, fully engrossed in the book.

Apples! His favorite! “Sounds great! What do we need?” Lucifer asks, taking the book away from Vaggie to read what it may say, instructions. Ooh, that makes sense.

Before he can read much, she takes it back and turns to the radio demon.

“Alastor! I need like 6 apples, some sweet almonds, butter, sugar and 2 eggs. Also, a pie form and some whipping cream.” She calls out. Alastor turns and gives her the same smile he always holds before snapping his fingers, summoning the items along with some tools for assistance.

Lucifer takes one of the apples, it’s bright green, and scoffs, “You call this an apple?” He says giving Alastor a most judgmental look. Then transforms the green misfit into a lovely red apple. “There, better.” Smiling at his own accomplishment and the slight annoyance that passed over Alastor. Ha!

Lucifer finds himself actually enjoying working with Vaggie, she’s a good girl, and despite the annoyance that is Alastor he can’t deny that it wasn’t too bad of an idea. Though he’d never inform anyone of that.

The final meal was also nice, and to Lucifer's delight, Alastor was acting as the busboy. He had set the table and explained each dish, letting his shadows bring the plates to each person. The only part of agitation was how clear it was that Charlie appreciated it too, winning her over even more.

________________

After the meal Lucifer decides to go back to his room but is interrupted by Charlie in the hall.

“Dad?” She starts carefully.

“Yes?” He stopped in his step, turned to her and tried to give her all his attention.

“How do you like living here?”

“It’s nice to always be close to you.”

“Un huh, and what do you think of everyone else? Vaggie, Angel,” She pauses shortly, “Alastor?”

“Vaggie is a very nice and strong girl. Angel is showing progress, I think. As for that Alastor, I doubt he’s ever going to be able to leave hell.”

“Do you want him to stay in hell?”

“He doesn’t deserve anything else but hell.” He says bluntly, starting to get in a bad mood having to be reminded of that guy.

“Right...” Charlie starts, looking at the ground having a hard time figuring out what to ask next.

“Honestly Charlie, I don’t understand why you keep him around. He’s not going to get redeemed and anything he can do I can do better, so just, depend on me more, I’m always here for you.” Lucifer slightly vents.

“Thank you, dad, but Alastor is still a big part of the hotel, and his idea today was really nice, wasn’t it? You and Vaggie looked like you were getting along really well.”

“I guess that’s true.” As much as he hated to admit it, he did have a nice time.

There was a little awkward pause, before Charlie spoke.

“So, umm, thanks for the talk dad and if you ever need any help then you can always talk to me. I’m here for you too, dad.”

She gives another pause, before steading her resolve “Even if it’s something like you’ve moved on from mom, I’ll understand, okay?” She gives him a somewhat sorrowful smile, clearly trying to stay strong.

“Oh no, I still love your mom, we’re just, having a bit of alone time is all.” He doesn’t really like talking about what happened, but there is a reason he still wears the ring.

“Okay dad, thanks.” She looks back to the way she came. “I think it’s time for me to go back to the others.” She says, trying to give Lucifer the choice of joining back.

“Okay, have fun.” He says, moving towards his room.

________________

His head is only filed with Charlie and to a lesser degree, the conversation. All until he opens the door towards his room and is hit by his reality. His room is plastered with Alastor pictures.

Oh.

Oh no.

A cold fear fills him, what if Charlie saw all of this?

And a thought tells him, she already has.

________________

He teleports back to the lobby, where they had all seemingly gathered after doing the dishes without him. Locates Charlie and bolts in her direction. Grabbing both her arms he looks her straight in the eyes.

“I do NOT like Alastor.” He proclaims with vigor. He can’t handle the thought that she might think otherwise.

“Yeah, we know.” Angel comments, directing their focus his way.

“No- I-” Lucifer looks back at Charlie and tells in a whisper for only her to hear. “I don’t like him like I like your mom.”

“Oh! What a relief, I don’t think Alastor would ever like you either.” Wait, what?

“Why not?” He says out of reflex, short and snappy, almost a little offended that there would be one who wouldn’t even consider the possibility of him. Not that he’d ever fall that low, but a peasant should always worship the king. Should they not?

“Because you’re an insolent fool who can’t even clean up after yourself!” Alastor injects with disdain, having been sitting in the armchair behind them during the whole ordeal. He then stands up and walks towards the two. Positioning himself by Charlie's side he takes his staff and points it at Lucifer's chest.

“And why are you here? I thought you said you were busy, hmm?” He continues.

“I am busy, just had to- wanted to make sure that Charlie was doing fine. Can’t be sure about that when you’re around.” Lucifer responds, as if he has the higher ground.

“You should have more faith in her, Charlie is a very capable person.” Alastor gives a short glance towards her, “I for one believe that she can accomplish anything as long as she puts her mind to it. Sad to hear you don’t feel the same.”

“I didn’t-”

“Now dear, you were discussing plans for tomorrow?” Alastor directs all of his focus on Charlie, fully ignoring Lucifer, except for a smug smile he quickly shoots his way.

________________________________

Hope it was a fun read ᵔᵜᵔ

Also, the idea with Crymini was something like, Lucifer is trying to connect with the rest of hell, but still doesn't really want to interact much with them. So he chose to create a shop of sort and found a random sinner to help him in exhange for a nice salary

#lucifer's commissions saga #onewaybroadcast #hazbin fanfic #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbinhotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #the vees #vees #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #and a little text cameo from Crymini #pillowstatic

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