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cupcakeinat0r · 2 months

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Thinkin' abt DadBod!Miguel at the gym <3

You'd been going to the gym routinely, or at least trying to. You decided to go after working up the courage and convincing yourself that this was just for fun. That your body was your temple, and you were tending to it, no matter how it looked <3

The first week wasn't so bad. After embarrassingly tripping on equipment or accidentally dropping weights here and there, it was alright! Though at times, it was still difficult to stay consistent, until one day, you saw him.

Over on the other side of the gym, curling some dumbbells (100s, mind you), was a total 6-foot, thick, hairy dream of a man. You first noticed his chiseled face adorned by fine lines, locks of black hair framing it. With each draw of the weights, his biceps bulged. Beads of sweat trickled down his bulky chest and wide shoulders. When your eyes wander downward, you're surprised to not find washboard abs.

Oh no, what you find instead excites you even more than any pack of abs could offer you.

Your mouth waters slightly to find that his tank top has ridden up slightly over his hefty belly, graciously allowing a peek at a happy trail, its path sadly blocked by some basketball shorts (his cute bubble butt and giant dick print made up for it tho).

Despite his low, breathy grunts and intense crimson gaze towards his own reflection, he was making it look easy. You thought about how easy it'd probably be for him to carry you bride-style and throw you onto a bed before spreading your legs with those enormous hands so he could feast until your eyes crossed. Or how it'd be effortless for him to hold you tightly with your legs wrapped around that stocky midsection of his while he bullied his-

"'scuse me, you waiting for this bench?" a deep voice snaps you out of a daydream. You see the man is now looking at you with what looks like a knowing smirk. Fuck, he noticed you staring.

"Oh! N-no, was just looking for the 10s!" You blurt, evoking a velvety chuckle and dashing smile from him.

"Right over there." He motions with his chin toward the weight rack where the 10s are obviously displayed. After you thanked him, He smiled and nodded back to you, turning back toward the mirror to do his last set.

The second week felt like no problem. Instead of dragging yourself to the gym, you looked forward to it, scanning for your new gym crush every time you entered.

You'd feel a lil surge of happiness when you do find him there, feeling brave enough to exchange smiles and sometimes even little waves from across the gym. One time, the older man made you swoon when he winked at you upon entering the gym. After seeing your cute reaction, this would be how he greeted you every time.

The third week came You're at the squat rack, feeling stronger than usual, so you opt to go the heaviest you've ever gone. Big mistake. By the third rep, you fail to get back up, panicking and legs shaking. Just when you feel yourself start to fall, you see a pair of hands dart toward the bar from behind you, lifting it with ease and allowing you to stand back up. The bar is re-racked and you turn to find gym bae.

"You okay?" he gently prompts, a worried look on his face.

"Yes, thank you... think I might've gone too heavy." you nervously chuckle. He does as well, seeing that you're alright.

"Next time you go for a PR, you need to ask for a spotter, hun." He gives you that dashing smile again, his hands on his love handles.

"Yeah, I probably should've," you lower your head in defeat, "I didn't bring anyone with me though."

"You could've asked me," He says matter of factly as if it should've been obvious that he should be the one to spot you. "I would've done it with no problem, mama." His pet names make your womanhood pulse.

You look back up at him, your lips curled into a shy smile.

"C'mon, let's try again." "No, no, mama, I got that, I'll put it away for you." "Keep your knees like this-theeeere you go. "Gimme one more, mama, just one more, you can do it." "Atta girl! Good job, mamita."

You learned that his name is Miguel. He'd become your designated spotter on leg days, the sensation of his larger frame against yours making you nervous in the best way.

Your favorite is when his tummy accidentally brushes against your back, and borderline, your ass, and if not his tummy, it'd be his prominent bulge (which isn't there bc he gets to spot the adorable girl with an amazing ass from the gym... totally not that).

On the Fourth week, Miguel would ask you if you wanted to be workout buddies altogether. Of course, you accept, in which he asks for your number so like that, he can text you when he's going and vice versa.

It's the fifth week, and you both have worked out together a couple times already. Miguel texted you in the morning asking if you'd like to join him, which you were totally down for.

You two started with lateral pull-downs. Once it was your turn, you sat on the machine and reached for the handle, pulling it as you began your set.

Anytime you felt like you wanted advice or correction, Miguel eagerly helped you.

His hands would stay on your waist, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Mhm, there you go, you're doin' so good, mama." He praises in almost a whisper.

If only he knew he was making the exercise only harder. As if that weren't enough, his finger would occasionally message your hip. Your bodies were so close that you were able to hear each satisfied hum from his lips, suggesting you were doing the exercise right.

"Good girl, that was better. You feel it now?" He says, letting go to let you off the machine.

"Yeah, thank you! When it comes to upper body, I'll need all the help I can get. I'm just glad I’m getting it from an upper-body master." You flirtatiously add, playfully poking at one of his biceps.

This makes him blush, but only for a moment before he returns with a cocky response, "Thanks, hun. I'm glad to be working out with a leg-day goddess."

Now it was your turn to blush, except you didn't have any smart comeback, boosting Miguel's ego.

"Listen, let me treat you to smoothie after this, yeah?" He says it more like a statement than a request, and you happily oblige.

What you were expecting was a simple, cheap smoothie from a spot you usually go to, but instead, you're met with a drive-thru menu listing shakes from $20 and up. Oh he got moneyyyy.

Miguel tells you to pick any that looks good to you. He orders for himself and you as well, parking the car once the two of you get the smoothies.

As he sips from the cup, you take the opportunity to subtly glance at his figure, his muscles, how his pecs sit beautifully on top of his soft belly, his thighs constrained by the confines of his gym shorts. You think how badly you wanna sit there, grinding on the print 'til there was a wet spot-

"Something on your mind, mama?" You look back at him, taking a few seconds to register his words.

You hastily look back down at your drink and shake your head, “Nothing… thank you so much for this, it’s delicious!”

then he grabs the shoulder of your chair to lean toward you, “Of course, mama, but I don’t think you’re being completely truthful with me, hm?”

You look at him, playfully shaking your head again, knowing full well you’ve been caught.

“What’s in that pretty lil head of yours, hm? dime.” He puts the smoothie into the cup holder to free his other hand, placing it on your thigh, and softly squeezes it. “Just say the word, and you’ll get anything you want.”

Your lips curl slyly as you think of a response.

“Well… we never did cardio.”

Now you were here in his car, being bounced on his fat dick on the passenger seat, holding onto his his big shoulders for dear life. You were basically his fleshlight at this point… with those big hands.

You could feel his body now taut against yours, your tits bouncing relentlessly, his muscled, thick thighs below your ass, his balls slapping against your pussy lips, his bush tickling your clit, his pelvis pushing your ass up and his curved belly against your front side. It all was sending you into euphoria.

With you vigorously bouncing on his cock and his beautiful moaning, you fully let go. “Aw yes, Daddy,“ you mumbled without thinking.

In fact, you couldn’t think at all. All you knew was this fat cock and your pussy was memorizing all its veins and curves.

“Mmfuck baby, yea, say that again f’me”, he groaned through gritted teeth as he mercilessly bounced you down his painfully hard shaft.

“Please, Daddy, please!” You whined with your hands desperately seeking support on his big shoulders.

You can feel the sheet of sweat on his belly and on his thighs, which turned the smacking of your ass sound even more lewd.

“Fuck, say it again.” He growled, getting faster now.

“Mmmm, Daddy— Daddy, pleaseeee.”

“Louder, baby, c’mon—“

“UNGH DADDYYYY”

“Oh FUCK… you wanted cardio, baby, I’ll give you cardio… fuckin’ take it… coño.” Your panting became synchronized with every pound of his cock into your abused and bruised cunt, getting higher and higher in pitch, firing him up to go faster and harder.

“Gonna cum on this fat cock, right? Gonna cum f’me, mami?” He ordered, dropping octaves from his usual gentle tone with you.

“Mmmnn, Nnyesyyesyesyes—“ you babbled, the shakiness of your voice the result of the aggressive bouncing.

“Ah… carajo…” his cock accidentally slips out from your cunt, making you wince from the sudden empty sensation, “ungh!”

Holding up your ass, he takes a moment to admire the view, hissing from the sight of his angrily red cock and veins pulsing from your cunt sucking him in so deliciously. A ring of your cream erotically placed at the base of his length, just above his perfect bush. He guides his fat tip back to your dripping cunt using his thumb, pushing it back into your swollen folds.

He was back to ramming into your abused cunt in no time, chasing each others high’s.

“C’mon…fuck, c’mon, mama, you’re almost there…. Aw f-fuck… almost there…” he moans with his brows knitted and through a clenched jaw.

“Daddy I’m g’na— I’m cummingimcummingimcumming—“

“Aw, fuck, asi— asi mami— ah, ah…” Miguel holds back choked whines as he get closer, not allowing himself to let go until he knew you came first.

You speak in gibberish before crying into your climax, Miguel letting out a long, exasperated groan when he reaches his. You can feel his hot cum overfilling you, making you whine as it leaks down your thigh.

After draining himself completely, making sure every drop was in you, he gently pulls out, “Fuck… you did so good for me, mama… so good.”

Miguel lets you rest against his heaving chest and soft belly, rubbing your back as you caught your breath. You smiled a tired smile when you notice how hard Miguel is breathing as well, knowing you worked him out, too.

“You ok, mamita?” He plants a tender kiss on your shoulder, making a trail up your neck and finally to your forehead.

“Mhm,” you hum, you look up at him and are met with his plump, wet lips, tongues becoming entangled with each other as he groans into your mouth.

“I say… we do cardio like this every day.”

A/n: Haiii, I hope u liked it <3 Love my man sm <3 None of my gym baes could ever compare to himmmmm😭😭😭

@angel-of-the-moons Ty Ty Ty my luv for planting the seed in my head <3

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

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some-bunniii · 3 months

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My Charming Red Savior [2]

・❥ Two odd visitors and a mugging. Can’t you stay out of trouble?

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

x: he’s back!! a little longer this time, 8k words. enjoy!

That evening after meeting Alastor, you sat at your friend’s dining table, your mind racing.

Your finger aimlessly twisted that gold ring he had magically placed on your digit, as you explained what happened. The creep harassing you, Alastor swooping in to save you. All of it laid out for your friend to digest. Which she wasn’t taking it very well.

“I mean, I'm glad that demon helped you out of that, but you should have gotten away as soon as possible! Haven’t you heard what he’s done, what kind of deals people have made with him?”

You sighed, feeling a bit frustrated with your friend's skepticism. "Look, I get it, you're worried. But Alastor isn't what everyone makes him out to be. He helped me when I needed it most. Besides, who are we to judge someone solely based on rumors?"

Your friend leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the ring adorning your finger. "What about that? What if it's some sort of trap he set for you?"

You instinctively pulled your hand back, a protective gesture. "Don't be ridiculous. Alastor wouldn't do something like that. He's... different."

"Different? More like dangerous," she countered, reaching out to grab your hand. "Come on, let me see that ring. We can take it to someone to see if it’s been magically altered."

Dangerous? He saved you from someone dangerous! Yes, he was a demon. A sinner, who probably did some bad things, and most likely continues to do bad things. Except, for the fact he didn’t leave you, a defenseless nobody, to be taken off and.. you couldn’t even think about it.

You jerked your hand away from her hand, the ring glinting in the lamplight. "There’s nothing wrong with the ring, you’re just being paranoid. It’s.. comforting, actually."

Your friend sighed, frustration evident in her voice. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. Please, at least consider what I'm saying."

You softened, realizing she was only looking out for you. "I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I’m not a child, I can make my own decisions."

Your friend relented after a moment, sinking back into her chair. She nodded slowly, agreeing with your statement.

At that moment, your friend’s husband had entered the room. A large pot of steaming foodstuff in his oven-mitt protected hands as he walked.

“I hope you guys are hungry!” He said cheerfully, the tension in the room easing with his upbeat demeanor. You quite liked him, he had some good jokes and cared about those around him.

You smile gratefully, welcoming the distraction from the intense conversation. “Absolutely starving,” you reply, grateful for the opportunity to shift the focus to something more light-hearted.

Your friend’s husband sets the pot on the table, filling the room with the delightful aroma of home-cooked food. “Well, dig in!” he encourages, serving everyone generous portions.

As you take a bite, the flavors dance on your palate, and your eyes light up as you eat.

“What is this?” You turn to her husband, who looked up from his bowl, face stuffed with food.

“Crawfish Étouffée! A popular dish from New Orleans, back on Earth. Do you like it?”

You nodded vigorously. Is this what Jambalaya tastes like? If so, you really needed to try it. Maybe, you’d see Alastor again, and he could give you that recipe he had mentioned?

As your thoughts drifted back to the red demon, your finger began to twist the ring around your digit once more. Why did it bring you such comfort? You had no idea.

Sometimes, if you put your hand to your face, you could smell faint traces of his scent, that you had first memorized when you walked side by side with him. It smelled like an old cologne, something that you couldn’t quite recognize from your days. Maybe, it was back when he was alive?

Lemony, hay-like and grassy. A whiff of licorice. Something peppery too? You couldn’t quite place it. But every deep inhale sent you into a lull. A trance, almost.

Your finger still mindlessly caressed the golden band a while later, during the early hours of the morning. You had been sweeping the front doors to the formalwear store you worked at, tidying up before it would be opened for customers.

It wasn’t until you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, did you get pulled back into reality.

“Pardon me, miss. Are you guys open?”

Turning around to address the voice, you find no one. It wasn’t until you looked down did you see the demon man. He resembled that of an imp. Dark red skin with thin, striped horns that peaked out of the top of his head.

He wore a white turtleneck, with long white hair that curled around his chin. His eyes were unreadable, hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. They were Ray-Burn glasses. You could immediately tell from the bridge, which were curved to resemble a half-circle rather than an oval.

You also knew how high-end that brand was, and it wasn’t easy getting a pair either. The wait for those was no joke. And, this style was from their newest collection, which meant that he had to be of some importance to get one so soon.

His posture also struck you as odd, especially for an imp. He stood tall, shoulders back, head held high. Despite being a part of one of the lowest social classes in Hell, the demon regarded everyone and everything around him with an air of confidence and assertiveness.

It was also odd that he was wearing sunglasses so early in the morning, there wasn’t really much light to need protection from. Maybe he had some bat genetics in him?

You smiled at him, but shook your head. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re closed right now. You’ll have to come back later.”

The imp visibility deflated at your words, a frown etched on his face. You could see his eyes through the shades just enough to show them flicking down the streets.

“Oh, okay. That’s fine, I guess. Thanks, I'll just.. have to figure something else out.”

He backed away, as he scanned the nearby stores again. He muttered to himself, too quiet for you to hear, but his tone sounded scolding. As if he was berating himself. The demon bit his lip, as if he was contemplating something.

A pang of sympathy hit you, as you watched him become more anguished. It seemed like he really needed whatever was inside, and you didn’t have a reason to deny him business other than to follow the official hours of operation.

Placing the broom against the brick wall, you pulled out a set of keys. The demon turned slightly as he heard its jingle, and you met his shaded gaze.

“There isn’t really anything else I need to do before opening though, so I suppose it’s not a big issue letting you inside.”

The imp perked, a smile blooming on his lips at your words. You bent to turn the lock with a click. Pulling the door handle, you pulled it behind you, allowing the demon to follow you inside.

“That is so kind of you! Truly, you don’t get to meet many kind and considerate people in this place.”

Well, it was Hell. Being friendly to strangers was not a common occurrence. You just weren’t one of the, well, bad ones. Sure, you had some flaws, you weren’t a resident for no reason. But, you prided yourself in having a reasonable moral code.

“Don’t worry, I know what I need. I’ll be quick!” The imp promised, as he passed through the entryway. The large room was dark, besides the morning light casting through the windows.

You flicked on the lights, and the overhead lamps lit the interior of the store. There were mannequins lining the dark-blue walls, styled in different tuxedos and dress shirts. Next to them were rows of shelves, each specific to a type of garment. There were dress pants, vests, shoes, and smaller accessories like ties and belts.

As you walked behind the black-granite countertop, the imp had hurried over to a mannequin facing out of a glass display. He reached down near its feet, a small shelf lifted from the floor. A pile of red suits was neatly tucked next to the display.

Gingerly, he lifted to the top piece, examining it thoroughly. After a few moments, he brought it closer to his chest, before turning to you. Your hands tapped against the display of the digital cash register, readying it for service.

You looked up just as he placed the garment on the counter, your eyes scanning the suit. Strange, he was still wearing those shades. You simply smiled at him, before pulling the item closer to you. Carefully, you unfolded it, examining its form.

It was a beautiful red tuxedo, with golden lapels. Dark-red buttons, with white cuffs. It was a women’s suit, which was rare for you to see, since the store mostly marketed towards men.

“What a wonderful piece!” You exclaimed, your tone dripping with customer-satisfying professionalism. “Getting this for a special someone?”

The imp nodded. “For my daughter. She runs a hotel a few blocks away, up the hill. The Hazbin Hotel, if you've heard of it? She needed a new suit, and this was the perfect fit.”

The hotel that was supposed to help sinners with redemption? You’ve heard bits and pieces, mostly when you watched that disastrous interview with Katie Killjoy. You couldn’t recall who ran it, though.

“A little, but you sure do have an eye for style!” You nodded, grabbing the small tag from the sleeve to input the information into the register.

“Well, it was my sweetheart who picked it out first,” the imp gushed, “I can’t take all the credit, I'm not good at these sorts of things, anyway.”

“Do they have a background in fashion?”

“No, they’re an artist,” the demon beamed, his voice growing softer as he spoke of his lover, “I can promise, you’ve never seen a real painting until you’ve seen theirs. If it were my way, I'd fill every billboard with them, instead of those.. repulsive pornography ads they have downtown.”

The imp held a look of pride and admiration as he spoke, obviously having full confidence in his claim. You pulled up the item on your screen, and read him the price. It was not a cheap suit, but the demon had no reaction to the total and simply pulled out his wallet.

“Is business running smoothly at the hotel? Do you guys get a lot of guests?”

The imp contemplated for a moment, before pulling out a large sum of money, placing it gently on the counter. You reached for it, before licking your finger and counting through the bills.

“Not entirely. It just opened recently, and, with the demons it caters to? Hah, there’s not many around here with the mindset of redemption. But, I'm going to be helping her out, supporting her with the work.”

What a nice father, helping his daughter out like that. If only someone like that had helped you when you were younger, maybe you would be stu-

“Especially when it comes to keeping an eye on some of the.. colorful characters she calls staff. Like that Radio Demon.” As the imp spoke, you could hear the disdain in his tone, as he uttered that name. Your head shot up from the bills in your hand at his words.

Radio demon? Alastor? Alastor was working at the Hazbin Hotel?

“As in, the tall red guy with deer antlers? Carries a staff around with a microphone on it?” You questioned him, excitement lacing your voice.

“Yes. Do you know him? Word of advice, stay away from that demon. He’s nothing but a self-serving, pompous show-off.”

That couldn’t be true, could it?

Quickly, you placed the bills into the cash register, pulling out change to hand to the imp. As he took the money in your hand, you found it right to defend Alastor.

“He helped me out of a tough spot awhile ago, practically saved my life, actually.”

The demon regarded you for a moment, eyebrows raised as he took in your words. He didn’t argue, seemingly trying to leave as fast as possible. Back to the hotel presumably. “Hmph. Well, just be careful, you never know with demons like him.”

You were about to wish him farewell and turn away, before his hand lifted once more. Looking down, he held another stack of money in his hands, you could faintly read ‘100’ on one of the bills alone.

“For your kindness,” the demon stated simply, giving you a wink, “I enjoyed our short chat, there’s not many people down here I'm interested in talking to. Go treat yourself.”

Your eyes widened at his words. How did he have so much money he could just.. give it away?! You almost wanted to reject his offering. But, money was money, so you took them from his grip.

“I-I don’t know what to say, but thank you! This is very generous of you.”

He only shrugged, sending you a charming smile. “I am indeed a very generous person. Just don’t spend it on drugs, or anything like that.”

As you handed him the small pink bag, his shaded gaze landed on the ring on your finger, and he leaned in just an inch to get a closer look.

“Boy, that is a fine piece of jewelry you’ve got there! Very nice, was it from a lover? It really makes a statement! Just curious.. do you by any chance know where you got it from?”

You tilted your head, wondering why he wanted to know, was he planning on getting one himself? You just shook your head, you couldn’t really tell him it magically poofed onto your finger by the same demon he held negative feelings for.

He nodded, muttering something like ‘that’s fine’, before pivoting away from you towards the door.

“Adios!” He called, a hand in the air in farewell as he strolled to the exit. The bell above the door jingled as it closed behind him, and you saw him step near the curb, away from your view.

Suddenly, a flash of gold illuminated the small window on the door. Crossing the room, you peeked out the large display window. There was no one on the street, even when you cranked your head to both sides of the street. It’s like he just.. vanished. Strange.

You flipped the large sign on the window from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’ before returning behind the counter. Your fingers still holding the money he gave you, your mind elsewhere as you waited for the day to begin.

Your thoughts were still on that encounter when the assistant manager walked up to you a few hours later. He was a rather short, plump man with small horns protruding from his head. His skin was a pale blue, his figure resembling that of an ox. Alan was his name.

You weren’t very fond of him, he always threw flirtatious comments and jokes at you. Always insisting to join you behind the counter, or lean right over your shoulder when you worked. He reminded you too much of that creep from the streets, which made you uncomfortable.

What was up with you always attracting the questionable suitors? Maybe your friend at the cafe was right, you weren’t going to find ‘The One,’ you’d just have to settle for less.

Alan would always try and pry into your personal life, asking if you had a lover, or kids. You’d simply change the conversation as smoothly as possible. If you told him we’re single, he’d no doubt try and court you. Which made you nervous, he didn’t seem like someone who could take a rejection.

You weren’t able to say, ‘why yes, I have a hubby of my own!’ because you never had proof. Without a ring, and the rest of your co-workers aware of your singlehood, you knew lying to him would have consequences.

Not to mention, he was your boss. He had power, and unless you wanted to end up homeless on the street, you had to keep a friendly facade with him.

Luckily, he wasn’t around much. Except today your manager had meetings out of town, and he was the substitute. So, for now, you were stuck with him.

“Hey, you still know how to use that sewing machine in the back, right?” He asked you after you had finished assisting a customer near the large display window.

You nodded, curious about his question. In truth, being a tailor sounded much better than working for customer service. You had spent late nights slowly practicing the craft, on that ancient sewing machine in your basement. Maybe, you’d use that money the imp gave you to buy a new one.

“Well, Darlene just called in, which means I got no one as my seamstress. We’ve got a few pieces in need of mending, you think you can handle that?”

“Oh, sure! I can do that, no problem.”

It was then you heard the bell above the front entrance jingle slightly and the creak as the door opened, which caused you to turn sharply to greet the newcomer. Except.. there was no one there.

That was strange. There were other customers milling about, but you were standing in a position that made it impossible to miss anyone exiting the building.

“Must be having strong winds or something.” Alan remarked, and you turned back to him. As you moved, you noticed the corner next to the doorway was more shaded than usual. As if a large black shadow had taken residence there. Perhaps an overhead light went out? You’d have to check on that later.

“Anyway, I wanted to ask you something,” Alan started, a flirtatious smile on his lips as he lowered his voice, “I’ve got VIP access to a new club that just opened a few blocks down. I was thinking you and I could get some drinks and have a little fun, whatcha say?”

You groaned internally. Not this again. How were you going to say no this time?

“Well, I mean, um- you see the thing is…”

Your eyes went down to the ring on your digit, that little A shimmering in the light. Maybe, you could use this.

“… I’m already taken!” You exclaim, your hand shooting up to give Alan a front row seat at the prize on your person.

“You are?” He asked incredulously.

“Mhm!” You nod your head vigorously. “As you can see, this is my wedding ring. I eloped not too long ago, hence why it’s not common knowledge.”

Hopefully, he would buy your lie.

Alan stood there, his eyes flicking from you to the ring. Was he going to try and fight your claim? It seemed like he wanted to. Before you even gave him the chance to, you whipped towards the door being the counter to start mending.

You had only used the machine in the back a handful of times, but you were trying to become more familiar with it. Nodding, you quickly slipped into the back room. The hum of the old sewing machine greeted you like an old friend as you fired it up and began to mend the pieces in need of repair.

The rhythmic clacking of the needle against fabric filled the air as you lost yourself in the task at hand, the radio beside you playing soft old-timey melodies in the background. You continued this calm pace for a few hours, thankful to be away from Alan and the bustling state of the store.

Until a familiar static-laced voice broke through the music.

“Hello, sir! My, what a hellish morning it is!”

Your foot instantly moved off the pedal nestled under the table, the vibrations from the machine ceasing as it stilled. You strained your ears, is that who you thought it was?

“Oh, why hello there! How can I assist you today?” You heard the loud, boisterous voice of Alan as he welcomed the newcomer. Quickly, you left your seat, and peaked through the small crack in the doorway.

Your breath quickened as your eyes landed on the tall, red demon. Alastor. How did he get in here? You didn’t hear the loud bell jingle at his entrance.

He sported his usual red coat, with his staff resting lazily in his grip as he stood before the demon. He had a large smile on his face, but his eyes spoke differently. He looked absolutely bored, disinterested in the man before him and his surroundings.

“I’m simply here to adjust some wear-and-tear on my suit,” he remarked, “as you can see, my sleeve has taken quite the nasty wound.”

He lifted up his arm, displaying a tiny piece of missing fabric from the cuff. It was a clean slice, as if someone had taken a knife and barely nicked it. Nasty wasn’t exactly how you’d describe it, more like itty bitty.

“If I may..” Alan leaned in slightly, reaching out to inspect the tear.

Alastor only pulled his arm back, rejecting the gesture with a subtle yet firm movement.

“I prefer to handle my own attire, thank you,” Alastor stated, his voice carrying a hint of disdain as he withdrew his sleeve from Alan’s reach. His smile widened further, as he stared at the demon.

Your boss recoiled slightly, taken aback by Alastor’s abrupt refusal. “Oh, of course. My apologies,” he stammered, attempting to regain her composure, “but not to worry, sir! We’ve got fabrics that match and a seamstress to do the work. Let me go grab her for you, I'll be right back!”

You saw Alan turn in your direction, and you backed away from the door. Your heart raced as you realized you were going to actually be face to face with Alastor again. How would he react to your presence?

You shot into your seat, spinning around towards the machine. You stepped on the pedal, and the machine hummed to life once more. The door opened, and Alan poked his head in.

“Hey, there’s a customer who needs some assistance. Get out here.”

His head disappeared from view, leaving you alone once more. Exhaling a large breath to ease your nerves, you rose from your seat. Quickly, you walked over to the door and gripped the handle tightly. Another deep breath, and you pulled it open gingerly before taking a step outside.

Your boss was back beside Alastor, who towered over the man. As you slowly entered the room, Alastor’s eyes moved to you. They lit up with interest, the smile seeming to shrink slightly. The crooked edges on his smile softened too, appearing more genuine as he regarded you.

“Ah, there you are, my dear! I was hoping to find you here.” Alastor called to you. He stepped right past Alan, completely ignoring his presence as he strode up to you.

As he closed the distance, you became awfully aware of how fast your heart was beating inside your chest. That smell of lemons and licorice hit your nose as he stood before you, and it eased your nerves as you took a quick inhale of breath.

He turned, allowing Alan to see both of your faces as he slowly reached out to take your hand. His thumb gently grazed against the gold band and it spun slightly. Your breath hitched at his touch.

“It is so nice to be able to visit my dear wife at her place of work,” Alastor started, his gaze shooting to Alan as he spoke, “and, to meet her lovely coworkers! A pleasure indeed.”

Did he hear you telling Alan about your ring? He couldn’t have, but there seemed to be no other reason for him to bring up the whole marriage farce.

Alastor turned back to you, finger still softly caressing your hand as he turned his attention to his sleeve.

“It appears I’ve gotten into another miscommunication with an overly confident adversary, similar to what I spoke to you about before. Would you care to assist me, my love?”

Your eyes momentarily snapped to Alan, who had turned a paler shade as he watched Alastor’s actions. Now, he was finally seeing who your ‘husband’ was. It appeared to be quite a shocker for the demon.

Your gaze flicked back to Alastor, who stood next to you. That grin of his hiding whatever emotions he was feeling as he slowly released your grip, indicating for you to lead him away.

“Thank you for coming to visit, Alastor. I can stitch that up for you, you’ll just need to let me take it for a bit.” You smiled at him, doing your best to play the part with professionality. What, were you supposed to just start calling him pet names like ‘honey’ and ‘babe’?

“I think I'd prefer keeping it on.” Alastor said curtly, adjusting his collar.

He wanted to still be wearing it while you fixed it? That meant you couldn’t use the sewing machine, without risking injury to him.

“… I suppose you can just follow me, then.” You replied, turning away as you beckoned him towards the back room.

Alan didn’t follow the two of you, maybe Alastor’s comments threw him off. You hoped they did, you had enough of that guy for one day.

You opened the dark gray door, pulling it wide so Alastor could follow behind. The back room was a cozy nook from the busy establishment, half of it transformed into a makeshift tailoring nook. A small step stool nestled among tall mirrors allowed a multi-angle look for customers getting a fitting.

Rolls of fabric lined orderly shelves nearby, accompanied by an array of sewing essentials. In the corner, a small table and chair housed the ancient sewing machine. You walked forward, before realizing

“Oh, i’m sorry, I don’t have another chair. Let me go get one!” You pivoted to go find a spare, but Alastor only lifted his hand in a sweeping motion, brushing off your attempt.

“Not to worry, my dear! I’ve got it under control.”

He reached a hand forward, gripping the air like he was grabbing the top of the backrest of a chair. He tugged at the air, and a plume of green smoke wafted from his fingertips as he pulled a wooden chair from the smoke.

You stared, mesmerized as he dragged it next to your seat. He gingerly lowered himself, and plopped into the chair. That had to be powerful magic, for him to be able to produce such an object easily from thin air. Just like he did with the seasoning.

Quickly, you gathered the necessary essentials to begin fixing his garment. A couple of needles, some dark red thread, and multiple fabrics that you seemed the closest to his suit’s color.

While you collected the items in a small bin, Alastor sat comfortably behind you. His nails clicking against his cane rhythmically as the music from the radio filled the room.

He hummed softly along to the melody, obviously familiar with the tune playing. You had heard it before, a classic rendition of ‘Once In A While’ by Lennie Hayton. It was a softer tune, and an orchestral piece that allowed you to drift into a comfortable lull.

As you carried the bin back to your seat, you nestled in beside him. There was a small distance between the two of you, your knees a few inches from grazing each other.

“May I?” You asked, holding out your hand to take his sleeve. You thought Alastor was going to react negatively to the gesture, like he did with Alan. Instead, he carefully reached out his arm, allowing you to pull his sleeve down to the surface of the table.

You tried very hard not to touch his skin, as you adjusted the tear on his cuff to face you. Grabbing a few pieces of fabric, you began to hold them next to his sleeve, attempting to find the perfect match.

“So, what happened this time? Surely, not that snake demon from before.” You spoke, trying to spark conversation with your ‘husband’.

“Ha, I’m glad you do remember our last conversation! I was worried you'd forgotten as the days went by.” Alastor started, sinking deeper into his seat. He placed his cane against the table,

‘Of course, I'd remember,’ you thought, ‘I can’t get you out of my head, no matter how I try.’

“I had found myself in a rather lively discussion with a particularly vexing imp. Tiny thing, but full of mischief and malice. Managed to get itself tangled in my grip during our little altercation.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I must say, it put up quite the fight for something no larger than a rat. But fear not, I emerged victorious, albeit with a few battle scars.”

Alastor gestured towards the tear on his sleeve, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You smiled at his words, a small chuckle coming from your throat as you pulled another piece of fabric to his cuff.

Finally, you found the color that matched his attire, and you carefully began cutting a large piece from the roll.

“I’m going to have to hand sew your tear, is that okay?”

“Of course, my dear! Just try not to poke me, hm?”

You nodded with a smile, before plucking the small needle from the table.

With nimble fingers, you carefully align the edges of the fabric, pinching them together to ensure a snug fit. Holding the needle firmly between your thumb and forefinger, you begin to weave the thread in and out with practiced precision, creating neat, tiny stitches along the seam.

“I have been meaning to ask, how did the seasoning I gave you fare?” Alastor spoke, his eyes filled with intrigue as he waited for your response.

“Oh! It was fantastic!” You beamed, your mouth watering slightly as you recalled the wonderful dinner from that night. “They made Crawfish Étouffée, and it was very delicious.”

“Ah! Yes, that dish was a staple back in New Orleans, when I was alive. Folks would gather all over to get a taste of my mother’s own twist on the delicacy. She was quite the cook, and her skill never faltered.”

As you listened, you realized his voice softened quite more when he spoke of his mother. That static in his tone seemed to disperse as he mentioned her, and you caught a glimpse of his true voice behind that radio overlay.

“Well, now that I've gotten a glimpse into such an art. I really am interested in trying your Jambalaya.” You spoke genuinely, your fingers still delicately lacing the thread across his sleeve.

“I am pleased to hear that,” Alastor hummed, “I’ll have to bring you a sample the next time I'm in the area.”

Silence filled the room, other than the music that wafted from the radio’s speaker. You continued to adjust and stitch together his sleeve, very close to finishing the mending work.

Even though there were no words spoken between the two of you, the silence was not awkward at all. The two of you simply sat comfortably in each other's presence.

Behind you, the slight crack in the door allowed you to hear the loud voice of Alan, as he spoke to another customer. Alastor’s ears twitched slightly as he heard the demon speaking, his body tensing momentarily.

“Has that wretch been bothering you often?” Alastor spoke after a moment, the static in his voice growing thicker as he spoke of Alan. His claws slightly dug into the table, a faint trail embedded in the wood.

“Well, he doesn't treat me like that succubus did. But, he does not drop the subject of us becoming romantically involved. It gets.. uncomfortable, I guess.”

You sighed as the words slipped from your tongue, a frown forming on your lips as you thought of his many attempts to swoon you. Alastor’s head tilted at your words, that smile cracked even wider as you continued to carefully slip the needle through the fabric.

“Would you like me to ĐɆVØɄⱤ Ⱨł₴ ₴ØɄⱠ?”

You jerked your head up at his words, surprise etched on your face as you turned to him. His voice had changed, the last bit of his sentence distorting into pure static, and you almost didn’t catch his words.

The room crackled with energy, causing your hair to practically stand on end. It was chilling, and you shivered subconsciously at the feeling. The room seemed to darken as Alastor stared at you, his pupils shrinking to resemble radio dials.

“Excuse me?” You questioned, your tone never faltering from its original octane. Which surprised you, since this powerful demon was looking at you with such murderous intent.

‘It’s not you he wants to murder.’ the voice in your head whispered. Which made your heart flutter, was Alastor wanting to kill for you? That was.. unconventionally sweet.

Is that what he did to the succubus the other night when you weren’t looking?

“If the little oaf can’t keep his words to himself, then there is no place for him to continue to sour your mood.” Alastor explained, his eyes taking their original form slowly as he spoke, and the distortion in his tone subsided.

The shadow festering around you slowly shrank away from your seat, illuminating the room once more. That cold feeling that gripped at your shoulders vanished.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling that left you, even if it smelled of darkness and destruction. It felt almost.. comforting to you. Like the shadow was pulling you into a protective hug, the chill cooling your heated skin into a soothing embrace.

You only shook your head, “He doesn’t need to die for something like that. And, he’s my boss. Without him, the store wouldn’t run as well.”

Alastor only huffed, leaning back into his seat. His claws left the table, and were instead enclosed into a fist, as he rested his chin atop of it.

“At least the poor bloke ceased in his courting when he realized another had already taken that place.” He shrugged, his eyes glancing down to the gold ring on your hand.

You halted, the needle hanging in the air mid-stitch. How did he know about you and Alan’s conversation? More importantly, what were his feelings about you still wearing the piece of jewelry?

“Oh, right. Yes, I’m sorry for still wearing it, I know it was just for that moment and it was stupid for me to think I could keep it-”

“Nonsense! Do not fret, my dear.” Alastor interjected, brushing off your worry. “Think of it as a small gift to rectify the situation you were forced into that night.”

A gift? He wanted you to keep the ring?

“You could even go as far as to perceive it as a good luck charm, ha-ha. Trouble seems to never escape you, and if this ring can even give you an ounce of protection, why not keep it on to ensure nothing like that night happens again?”

You smiled at him, your eyebrows raised as you listened to his words. A tiny ring, protecting you? You doubted it.

“Well, thank you, Alastor. It is really nice to know someone cares in that way.”

Alastor hummed softly in response, his toothy grin softening into a lipped smile as he turned his attention back to the music playing softly.

The thread tightened snuggly between the two fabrics as you finished the final stitch, your other hand reaching to the small scissors next to you. Carefully, you snipped the thread as close to the sleeve as possible, and you leaned back to take a look at your work.

It looked perfect, like the garment had never taken a hit in the first place. Alastor pulled his arm back slightly, turning it over to inspect it thoughtfully.

“I must say, you have such talent with a needle and thread! When you told me you worked as a door girl, I never expected knowledge of tailoring to be in your resume as well!”

Your cheeks heated as his compliment, and you began to slowly stand from the seat. For a moment, you wished there was something else wrong with his coat that you could fit. If only to keep him here a little longer.

What a selfish thought. You silently reprimanded yourself for such thinking, Alastor had no doubt better things to do than sit here and chit chat with a powerless nobody like you.

Alastor also left his chair, and he adjusted his collar. He gripped his cane, straightening his posture as he turned to you.

“It seems every time we’re together, our conversations are never dull. Thank you for assisting me, I’d love to continue our talks but it appears I have other business to attend to.”

“Back at the hotel?” You asked, as you walked with him to the doorway.

Alastor stopped in his tracks, his eyes widened slightly at your words. He tilted his head at you. “Forgive me, my dear, but I do not remember telling you such a thing. Where did you hear that from?”

Fuck. He never had told you about his place of work, and you writhed slightly under his stare as you tried to come up with an explanation.

“Oh, it’s just an imp had come in this morning, buying a tuxedo for his daughter. He said she ran the Hazbin Hotel. He also said you worked at the hotel too.”

‘And he doesn’t seem to like you.’ you added silently.

Alastor’s grip around his cane tightened, and his smile widened as he thought for a moment. A small chuckle escaped his lips, it sounded dark.

“Are you sure it was an imp, my dear?” He asked slowly.

You nodded, recalling the conversation. “Yes, short with white hair and red skin. Sunglasses too, weirdly. He was quite nice, actually. He gave me some money for helping him, nobody has ever done that for me.”

“Ha! What a kind soul he must be. Did he say anything else to you, by chance?”

You shook your head, “no, not really.”

“A surprise, really. That imp has a knack for using his charm to bend others to his whim. I'm sure that gesture of his was nothing more than to sweep you off your feet for his antics. I’d keep your distance from demons like him, if I were you.”

Was Alastor.. jealous? He couldn't be. But, it seemed like the feelings between the two were mutual with the way he spoke with disdain.

The imp seemed like he had someone he cared deeply for, anyway. You were sure his gesture wasn’t anything more than kindness. Although, you didn’t think Alastor would believe you if you told him.

“But, as you previously mentioned, yes,” Alastor changed the conversation, for his sake it seemed, “I do reside at the hotel in exchange for my services. Redeeming sinners is no easy feat, it needs special hands to mold such a dream into reality.”

“Well, I'm sure you’re doing a great job.” You spoke, doing your best to voice your support for him.

Alastor smiled at you, before nodding in agreement. He pulled the door open, and stepped through the doorway. You followed him, stopping at the threshold as he turned back to you.

He lowered himself slightly, a small curtsy in your direction. As he lifted himself, he leaned closer to you.

“Until we meet again, my wife.” He spoke loudly, most likely for the others in the vicinity to hear. His voice was like honey to your ears as that faint hiss of static dispersed from his tone when his lips settled on wife.

You really did like his voice, and hopefully, you’d hear what it really sounded like more often. His eyes settled on you for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say more. He didn’t, instead turning towards the register across the room.

Leaning against the doorway, you watched Alastor stroll to the cash register. Alan stood behind the counter, and he seemed to shrink slightly under the taller demon’s gaze.

The sharp edges of Alastor’s smile returned as he watched the demon quickly ready the digital display for check-out. His pupils dilating slightly, eyes narrowed as he waited.

You had watched him leave the store, watched him stroll down the street without a glance at anyone else. That mild boredom taking over his features, like it had when he had first arrived.

For the rest of your shift, as you sewed buttons back into place or trimmed stray threads that stuck out of garments, your thoughts continued to stray to events earlier in the day. To that imp, to the ring on your finger, to Alastor and those fluffy little ears on his head.

You were still deep in thought when you clocked out, your feet carrying you out the door as your path led you to the bus stop a few blocks down.

It was a small blue sign, with the symbol of a bus engraved into it. There was no one around, the empty streets quiet as you plopped onto the bench to wait.

Your hands reached into your bag, pulling out your phone from its pocket. You scrolled through your notifications, before clicking on a message from one of your friends.

You were so deep into the screen in front of you, that you didn’t hear the quiet footsteps approach the bench. You didn’t see the knife pointed directly at your face, or the masked man who’s gaze traveled down your form.

“Hey, you!” A voice coated with malice addressed you.

Your head shot up, and you reeled back at the large knife right in front of your nose. Your heartbeat quickened as you scrambled off the bench, the man only keeping pace with you as you backed away.

“You seem like a nice young lady, and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. Just give me everything you’ve got, and we can go our separate ways.”

“I don’t really have anything for you to take!” You said breathlessly, your hands shaking as you pulled miniscule items from your bag. He only ripped the entire thing from your grip, throwing it behind him.

“What about money? Hand everything over, sweet cheeks.”

You grimaced, before pulling the stack of bills the imp had given you from your person. He ripped them from your grip, before stuffing the money down his pocket.

“That’s all I have, I promise! Please let me go.” You begged, your back hitting the wall of an abandoned building behind you.

You prayed for someone to come to your rescue. Alastor graced your mind, that he’d swoop in to save you once more to save you. He was right, trouble never seemed to leave you.

This time, you’d let him tear this guy apart.

“What about jewelry, huh? I see that ring on your finger, it must cost quite a pretty penny.” The thug sleazed.

Instinctively, you brought your hand to your chest, trying to shield the band from his stare. The demon only closed the distance between the two of you, his mask grazing against your chin as he abruptly yanked you forward.

“Don't fight me, you bitch! Just give it to me, don’t make this difficult.”

His rough hand encircled around your wrist. It was harsh against your skin, and you winced in pain.

“Let go of me! I’ve already given you enough, just leave me alone!” You screamed, hoping someone would come to your aid.

He raked his hand down your finger, the ring slowly moving down your digit as he tried to dislodge it.

It was a snug fit against your skin, and it took him a few moments for him to begin pulling it off your finger. Tears pricked at your eyes as adrenaline pumped through your veins, but you dared not to move with the knife slightly pressing into your side.

Another tug, and the ring grazed over your nail as it was pulled harshly. It wasn’t able to make it past before something strange happened.

The ring ignited in a green flame, and the thug’s hand shot away as he yelled in pain. It licked at the tip of your finger, but you felt no heat from its touch.

You barely had time to blink, or scream before the ring exploded. It burst into a large cloud of green smoke that engulfed your figure. Shielding you from your surroundings. Energy crackled in the air, paired with a chill that made your breath visible as you gasped.

It felt like someone had reached out and gripped at the collar of your top, and you felt a much gentler tug and you were pulled backwards.

The smoke seemed to vanish, and you were drenched into darkness. You felt your feet lift off the ground, as if you were floating.

The problem, you had no idea where you were. Your heart felt like it was going to burst as you squeezed your eyes shut. It felt like hours went by, but in truth, it was only a matter of a few seconds that darkness surrounded you.

Just as quickly as it started, it ended, and your closed eyelids were hit with a ray of light. There were voices surrounding you as your feet touched on solid ground, the floor softer this time, like carpet.

The chatter stopped abruptly as you settled in place, and for a moment you felt like curling into a ball and hiding from whatever scene you had been thrusted into.

“Ah, there you are!” A familiar voice exclaimed next to you, static dripping from their words. “I was wondering how long it would be until you showed up!”

Wait a second, was that Alastor speaking? Was he responsible for whatever the hell just happened?

Your eyes slowly opened, revealing a large room covered in dark red wallpaper that cracked with age. Gold framed the edges, and lights mounted on the walls illuminated a few paintings that filled the empty space.

It looked like a lobby. Couches nestled in a corner around a small box tv. Next to that was a small bar, bottles of liquor stacked on shelves behind the counter.

Your eyes trailed away, before they landed on a small group of demons in front of you. Your breath quickened in fear, as you quickly scanned over their figures.

There was a woman in a red tuxedo, her mouth slightly parted in surprise. Long platinum-blonde hair tied into a neat ponytail as it traveled down her back. Beside her, a tall snake held a hand to his chest as he leaned back slightly, as if he was more afraid of you than you were of him.

There were a few others too, but your mind was racing so fast you weren’t able to get a settle on their frames before you eyes were bouncing around for an exit.

It wasn’t until you felt someone’s arm snake around your elbow did you whip your head to the side, Alastor’s large smile greeting you as he laced his arm with yours in comfort, no doubt noticing the way your knees were about to buckle.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, my dear!” He exclaimed, as if your arrival was expected and totally-not-strange whatsoever. His eyes were soft, doing his best to calm you with his familiar presence. You opened your mouth to speak, even though you weren’t sure exactly what to say.

“Who the fuck is that?” The fuzzy, pink spider demon piped up from the shocked onlookers. A pair of hands on his hips as he regarded you with confusion.

Your lips upturned into a faint smile, and you lifted your hand for a half-hearted wave.

“Um, hi..?”

I hope you enjoyed part 2! Sorry for that cliff hanger 😭 i hate doing that but had to end it somewhere haha

and.. hold up yall…

for real?! i did not expect this my first month on this app, nor at all really 😍 what started as “just this one luci one-shot..” became so much more!

Thank you all for the support and love you’ve given me, lowkey itching to buy a computer just for writing (yes, all my fics have been written with sore thumbs haha)

HUGE thanks to @spoiled-slutt for being my beta reader and helping me brainstorm ideas for this part! They’ve been an amazing help, and you should definitely check out their works if they interest you! <3

have a great day, my swans! 🦢

—

taglist:

@the-tortured-poet @anonymousewrites @coleisyn @froggybich @chewbrry @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @plapperlapapp @wonderlife974 @kottenox @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @corpsebridenightamare @pweewee @nijiru @ourfinalisation @anuttellaa @nonetheartist @bunnypeew @cryptidghostgirl @hxzbinwrites

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #alastor

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fluffylino · 5 months

Text

mommy!hyunjin, i said what i said

(he can rail me)

-contains mature themes

"is mommy fucking you good?" hyunjin mumbled, groaning at how tight you were. you couldn't help it.

everything was so hot. he was so hot. his length pushing inside of you was even hotter.

you wanted him to stay there. to stay buried deep inside of you.

"fuck, s-stop clenching so much" he cursed out, gripping your thighs that had him plastered to you.

"m-mommy" you moaned out before he could press his lips against yours. his tongue swiping against your chapped bottom lip.

he was everywhere.

"mommy's here, baby" hyunjin reassured, thrusting into you at a pace that had you keening. you wanted to rile him up. make him see stars.

"what about y-your husband...?"

his eyes darkened, halting everything he was doing.

was it so wrong to bring up the messed up skz family skit into this?

hyunjin was still dressed up as jisung's beloved wife. a beautiful sight.

his white button up shirt falling off one of his shoulders, exposing his smooth skin. his pretty short pants discarded on the side somewhere.

his hair was tied back, a few extensions added to make his bun look fuller. two hooped gold earrings on his ears. he looked like a rich aunty.

a milf, to be exact. your milf.

it all started when the skz family skit has just got done. hardly an hour had passed. everyone seemed to fit their roles so well.

especially one person. hyunjin, that is.

his hair looked so pretty tied up, a few strands cradling his face. his face was so pretty but the way he sat gave it all away. his legs spread, arms crossed behind his head as he leaned back. watching them play with focused eyes. it suited him. the whole concept.

you just wanted to get on your knees and suck him off.

what did it for you was the fact that he smiled so proudly when his "kids" called him mommy.

something you had always wished to call him.

when you looked at him. it was never daddy. he didn't give off those vibes.

it was always mommy.

mommy hyunjin fucking you into oblivion.

mommy hyunjin making you gag on his cock.

mommy hyunjin having his way with you.

"mommy-"

you unconciously said when they had finished shooting. the rest of them were in the other rooms. joking around and laughing. you could hear minho scold seungmin. perhaps he needed help with getting the hanbok off.

hyunjin and you were the only ones left in the room. so when u said that. you froze. your inner thoughts had managed to get out.

"yeah?" hyunjin replied, not even looking at you. he was busily poking and prodding at his hair in the mirror. his eyes met yours through the mirror.

what the actual fuck-

did he really respond to that so cooly. he turned around, a suggestive expression on his face.

shit...he looked so..wow.

and thats how you ended up in this situation.

you waited for him to respond. his dick throbbing inside of you. everything still.

"my husband? why would i ever need that man" he played along. if it anyone were to hear, they'd actually believe it. his acting skills were impeccable when not scripted.

he leaned forward, his hands gripping the side of the table he had made you sit on.

you trembled when his lips brushed past your ear.

"you fuck me so much better than that unloyal bastard"

he whispered breathily. you whimpered. his hand immediately coming up to cover your mouth. muffling any sounds you could make.

"plus you're perfect for me. and i love everything about you"

he bucked his hips, hitting a spot that had you drooling into his palm. his eyes locked onto yours.

"shhh do you want him to hear us?"

"i bet you do...want them all to hear how mommy's dick makes you a dumb cockslut"

"m' not a slut"

you mumbled, or atleast tried to against his hand. he pulled out completely, his tip barely pressing against your folds.

"yeah you are. only for me though, right?"

there was a comforting tone in his voice. hyunjin knew how sometimes degrading names could trigger you. it was only until you confirmed that he continued.

"only i get the privilege to see you falling apart"

you nodded, a low moan leaving his lips, as he took his hand off your mouth. you knew you were a mess. even more so then before.

"hyunj-"

you gasped as his hand made contact with your cheek. you could feel yourself get wetter as the pain set in. he had slapped you. he clicked his tongue.

waiting.

"mommy..s-sorry aah-" you bit down on your lip as he pushed into you in one swift motion. never slowing down.

"you're so m-much better than my husband"

"take me so well...hng-ghn so tight" he gasped as you unconciously clenched around him. pulling him in. making him lose his mind.

"shit so warm and wet'nside..all for me"

"look d-down"

you mumbled, holding his hand that was on your hip and placing it against your lower stomach, just below your navel. he looked down, focusing on the imprint of his length inside of you.

disappearing and reappearing as he pushed in and pulled out repeatedly.

"so deep inside of you..bet i could fuck my babies into you"

both of you moaning when he pressed against the bulge. you were so close.

"i can f-feel you all around me" hyunjin mumbled. your eyes rolled back. an intense feeling bubbling inside of you, waiting to be released.

"i'm cumming" you gasped out, grabbing onto his neck, pulling him closer.

"cum for me"

white filled your vision. a whole wave of pleasure washing all over you.

going limp, you whined at the overstimulation. hyunjin was still chasing his orgasm. grunts and little high pitched moans leaving his swollen lips.

"i-in my m-mouth" you muttered, trying to get him to pull out. his eyebrows furrowed. maybe he didn't hear you.

"h-huh?"

he pulled out slowly with uncertainty, stroking his dick. his orgasm seconds away. a little longer and he'd end up losing it.

you got off the table. practically falling onto the carpetted floor. kneeling down infront of him. you kept your mouth open, sticking your tongue out. just enough. centimeters away from his dick.

"warn a man, goddamnit"

he cursed out. you couldn't help but smile. a long drawn out cry escaping him as he came. streaks of white coating your tongue.

"ahh-hha" he threw his head back, closing his eyes tightly.

perhaps the sight of you running your tongue from his base all the way up to his sensitive weeping tip was too much of a sight to handle.

"so you like calling me mommy?"

"HYUNJIN-"

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ohnococo · 4 months

Text

Pining Hiromi Higuruma HCs

(Hiromi Higuruma, pining away for you, his coworker. Except he's kind of a pervert about it.)

Hiromi Higuruma who always listens to your professional opinion, and makes sure to credit you to coworkers and higher ups.

Hiromi Higuruma who becomes your lunchtime venting buddy early on. Sometimes you’ll catch each other's eyes and he’ll give you that look that lets you know he has some shit he needs to say RIGHT now so it’s time to take a break.

Hiromi Higuruma who is happy to help you out off the clock because at least you give him something to look forward to during his stressful days. He really does want to support you in your career growth (among other things).

Hiromi Higuruma who takes turns with you buying each other lunch, then dinner when you have to order takeout for overtime. He knows your go-to order from every place that delivers to your office.

Hiromi Higuruma who looks ten times more stressed when you get back from any time off. His jokes get increasingly more serious about how you “can’t just leave me on my own like that” even when you aren’t working on the same things so your presence makes no difference. Except it does. To him. He feels like his head is going to explode from dealing with work all day without those little moments of relief from being around you.

Hiromi Higuruma who glares at anyone making jokes about him being your “work husband” because it’s unprofessional and “two people can just get along without there being something to it.”

Hiromi Higuruma who knows there absolutely is something to it because he’s so, so bad at not thinking indecent things about you all day long. He doesn’t even know if you’re flirting with him or if it's all in his head. What he does know is he can't bring himself to show restraint over how much time he spends with you in the office.

NSFW/18+ ONLY UNDER THE CUT

Hiromi Higuruma who, when you eventually bring up adding him on social media, takes weeks to add you back because he knows he can’t be trusted with access to a collection of pictures of you. He was already battling guilt over jerking off to the picture of you on your LinkedIn. It was so posed and styled that it barely looked like your day to day self but it was all he had outside of his imagination for months.

Hiromi Higuruma who feels like a disgusting fucking pervert when he makes a whole folder of saved pics that make his dick twitch after clicking through every single picture. Innocuous things like a photo of you sitting down, looking up at whoever was taking it with a twinkle in your eye - ammo enough for him to picture you looking like that on your knees in front of him. God help him if he finds a picture of you in a swimsuit, or anything more revealing than your work attire. He knows it's scumbag behaviour, and he knows it's risky having them on his phone because he'd look like a crazy person if someone ever saw him with a hidden collection of seemingly innocent pictures of you, but after months and months of pining he sometimes finds he has to lock himself in the bathrooms at work to stroke his cock looking at them. Especially if you've shown up wearing those heels.

Hiromi Higuruma who so helpfully accepts your request to house sit for you when you’re going to be gone for a week. All he needs to do is pop in to water some plants, maybe feed a cat or some fish, just generally check everything was in order. He knows from the second you leave your key with him that he will be an absolute freak about it too. The first time he goes over he finds himself looking in your dirty clothes hamper, heartbroken to find it empty. He doesn’t even finish the actual job he’d come there to do because he feels that fucking guilty for being a creep.

Hiromi Higuruma who, a day later, comes back, waters your plants, and settles for stealing a pair of clean panties to spend the rest of the week jerking off into. He’ll return them washed, right back where he’d found them, the day before you come home. And he'll miss them just as much as he hates himself for doing any of it in the first place.

Hiromi Higuruma who makes you second guess if he really liked you as much as you thought when he starts asking when you’re going on vacation next. It’s not that he doesn’t miss you while you’re gone… it’s that he can’t stop kicking himself for not rifling through your drawers to see what sex toys you use on yourself.

Dating Co-Worker Hiromi Higuruma HCs

#my writing #hiromi x reader #higuruma x reader #higuruma hiromi x reader #hiromi higuruma x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk smut #higuruma #higuruma hiromi

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noxtivagus · 2 years

Text

this story

#tears at my heart oh my goddd i love stories like this so much #'as i try to remember distant nostalgic sounds become audible in my head'#oh. 'you promised we'd be together forever. i can't believe i trusted you'#'i hate you' 'i don't care anymore' 'terrified of losing another person so dear to him' T_T #a third wheel huh #'but the fact that i was being left out of their world got to be so sad painful and lonely'#i'm crying i hate this so much #i can't even say or write anything anymore. this hurts so much #but... this is the exact dynamic and trope i love so much. the same as the one i wrote two years ago... 'starlit sky'#'please don't leave me. or abandon me'#'miku's heart skips a beat at the sight of a familiar figure'#'even though it's no different from the usual invitation miku finds herself pausing for a moment' and then she smiles huh...#pretends she's alright. i guess it hurts because i #nah. i just really appreciate the writing here #the subtleties and the way they describe these moments and feelings... sigh #wait no. i just wiped away my tears i think i'm gna cry again #fuck this 'when you only look down into yourself you can miss out on some things that you'll wish you hadn't'#'sometimes you need to bring those eyes up and look forward look around. sometimes the answer was right there all along'#i hate this. i fucking hate this #that smile huh. the way they wrote miku's thoughts here are so painful #she's crying too huh.#'the moment she realizes she is crying a complex emotion that isn't quite sadness pain or joy throbs within her heart'#... 'i'm fine. just stay here.' / 'please. just stay here. don't leave me alone. stay with me... even if just for a while.'#this writing hurts so much. 'a litany of stars light up the night sky as the sun sets on the horizon.'#UGHHH I HATE MISUNDERSTANDINGS LIKE THIS. oh. oh i can predict what's gna happen

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hana-no-seiiki · 30 days

Note

Would you do a second part of Damián x Cat!villain!reader? Or maybe something with a different plot, but I need it too much 😵‍💫

I don’t usually entertain part 2 asks but cause it’s you my adorkable Lucas, I shall. I’m adding the other boys and some wild cards for good measure.

tw/cw: yandere, dick’s part gives me major second hand embarrassment but maybe that’s a me issue, (implied) jason has seggs with your unconscious body (but it’s consensual). damian is aged up but still younger than reader hence the condescending way of speech the latter has for him.

ROOFTOP TALKS W/ THE BOYS

☁️ . . . w/ Dickie Boi

When you were dating it was a lot of you flirting and him asking you to be a bit more professional. And then you promptly reminding him that your profession is being a thief.

And that you were taking that profession seriously by stealing his heart.

Kisses in the rain were pretty much your guys’s thing. As much as your cat heart hated being wet.

When he became Nightwing and after Jason’s death, you guys didn’t break up immediately. Just fizzled out. Long talks about everything and anything became short greetings and small talk until you two officially ended it.

Nowadays Dick tries his hardest to get your attention, he shows off a lot. Ups the romanticness of it all. Brings you all around the city for dates before you two chill on your favorite spot.

Dick felt great. He just spent an entire night out on a date with his first love, some might argue that you’re his only true one too. You two haven’t been able to hang out due to the chaos of life and Jason. But finally he was able to have you for himself for once. No Tim to watch you two through the cameras (he made sure all of those were unavailable), no Damian to stalk you two within the shadows (it took a while, but he managed to convince the big ol’ bat to keep the youngest occupied), and no vigilante business he had to deal with.

There was just one last thing. A kiss. (He wanted sex, to feel you around him again. But considering you two just got back into the swing of things he was willing to wait)

He closed his eyes, and leaned forward.

Only to be met with air.

And then the ground.

“Uhm. Did you just — I mean I know I look cute tonight and all — but did you just try to kiss me, Grayson?” You had only managed to narrowly dodge the action. A little amused by the way he’s currently making out with the floor, but mostly confused and somewhat terrified.

Dick groaned, of all the things to put him on the ground this week. “I thought - I thought we were…”

You looked at him, blinked a few times, and managed to utter out, “Dude.”

☁️ . . . w/ Hubby Toddy

Imma be honest with you. You two bone 80-90% of the times you guys meet.

The only reason that it’s not 100% is because of the danger you two are in for that 10-20%

The vigilante/villain lifestyle and environment isn’t ideal for boning 24/7 y’know.

The reason why you guys fuck so often is cause Cat Villain! Reader being the menace they are only has to remind Jason that he died a virgin for you two to get down to business.

The Batboys are obsessed with proving themselves/ a point in general after all. So you often play them like a fiddle with just a few words.

Aside from that, a lot of your rooftop talks are you being snarky towards each other. Jason asking you to stop risking your life with heists and you vice versa with his vendetta.

Which usually leads to anger fucking but I digress.

You two often snack on the greasiest, unhealthy food while together.

Sometimes you spend hours talking about what he missed while he was gone. Of course he already knows everything. He kept tabs on you and whatnot. But hearing you speak gives him a sense of calm like no other.

Cuddling ftw. Jason adores enveloping you.

He likes doing stuff that proves that you exist?? Like that you’re next to him. That both of you are alive in that moment.

“‘M sleepy.” Your eyelids were beyond heavy at that point. Jason wanted you to be up for every single round, and it seemed like his stamina was endless.

Usually you’d pass out and he’d just continue getting off using you but that night he gave you a challenge. Something about wanting to see the way your pretty eyes as he ruined your insides.

“Too much action for you tonight, kit?”

“Mhm.”

“Go to sleep. I’ll watch over you.” He shifted your body in a more secure position, wrapping his large arms around your form.

“Promise me you won’t disappear?”

“I’m here always.” He let out a deep breath.

As soon as he made sure you were out cold he continued,

“Not even death will keep me away from you, baby.”

☁️ . . . w/ Timsies Whimsies

Most of your hang outs are spent indoors

Otherwise it’d be you hovering over his shoulders as he works on his projects.

Most of your rooftop times with Tim are spent in silence, playing video games, or board games.

Sometimes you two would spend hours playing and voicing cheesy dating sims.

But sometimes you use the time to get him to sleep.

You two are very much opposites when it comes to sleep times. Like if we go full on cat mode here, you prolly sleep off like 70% of your life.

I really shouldn’t be writing this while I’m sleepy as hell shouldn’t I?

Tim had never slept so well in his entire life.

All he remembered before being lulled into dreamland was you singing, patting him on the head, and some laughter before everything went dark.

But now he wishes he never slept at all.

“Is this . . . an edit of us a kids—“

Tim slammed his laptop shut so hard he’s pretty sure he’d broken it.

You looked at him incredulously. How long had you been snooping through his stuff? How did you even manage to unlock it? He made sure it was inaccessible even to Bruce.

“I . . . I read this one fanfic . . . that we met as kids and grew up together.” He confessed.

Yes, Tim gets brainrots over [Cat Villain Name] x Reader / Red Robin fanfics. Could you blame him?

“Honestly that’s pretty cute and wholesome. The other things you have there on the other hand . . . “

“I’ll pay for all of your boba expenses for a year if you forget about this.”

“A decade and I’ll never look through your shit again.”

“Deal.”

☁️ . . . w/ Damie Baby

Up until recently your rooftop meetings have been an even more snarky version of Jason’s with less hatefucking more … hating.

While Dick is more extravagant with how he shows off. Damian is more on the ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about I’m just this awesome’ side of the spectrum.

It took him a while to finally figure out that you being a menace is more of a facade if anything

And boy did it make him get a romantic boner when he found out

Like it went from you teasing him to hell and back to him turning the tables

“Wow, ain’t it past your bedtime, Damie?”

“Not my fault I can’t get a wink of sleep without you beside me.”

“. . .Ah.”

Aside from that you like roping him into playing games and basically all the things he missed out on being trained to be as an assassin.

He in turn does more traditional courting methods on you. Like buying you flowers, having slow dances.

Sometimes you do each other’s henna.

(He definitely is smug about it when other members of the batfam ask)

He often scolds you about reading so much late into the night…and insists he reads everything for you while you sit prettily on his lap

His favorite activity is running his hands through your hair as you lay your head on his lap while he dictates a book out loud. Usually it’s non fiction so that A) you’d sleep faster, and B) he gets his readings for uni in.

☁️ . . . w/ Bruce ig

“Hey, loser.” You purred, appearing from the underneath Batman’s cape.

Without a beat, he replied, “[Cat Villain Name].” and nothing else. He does not move. Doesn’t even make an attempt to seem affected by your antics.

“Awe, I missed you too!” You hugged him tightly and gave a pat for measure.

You were about to let when you felt a weight atop your head.

He was… giving you a headpat? Albeit awkwardly.“Who are you and what did you do to—“

“Treat them well.”

And he disappears.

Hey, wasn’t that your move?

In anycase,

It’s about time that Bruce learnt,

if you can’t beat em, join em.

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hoony2k · 4 months

Text

SWEET CRAZY LOVE!

things enha does that make your words stutter, face heat up and heart sick with sweet crazy love.

PAIRING: 7/7

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: skin ship, mentions of chaste kissing

NOTE: hiii everyone! I went though emotional turmoil and I came to the conclusion that took several weeks but I am back and will clean and organise the blogs soon! until then, here's dinner.

★ HEESEUNG: a listener

Just one look at him and it's so evident that he's the type lean forward to hear people better. It starts with a small curious and innocent "hm?" And then he'll lean towards you and tilt his head downwards even if you're at home without environmental noise. If you stand on your tiptoes to whisper something in his ear, he'll automatically bend his knees so you can reach his height comfortably. (That heejake video is canon idc). The worst part is that he doesn't even know what he's doing because it comes as an instinct, being taller than most of his friends, so he doesn't even have the slightest clue how your stomach does backflips when he tilts his head closer to yours to hear you. The proximity combined with his perfume…killer.

★ JAY: late night whispers

Has the softest expression on his face when you talk about random things. He's so engrossed that he doesn't notice your pause as you admire the gentle look in his eyes, full of love and the soft smile he wears when he gazes at you like that. It looks like he's going to fall asleep any moment but his eyes aren't full of sleep but something more precious. It only occurs when he's completely vulnerable and feels safe around you. He looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky and painted the night- just for him. In those peaceful moments, he's just staring deep into your eyes while you try your best to entertain him and not make eye contact as if your life depends on it (it does).

★ JAKE: subtle tender actions

His attention and care reside in the way in which he goes out of his way to protect you. It may seem natural but you notice how he always pulls you to the secure side of the pavement and walks near the road, during meals he places the most delicious item on your plate mid-conversation, keeps extra gloves and platform shoes for you in his car, zips your jacket for you. Notices when someone cuts you off and slowly brings you back into the conversation while eyeing the person (if it was intentional). No matter what he does, his focal point is to ensure your happiness and safety. It's the sweetest thing ever and fills you with love knowing you can rely on someone like Jake.

★ SUNGHOON: skin on skin

It's like he needs to hold/touch you or else he won't be able to function. Not necessarily in a sensual way. It comes to him as easily as breathing. He slides his hand into yours when you're sitting, plays with your fingers and then brings your palm to his mouth to place a soft kiss. He enjoys your flustered state and is aware of his hold on you but it's all about love, not authority. He wants you to be close to him, as physically as possible, although he attempts to appear non-clingy. Pulls you nearby the loop of your jeans, and rests one hand on your leg and the other on the steering wheel. If you're preoccupied, he'll come behind you to wrap his arms across your form and kiss the crown of your head. He loves you, so why wouldn't he want to embrace you, hold you close, and feel each other's heartbeat?

★ SUNOO: secret admirer

He has this undying desire to observe you do your usual tasks. Whether it's wearing your makeup, doing your skincare routine, doing assignments or even when you're watching tv- he'll be admiring you from the side, cheek squished against his palm, eyes twinkling- he is NOT ashamed or shy about it. He has no reason to be, you're his lover and he can not fathom how you exist. Admires each minuscule movement and commits it to memory. Sometimes you'd complain you can't focus and he'd laugh it off and tell you to not be dramatic…doesn't take him a couple of minutes to resume. On days when you're far too gone to do anything for yourself, no self-care, wiping off makeup, too tired-he'll do it all for you with ease and with surprising practice. He knows how you do it after all.

★ JUNGWON: eye contact

There is no way he's having a conversation without making eye contact. The eye-eye-mouth ratio is crazy because while you're scrambling to seem normal and not as if your face is seconds away from heating up he's staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Casually brushes your hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear mid-conversation, he pauses his words just to let his soft fingers graze your burning skin, momentarily blanks out as he admires you before his mind circuits him back to the moment. Then he thrives off the pure adrenaline rush in seeing your resolve melt. Also sometimes twirls your hair strands in his fingers mindlessly as he speaks for added heart-thumping effect.

★ NIKI: everywhere I go, I see you

Niki loves silently, but brightly. He's got pictures of you in his wallet and smiles every time he opens it up to pay, which is often because he doesn't let you pay at all. Mostly because he believes you shouldn't have to worry about this stuff on a date when you should be having fun and also because it gives him an excuse to see his favourite picture of you. Changes the picture each month, your outfit and pose would differ but your smile stays the same and so does the flutter in his heart. He treasures things irrelevant things you give him like tissues with your lipstick stains stuffed in his jackets, a collection of a couple of polaroids are stuck next to his bedside, an unopened toothbrush waiting for you if you ever spend the night, but the most precious item is the necklace of your initial he hides under his collar.

thank you sm for reading!

all rights belong to hoony2k. please do not translate/edit/copy.

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sciencebecameouraddiction · 2 months

Text

title: Weakness is For Fools (PT 3)

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: PG

genre: Angst with a happy end

pairing: Alastor x Reader (Use of Y/N)

warnings: Alastor is not with it on this, unhinged, confused and a bit of back story sprinkled in. Rosie is also not having any of Alastor’s shit. Alastor may be OOC

summary: Alastor had never felt this before, and he swore he would never have a weakness.

← PART 2

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

“Alastor standing there in an apron is scary.” Angel murmured watching as the Radio Demon set plates down on a table.

“The only reason I’m standing here is because Rosie told me she made sure the food was edible.” Charlie added on watching from the bar.

“I still have a bad feeling about this…” Vaggie murmured. Husk grunted in agreement.

“C’mon Vaggie, we have to give him a chance, even if it is scary.” Charlie said, walking over.

“Do you want some help setting up or anything?” Charlie asked Alastor. He started to respond when Rosie peaked her head out from the corner.

“Nope! He’s got it all covered, don’t you Alastor?” Rosie asked, feeling like a mother of a century old being.

“I-I have this, my dear. Go back and relax. It’s the-“ He looks physically ill as he says “It’s the least I can… do. After everything.” Charlie nodded and left.

“Okay, did Alastor get replaced? This is like 180 for him.” Angel commented, taking a sip of his drink.

“I think more than his soul is gone now. Maybe like his frontal lobe?” Husk asked.

“Oh! A lobotomy! I had one of those alive.” Nifty pipes up manically chuckling as everyone looks down at her. Angel just pats her head as she scurries off.

“I’m really not sure. Maybe he feels bad?” Charlie added.

“Not gonna bring back Y/N though.” Husk mentioned. “It would be a miracle-“ Just then Husk was cut off and the door opened as you walked in. You smiled as you saw your friends and they all called your name.

Rosie came and stood off to the side and when you saw her you ran up to her and hugged her. “Rosie, oh my gosh, I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too ya little sweetheart. Glad you could make it to dinner.” Rosie smiled.

“Oh I wouldn’t miss it for the-“ You stop and stare seeing Alastor come around the corner holding what looked to be a pie. “World.” You finished softly, your hand gripping Rosie’s shirt tighter. Alastor looks up, wondering why it was quiet and immediately sees you. His damn heart flutters at the sight of you and grimaces at the feeling. He takes a step forward, not knowing what else to do, but stops when you take a step back from him. His eyes widen and he holds up his hands in mock surrender and leaves around the corner. Rosie sighs and then looks at you.

“Don’t you worry about him.” She says and brings you over to the table. “This is an apology dinner but it’s also so you and your friends can talk.” You nod and sit, everyone coming to the table as Rosie goes into the back kitchen where all the food was. That’s when she hears quick breathing and when she sees Alastor in the middle of a panic attack.

“Alastor?” Rosie asks gently.

“I-I can’t do this. Why can’t I do this? I’m the Radio Demon for fucks sake.” He growls, hands pulling at his hair.

“Because you’re scared.” Rosie gently says, pulling his hands away from his hair and smoothing it out. “You’re scared that they won’t accept your apology, even though you need them to, you’re not sure you want them to, because you feel you don’t deserve it.”

Alastor looks up shocked. “How?”

“Because I know you, honey. You’re my best friend.” Rosie says plainly. “Even if you are a little daft sometimes.” She sighs and grabs the last few bits. “They consider you a friend whether you like it or not Alastor, figure out if you consider them friends, and then apologize.” She says and walks out. Alastor grabs the drinks and carries them out, the conversation not dying down when he entered this time. Somehow, the only seat open was next to you, and you were engaged in a fully heated discussion with Husk and Angel on who the best housewife was from a show you all three watched. He sat down next to you, and just watched, looking to Rosie who smiled at him. A part of him, the small part he thought he buried, turns out he didn’t, wanted to leave. He had never felt more alienated and alone.

A glass clinging tore him from his thoughts as he looked up to Charlie. She thanked him and Rosie for the food and the preparations tonight and then handed the floor off to Alastor. He cleared his throat.

“I-“ He sighed and looked at Rosie again. She nodded in encouragement. “I am sorry.” The collective gasps were distracting but not as much as Angel pulling out his phone trying to film. “Angel, I do not wish to be recorded by your device, put it away before I snap it and then eat it.”

Angel’s eyes widened and he quickly put it away. “I am sorry.” Alastor repeated, as he did, he felt the old Alastor fall away, almost like a shed of skin from a snake. In its place stood something raw and something new. Something he had no idea how to navigate. To this version of himself, his… friends were important.

“I was wrong to be as horrible as I was a few weeks ago to all of you. It was inexcusable.” There was silence so Alastor took that as a sign to continue. “I… value… each one of you. And Y/N?” He asked you specifically. Your head whipped up. “I am especially… sorry… to you.”

You look at Alastor and the whole table seems to be waiting on your reaction. You get up and walk over to him, his eyes widen and he steps back a bit, but you follow until you are right in front of him. Your eyes searching his, when you suddenly wrap him in a hug. He freezes and slowly wraps his arms around you, relaxing in your arms.

“You’re an idiot.” You murmur to him.

“That’s the third time this week I’ve been called that.” Alastor murmured.

“It fits.” You quipped back. Alastor sighs and looks at you.

“I am truly sorry.” He says.

“I know. I know you are.” You say, nodding your head.

“Does this mean you’ll move back to the hotel?” Charlie’s asks, sliding up to you both. You look between her and Alastor, his ears perking up a bit.

“Yeah, as long as my room is still available.” You say, joking.

“Oh, you don’t have ta worry about that, toots. Smiles here made sure no one but him even went near your room.” Angel laughed and you looked at Alastor. He glared at Angel.

“Had to make sure it was ready for your return.” He whispered.

“You just assumed I was coming back?” You asked, gently bumping his shoulder with yours. He looked bewildered for a second and then shook his head.

“No. No. But I… Hoped.”

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

← PART 2

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor altruist #alastor angst #alastor/reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #alastor x reader #alastor

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blkgirl-writing · 7 months

Note

So. Technically... the Revivify spell only works for one minute after death.

Begging for a piece where Gale sees Tav go down in combat, everyone is fighting for their lives, meanwhile he's across the battlefield, fighting his hardest to get closer and feeling the minute they have to revive Tav slipping away...

Gale x Fem!reader

"Cold to the touch"

I have never finished a request so fast I'll be honest. This is so heartbreaking but absolutely amazing.

Tags and TWs: angst, a bit funny, some detailed graphic violence and blood, Gale in denial lowkey.

Sometimes the fights you picked should have been fights evaded

"Gale, go!" you screeched, seconds before the killing blow you your chest, blood rapidly pooling around your feet, too much blood, you whispered as you looked down with blurring vision, clutching at your skin, trying to stop the bleeding, even for a second. The last bit of your strength used to look back up at gale, and smile. your body thudded to the ground, completely and utterly lifeless.

Gale blinked. The wind knocked out of him like he was hit with a battering ram. He fractically looked around, who was close? no one. Astarion was high on the rooftop, Wyll and Karlach surrounded with no way out, everyone on the brink of death themselves. Lae'zel the furthest and least likely to help. That just left-

"Shadowheart? Shadowheart, HEAL HER!"

"I'm fresh out of spells-" Shadowheart yelled, looking back at your limp body. "I think...She's past anything I can do right now, anyway."

Gale's gaze went down to his own hands, the revive in his pocket, how many things were around him, and how much strength he really did have. Your body was getting cold, soul leaving body, time was of the essence.

"damn it" he whispered, squeezing his eyes tightly closed, concentrating on making sure he wouldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you. If the thoughts of your beautiful life absent from the rest of his miserable one crept up, he'd be paralyzed, he simply could not dwell on the bleak future. "ok"

Gale forced himself forward, nearly slipping immediately and cursing himself. Running. if he wasn't out of all the magic he could muster he could simply misty step. Instead he was forced to make his way little by little while watching the last of life slip from you as the reality set in. He couldn't get to you in time. He needed to save himself and the others if there was any hope of even bringing your corpse to have a proper burial. He had to topple goblins and just stare feet away from you as your magic slipped permanently away from this world. Helpless, and tearful.

He wanted to cover you up. Clothes ripped open from your wounds, he didn't want you to feel exposed. Though, he knew you weren't feeling anything at all. But he had nothing. Once again failing himself and you when he felt you most needed it.

"There....there has to be something we can do" he held your freezing and damp hand in his own warm ones. Enemies blood pooled with your own,. the fight was won, but it truly felt wrong to say those words. He had been brushing your hair out of your eyes while the others gathered around. They'd been the furthest, so Gale had gotten precious moments alone. Muttering sentances he didn't finish. About how he had failed you. About what could have been. Maybe an I love you had fallen from his lips, but it didn't matter anymore, not if he could never hear the words he so wanted to hear back from you, from your own sweet voice.

"I don't know, I....I'm so sorry, Gale." Shadowheart softly touched gales back for a moment of comfort and caring that was so rare for her. that's how he knew it was real. "I know you cared."

I know you cared. He didn't know why those words were his breaking point, but he suddenly felt water dripping down his face. Silent tears rushing down his race. "I truly did."

"We will find a way, Gale. Have hope." Wyll crouched beside Gale on the ground. "I don't think we can do this without her."

"I'll bring her back. Somehow." Gale nodded, finally tearing his gaze away from you. Everyone stood around your corpse. Everyone with the same, grim look. Though, Wyll just looked...sad, sadness for Gales pain, and for the senseless loss of another.

Gale had to get you back to get you comfortable in camp. You couldn't stay here. Not for animals to ravage.

"I'll get her to camp for you, Gale. Don't ware yourself out" Karlach effortlessly hoisted your body over her shoulder. Gale gathered the items that dropped from your pockets on the ground, covered in grime and blood. But he simply wiped it away. He didn't want you to have to clean it off later. He'd worry about the red stains on his fingers and blotches on his clothes later. He just had to worry about getting you back, and never losing you again.

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thewulf · 5 months

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You're A Joy || Remus Lupin

Summary: Request - Okay here is another one that is hella personal. Yesterday I was told that i convince people to not love me(kinda shocking and I’m still alittle confused). But what about Remus and reader being friends but clearly liking each other. But like the reader is constantly jokingly putting her self down and such... Read Rest Here

A/N: Made this a 3 x 1. The three times you don’t give yourself credit and the one-time Remus does something about it. Thank you for the request @loving-and-dreaming !!

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Y/N

Word Count: 3.6k+

The Great Hall

You were sitting down at the end of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall peacefully before the four boys, whom you really did grow to love over the years, swarmed all around you. Truly, the small smile that formed on your face was one of utter joy. The four of them had made the measly journey as a first year through the six years together an absolute joy. You’d have been lost without your girls, yes. But without the guys? Who knows what pure bliss felt like. What laughing until you had no air left in your lungs felt like. What a shoulder to cry on without an ounce of judgment felt like. You loved them all. But man, were they annoying sometimes.

“Where’s Lily?” James asked before his ass hit the seat bringing a soft smile to you face. A soft shake of your head let him know you didn’t have a clue where she was. You had to hand it to him though, the boy was persistent. Lily would surely give in one of these days. She was teetering on the edge of saying yes to your bemusement. You’d never thought she’d give in to James. But credit to him he finally listened to you after years of advice and slowly Lily was seeing the James you always saw.

“Not a clue Jamsie.” You looked up to him with a wry smile, “Why do you ask?” Playing coy with James was on of your favorite pastimes, truly.

He shrugged looking away, “Just curious I suppose.”

“Right. Just curious.” Nodding your head, you didn’t dare look over to the boy who always watched you with curiosity in his gaze. He was far too fucking handsome. With that light brown hair and those big brown eyes? How everybody wasn’t fawning over Remus was beyond you. Instead, they flocked to his much cooler friend Sirius. You just wish you had the courage to even hold a non-awkward conversation with the boy. Ever since you started crushing on him it’s like you forgot how to hold a normal conversation with the boy. You were able to fake it with the group but got squirrelly when it was just the two of you.

Sirius interrupted your endless stream of thoughts when he spoke up after a comfortable silence between the group, “Thanks for the homework help, Y/N.” Sirius spoke breaking you from the Remus spell that was taking over your bloody mind.

It was your turn to shrug it off, “Don’t mention it. Anybody would’ve helped.” You hummed continuing to look ahead and not any of them. You were never good at receiving compliments. It just didn’t come too terribly natural too you.

“I beg to differ. These idiots all but refused. You saved my ass. A true lifesaver.” He pressed singing your praises instead of dropping. Adding salt onto the wound he shot you a knowing wink.

He had a knowing smirk gracing his all too pretty face. Almost like he knew he caught you doing something, “Ah, yeah. Sure.” You once again tried brushing him off, but he wasn’t having it. Sirius never did what you wanted him to do. It’s like he was put on the earth to make you uncomfortable, to push your boundaries. A needed friend. A friend that helped you blossom.

He leaned forward deciding he wanted to press your buttons today. Afterall, Sirius knew that Remus was already in love with you. Hell, the entirety of Gryffindor and damn near the whole school knew the two of you were an item. The two of you were just clueless to it, for now. Sirius let it simmer for the better part of a year, but he couldn’t really take much more of the longing glances and the hopeless flirting that goes on between the two of you. He had to find a way to get one of you two stubborn heads to admit anything. He was on a one-man mission that everybody supported. Quite literally everybody. McGonagall checked in the other day. Even she too was getting tired of the puppy dog eyes between the pair.

“No, no jokes. What would we do without you Y/N?” He grabbed at your hand, “Everybody thinks its Remmy over there that keeps us together. But I think it’s you.”

You rolled your eyes snatching your hand away from the player boy, “Shut up Sirius.”

“He’s right, you know.” Remus spoke up earning a curious gaze from the other three boys. He was always the man of the fewest words. It was always like pulling teeth to get him to say more than ten words. But with you? You always seemed to be the exception. Words spilled out of his mouth when you were around. His own form of Kryptonite you seemed to be.

“You don’t have to be nice Rem.” You tried reasoning with him feeling your cheeks grow in shades of red.

James snickered, “It’s not being nice if it’s true.”

“Is it so hard to accept that you might just be great, love?” Remus added in a softer tone seeing that you were stuck in your own head.

You let out a sigh a tad overwhelmed by the four sets of eyes peering right at you, “Thanks. I guess. Now, let’s get to Potions. Don’t want to be late, Slughorn will have our heads.” You stood motioning them forward.

Charms

“How in the hell are you so good at this?” James grumbled from the desk beside you. You heard Remus and Sirius laugh from the row behind the two of you.

Setting down your wand you turned to your Charms partner, “You know my mum went to Ilvermorny. They’re legendary at Charms Jamsie. Guess she passed some of that onto me.” You punched your best friend in the shoulder.

He grumbled reading the book once more trying to figure out the silly little charm that only you seemed to be able to pick up on the first try. Even Remus behind you was taking longer than normal to get the charm to actually work as intended.

Naturally, you had to show off a little to James and only irritate the boy further when you moved your journal with ease across the table. It wasn’t that it was a terribly hard charm, it’s that you were doing it without your wand. Your mum had taught you over the last few summers how to hone in the skill. That and working with Flitwick for a few years and you’d become a sort of charms pro. Going to class was simply a novelty at this point.

You knew you were going to do something with the skill. You hadn’t a clue what. You found you weren’t the best teacher so that was quickly out the window. If you couldn’t teach James then you weren’t going to cut it, even you knew that.

Flitwick walked over watching you closely. He knew you were a rare talent in the skill. Few witches or wizards could perform magic without a wand yet here you were doing it as if it was easy.

“Impressive as always Miss Y/L/N.” Flitwick interrupted your thoughts bringing the journal to a screeching halt.

You grinned at him, “Oh, it’s nothing.”

His eyes watched you curiously, “Surely, Mr. Potter here can’t say the same?”

James rolled his eyes grumbling something else, “No, course not. This stuff is impossible and you’re doing it without a wand?” James wanted to throw the book at you. So casually brilliant and without a damn clue. He wasn’t stupid. This stuff was supposed to come easy. It’s why he was in the class, an easy A. Yet here you were breezing past him without a second thought. He knew if he wasn’t helplessly in love with Lily you were close behind.

You shook your head, “Shush Jamsie.”

Flitwick laughed at the nickname, at the dichotomy between the two of you, “Have you thought more about what we spoke about earlier?” Flitwick turned his attention back to you.

Shaking your head quickly you answered him lowly, hoping your friends wouldn’t hear, “No, not really. I need to talk to my mum about it.”

He nodded curtly, “After the holiday’s we’ll discuss it further then?”

“Sure.” You answered quickly hoping and praying they hadn’t heard too much. But they had. All eyes were on you giving you all sorts of looks.

The second you were out of class the questions started from the guys, “What was he on about Y/N?” Sirius asked first not afraid to be a little bold.

“Who?” You decided to play dumb. Maybe they’d drop it.

Remus laughed knowing it would only piss him off more, “Shove off Moony.” Sirius pushed him lightly before turning his attention back to you, “Flitwick you idiot.”

“Idiot? That’s harsh Siri.” Giggling you tried your best to hide the contentment from your face.

Remus smiled, “You’re deflecting love.” Love, he always called you that. None of the other guys seemed to. Shit, you’d started to notice he didn’t call anybody else that. It was that something special between the two of you. That extra something that made you all kinds of nervous.

“Am I now Remmy?” You giggled with a lightness about you trying your best to get their minds off of Flitwick.

“Yes love, now spill.” He pressed knowing you’d fold under his gaze eventually.

You stuck your tongue out at him then the other two, “You’re all a bunch of grumps.”

“Yeah sure, go on then.” James agreed wanting to know. You knew as well as the rest there were hardly any secrets amongst the group.

You sighed knowing they’d never drop it. You’d have to spill, “There’s a position open for a bank as a curse breaker. Flitwick wants me to apply. Says I’ve got the job if I want it. Says he’s way up on the board or something like that.”

James’ jaw dropped while Sirius whistled, “Damn Y/N.”

“You’re going to take it right?” James asked with bug eyes, “Those jobs are as hard to come by as auror’s are.”

You shrugged, “Like I said, need to talk to mum about it.”

“You’re brilliant!” Sirius clapped your back as he always did when he got overexcited.

You chuckled shaking your head, “Hardly.”

James shook his head dramatically, “You freaking make magic with your mind. You’re a freaky freak. Brilliant hardly describes you Y/N.”

“Oh, bugger off.”

“You do that all the time, you know.” Remus hummed after a lull in conversation amongst friends.

“What?” You replied not expecting his answer.

“You never take a compliment. Never. Can’t you just accept that you’re a joy love?” The two boys kept their mouths shut as Remus leaned in, pressing on your tightly constructed walls.

You gave him a look before nodding, “Sure. Now lets go eat. I need to talk to Marlene about that Herbology assignment also.”

He knew you were deflecting. You always did. But sure, was more than nothing. He had to give you that. There was some sort of progress with you.

Hogsmeade

You, Remus, Lily, and Marlene were enjoying a few beverages celebrating your first weekend out in Hogsmeade. James and Sirius were wrapping up quidditch practice leaving the four of you responsible for finding a table that the group could camp out in all day. It truly was your favorite way to spend a Saturday away from Hogwarts.

Marlene grabbed Lily pulling her down in the seat next to her, “You two sit across from us.” She gave you a knowing grin all but forcing the two of you to sit beside the other. Marlene was just as tired as Sirius was with the whole situation between the two of you. Neither of you had the courage to go for it and she was slowly losing it.

“Sure.” You smiled up at him trying your best to play it cool before shooting daggers at your supposed friend. You’d never grow tired of looking at the handsome boy who stood much, much taller than you.

He pulled the chair out for you motioning for you to sit first. Without much thought you sat down thanking him and turning to the other two who were both giving you that look.

“What?” You asked all but clueless to what the hell they were staring at.

Lily giggled before turning to Marlene who was shaking her head, “Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m going to go get us some drinks. Care to help Lily?”

“Absolutely my dear friend.” Lily followed Marlene quickly leaving the two of you to wait out Sirius and James.

“Didn’t give us much of choice then?” You sighed leaning back into the seat. Play it cool. That’s all you had to do. You could do it. It was just Rem. Your Remy guy.

He eased himself back to before turning his head towards you. A soft smile layered on his face as he took you in, “No, she didn’t. Don’t really mind though. Look at that line. They’ll be standing for a while.”

Your eyes followed his in curiosity, he was right. Rosmerta’s was popular. Especially on the day the students were allowed out, “Sucks to be them.” Nodding your head in agreement your eyes found his once more. A game of chicken commenced as you decided not to be the first one to look away. Little did you know Remus was thinking the same.

Fortunately for your awkward ass you were interrupted by the two other marauders, the troublemakers of the group. Remus sighed in annoyance hearing them before seeing them.

Your eyes widened in concern as your saw their torn-up state, “What happened to you two?” You cringed seeing Sirius bleeding from his shoulder and cheek. There was a bruise forming on James’ eye and somebodies blood coating his hand and arm.

“We’re fine. Just quidditch.” Sirius hummed taking a seat next to you while James sat next to Remus knowing where Lily was sitting based on the purse occupying the seat.

“Yeah Y/N. Completely fine.” James nodded in agreement.

Rolling your eyes you grabbed your wand, “I’d argue that any day. You’re never completely fine Jamsie.”

“Me too.” Remus added while snickering at your quick remark towards your longtime friend.

“Me three.” Sirius agreed throwing a wicked grin at James.

He groaned in annoyance, “You’re all bastards.”

“But you love us.” You added.

“Sometimes.” He nodded in agreement.

You turned towards Sirius looking over his injuries, “Here,” You grabbed at his face, “Look at me Siri.”

“I’m not dying Y/N.” He rolled his eyes trying his best to come off annoyed. But even he couldn’t deny he loved the care you so often showed towards him. He wasn’t used to somebody so nurturing. Often his cuts, bumps and bruises went unnoticed by his mother or father. But you picked up on everything. On each one of them. It’s how you found out Remus was a werewolf faster than any of them could expect. It was driving you mad in your third year, why was he always so cut up around the moon? Why was he always gone? Why were the rest of them secretly missing during those days too?

Your persistence paid off as James spilled the secret of them being animagi to help Remus during his transformations. Remus wasn’t mad, no. He rarely got mad. He was embarrassed. But as always your love showed him how much you didn’t care about his condition. That was the moment he knew he liked you, quite a bit. You were clueless for a while longer. Until Slughorn’s Amortentia positions class in sixth year. You all but blurted out that your cauldron smelled exactly as his cologne instead you made some bullshit up.

“No, but you’re bleeding. Don’t want that pretty face to scar now do we Siri?” Clicking your tongue, you dropped his face to grab the wand sitting at the table.

“You’re right, we wouldn’t want that darling.” He nodded closing his eyes letting you do your work.

You whispered a soft, “Secare Amendo.” Waving your wand at his cuts and bruises. It never ceased to amaze you how cut up the boys got after a practice. It was no wonder they went straight to Pomfrey after an actual match.

“There, as good as new pretty boy.” You patted his head before leaning back in your seat once more.

He grinned, “That’s why you’re my favorite.”

“I’m ignoring that.” James glared at Sirius before eyeing you, “What about me Y/N?”

“What about you Jamsie?” You asked knowing how to drive him up a wall.

Scrunching his nose he answered, “Will you please heal me too?”

You nodded leaning over Remus before doing the same, “All you had to do was ask Jamsie.” Which earned a laugh from the entire group.

“Beauty, brains and your funny. A triple threat.” Sirius spoke first.

Shaking your head quickly you forgot about Remus’s reminder to you earlier, “You flatter me Sirius Black.”

He shrugged your comment off, “Would you just take the compliment, for once?” Sirius challenged you. As he always did. Your biggest advocate. Your biggest headache.

“Thank you Sirius.” You replied to him knowing it was just easier.

“Now, was that so hard?” Remus added. All three of you gave him a shocked expression for being so… brazen about it.

You wanted to look away but something in his eyes told you not to, “I suppose not.”

He nodded not super satisfied with the way the conversation was unfolding, “I wish you’d see we see in you. What I see in you.” He added with a whisper.

Sirius nodded at James, “We’re going to help the girls with the drinks.”

“Oh, you don’t need to.” You attempted to stand before Remus grabbed at your hand.

“Let them, I want to talk to you.”

Your heart rate involuntarily kicked it up a notch, “You do?”

“I do, be honest with me, alright?” He didn’t drop your hand but gave it a squeeze instead. He waited for some sort of acknowledgement. After giving him a head nod you waited for him to continue, “Why? Why don’t you…” He trailed off not finding the right words.

“Why don’t I what?” You had a thought of where he was going but needed him to confirm it.

Remus sighed knowing the words might hurt you, “Why don’t you love yourself? Like we do. I said it before and I’ll say it again, you’re a joy. An absolute joy love.” He rambled knowing what he said probably hurt. But he needed to dig. To break down your iron walls you’d had up for so long.

It did hurt. But was he wrong? Did you even like yourself? Nothing went wrong in your childhood. You had loving parents and the normal thing plus being magical might’ve put a little strain on your muggle father, but it was never anything he couldn’t handle. He knew what he was getting into when he married your crazy American mum. You were truly a rare bread. A dirty half breed from an American commoner or so Sirius’s lovely mother had called you to your face in fourth year. If she had the gall to say that you could only imagine what she said behind closed doors. No wonder Sirius needed to get away. Thank God for James and his parents. It was a marvel Sirius turned out as kind as he was after being raised by the Black’s.

You looked away from him, “I don’t know Rem.”

He mimicked your actions from earlier grabbing at your face and gently pointing it towards him, “Look at me.” Which, of course, sent your heart into a tailspin, “Would you try, for me?”

“Try?”

“Being kinder to yourself. It hurts me when your like that to yourself. It hurts when the person you love and adore can’t see what I see.” He was speaking fast, nervous as could be.

“Love and adore?”

“Yes.” He spoke quickly, it was out there now.

“Me?”

“Yes.” He dropped your face in favor of your hands. Giving them a squeeze, “Sirius was right. Incredibly beautiful. Smartest witch in our class. Funniest person I know. A triple threat. It’s amazing somebody hasn’t grabbed your attention. You’re incredible. A wonderful human. An utter joy. My love.” He added.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. Damn. It’s not what you expected but you couldn’t say you were upset. No, this felt like a dream.

“Are you sure?” You added once more.

He groaned, “Y/N. We just talked about this. Yes. You love. You’re exceptional. Try to see what I see. Please?”

You nodded finally processing his words, “I like you too, quite a bit.”

He laughed softly giving your hands a gentle squeeze, “Well that’s good. Considering what I just told you.” He smiled, “But, I need you to answer my question. Will you try? Please Y/N.”

“Of course, I’ll try. Just, be patient with me?”

He nodded back at you pulling you closer on the bench seat, “Yes love. Always.”

“Can’t believe you actually like me.” You echoed back at him still not believing it fully. Had he made it obvious? Put it out there and you were clueless?

“Thought I made it obvious love. Can I ask you one more thing?” He searched your eyes.

“Yeah, anything.”

He smiled adoring the trust you seemingly had in him, “Would you go on a date with me? A proper date to Hogsmeade. Without the guys. And the girls. Just you and me?”

“I’d love to.” You’d answered all too excitedly.

He let of a sigh of utter relief, “That’s a relief. How’s next Saturday sound?”

“Sounds like a date.” You grinned feeling the usual nerves suddenly vanish. It felt like old times between the two of you. Two kids getting to know each other. Willing to explore more. Understand each other further and deeper. God, you couldn’t wait.

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angelltheninth · 8 months

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Rin Matsuoka Takes His Sweet Time with You

Pairing: Rin Matsuoka x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, established relationship, kissing, locker room sex, post-training sex, biting, rough sex, teasing, dominant Rin

A/N: If you know anything about me then it's no surprise to you that Rin is my favorite.

"What's the rush babe? Swimming practice is over, we've got all the time in the world." Rin smiles, showing you his shark-like toothy grin. Funny that it was pretty much how you felt, at the mercy of a shark, who wasn't gonna leave you alone until his curiosity was satisfied.

And what was Rin's curiosity? If he could make you come while fucking you in the middle of the locker room.

"It's not that... we need to hurry... hurry up and..." Those sharp teeth dragged up your neck to the lobe of your ear, followed by his hot tongue and the pressure of his hands on your hips, bending you forward. There was only him and the bench that you held onto to balance you now.

"But why hurry? Are you in such a rush to get away from your sweet boyfriend? Or maybe what you really want is to come before anyone else steps in here." Rin teased, his pace as fast as his swimming, his body still wet from the pool, where he felt at his most dominant. He didn't need to bring you into the pull to dominate you, all he needed was his cock, and sometimes not even that, it was all that you needed for a flood to begin between your legs.

You heard voices from outside, the cleaners. This needed to end now, but it felt so good to be fucked like this, rough and deep, the wet slaps of his thighs against yours echoing from the tile and metal around you.

"Somebody in there?" You looked back at Rin with wide eyes but he only grinned at you and put a finger over his lips.

"It's me. I'm gonna be getting some more work in so don't rush to clean up okay? Take your time with it." There was no more training, you knew he was done for the day, Rin was just looking for an excuse to make this go on longer.

"Oh! Sure thing man!" Rin chuckled as he kept bit into your ear, making you hiss and moan for him, your voice straining to keep low. "Do you want us to leave the keys here?" He didn't respond, his lips now busy with yours, his tongue swirling in your mouth. "Hello?"

He pulled back with a sigh, "That'd be great!"

The man outside went back to work, the idle chatter from outside made you a little self-conscious about having sex here, but Rin looked like he was enjoying himself. "That was close." You pushed back against his cock, urging him to finish, deliberately fluttering around him.

Rin's crimson eyes peaked below his messy hair, his pace the same as before, showing no indication of speeding up, "See? We do have all the time in the world." Which meant he was gonna keep this going until you were all but yelling at him to make you come. All the while having to be silent enough for the cleaners not to hear the sounds of your and Rin's love making.

#rin matsuoka x reader #free x reader #iwatobi swimming club x reader #anime x reader #rin matsuoka imagine #rin matsuoka fic #rin matsuoka smut #free iwatobi swim club #iwatobi swim club imagine #iwatobi swim club smut #smut drabble #smutember 2023 #x female reader

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manicpixiefelix · 3 months

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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 14.

Summary: Our second look through Oliver's eyes as he thinks back on the night he and Felix get champagne drunk on the bridge, and then when he gets to Saltburn. Looking around both Y/N and Felix's rooms, he gets to know more about them, and finally he meets the Catton Family.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: suggestive themes, reader is said/implied to be high for some of the chapter (based on my experiences & understanding of weed)

A/N: 8506 words. you have all deserved a good feed and i am here to provide. sorry it's been a week, the dam broke, things are looking good in my personal life which is nice, and i am BACK on main fic nonsense. we get another Ollie POV, please let me know what you think, im so excited to have everyone at the estate and hanging out!! got big plans going forward!! excited to be setting it all up!! yeah please feedback, my darling friends!!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Sometimes Oliver feels like he was put on this Earth solely to exist in Felix Catton's affectionate gaze. Everything else in life is just filler.

That night on the bridge, he and Felix in suits, drunk on champagne and bathed in the twilight of the evening, will haunt him, he's sure. He welcomes it with open arms, surfacing when his mind is idle and elsewhere. Felix smiling at him, Felix trying to bring him closure even if he doesn't really need it, Felix hanging on his every word, ever story he would fabricate to keep Felix's eyes fixed on him and only him. Felix so close, Felix with his arm around Ollie, Felix's thigh pressed up against his as they sat alone on the edge of the bridge.

Felix, Felix, Felix.

Oliver feels dwarfed by him, never more so than these moments where Felix insists on occupying Oliver's personal space, and then some. But he'll never complain; Felix's affection is intoxicating, addicting even. To be so wrapped up in it, in him, it's bliss, though Oliver never wanted to seem needy for such affection, that's why he waits for these moments, for Felix to make first contact. He wonders if Felix had realised the way you so quickly had in the beginning.

Everyone reaches out for Felix, everyone else appears so desperate. Its why Oliver's always held back from touching him, always waited and let Felix make the first move. Felix was made to be wanted, he basks in it; Oliver gives him the chance to want. Isn't there a thrill in that? A novelty?

And to be wanted by Felix... That was a gift in itself too.

Oliver had, admittedly, been worried that he'd lost his chance at that. After sleeping with you, Felix holding him at arm's length, he could feel his grip slipping. Plucking at the strings of Felix's clear saviour complex was enough to claw back into his life, but he now knew his place was precarious, and most tentative of all was everything about you.

So he'd held back from you. On purpose. Often distinctly, even when you'd give these confused, disheartened looks. He tried not to look at you in those moments; his focus was Felix, Felix seemed harder won.

But when he'd tried to apologise on the bridge - at first he wasn't going to bring it up, but it was dark and he was reasonably drunk and the only person who's ever smiled like Felix had been smiling at him in that moment had been you - Felix had, at first, laughed him off. No, he can feel it now, weighing on him; he needs to balance the scales. He wants Felix so bad it aches in his bones, but Oliver knows his want goes beyond just the beautiful boy by his side. Every part of you, how you interact with the world, interact with him, the way you exist and exude confidence and love, drew Oliver in like a moth to a flame. If Felix is the hook, you were the line. The bait, and the trap. The sun, and it's warmth. He wants to always be the focus of your loving, attentive gaze. Always wants you to want him too.

Oliver is the helpless fly in the web you and Felix have woven, to be so lovingly obsessed with you both as you are, and yet still drawn further in, to love the love you share. He feels trapped and utterly helpless against his feelings for you both.

So he has to make it right. Has to make it... even? Was that how to make it right?

But Felix is different on the bridge. Different to the jealous creature he tried so clearly to hide in the weeks before. Something had changed.

"You never need to apologise for making them happy," he says easily, affectionately. Oliver tries to be insistent, that he never meant to get between the two of you. He's rambling and tipsy, but not enough to miss the faint choked noise of what Oliver could have sworn was intrigue that Felix makes at that, but he knows better than to dwell or comment on it. Instead, Felix claps him on the back; "you wanna make it up to me we can say you owe me one," he says far too easily.

"Owe you one what?" Oliver frowns, playing oblivious for a moment as he takes a sip of the champagne before Felix gives him a cheeky wink and a grin.

"Shag, of course."

Oliver does a spit take with surprise, not having thought Felix would be so casual and genuine about it, almost falling off of the bridge in the moment. Felix catches him, arm around him as he laughs through an apology.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry mate," he wheezes, carefully clapping Ollie on the shoulder, "also I apologise for assuming, poor form, sometimes I forget people can be weird about these things- not saying you'd be weird, we've just never spoken about this kind of thing."

It speaks to how much he must genuinely trust Oliver, considering how light the conversation remains. Or perhaps it's the bubbly. Still, Oliver has a little bit of an inkling about what this kind of thing may be. But part of him needs Felix to say it, to confirm his suspicions, to keep stringing him along with further crumbs of hope.

"Assuming what?"

There's a single moment, the way in which Felix looks at Oliver out of the corner of his eyes, smile briefly frozen on his face as he must be considering the weight of what he's about to say. Its in the moment that follows, when Felix laughs almost self consciously and withdraws his hand that Oliver wonders how out Felix is. Oliver had always just kind of assumed - hoped - on the basis of his relationship with Y/N, but it occurs to him that the general perception of Felix, the talk and rumours and gossip that surrounded him, never really entertained the idea that he was actually queer. Felix's affection towards everyone in his life was simply a by-product of who he was, and you're his best friend - and his cousin, according to Farleigh - so of course you don't count, and otherwise Felix Catton was a known lady's man, right?

Not quite, it seemed.

"That you'd even be into guys like that," it sounds so easy when Felix says it, like Oliver can't see the tension in his shoulders as he reaches over, taking the bottle of champagne back. Its almost empty. Oliver doesn't mind if he finishes it.

Felix looks at the sky, at the stars.

Oliver thinks about the VHS tape of Maurice that he stole from a rental store after looking at the back cover. He'd kept it stashed in his sock drawer and watched every week under the cover of absolute darkness until it literally became unplayable. Yes, Oliver liked guys, and spent his teen years having just as many lewd fantasies about boys with posh accents, and charmingly youthful features, and floppy, brown hair, as he did about girls with big, dark eyes, and high, perfect cheek bones, in bright red wedding dresses. His sisters hated Beetlejuice, thought it was gross, but he and his mother would watch it together on occasion, sharing a blanket his gran had crocheted, and a bowl of popcorn. She'd get all giggly over Alec Baldwin, while Oliver couldn't help but fall for Winona Ryder for the duration of the film, every time.

For a moment, he thinks of the sunlit kitchen he grew up in, and his mother cooking Sunday lunch with a record playing. The last Sunday before he left for Oxford. In the yard, he can hear his father mowing the lawn, and he's sure Emily is in her room packing for her own journey back to her third year of studying. But Oliver comes out of his room just as Jump in Line (Shake Senora) begins to play. Serendipity. Already excited by the song, his mother looks up from the dishes, and practically lights up at the sight of her son. She's going to ask him to dance. He's going to say yes. They're both going to love this moment; she says it's their song, and Oliver dances along to their song. When it's over, Oliver won't admit that he's disappointed it had to end, but he tells his mother he'll miss her too when she hugs him especially tightly. For that one moment he hadn't ached to leave the way he'd been for months, for years.

Looking now at the rock in the rubbish that represented his father, there's a momentary pang of guilt for lying so dramatically about him he hadn't been expecting. So he pushes it out of his mind.

Felix finishes the bottle, and Oliver watches him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Effortlessly beauty.

Oliver wants to focus on his future, not his past.

"Haven't got too much experience with 'em, but that doesn't stop me from liking them well enough," feeling especially bold, he levels a sly smile at Felix, "so if it's all good with you, maybe we do say I owe you one."

Felix blushes the most beautiful scarlet as he barks a loud, pleased laugh. But most importantly, he relaxes.

"It's not that hard," he offers so nonchalantly, amending with a sheepish grin, "well it is, that's part of the point -" but Oliver can't help himself.

"I said I didn't have a lot of experience, didn't say I was completely inexperienced."

"No, I know," Felix's voice turns all smug and teasing, and Oliver can feel his face beginning to heat up as he realised the implications of Felix's tone, "I've heard rave reviews." Oliver had taken the time to have his fun, to have a few hook ups here and there in the past year, usually with girls or guys from town or other campuses who had no idea who he was otherwise. There's only one person who'd be giving him rave reviews, as Felix had called them.

Huh. It's quite the compliment; he had gone out of his way to give you the kind of attention he suspected few people ever bestowed upon you, but rave reviews? What had you actually told Felix?

Instead, considering that this still feels like potentially rocky territory, he tries to bring it back.

"It's one of the few ways I ever really learned how to make people feel appreciated," his gaze drops with his tone, and hopes that Felix takes the bait. The threads that tie back to the story of his unfortunate upbringing, but also perhaps the threads that subconsciously tie his attitude and behaviour to you in Felix's mind. Even if you don't say it, he knows it's part of how you operate, and he's willing to bet that Felix had picked up on that too.

It works. Felix wraps an arm around him, assuring him that he has so much to offer the world. God, he sounds so sincere when he says it; if Oliver hadn't knowingly baited him into the compliment, he would have believed him entirely. At the very least he basks in how good it is to hear Felix say.

They talk through the night, Oliver tentatively feeling his way towards his goal, the opportunity to spend Summer with Felix too, to make sure this connection doesn't wither in the interim. Of course he plays at being humble, at refusing the offer despite how clearly uninhabitable the sob story home he'd made up for himself was, but just as he'd predicted, Felix, ever the saviour, refuses to take no for an answer. Apparently his mother has people stay for months at a time anyhow. Oliver wonders idly if that's where Felix got it from.

"Y/N will be so pleased, I can tell you that," Felix mentioned with fondness. Of course Oliver had anticipated that you would probably be spending at least some of your Summer with them, but he's surprised that when he enquires further, Felix admits, "yeah they live with me at Saltburn when we're not at school, have for ages now."

"What, all the time? They really are a ward of the Saltburn Estate?"

Felix wears a strange little smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes; there's an unfamiliar kind of melancholy that doesn't look quite right on him, Oliver thinks, as Felix shrugs again.

"Some people's parents just aren't meant to be parents."

For a split second Oliver feels a rush of guilt as he comes to realise he may have fabricated a life for himself that you had actually lived. In the moment, however, he dips his head, a sign that he understands, that he agrees.

"Then we're lucky to have you."

Felix throws an arm around his shoulders, pulls him in tightly and presses a kiss to the side of his head, assuring him it's no trouble at all.

"What are friends for?"

Yes, this moment would be burned into his brain; Felix so warm beside him, Felix smiling against his temple, Felix champagne drunk and willing to share his life, if only for six weeks. Every fibre of Oliver's being is willing it to work out, willing it to be more than just these six weeks -

Felix, Felix, Felix.

Except the minute he knocks on the doors of the house that looms so large he feels like he's about to be swallowed whole by it, he feels like he's failed a test. The look in the terrifying doorman's eyes, his tone of voice, the unflinching scrutiny when faced with Oliver's continual awkwardness and questions, makes him feel like he's failed several more in rapid succession.

Oliver's actually pretty sure he's never been quite so glad to see Felix as the exact moment he calls out to Oliver with absolute joy. Which is saying something. It's never felt like Felix is judging him, at least not in a way he can't pass. Thank fuck. Felix, in this moment, is the only one who matters, he tells himself.

That being said, Oliver had been expecting you to be by Felix's side when he'd come bounding in to save him from Duncan's scrutiny. That's generally where he's come to expect you. Not that he wasn't grateful for Felix giving the tour, it was just... unexpected.

Honestly, when you appear from a door on the other side of the long gallery, opposite Felix's bedroom, Oliver's surprised by how relieved he is to see you. The room you've exited seems to be themed in pale purple from the brief glimpse Oliver sees, and you've got a leather bound folder in your arms, but neither of those is nearly so interesting as the look in your eyes. Looking back, Oliver sees Felix lounging in his doorframe, looking between you both with patient amusement.

"Ollie!"

Oliver's pretty sure no-one in his life has ever sounded this excited to see him. The only person who comes closes would be Felix, five minutes ago.

"Ollie, oh Ollie - Fi, hold this," you pass off your folder to Felix, who of course takes it without argument, before Oliver's swept up in a tight hug, "you're early, you smell nice," you hug him so enthusiastically the two of you spin for a moment, before pulling back, holding him at arm's length like you're assessing the state of him. Instead, you beam, holding his hands as you turned to Felix, "Fi, Ollie's here! We love Ollie!"

This time when you meet Oliver's gaze, he's surprised to see not just love, but want. You'd worn that look in the weeks before the two of you had fucked, like all you could think about was how you'd once begged him to want you, and how he of course admitted he did. When had he started missing this look in your eyes? All he can think about is that night in the warmth of your bed, the way you'd sounded so fucking certain and needy - of course I want you - and how he can see it in your eyes again now. For a moment his mind and resolve is fuzzy; why had he ever stopped reaching out for you?

"We do love Ollie," Felix agreed with further amusement, and that's when he remembers. Except... this isn't the jealous version of Felix that had shown up in the aftermath. This was the Felix who'd brushed off Oliver's apologies about the whole ordeal on the bridge and proceeded to overtly, if jokingly, flirt with him. Already he feels just a touch more relaxed in this new dynamic that was being set up for the Summer.

Actually, Oliver, for just a second, thinks he may have died and gone to heaven.

"Fuck, Ollie, look at your nails," he hears next, however, and it immediately shatters the illusion as he pulls his hands away from you and your judgemental eyes.

"Don't be mean," Felix chides, and you look up with surprised, as if you hadn't realised your own less than complimentary tone. Looking between Oliver and Felix, there's apology in your eyes.

"Sorry Ollie," you're quick to offer, and he awkwardly tries to act like he's not embarrassed, "I'll give you a manicure, I can paint your nails; we can match!" You smiled brightly, hands pressed flat and warm to his chest all of a sudden, "I match Fi's shirt today; Farleigh painted my nails -" your eyes go wide as if you'd just remembered; "Farleigh; shit."

You run for the door to the blue room. Oliver, deeply confused, watches you go. Then, he hears Felix sigh with fond exasperation, holding out the leather folder. A moment later you burst through the door again.

"Documents. Shit. Thanks, Fi!"

And you're off again.

"Is this... how they normally are just at Saltburn?" Oliver finally asks with faint concern, looking from the door to Felix in the darkened doorframe.

"My lovely cousin is an atrocious influence on our dear Y/N," Felix said with incredible diplomacy. But Oliver's mind momentarily catches on the wording.

Our Y/N.

Just like before, a strange thrill, a rush; he remembers the look in your eyes when he'd first said 'Our Felix' to you. An exclusive kind of possessive, one you'd willingly share with Oliver. He liked this dynamic, he wondered how hard he'd have to push it to get beyond the simple semantics.

We love Ollie!

We do love Ollie.

Perhaps it wouldn't be too difficult at all.

"What do you mean?" He asks instead, and Felix turns to him with that same amused smile.

"They're fine, don't worry mate, they're just high is all," clearly Felix's feelings are mixed on the subject; Oliver knows he has no problems with getting high himself, so he suspects Felix cares more about Oliver's first impressions of his home and his family than he was wanting to let on. You were his right hand after all. There's something endearing about how much he seems to want Oliver to want to be here. Which he does, for the record.

"So this is your room?" Oliver enquires, shooting for brightness, despite the momentary awkwardness. He watches the tension leave Felix's shoulders. It's enough for Oliver, and his gaze drifts, roams around and tries to catalogue every single piece of Felix he can glean from the clutter. Even with an army of servants there's something unkempt about how he decorates the otherwise old and ornate space. CDs he'll spend time poring over, stacks of books, and trinkets, and tchotchkes. Felix even has a balcony; stone railings and enough decorative chairs, and even a lounge and small table, for company.

Here and there in the room itself, however, a few things seem out of place; shoes that didn't look like Felix's sitting neatly by the door, two dressing gowns, one maroon and tossed over the bed, the other in navy and draped more deliberately over the end of the bed. Two glasses of water, one on either side of the bed. Tell-tale signs that clue Oliver in before Felix even confirms it -

"Mine and Y/N's, yeah," he says it so easily, so nonchalantly, no bothering with pretence here at Saltburn, "you'll be staying just next door," Felix continues on with a wide, easy smile over his shoulder as he continued to flit through the rooms, catching light, voice echoing amongst the decorative walls.

"Bathroom," he offers, before turning, adding, "we're going to be sharing a bathroom, by the way, I hope you don't mind," and Oliver finds himself drawn to the sight of the ornate bath, as if on purposeful display in the middle of the room, "otherwise you'd be miles away on the other end of the house," Felix explains, continuing on without even considering his words as he says them. No, of course Oliver didn't mind.

All Oliver can think of is everything that simple sentence implied. Closeness. Implicit want. A sudden flash in Oliver's mind as Felix continues through to the dressing room, of sweat beading along skin and hands clutching desperately at the cool, porcelain edge of the tub, of water sloshing and spilling and overflowing, and the sound of breathless moaning -

He tries to focus, tries to simply watch Felix's hands as he taps idly on the red walls of the dressing room as he lead into what Oliver can only assume to be his room. He stays out of his head, leans into the moment, and lets himself relax as Felix gestures broadly, brightly, grinning from ear to ear.

"Your room!"

It's bright, all wide, open windows looking over the beautiful grounds of Saltburn, honey coloured wood and lamps that glow in such a way that he was reminded of Oxford. Already someone's brought his suitcase up, set it out at the end of the bed; he'd get to unpacking that later tonight, for now he took his time relaxing into the space. Felix had already sat himself down, seemingly at home in the old, wooden rocking chair, watching Oliver, almost like he was trying to hide his nervous anticipation.

"I'm really glad you're here, mate," for just a moment, Felix sounds more honest than he'd been since Oliver had arrived. There's something in his eyes that Oliver hadn't been anticipating, in the brief moment in which their gazes meet. There's a kind of arrogance, Oliver thinks, to calling even a sliver of it something like love, but it's adoration and appreciation nonetheless. It's gone in a flash, too brief to be anything serious, he thinks once more as Felix stands, "right, I will, er... I'll leave you to it."

And Oliver is quiet. It's a kind of reverence, or perhaps it reads like shock and awe at the whole place, but he listens quietly as Felix tells him about his mother's aversion to stubble and ugliness and piercings and -

"Anything else I should know about?" Finally he asks, sensing Felix was close to rambling on a nervous tangent. Thankfully, Felix actually seems relieved by the interruption, assuring him that there was nothing else to worry about.

Felix tells Oliver that he just needs to be himself, that his family will love him. That it's relaxed. Oliver loves Felix dearly, but doubts he, a man who rarely seems to be anything but relaxed, would be the best judge of that. Especially in a place like this. Still, Oliver smiles like he believes him, and watches the way Felix hangs himself back from the door on his heels, almost like a little kid, telling Oliver that his family will be in the library when he's ready.

Library?

His mental image of Saltburn grows with each moment. Soon it will overwhelm him, he's sure.

So he tries, just for the moment, to get acquainted with the room he's been given. His own, honey-coloured piece of Saltburn, if only for the Summer. Hopefully beyond, that dreamy little voice of want whispers in the back of his mind. Another flash of desire runs through him, the image of a quiet evening on Felix's balcony, a purple sky and a glass of scotch, book in one hand and Felix's head in his lap. He'd be too big for the little sofa, legs hanging off the edge, but he's comfortably fallen asleep with Oliver's fingers carding through his hair; when you drape yourself over Oliver's shoulders, there's loving affection in the way you call them 'your boys' -

God he'd been entertaining these fantasies for months, sure, almost since he'd met you and Felix, but never this vivid, never so detailed or hard to push away, to pretend like he'd never had them when he next tries to look you both in the eyes.

Yeah, me and Y/N's room. You're right next door. We'll be sharing a bathroom.

This is either going to be a dream, or the hardest Summer of his life. Pun entirely intended.

The room itself is rather charming, once Oliver finally breaks free of his own fantasies. Charming in a different way to the rest of the house, but in a way that was hard to put his finger on at first. Saltburn was like if a place could put on a performance of itself, none of it felt lived in, or at least, not for a very long time. Except Felix's room, it had his youth and carelessness that gave it a feeling of home, as, for some reason, did Oliver's.

Except then he sees them. Then he understands. There's space stickers on the top drawer of what he can only assume is the otherwise expensive bedside table. Some are peeled off, some even leaving the ugly, half-peeled, paper residue of planets and stars and little cartoon astronauts. The second of the two drawers is in much the same state, but depicting a faded sea creature theme. It's so unexpectedly, joyfully childish. There's two books in the top drawer, a collection of Edgar Allen Poe's short stories, and a copy of Emma. Oliver swallows hard, trying not to wonder what you must mean by that. Otherwise the drawers are empty, almost hotel-like in it's severe starkness.

There's other little things, however. Fairy lights curled up and around the headboard that glow a comforting, warm white once he finds their switch. A digital clock at odds with the rest of the room's aesthetics, red numbers glowing in the afternoon light. The painting on the wall above the bookshelf that looks far more modern than anything else he'd seen so far on the walls, a rich, blue night sky glittering with stars, and a dreamy silhouette of a figure with a cigarette almost glowing orange against the darkness. Despite the vagueness of the figure, there's a comfort, a kind of love with which they'd been captured that Oliver can somehow feel in his chest when he looks at it.

The little bookshelf itself in the corner is filled with titles he can imagine you specifically enjoying, but a few anomalies here and there - books on botany and Edwardian flower code stick out in particular. It's completed with a small stack of CDs and a CD player gathering dust on top. When he crouches down, however, he's surprised to see an old, portable cassette deck taking up space on the bottom row of the bookshelf, mostly hidden behind several stacks of what appeared to be blank cassette tapes, crammed into the very corner, almost out of sight.

How strange. How... human.

There is an echo of someone else in this room, but to his relief, it feels like you. For the barest moment, he almost feels like he's already home.

It's a short-lived feeling, however, as Felix's words come back to him once more. His reflection in the bathroom mirror as he carefully rids himself of even the barest traces of stubble, doesn't meet the standards he's sure the mother of Felix Catton must hold.

Oliver's never considered himself particularly beautiful, nor did pretty much anyone else, it had always seemed. His mother was of course biased, Felix was filled with too much affection to be considered anywhere near reliable about that sort of things, and you - something inside Oliver squirms almost with embarrassment for even thinking so poorly of himself in the past few moments. Maybe a face like his would make Felix's mum happy, if the look in your eyes meant anything, every time you saw him.

Oliver chooses to leave the way he was brought in, taking a long few moments in Felix's room, leaving it untouched, undisturbed, but treating it like a museum to his best friend, clues about his life he couldn't glean from conversation alone. Felix's bookshelves were bigger than yours, stacked with comics amid countless fantasy and adventure books, but a surprising number of cowboy and western titles, though it's not as if there appears to be any kind of sorting system. There's a ceramic bowl that looks hand made, full of faded wristbands for events all over the world for the past five years. There's a shoebox that apparently used to hold a pair of lady's runners, now sitting at the end of one row that now has 'A Stupid Box For Feefs Stupid Rocks <3' sharpied on top in handwriting he doesn't recognise. A thick textbook about space on the bottom shelf with a cracked, worn spine and sticky tabs seeming to note various pages, various guitar tab books for different, popular bands that Felix would definitely be interested in. Four decks of cards stacked on top of each other, boxes looking so worn and used they were practically falling apart.

For a very long time, Oliver finds himself caught, looking at the little cork board full of photos leaning on top of the bookshelf. Countless photos of Felix, Farleigh, Venetia, and Y/N throughout the years. He hadn't realised just how long you and Felix had even known each other. How long you'd practically been a fixture at Saltburn in the Summer. There's a photo of the four of you all in your bathers, laying asleep on the grass beside the lake, all next to each other on brightly coloured towels, none of you could have been older than twelve; you fit right in along with the rest of them.

There's a photo strip, the kind taken in a booth at a mall or a museum, that Oliver thinks he recognises, but it takes him a long moment of staring at it to figure out why. It's you and Felix, and the strip itself says it's from an aquarium. Smiling. Laughing. You blurry, covering your laughter as Felix looks particularly goofy and pleased with himself, as if he'd just told a stupid joke. The last one has been ripped off.

Oh. Right. He'd seen it while snooping through Felix's wallet a few months ago; the photo had been the reason he'd put the wallet back at all. The way the two of you were kissing in the final photo, so wrapped up in each other, and love, and joy, had made Oliver feel almost physically sick with both want and jealousy.

God, he has to leave, has to stop snooping again and actually find this library and the rest of the Cattons.

Walking through Saltburn's many rooms alone makes Oliver feel like he's constantly out of bounds at a museum. There's hints of life throughout the building, but they're few and far between compared to the ornamental, carefully curated decorations of each room. Even the hints of the Cattons themselves seemed... too purposeful. The little, animated 'Catton Family Players' puppet show is the kind of thing only rich, whimsical weirdos could ever think was charming, and not just bizarre, vain, and haunting in the same way that porcelain dolls were.

But then he hears laughter, and warm chatter from down a hall, and the tinny, purposeful shouting from what could only be a movie or TV show. It sounds so much like his own family's living room on a cheerful evening that it's almost relaxing. Almost.

Because as he's approaching, he realises they're talking about him. They're picking apart the life he'd fed Felix as if it were mere gossip, speaking so airily, their sentiment so clearly out of touch that he'd probably find it amusing if he didn't have to pretend to be living it. Briefly, he wonders if they spoke like this about your life, or if the novelty of you had worn off in the years before. Perhaps you were just glad they could focus their pity and unapologetic classicism on someone else for a change; he couldn't hear you in there, which surprised him. Maybe part of him had expected you to defend him the way you had back at Oxford. Maybe you don't feel like you can at Saltburn. At least Felix sounds embarrassed, irritated as he admonishes Farleigh for having told the rest of the family.

Before he enters the library where the rest of the family has gathered, Oliver pauses by the door, both to get a better idea of what they're already thinking about him, but also because he'd spotted someone watching him from one of the adjacent rooms.

Bleach blonde hair, stars clinging to the tights on her legs, she's reading a book that Oliver can't quite see the cover of. Venetia was written on the collar of the little, blonde puppet in the Catton Family Players; Oliver suspects this is her. Oliver thinks she could be considered very beautiful, if she didn't seem quite so sharp. The way she huffs a laugh and wears a dangerously amused smile after she'd taken her own time in analysing him seems to prove as much. That being said, Oliver's not sure if she's laughing at something about him, or about the fact that they can both clearly hear her family's disparaging remarks about his apparent upbringing.

"Farleigh seems to think he's ghastly," Oliver hears a woman say as his hand comes to rest on the door handle, "why are you and our dear pet even friends with him, darling?"

"Dirt poor, not attractive, and his parents are drug addicts," a second woman's voice seems to surmise as Oliver lets himself into the room, "I can't actually -" but Felix makes a noise as he sees the door opening, and the woman goes quiet as Oliver peers in.

"And here he is now," Farleigh sounds as thrilled as he ever was to see Oliver, "we were just talking about you," like he's trying his best to make Oliver feel as unwelcome as possible. It's... kind of working. Bastard. However looking over at him does solve one mystery; you and Farleigh are sharing a sofa at the back of the room that's only just big enough for the both of you as long as you're tucked up against him, his arm slung over the back of the chair behind you.

And you're fast asleep against him.

The blonde woman on the sofa who shares Felix's elegant, effortless beauty admonishes Farleigh, even though Oliver can tell from her voice she was one of the ones very much talking about him only moments before. Oliver has the grace to pretend like he hadn't heard, though is still glad for the vaguely embarrassed, apologetic look Felix is already giving him.

This has to be Felix's mother, the blonde with the airy voice who immediately gets up to greet him, to assess him.

"Oh, what beautiful eyes," oh thank god, "oh, how wonderful!" There's genuine surprise and adoration in the way Felix's mother regards him, and Oliver can't help but feel relieved, like he's finally passed the first of what he's sure will be many tests during his life at the Saltburn estate.

"Yeah, we told you he wasn't a minger," Felix pointed out when his mother turns to him.

"Oh, but darling, you and pet are kind about everyone; neither of you can be trusted about those you're fond of." Pet? Does she mean Y/N? Suddenly Farleigh's comments over the months make a strange amount of sense. At the very least Oliver's heart begins to sing at the idea of you and Felix speaking so kindly of him to the others that they know you're both especially fond of him... And you both seem to think he's beautiful enough that you mention it when he's not around. Huh.

But yes, the moment the woman explains her aborrance of ugliness Oliver knows he's talking to Felix's mother. At least she seems to like him well enough, going so far as to ask if he'd seen Venetia yet, that even she'd been dying to see him, but had chosen to drape herself around the house as if laying in wait for him. Indeed that's how it had seemed when he'd spotted her earlier, but none of them have let Oliver get a word in edgewise.

Felix's father is the next to introduce himself, all long limbs and warm handshake to match his smile, just like his son. When he asks Oliver about his trip to the estate, Oliver finally breathes, can finally respond.

"Oh, God, don't with the 'sirs'," Felix's mother waves him over to sit down, insisting, "no, no, no, we can't stand anything like that here," though her outburst seems to have been enough to rouse you. As Oliver sits, he hears, syrupy and warm with sleep from behind him -

"Ollie!" As you had each time since he's arrived, you sound so genuinely delightful. Farleigh makes a noise in the back of his throat. Oliver turns in time to see you elbow Farleigh in the ribs.

"I liked you better when you were asleep."

"Fars," your voice drops low, like a warning, and Oliver's surprised by how sharply Farleigh looks away, jaw clenching tightly, "be good." Oliver almost thinks Farleigh might be angry, but then he sees the gentle way Farleigh's holding your shoulder, thumb rubbing circles against your upper arm; from what Oliver can see, he realises Farleigh's expression is almost embarrassed -

"Children, stop bickering," Felix's mother orders brightly, and your expression returns to unbothered and chipper as you refocus on Oliver.

"Hi Ollie," again, then as more of an offer to the rest of the room, "isn't he just lovely?" Oliver flushes, but gives you a fond smile, even as you settle back against Farleigh. Even though Farleigh persists with glaring at him, when he turns back, he rests his cheek against your head, oozing malevolence as he seemingly tucks himself against you too. But he does indeed remain quiet.

After the altercation passes, Oliver gets a brief introduction to one of the other house guests at Saltburn, Pamela, brief being the operative word as she's quickly sent away to ask about tea from one of the staff members at Felix's mother's insistence. Pamela herself doesn't exactly seem confident in the task, but that's once again when you speak up. Much to Oliver's surprise, you give a detailed physical description of the woman - Annie - and succinct directions to the kitchen itself, following it up with a yawn and -

"The Irish one, a bit mousy, might have trouble meeting your gaze but she's nice enough."

Pamela looks far more confident thanks to your directions. Oliver's genuinely shocked at your level of detail and knowledge, but everyone else seems to be so casually used to it.

"She is a bit like that, isn't she?" Felix's mother muses with an idle air, and when Oliver glances back at you, you still have your eyes closed, as if close to falling back asleep, while Farleigh has his faint, fond laughter pressed against your temple.

Before Oliver can even reckon with the moment that had just come to pass, Felix's mother is regaling him with all of Pamela's dirty laundry, before she dives right into pitying Oliver himself, and the sob story of his life and most recent 'tragedy' she's heard.

She looks at him just the same way Felix had. He think of the moment he'd decided to commit to this Dickensian kayfabe, that day in the pub when Felix's eyes were fixed on him, all pity and desire and a desperate need to fix, to save, to be a light in Oliver's life. The way this woman speaks, the way she looks at him in this moment, makes Felix Catton make total and complete sense. Something inside Oliver relaxes; she would not be hard won.

As they circle back around to the tragedy of poor Pamela, however, something about what Farleigh says, pointing out that the tragedy of her was the only interesting thing about her, sticks in the back of Oliver's mind.

Being beautiful and tragic would only ever get him so far, would only ever make him a novelty. It takes another glance back at you for him to realise a little more of why you behaved the way you did; tragic and beautiful and useful. That's the thought that turns over in his mind, even as Felix's mother starts her line of questioning about the sordid details of his upbringing, and Venetia joins them only to stare at him like a bug, and Farleigh only seems to be holding himself back from outright contempt at your behest. You are once again asleep. At least Felix makes a token effort to reprimand his mother, not that it appears to make much of a difference.

Oliver offers what little he can get away with, and feels only relief when Felix insists they start getting ready for dinner. Oliver practically bolts, he doesn't even wait for Felix like he probably should have, just desperately hoping he's got the right door to his own room. Clearly he has, swearing when he's finally in his little piece of sanctuary, but after a beat he realises that even that has been breached.

His suitcase is no longer at the foot of his bed.

In another moment, the door that connects his room to the bathroom squeaks open and there's two more people in his room without bothering to even knock. At least Felix is apologising for his mother. Part of Oliver thinks he should have expected the Cattons to be exactly as out of touch as this house implied, that he should have braced himself better, that it's not Felix's fault, but the apology is still nice.

Also he's rather distracted by the fact that all of his clothes have been organised neatly in the old, wooden cupboard.

"Did someone unpack my suitcase?" Oliver hears himself ask distractedly. Looking back when Felix makes a noise of guilt, he sees Felix sitting on the edge of his bed with an apologetic smile, and you next to him, laying back on the bed and looking at the ceiling.

"Uh, shit, yes, I should have told you," Felix admits, "they do that kind of thing here." Rich, whimsical weirdos, the lot of them, "the maids all report back to mum, by the way," Felix informs him, while you're just quietly swinging your legs off the edge of the bed. Felix's tone turns teasing, however, "so I hope you didn't pack anything scandalous." Oliver leans on the wooden foot of the bed, into Felix's space with an amused smile at the thought - pushing his luck, pushing into Felix's space to play off of the idea of scandal, so close to Felix and his mischievous smile. Felix leans back, the tease, giving Oliver space to quietly say -

"Just my old boxers."

You snicker. Felix grins.

"No, they're used to that, don't worry," but then Felix is up again, almost too close, looking at Oliver like he knows this is all some kind of joke, like he know - like he wants Oliver to keep looking at him, at his teasing smile, at his lips like that, "Duncan will be thrilled." Like this is all a game. Oliver snorts a laugh.

But the moment doesn't last, and Felix is moving again, getting up, telling Oliver a new rule - ahead of time this time. Dinner at Saltburn is an event you dress for, with the kind of dress code that requires a dinner jacket and cuff links and - Oliver would be properly embarrassed if it didn't mean he got to wear Felix's spare jacket. Felix seems almost embarrassed by it all, his casual nature clearly butting heads with the formality of his heritage. In this moment he almost seems childish, it's rather sweet. Judging by your smile, you're endeared by his behaviour without even having to see it; you hadn't even thought to sit up; your eyes have fallen closed, as if basking in this moment.

Oliver watches you, the way you radiate contentment. You were not born into Saltburn, but you'd made it your home. You'd won the love of Felix Catton, and a place in his life, that no-one else had managed to achieve. Hope was a beautiful thing, and you were both in this moment.

"I'm really happy you're here, Ol," Felix finally murmured, and finally Oliver believes him, "I'm sorry everything's so... old fashioned."

"No," Oliver's voice is soft, "it's wonderful."

The pleased smile Felix wears as he heads through to his own room makes everything about this strange, ritualistic, obsessive, critical world worth it. Over his shoulder, he asks if you'll be coming through too, and you tell him you'll catch up in a second. Felix closes the door over quietly, and after a moment, Oliver joins you, laying back on the bed.

"I like your room," Oliver breaks the silence after a moment. After a moment, a hum that's more like a contented laugh escapes you. You mumble a thanks; it's been a few hours since he'd seen you initially, your chatter had died down considerably, it seemed like you'd sobered up a good deal in the afternoon that had just passed.

There's a million things Oliver wants to say in this moment, things he wants to do, questions he has about you, about Felix, about Saltburn.

"It's not-" he finally starts, voice so soft as he finally turns to you, "it wasn't your fault, by the way."

When you turn to meet his gaze, there's surprise and confusion in your eyes, clearly not sure what he was referring to. Its been a long time now since he'd deliberately reached out for you, since you'd slept together, since Felix had first started giving him resentful looks. Things are better now. Much better.

"What?"

All it takes is a deliberate, gentle touch, his hand taking yours, apology in his eyes. Its enough to acknowledge that he'd spent time pulled away from you, that you weren't crazy to think that, and that you weren't at fault.

Oliver's always liked watching you process things, at least when you allow the world to see it happen on your face, not making an effort to hide it. You look down at his hand on yours, grip loose like more of a reassurance; raising your joined hands like you can't quite believe the sight, he takes the opportunity to link your fingers. It wasn't your fault.

Looking deliberately back at the ceiling, he gives you the time and space to process this development without feeling so watched.

"Oh," you mumble quietly, finally, "it's..." you give his hand a squeeze, "thanks?" Oliver smiles, and knows you see it, can see in his peripheries the way you're watching him now, but when he goes to withdraw his hand, you hold him tighter for just a beat, as if on instinct, before you let him go.

"Can I be bold for a moment?" He breaks the moment, breaks the tension, voice light and inquisitive.

"I like your boldness, Ollie, you know that," you respond automatically, matching his energy easily. Sitting up, Oliver turns to fix you with a scrutinising look for a long moment, and you wait, you watch him with eyebrows raised and an amused smile painted across your lips.

"You're sleeping with Farleigh," it's not a question. Your smile grows wider and far more smug.

"Ollie - Oliver - look at me," you prop yourself up on one elbow, gesturing down at your body, "look at where we are," you gesture around at the bedroom itself, "how many Summers do you think unrelated teenagers in close proximity, growing steadily more attractive with each passing year, can get through without ending up deciding to fuck to pass the time?"

Oliver, charmed by your blunt confidence, can't help but laugh, while also being able to connect enough dots to the implication that he should expect you to be just as close to Felix's sister too. You join him in his laughter, finally sitting yourself up. Oliver knocks his knee with yours, deliberate, and watches with a kind of fondness as you immediately focus on the moment of brief contact. You'd missed him, just as he'd anticipated.

But the laughter dies down, and you finally stand, sighing that you should probably get yourself ready for dinner too. Before stepping away, you lean back down with a wide, goofy smile that reminds Oliver a bit of Felix, and gently grasp his chin, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. Oliver, a little startled by the gesture but welcoming it nonetheless, feels want burn through his veins momentarily as he watches you head to the door.

"Oh, Ollie, there's some stuff under the sink for you," you yawned and stretched and Oliver tried desperately not to stare at the way your shirt rode up, "shampoo, toothpaste, contacts; junk like that, you know, just in case." Wait, what was that last one?

"Contacts?"

"Yeah," like it was perfectly fucking reasonable, your hand on the door, "in case you didn't bring any or you ran out - there's actually a spare pair of glasses as well, if you'd prefer. Same frames as yours, I wasn't sure-"

"You know my prescription?"

"Yeah?"

"How...?"

You go quiet. You shrug. Its not a real answer.

Right; a magician never reveals their secrets. Its not particularly reassuring for a man lying about a large portion of his life.

For now Oliver just tries to remind himself of the way you look at him, the way you want him, the way he loves you, for who you are, for all you can do.

"Thank you," he says quietly, gives you a smile and hopes you believe it, "you're good to me." He's not sure what about that surprises you, but he catalogues this in the back of his mind. There's something beautiful and, he suspects, rare, about catching you off guard. But your next words are enough to return the favour, have his heartbeat in his ears, hopeful and quick as a humming bird right before you leave.

"Of course I am, Ollie, I love you."

And he's not sure why, but he believes you.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #saltburn imagine #oliver quick x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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lovelynim · 3 months

Text

I didn't expect Rafayel to be the first of LnD that I'd write for, but anyway

have this little drabble since this brat refuses to leave my head

“Get up already,” you groaned impatiently, patting the dust off your clothes while getting back to your feet. Deep down, you hoped that when you looked at him, he would be at least on his knees, doing the same.

But no. Rafayel continued to lay down on the sand, dramatically holding a hand up to his forehead to block the sun. “I told you, I can’t.”

“Of course you can,” you rolled your eyes, walking over to where he was. “Just g-”

“You’ll have to carry me, I can’t walk.”

You stopped mid sentence, slowly processing those words. That man couldn’t be for real, not in a time like this. Of every moment he could’ve chosen to act up, he decided to do it now? No, not this time.

“I see, so you can’t move?” You feigned pity, kneeling next to his body as you watched he put up his best efforts into that shameless performance. If only he used half of this energy to actually do something useful…

“No,” Rafayel pouted, sighing as if he was at the verge of death. “So, carry me, miss bodyguard,” he said, reaching out and intertwining his fingers behind your neck, waiting for you to pick him up.

“Rafayel,” you mused softly, leaning a little forward so you could probably look him in the eyes. “Do you think I’m that dumb?!” Before he could react, you dug your fingers under his arms, turning all your annoyance into a merciless and unstoppable ticklish assault.

“N-NOHOH! AhAHAHA, wahAHahit!” He cackled, squirming like the fish out of the water he was. Rafayel was quick to bring his arms down and press them against his sides, but this attempt alone wasn’t near enough to make you stop.

Managing to wiggle your fingers over his upper ribs, you continued your scolding, kind of enjoying seeing him like that. “You are such a pain sometimes… What's wrong? Didn’t you want me to carry you? Stay still and let me pick you up, Rafayel ~”

“GehEHehet off mehEHEh!! AhahAHah, nohoh mohohoreee!!” He whined through his laughter and you decided to let him go when he tried to squirm away, rolling to his side and laying face down against the warm sand.

“Oh, it seems you can move, guess I won’t need to carry you, then,” you chuckled, getting back up as you looked around.

“You’re so mean to me…” Rafayel pretended to cry, clicking his lips when he noticed he wasn’t getting your attention anymore. “Hey, wait for me!”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace tickling #rafayel x reader #lee!rafayel #ticklish!rafayel #ler!reader

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auteurdelabre · 6 months

Text

Something to Fight For (series) (PART SEVEN)

Word Count: 6.8

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no age or physical descriptions)

WARNINGS: Mentions of child abandonment.

A/N: This is part of a series (lots of angst, pining and smut ahead) Also despite Sarah's young age Joel is early 40's in this because slightly grey babygirl DILF Joel is the best Joel.

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

When November slouches forward in all its underwhelming glory, you are babysitting regularly for Joel. At least once a week, sometimes more if he needs it. Sometimes it's a short thing like an hour where he needs to pop out to grab supplies from a wholesaler (he insists on driving you to and from home on those short trips) when Tommy isn't free. Other times like tonight, it's he and Tommy needed at meetings. On these nights Joel dressed up in slacks and wears a tie and his is usually hair damp from the shower when you arrive.

The tie he’s wearing is crooked and in habit you go to straighten it. Joel’s eyes focus on your face, almost crossing as you fingers brush against his bobbing throat. The tip of your tongue sits at the right corner of your mouth as you concentrate on straightening the dark green fabric.

“I can’t watch you go to another meeting with a crooked tie,” you say with a laugh. When you pull back, satisfied with the tie, he gives you a quick grin of thanks before heading out for the night in a rush.

Sarah toddles in from the other room, yawning. She comes to wind her narrow arm around your thigh, smiling up at you. You smile down at her, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“I wanna show you something.”

You follow her into the living room where she has pulled up a photo album you’ve never seen before. You follow her instructions to sit, watching as she brings the small blue album over onto your lap. She crawls up next to you and begins what feels like a presentation.

"Daddy says this is mine and I get to keep it," Sarah explains in a rush, her little voice breathless. "I can see the pictures all the time."

You nod, letting her swing the album open.

"Look," Sarah says with pride pointing to a woman in the photo before smiling up at you.

In the photo is a stunning black woman with large hazel eyes, the same as Sarah's. She's in a hospital bed and gown holding a bundled up newborn in her arms. The woman looks exhausted but incredibly proud of what she's done. As if she's overcome a hurdle she never thought she would.

You feel your breath catch as you realize what you’re looking at. Sarah is glancing up at you, gauging your reaction before her face breaks into a wide smile.

"That's my mommy. I lived in her tummy."

"She's beautiful," you acknowledge truthfully and Sarah beams.

With her at your elbow the two of you flip through the book with Sarah pointing out details that stick out to her like her mother's clothing or the way she looked when she was a baby.

You feel your heart catch at the photo of Joel and Michelle next to one another at what looks like a picnic. They look young with both of them smiling widely into the camera. Michelle isn't even showing so you reason that this is when they were dating.

You shake off the strange pit it puts in your stomach, forcing you to focus on the details of the following photos.

A slightly younger Joel has an arm slung around Michelle's shoulder as he laughs at Sarah, his forefinger extended in his daughter's direction. Michelle is smiling as well but it doesn't touch her eyes. She's holding a squirming Sarah in her arms, but not looking at her.

"I was a good baby," Sarah tells you obviously parroting something she's been told by Joel.

There are plenty of photos that show a genuinely smiling Michelle holding Sarah, but not as many as you'd hoped.

The wedding photos are few. You can tell that Joel has omitted many because there are none of them exchanging rings or kissing. The only way you know it's from their wedding is by the bands on their fingers and the dress Michelle wears.

You like the photo of Tommy holding a six month Sarah, the obvious flower girl, over his head mid-spin.

There is one photo amongst the grouping that gives you pause. It's Michelle and a six month Sarah who is giggling in the direction of the camera, probably looking at her dad taking the photograph.

But it's not Sarah who catches your eye; it's Michelle in the background. She's seated on the same sofa you're on right now, her feet tucked up under her. She's got her cheek balanced on her palm as she looks over at Sarah.

It's easy to hate Michelle when you hear about her in stories. Images of a callous woman leaving her baby had filled your mind, even when Joel assured you that wasn't the case.

But in this photo you can see it, the pain reflected in those large eyes of hers. Eyes that scream for release from a life that she does not want. Eyes that cry out silently. And all the hatred you felt melts away, replaced by an ache of sisterhood that spans the page.

"She loved you very much," you tell Sarah moments later. "I can tell."

---

Tonight Joel returns earlier than expected. Sarah is asleep and you feel deflated knowing that's no good reason for you to stick around. So you pull your purse onto your shoulder preparing to head out.

"You wanna beer?"

You try not to look over-eager as you smile over at him. "I'll take a coke if you have any left.”

Joel nods, ducking into the kitchen and coming back with two cokes in glasses with ice. You've gone to stand by his guitars, strumming one absently. You motion to one as he approaches, handing you the cool glass.

"How come you don't play anymore?"

Joel looks over at them, brows raised as if he forgot they were there. "Haven't played since Michelle.”

“Sarah showed me the album.”

Joel looks shyly down at the carpeted floor, shrugging. “Yeah, well. Someone kinda smart gave me some good advice.”

You beam, feeling your hear hiccup when his dark eyes shoot up at you. There’s something about Joel that is simultaneously private and earnest. The face is all stone but the eyes? You could live in his eyes and never want for anything.

You break your gaze from him as you feel your blood rushing to your cheeks. You take a deep drink of your coke, your eyes going back to the guitars. It makes you think about the band you were part of and the man who broke your heart so spectacularly.

"I haven't really sung since Paul. When he left I didn’t feel like it anymore."

Joel nods, looking thoughtful. "S’weird how something can make you feel so good and then outta nowhere become the pain.”

You nod, his words settling into a nook of your brain. You stand beside him quietly looking at the instruments wondering what his voice is like. Does Joel sing or just play guitar? You want to know but you won’t ask. Not tonight.

"Maybe one day we'll have reason to make music again," you say without thinking.

Joel smiles softly around his glass.

"Maybe."

///

When you're not babysitting for Joel you're hard at work trying to take advantage of the new crop of funding grants that are coming through.

Alex is already heads and shoulders above James as far as a coworker goes. She enthusiastic, passionate and focused. Showing her around the city a few weeks ago had shown you that.

Today you're focused on the vaccinations needed for the batch of dogs dropped off at one of the volunteers' homes across town.

Your phone buzzes.

Hey. Can I c u?

You give a frustrated sigh before deleting the message from your phone.

"Where do you want me?"

Your head jerks up from your phone in time to see a smirking Joel enter into your office.

Where do you want him?

Don't even think it.

You want him several places. In your bed is the main one. Despite Joel himself telling everyone that dating was a waste of time, the pathetic crush is not fading quickly enough.

Sometimes it's fine. Most times you go over to his place and you babysit Sarah and you don't even think about him once he's out the door. Other days his voice, the warm color of his eyes or even the way he smells seem tattooed on the inside of your brain.

Today, you realize, is unfortunately a crush day.

The kind of day where you seem unable to tear your eyes away from his biceps under the t-shirt. Or the way his carpentry belt is slung around his narrow hips in a way that begs you to stare.

"Hey," you smile shakily, standing to cross over to him, holding your breath as you glide past him. "Follow me."

He walks heavily after you, his body looming behind yours. You introduce him to Alex before leading him outside the space and into the back.

This is his first day back at your office, here to organize the next steps of your kennel.

Joel stands close to you, bringing out a yellow pad and pencil. He motions to the area in the far side of the space. "Here?"

You nod. "When we went to the city they said we had clearance to build at least eight kennels. I'm hoping these can be designed with big animals in mind."

Joel nods, scratching something onto the yellow pad in his hand. "55 by 42?"

"Maybe 62?'

"Anything else?"

"Nope."

"Probably get to work on these mostly on weekends," Joel tells you. "And like I told ya before my main jobs gotta take priority."

"Of course. Gotta pay those bills."

"But it shouldn't be too long. I was actually gonna get a few foundation pieces started today. Brought some supplies in my truck."

"Anything you can do is amazing," you assure him, waving and heading back into your office.

A short while later you can hear the steady hammering of nail in wood and it takes everything in your power not to stare out the window facing the back.

Alex strolls into the office, pushing back her short black locks.

"Hey, this came for you-" she says handing you some mail. "I think one of them is from the city about the sanctuary!"

She'd been so eager about the sanctuary project, helping you to fill out the remaining portions of the grant application.

She and her girlfriend moved to Austin only a few months ago and Alex thinks she was fated to work here. Sometimes you think so too, she fits in so perfectly.

You take the mail from her, thanking her. She nods before her attention is drawn to the window.

"I cannot believe your boyfriend is doing all that work for free," she says.

"He's not my b-boyfriend," you say with a strangled laugh. "Just a friend of a friend. I babysit his daughter."

"Oh." Alex nods in understanding. "I was telling my girlfriend about the sanctuary and she thinks she might know a landscaper who would do it at cost."

"Are you serious?"

You and Alex chat for a long while, making notes and suggestions for landscaping ideas even though you know you're both jumping ahead. You haven't even got the funding secured yet. And the envelope in your hand is a formality letting you know your previous application has been accepted and is now being reviewed. Alex excuses herself a short while later and you're left alone at your desk. It's quiet save for the occasional sound of a hammer hitting a nail.

Or the occasional sporadic grunt.

Just one peek.

You tilt your chair back slightly, angling yourself so that you can catch him out your window.

You don't mean to stare, but it's like a porno come to life. Joel in a t-shirt hammering lumber into the ground, his neck and forehead dotted with sweat. He stands, stretching slightly.

Oh Christ.

Joel is bringing up the end of his t-shirt to swipe at his damp face. And fuck if he isn't just gorgeous to see. His belly is soft yet defined and the color of sweet caramel. You want to run your tongue down across his hipbones.

A light bulb suddenly goes off in your mind. You should bring him something to drink. An excuse to go out there, a chance to see him up close. You don’t care that in your head it sounds pathetic even as you’re rising to go towards the water cooler.

All you have is tap water and one of those shitty wax cups you serve to people visiting the office but it’ll do. You almost trip over yourself in your desire to get outside into the sun and towards him.

He's standing, surveying his work when he notices you approaching.

"You looked thirsty," you say breathily. "I brought you water."

He takes the drink from you with a smile of thanks, tipping his head back to drink. You hold in a whimper at the sight of his neck bobbing. It makes you think of how warm his neck was when you straightened his tie.

"Thanks," he rasps when he's finished.

You nod, trying not to clench your thighs together. He's so sexy there back-lit by the sun, his smile so charming and his arms so muscled.

"Do you want anything else?"

Joel pauses as if considering something. His eyes dart along yours, like he’s trying to communicate with you through they alone. It makes your stomach jump.

"Yeah," Joel suddenly says, his voice hard as he tosses the crumpled cup onto the ground behind him. You're about to say something about littering when he stalks towards you, walking you backwards against the side of the building.

There he takes your wrists and pins them against the brick at your sides.

"W-what do you want?" You manage, your entire body pounding at his proximity.

"Not about what I want," Joel murmurs with his eyes on your mouth. "S'bout what I need."

He's quietly watching you, his pelvis pressing firmly into yours. He’s hard and warm and oh fuck his mouth looks so delicious. You physically force yourself to move your eyes from his mouth back up to his eyes.

"W-what do you need, then?"

Joel smirks and it's the most devastating thing you've ever seen. So sexy, so teasing and then he dips his head forward. His mouth is at your ear brushing yours.

"I need you."

"Did you hear me? I said I need you to talk to the records department on the phone. They have questions I can't answer yet."

Alex is standing in front of your desk looking at you with a hard look. She's motioning to your office phone which is blinking with the call on hold. You break out of your temporary daydream still seated with your eyes on the window.

"Oh right. Yes. Thanks!"

The rest of the afternoon passes comfortably because you put on your headphones and start blasting music. It helps you to focus on the emails you need to return and the forms to fill out and it erases the sound and reminder that Joel is just outside your window sweaty and gorgeous.

You see Alex begin to pack up her belongings, done for the day and you realize it's past five. The paperwork for the sanctuary proposal is on your desk, almost finished but you stand up stretching.

You jump slightly when Joel comes out of nowhere to stand at the end of your desk. You pull off the headphones, raising your brows at him.

"Heading out. You wanna ride home?”

"Sure," you nod, always happy when you don’t have to take the crowded and often overheated bus. You’ve been spoiled with rides with Joel as of late.

"Meet you at the truck."

You consider leaving the proposal paperwork behind but then decide it's good to work on it when your mind is still fresh with ideas.

Alex gives you a funny look as she passes you to leave for the night.

"You're sure he's not your boyfriend?"

You force a laugh and wave her off.

"Gotta pick Sarah up from her friends' place first if that’s okay," Joel explains as you get into the truck. "Play date."

You nod your mind on the paperwork on your desk. You wonder how many competitors are going in for the same grant. You need to keep your mind on that because if you let it wander its going to wander right into Joel Miller’s perfectly tight jeans.

You don't drive far and you're at a Mediterranean styled house with bright green grass and pale pink lowers along the lane heading into the front door.

You watch as Joel ambles to the front door, knocking briefly. You can't hear from where you're seated in the truck but you see a tall, beautiful woman with light brown hair answer the door smiling and saying something to Joel.

She moves to give Joel a tight one-armed hug inviting him inside. You watch as her hand skates down his back, resting at his tailbone in a way that feels far too familiar. A bolt of jealousy hits you like a train. You don't know why but you don't like how familiar the woman is acting.

He's not yours. Stop being an idiot.

You force yourself not to watch Joel and Sarah as they come back to the truck. You don't want to see the woman give Joel a needless goodbye hug. You smile though when Sarah reaches out to hug you around the neck before you help her into her car seat, buckling it and winking at her.

“You have fun?”

Sarah nods. "Daniel is nice. Can he come play at my house again, Daddy?"

"Sure babygirl," Joel nods.

Again? You know it’s only been a few months of hanging with Joel and Sarah but how have you never picked up on this before? You try to affect a casual tone as Joel starts the truck and heads for your place.

"How long have Daniel and Sarah been having play dates?"

"Uh, about a year or so. Ever since he started at the same daycare."

"Oh," you nod, your eyes narrowing as you look out at the passing landscape. "Neat. What does she do?"

"She's a teacher."

"And her husband?"

"She's divorced."

"Mmm."

Your hand goes to the seat belt across your chest, squeezing tightly as your eyes fix themselves to the passing greenery outside your window.

Your jealous.

Joel realizes this as he glances to see you frowning out the window. He sees the tensing of your jaw and narrowing of your eyes. A jump starts in his belly at this, making his mouth go crooked as he grins to himself.

You're jealous of Daniels mom, Tess.

Joel can admit that Tess is gorgeous. Definitely his type with her no nonsense personality and attractive face. And yes, there had been one time about eight months back when he had dropped Sarah off at the same birthday party Daniel was attending. Tess had smiled at Joel, asking if he wanted to grab a coffee before they had to return to pick up their kids.

She'd ridden with him in his truck, and they talked about her recent divorce and how hard it was to be single parents. Halfway to the nearest coffee shop she'd put her hand on his zipper, startling him.

"C'mon. Make this easy for me," she'd said huskily before he pulled over to a deserted stretch and she had gone down on Joel in his truck.

But that was ages ago and something they had acknowledged came from a very lonely place for both of them. They'd never done it again, never even come close.

Joel won't admit it out loud but he likes you jealous. It makes his pulse tick knowing that if you're jealous it's because you want him.

And that's good because he wants you.

He tried to put it off as a burgeoning friendship, the thrill of connecting with someone new. But he knows that's not it.

It's not friendship he's thinking about when he fucks his palm thinking of your face. It's not wanting you as a pal that has him groaning in the shower most mornings, spilling all over his hand. It's not goodwill that plagues him with dreams of you so scintillating he wakes up hard and his cock weeping.

"It's such a nice day," you muse, looking at the beautiful stretch of sunny day over out the window. Joel agrees, leaning back in his seat. He darts a look at his distracted daughter in the rearview mirror and then back to you.

"Should w make a quick stop at the p-a-r-k?" Joel murmurs, not wanting Sarah to hear in case you don't feel like it. “Get some i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m?”

"Sure," you nod. "I'd love t-"

"Daddy why did you spell park and icecream?"

Sarah’s tiny brow is furrowed as she looks up at her dad from her carseat. You hold in a giggle at Joel's face.

"The price you pay for having a genius daughter," you grin.

Fifteen minutes later the three of you walk up the cobbled steps of Walnut Creek park. Kids are shrieking and playing, the slide bustling with color. The cyclists on the nearby path weave through the milling figures of parents watching their children. Sarah is too young for the big slide but she makes a very big show of pushing your hands away when you offer to help her onto the swing.

“No. I’m a big girl,” she informs you. “I don’t need help.”

You step back, shooting Joel a devastated look at the rejection. He laughs at your reaction, pulling you into a friendly side hug and you both watch as Sarah walks off to talk to another girl her age.

“Last year she told me that when she's fifteen I'll be dead.”

“Jesus,” you breathe, forever in awe of the oftentimes brutal nature of children. “How did you handle that?”

“Laughed like it didn’t bug me and then that night I cried alone in the shower.”

You burst into a loud laugh at this, folding over as you catch your breath. You hadn’t been expecting that. Joel grins so widely at having made you laugh his cheeks hurt. His hand is dropped from your shoulder and you immediately miss it.

Sarah waves to you from atop the climbing structure. You both return it before you lapse into a comfortable silence.

“What ice cream you gonna get?”

Joel ponders this for a long while. “Cookies n’ cream.”

“That sounds really good.”

“You?”

“Buttered pecan.” You widen your eyes at Joel’s grimace “What? It’s so good!”

“Old lady flavor,” Joel teases.

“I’m sorry but if anyone of us is old-“

“Sarah already told me I was gonna die soon,” Joel interrupts with a chuckle, nudging you with his shoulder. “Let me live my last years in peace would ya?”

The laughter continues and you feel a strange feeling flooding you. It’s not lust, that’s too easy. It’s something different, something that makes you feel like you’re glowing but from the inside. It makes you feel close to Joel in a way you can’t explain properly and you suppose this is why when you fall into a comfortable silence again, you’re the one to break it.

"You know when you and Sarah took me out for dinner," you say to your shoes. "And you asked me, uh, about the first time we met and...If I was the kind of person to yell at a stranger and everything?"

Joel tilts his body to face you head on. You don’t look at him, even though you want to. You feel safe in his eyes.

"I was getting a really important phone call when you pulled up. A call that I was really stressed about from my mom. About my dad."

"Your dad okay?"

"Uh, no," you shake your head ruefully. "But, he hasn't been for a long time. That's kinda the- anyway, that's, I just wanted to let you know. It was never about you. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

You can feel Joel regarding you. It cuts through the sound of laughing kids and the feel of the warm sun on your back. You've just shared a lot about a topic you hate just as much as he hates talking about Michelle.

"Between the two of us, we've done and said some stupid shit to each other," Joel says after a beat. "But my apology came with flowers so... I guess I win."

You jerk your head up to see Joel looking down at you smugly and you burst into laughter at the attitude in his face.

"I'll make sure to bring chocolates next time just so I have a fighting chance," you argue playfully.

Your attention is broken by the sound of Sarah calling for the two of you to look at her as she proudly goes down the slide.

A short while later with ice creams in one hand (Sarah picked cookies n’ cream like her dad. Traitor.) and Joel holding his daughters free hand as you walk back to the truck, Sarah twists to look up at you.

"Can you come to my house?"

"Sarah, she had a busy - " Joel begins just as you say: "Sure."

Both of you pause as you hear the others response. You feel your heart gallop at what you perceive as rejection. Is it lame that you agreed so readily?

"Or maybe I shouldn't -" you begin just as Joel says: "Great. Okay."

You both shoot a laugh at each other before you duck your head in embarrassment as Joel announces it pasta for dinner, and no, it’s not Kraft Dinner.

///

You and Sarah set the table as you sneak furtive looks at her dad. He has a hand towel draped over one broad shoulder, his t-shirt tight in the sleeves. He's focused on the meal at hand and when Joel is focused he has the cutest little lines between his -

Stop.

Dinner is delicious as always. Joel is actually quite a good chef. Not as good as Maria, but definitely more attractive.

When Sarah suggests a movie you don’t wait for Joel to make an excuse for you. You readily agree, smiling at her as she scrambles off her chair, spaghetti sauce around her mouth. Joel calls her over to him at the sink, wiping her mouth clean with the dry dish towel.

“You got it everywhere but in your mouth,” he chides with faux exasperation.

"Daddy can you make special popcorn?"

You look over at Joel, intrigued. "Special popcorn?"

"Jiffy Pop," Joel translates before smiling down at Sarah. "Yeah I think we have some. Go get in your pjs."

Sarah races off and you watch as Joel scours the pantry for the shiny foiled pan. He brings it to the stove, shaking it as it swells, popping. It’s a quiet moment, strangely relaxing just watching Joel shake the package and listening to the sporadic pops.

Sarah runs back down in giraffe pajamas tonight, her eyes bright as she views the popcorn on the stove. She runs into the next door and hear your name being called shrilly through the wall.

"Sounds like you're being summoned," Joel says with a head tilted in Sarah's direction. "I'll finish up here."

Sarah has insisted on The Little Mermaid for the fourth time this month (probably more when you're not here.)

"I used to watch this movie when I was little," you tell her as she works the DVD from its case. You want to offer to help but she’s got quite the independent streak in her today and you don’t want to challenge it.

"Did you watch movies with your mommy and your daddy?" she asks, grunting as she works the shining disk from its case.

"My mommy and daddy worked a lot so I didn't see them much," you explain. "I watched a lot of movies by myself."

Sarah looks piteously up at you. "My daddy watches with me."

"I know." You move a strand of hair from falling into her eyes. "You're so lucky to have a dad that loves spending time with you."

You have to admit that Joel is a really good dad. He spends time with Sarah, real time. He answers her questions, plays her games, never shuts her down. Sarah fiddles with the remote as you consider that Joel is probably one of the best dad’s you’ve ever known.

Joel brings the fresh popcorn into the room a few minutes later. It seems Sarah is never finished with snacking and you enjoy this fact about her greatly.

He stops at the armchair, looking over at you and tilting his head in the direction of the blanket hanging over the back.

"You cold?"

"A little."

He grabs the plaid blanket on the armchair and passes it to you. It smells like laundry detergent as you place it over your lap.

"Daddy, you sit here," Sarah commands pointing to the right side of you on the sofa.

You smile at her bossy little self and giggle when Joel rolls his eyes and does as she commands, putting the popcorn between you. Sarah clamors onto the sofa, pushing the popcorn bowl into her dad's lap and settling in between you two. She hands her dad the remote.

"We share," she informs you as she pulls part of your blanket over her legs. She turns to Joel. "Press play, daddy."

Sarah's legs start bobbing in anticipation as she crams a handful of popcorn into her mouth, crunching softly.

The familiar logo for the movie pops up onto the screen and Sarah begins humming along to the intro. You feel your heart melt a little when she tilts her head against your side, snuggling.

It's strange to think that at one point you genuinely disliked Joel Miller. That being in his presence was such a daunting prospect. Because as you sit here on the sofa next to him with a drowsy Sarah between you, warm and cozy, you think there are few places you'd rather be.

Why does this feel like a date?

Yeah there was a movie and popcorn but that's where the similarities to a date ended. But then why is your heart galloping at Joel's nearness? You sneak a glance at him out the corner of your eye, fixated on his strong profile. "Sebastian's so . . . funny," Sarah says a short while later, her voice faltering. You glance over to see her wide eyes shuttering sleepily. Joel has noticed this, shifting her slightly to see her face.

"Ready for bed, babygirl?" Joel asks softly. Her large eyes shoot open wide, her body jerking straight

"No. I'm not sleepy."

You and Joel exchange amused looks before your attention is back on the movie. You grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl, munching quietly as Sarah's eyes drift shut once more. She’s out like a light.

You could point this out. You could laugh and take her up to her bed, tuck her in and leave. But you don't. You pretend you haven't noticed anything and keep your eyes on the tv.

You don't want to leave. You like how warm it is, how sweet it feels to have a slumbering Sarah leaning against you. How safe you feel. There's a crack of lightning and seconds later a distant rumble of thunder.

"It's pretty late," Joel observes quietly as you both look to the window. "Bus can't be safe this late."

"I'm used to it," you reply, your eyes still on the TV.

"You can stay the night if you want."

Images of Joel and his bed slam into your brain like a bucket of cold water. You've seen his bedroom and you can so easily image Joel holding you by the wrists and fucking you mercilessly into his mattress. Joel with his head tilted back as you suck him off, his fingers tangled in your hair. Joel thrusting up into you against the wall as you cling desperately to him and-

Holy shit. Stop! He's being nice. Don't make it something it's not just because you haven't had decent sex in a year.

"That's really nice of you to offer but I don't want to put you out."

"Its fine," Joel replies quickly, his eyes still on the TV as well. You remind yourself he's just being polite. This is how the Miller men are - thoughtful, even chivalrous.

You like that about him. You decide not to answer him and instead turn your attention back to the redheaded mermaid swimming onscreen.

Joel's got his left arm balanced on the back of the sofa, his hand inches from your shoulder. It's close enough for you to tilt into if you want, not that you ever would.

"This movie'll be the death of me," Joel says out of nowhere. "That or the fucking hair bows she keeps putting in my hair when I'm napping. Nearly went to install drywall with a glittery Barbie one last week."

The visual of Joel surrounded by burly men while doing construction work while wearing a Barbie hair bow is almost too comical for words.

Not wanting to wake Sarah you hold in a sharp titter, a small stream of gentle giggles escaping you instead. You can see Joel's profile, his mouth curved into a small smirk at your laughter.

You snuggle down further into the sofa, tilting your neck against the back of it. You can see Joel's hand out of the corner of your eyes, his fingers tapping along to the beat of the song.

Sarah makes a soft coo in her sleep and you sweep a hand through her coiled hair out of habit.

It's funny because you'd never understood the appeal of domestic life, or even of having children. But this scene with the two of them makes you reconsider it. There's a comforting sweetness in it and when you’re here with them it feels natural.

"Thanks to Sarah I feel like I have this whole movie memorized," you say turning your head towards Joel with a smile as another song begins.

You lose track of what you were about to say next because instead of looking at the tv, Joel's head is leaned back on the sofa and he's staring at you. But it's not his usual harsh look he normally wears.

No, this look is gentle and warm and accompanied by the softest smile you've ever seen on him.

It takes your breath away.

Joel is normally so guarded, his features stern and unreadable. But right now his face is so open it's like you're really seeing him and he's luminous. You can't look away, can't stop watching his dark eyes scan your features as if you're a map he's trying to read.

His fingers twitch almost imperceptibly near your face. You blink as he raises his forefinger, not even having to lift his palm from the sofa as he grazes a fingertip along your cheek.

He pauses there, waiting for you to pull away, to break the moment, but you don't. You stay there, your skin tingling where he's touched it.

You feel trapped in his gaze which has moved from soft and open to dark with obvious desire licking the edges. His long finger continues tracing down to your jaw, dragging slowly before moving to the corner of your mouth.

You feel a frisson of energy coursing through you as Joel slips his finger up over the seam of your mouth, blinking slowly when he sees your lips part.

His eyes slide down to watch his fingers' journey, resting on the plump flesh of your trembling lower lip and pausing again, his eyes flicking back to yours.

What the fuck is happening?

His finger is on your lip, as gentle as a kiss. You wonder if he can feel the hot huffs of your shallow breathing on his fingertip. The look he's giving you makes you feel warm and fuzzy. It makes you feel bold, like you want to suck his digit into your mouth just to taste him.

"Mmmph," comes the small grunt of a stirring Sarah between you. Her curly head raises just as Joel pulls his touch from your mouth and you jerk back .

You suddenly feel like you've run a marathon. You're flushed and nearly breathless. You shift away from the two of them, hating how cold it feels to do so.

Sarah drags herself to a lean, her back against your side.

"Can I have more popcorn?" Sarah asks giving a stretch and looking at Joel through drowsy eyes.

"Maybe tomorrow, hon," Joel says softly. "Right now it's time for bed."

Sarah makes a whine of protest, but she still pulls herself off the couch with a grunt. You go to stand and put her to bed but Joel beats you to it.

"You've done enough for two lifetimes," Joel says pulling Sarah into his arms and shooting you a small smile. "I'll be right back."

You watch him leave the room, Sarah's chin balanced on one broad shoulder so she can wave at you.

"Night!" She calls out sleepily.

"Night night," you say gently as you watch them disappear up the stairs.

You can hear Joel's feet padding along above your head putting her to bed. Anticipation is curling in your belly, knowing that when he comes back downstairs there's a good chance you'll continue what you think he'd been starting.

You and Joel. The thought is flabbergasting. You hated him not so long ago.

But now? Now just the thought of his hands on you have your body quivering. You imagine his arms around you, pressing you into the sofa as he --

Woah. Calm down. There is no you and Joel.

You immediately sober.

Isn't this what happened with Paul? You thought he was much more serious about you than he actually was. You'd read the signs so wrong, convinced he was dedicated to your mutual future. You'd fallen so hard so quickly and it had hurt you so badly.

Suddenly it's as if you've swallowed a stone and are left with a sinking sensation.

You're just a babysitter. A service. And he's just the brother of your friend. Maybe he wants you, maybe he was just sleepily not thinking, maybe he's horny and you're just convenient.

What the fuck are you doing?

Why are you still here? It's late and this isn't your house. You should be in your own home finishing details about your work and the sanctuary. Not sitting in Joel Miller's house daydreaming about his hands on you. This man who up until not that long ago you couldn't even stand.

Without another thought the purse is over your shoulder and you're pulling on your boots, opening the door for a quick getaway.

"I forgot I have to finish up the sanctuary proposal before tomorrow’s meeting," you shout up the stairs. "See you later!"

You close the door before you can hear what exactly Joel calls down to you. It's muffled behind the heavy wood slamming behind you.

You hate every step that takes you away from them. You hate that your cowardice has you jogging down the street in panic, you hate that you have feelings for Joel Miller, you hate that you wanted to stay.

But most of all you hate yourself.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #fanfiction #fanfic #dad joel miller #joel miller #pedro pascal

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archangeldyke-all · 4 months

Note

HALLLOOOO

Im obsessed with Sevika’s slutty lil waste and had the idea of a tailor!reader who purposefully makes slutty clothes for Sevika. Sevika would bring her clothes to reader after a fight made them ruined and reader would fix them BUTTTT make them tighter and shorter to see those ABS. Also like the idea of reader making Sevika a suit idk I think she’d look so delicious. ALSO like the idea that reader created the concept of her red cape WHICH is why it’s so special to Sevika.

LOVE YOU ANGELLLL <3333

this is such an amazing concept!

men and minors dni

you've met sevika before in passing. she sometimes accompanies silco to his appointments, brooding in a corner as you pin and measure various suits and vests on the man.

but the first time you actually talk to the woman, is when she comes in without silco, a grimace on her face and a giant sweater pulled over her abdomen.

"hi! you picking up silco's new suit?" you ask her as she approaches the counter. she sighs and bites her lip.

"no, i... i need some help." she says. you tilt your head in curiosity. she takes a deep breath. "there was an accident." she says, slowly pulling her sweater up and off her body.

you gasp as she reveals her torso, only covered by wraps. her left arm is gone, her shoulder bandaged, scars and bandages littering the left side of her body.

your heart sinks.

"shit." you say aloud. sevika laughs and nods.

"yeah." she says sadly. you quickly round the counter and wave sevika in to the side room, so the two of you can talk privately.

she explains to you that silco's doctor is working on a new arm for her, a mechanical arm. she tells you that she'll need to have all her left sleeves removed, that she's seen how 'you work miracles on silco's skinny ass.' and then, darting her eyes away from you, she shyly asks if you could come up with some kind of cover for her new arm.

your heart breaks a bit for her, and before you can help yourself, you dart forward to give the woman in front of you a hug.

she's stiff in your arms, and just as you're about to pull away, she lets out a sad little sigh and wraps her only arm around you.

you hold her until she pulls away. it ends up being a ten minute hug.

you don't mention the tears staining your shirt when she finally pulls away. you don't mention the redness in her eyes. you just smile at her and shake her hand, telling her that you'll get to work on a mock up for a cover, inviting her back over with her shirts for alterations next week.

the next week she comes in with a dufflebag stuffed full of her shirts and jackets.

while you've got her on the platform, wearing her favorite shirt, you can't help but admire how striking her figure is.

"you have a lovely waist." you say, trailing your hands down her sides as you look at her in the mirror. sevika's eyes go wide, a tiny blush blooming on her cheeks.

"th-thanks." she stutters out. you smile.

"you should show it off more." you say. she blushes even harder. you gently tuck the hem of her shirt up one inch, exposing a little patch of her abdomen. "like this." you say, smiling.

sevika blinks at you owlishly. "you think?" she asks. you nod.

"totally." you say. she hums.

"you don't think it's a little much?" she asks. you laugh.

"sevika, if you've got it, you gotta flaunt it!" you say. she smirks, her eyes darting away from yours in the mirror.

"okay. just an inch, right?" she asks. you nod.

it's a lie. that night, as you're carefully removing her left sleeves from her favorite clothes, you pin her shirts' waistlines an inch higher. and then another.

when sevika returns the next week, she smirks at you as you help her try on her favorite shirt.

"that seems like more than an inch." she chastises you. you giggle.

"your belly button's still covered, so it's still professional." you say, shrugging. she laughs.

"that's the rule, huh?" she asks. you laugh and nod.

you're lucky that sevika likes your creative decision. you're lucky that she doesn't seem to notice the way you touch her far more than is necessary for a few pins and measurements. you can't help yourself, though.

just as she's about to leave with all her altered shirts in tow, you stop her.

"wait, sevika!" you call. she turns around with a raised eyebrow. "what's your favorite color?" you ask. she frowns.

"i-- i don't really have one." she says.

you gasp, then grab her hand and drag her back to the work room. she giggles the whole way.

"get on the platform." you demand, taking her duffel bag off her shoulder and throwing it on an empty chair.

you run to your fabrics, pulling scraps of various colors off the shelves. then, approaching sevika, you lay the strips over her shoulders, examining her in the mirror as you study her.

"what're you doing?" she asks, smiling at you. you hum.

"you've got beautiful skin." you say. "a lovely umber." you mumble as you pull a few scraps of pastel fabric off her shoulders. sevika blushes, but you ignore it. "you're definetly a winter." you say. she raises an eyebrow at you.

"what's that mean?" she asks. you smile.

"means you look good in jewel tones. royal blues, emerald greens, you'd look amazing in some rich purple." you say as you wander back to your shelves to pull some more scraps out.

sevika's pupils are dilated, her breathing rapid when you return, draping more colors over her shoulders.

"see that?" you ask from behind her, holding a scrap of royal purple up beside her cheek. "gorgeous." you whisper. "makes your pretty silver eyes sparkle." you say.

sevika's speechless, stuttering and shaking her head.

"purple might be a bit much for everyday wear though, huh?" you ask her. she gulps and nods, and you smile. "we'll save it for your suit." you say.

"my suit!?" she asks. you giggle and nod.

"every gangster needs a nice suit, sev." you say. "silco's gonna be dragging you up top for all kinds of fancy meetings and dinners."

"and how much will this suit cost me?" she asks. you laugh.

"it's on the house. perks of being my favorite customer." you say as you pull the scraps of green and purple off her shoulders. "blue or red?" you ask her, biting your lip and studying her reflection. sevika shrugs.

"i-i dunno." she says. "i'm your favorite customer?" she asks. you blink up at her, smiling at the soft look in her eye.

"yeah." you say.

"oh." she whispers. "well... you're my favorite tailor?" she tries. you burst into laughter, adoring the flustered look that takes over sevika's face.

"i better be." you tease her.

you reach up and gently trace over the light blue scars on her cheeks. "these are gorgeous, y'know." you say. sevika blushes beneath your touch. "i think red's your color." you say. "blue would be nice, but the red will make these pretty scars really pop." you say.

sevika takes a shaky breath, and you pull your hand away. "r-red works." she says. you smile.

"what kind of metal is your arm gonna be? bronze? silver?" you ask. she shrugs.

"gold with copper armor." she says. you grin.

"lovely." you say, smiling.

sevika starts coming by every evening, 'checking up on her cover,' she says, but from the way she just sticks around to keep you company, you figure it's a little more than that.

by the end of the week, sevika and you have shared three dinners, she's shown you the mockups for her new arm, you've shown her how to do a simple stitch, and you've both formed a pretty intense crush on one another.

on friday night, sevika comes in carrying take out, and you grin at her appearance.

"your cover's ready." you say. sevika's eyes widen.

"really?" she asks. you nod. "that was quick." she says. you shrug.

"only the best for my favorite customer." you say, leading her to the workroom.

she stands on the platform, used to the process by now, and you excitedly pull the box off the shelves, a pretty purple bow decorating it. you hand it to her, and sevika raises an eyebrow.

when she opens the box, she gasps.

"holy shit!" she says, pulling her poncho out of the box, throwing the cardboard over her shoulder. you laugh.

it's a cape-like thing, but you've adjusted it so the slit is on her right side, so she'll have full range of motion and functionality with her right arm. the neckline is pouch enough she can pull it up as a hood, and it's been hand embroidered with gold thread, little designs that match the swirls in the gold of her left lapel.

she looks up at you with tears in her eyes, and you gasp.

"is it okay?" you ask, nervously.

sevika scoffs and drops the cape, and your heart drops with it.

but before you can freak out, sevika's reaching forward with her arm, pulling you toward her, and smashing her lips against yours.

"it's beautiful." she whispers against your lips. you sigh, wrapping your arms around her waist and kissing her again.

ten minutes later, when you finally stop kissing, sevika bends down to pick up her poncho, shoving it in your hands. "put it on for me?" she asks. you smile and nod, turning her to face the mirrors as you gently guide her head through the hole, straightening it on her shoulders.

she grins at her reflection. "it's perfect." she says. "thank you." she whispers, tears in her eyes. you melt behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist and hooking your chin over her shoulder.

"do you wanna get dinner with me sometime? not here?" you ask. she grins and turns around in your arms.

"fuck yes i do." she says, before kissing you.

a month later, sevika's your girlfriend, her mech arm's been installed, and you've finished her suit.

she comes over to your store after work like she always does, and you grin at her appearance.

"hey." you say, pulling her back into the workroom before she can give you your hello kiss. she laughs as you shove her toward the platform. "strip." you command. she raises an eyebrow at you.

"here?" she asks.

you laugh. "not like that! your suit's ready." you say.

"oh." sevika says, a little disappointed. you flick her forehead and giggle, then help her out of her clothes.

when she's dressed in her suit, a three piece velvet purple, with golden thread and buttons, the waist hemmed just a tad bit high so a bit of her skin shows, you nearly cum in your pants.

"oh, i'm a genius." you say, nodding at your girlfriend all suited up. she laughs. "look." you say, turning her around to face the mirrors.

it's sevika's turn to gawk. she gasps and then grins, turning side to side, running her hands up and down the fabric.

"fuck... i look..."

"so fucking sexy." you finish for her. she blushes, but doesn't deny it.

"i was gonna say handsome." she says. you laugh.

"both are true, but mine is more accurate." you say. she grins, then turns around and pulls you into her arms.

"i'm in love with you." she says. "i know it's fast, and you don't have to say it back, but you're like the best thing that's ever happ--"

you cut her off with a sloppy kiss, fisting the lapels of her new suit jacket moaning against her lips. you pull away with a gasp, reaching up to trace her pretty blue scars, and you smile at her sparkling silver eyes.

"i love you too." you say. sevika grins. "have you ever given modeling any thought?" you ask.

sevika laughs and leans forward to kiss you again.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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