#NO BUT WHY IS HE WINNING HE HAS HUMAN HANDS AND FEET | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

macfrog · 6 months

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little aphrodite sex on fire chapter nine

the amount i had to write jean-marc in this chapter makes me nauseous. anywho. these two heal my soul and make me weep. please enjoy a little look back at the ceo's experience of paris.

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: we're going back to paris. this time, through joel's eyes.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, alcohol consumption, ostentatious flaunting of wealth (eat the rich i say), sugardaddy!joel, softdom!joel, oral (f and m receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, cursing, angst & pining, and...well. the ceo falls in love.

word count: 7.5k

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He wasn’t even sure you’d say yes when he asked. Thought you’d find it a bit much, flying halfway across the world just for one lousy meeting. He had what he’d say when you turned him down in mind, already: Sure, yeah, no problem. No, I just thought – Yeah. ‘s alright. I’ll bring you back som’ as a souvenir.

But you didn’t.

Oh, yeah? you’d said. Your face seemed to light – humored, impressed even. It made Joel feel braver. Reassured. You’ve a habit of doing that to him.

Mhm, he replied, chewing on the sub you’d ordered him after his conference call. He can’t remember what he promised Human Resources he’d have done within the hour. You walked in as he was saying it, and – well. Two days, he said, swallowing, Saturday Sunday.

And are you gonna make me take minutes while you meet with this Jean-Marc? You wiggled your fingers as you said it, letting the name drip through your lips in some kind of dreamy song. I don’t make the flight back unless they’re typed up by the time we leave? That the catch?

No catch. You don’t even gotta come to the meetin’.

I don’t have to –? Wow, Miller. You’re spoiling me, no? You kicked your leg, one knee hooked over the other. Your skirt shrinking up your thigh.

You were sat in the chair on the right, opposite his desk. You always sit in that one – and Joel’s still trying to figure out why. The working theory so far is that it’s at a good angle to watch the city below, and at the same time, see exactly who comes and goes in and out of the office during lunch.

But there has to be more to it, he thinks. He suspects. Martha’s desk is, like, five feet from yours. She spends her lunches in the conference room with Deb, shaking salads doused in balsamic vinegar and sharing cross-floor gossip. They invite you every day, and almost every day, you turn them down in favor of his shuttered office, the muted swish of cars on the street, the mock gasps and clutch of invisible pearls when you share that same fifth-floor gossip with him over the desk.

You’d been talking while he’d been thinking about the damn chair. He hadn’t heard a word of it. Huh? he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

Ain’t never listenin’, you muttered, peeling the damp paper back from your own sub.

Say it again, Joel said. Was just making a mental note to book dinner for us over there.

You scoffed, licking mayo from the corner of your lips. Why you making mental notes for anything? That’s what you pay me for.

And you were right – it is what he pays you for. Pays you to be his shadow, his right-hand man, his eyes and his ears and his entire brain, some days.

But lately – he doesn’t know. It’s different.

Truth be told, he has no idea what’s gotten into him. Looking at you the way he is. You’ve fucked around twice, now, and both times have been…nothing short of fucking amazing. Both times, Joel’s thought he might come within the first two minutes. Pushing inside your velvet walls, watching the way you roll forward, hearing the lewd moans pour across your lips.

He’s always thought you were attractive. It’s pretty fucking hard to ignore. Physically, sure – the look of your body, the way you know how to dress it. And the prettiest, softest face he’s ever seen. You can win him over in any discussion without a word, just by fluttering your eyelashes at him.

But you’re more than that. He thinks of you both as friends, maybe something more. Something deeper. It’s in the glances you steal, the silent lines tossed between one another. The way you read one another like an open book. Sometimes, he wonders if you actually can read his mind.

You’re intelligent, you’re funny, and you’re a hard fucking worker. Always on time, always seemingly juggling thirty things at once, and never letting him down. Nothing is too much, it seems; everything just is as it is. And he likes that about you. Simple. No baggage.

The morning of the flight, you send him a voice note telling him you’re downstairs. “And I ain’t lugging two cases up to the top floor only to bring ‘em back down when we’re leaving, Mr. CEO.”

He’s striding past Martha for the elevator before he’s even done listening to the message.

“Uh-uh!” she chirps, dashing over to slip between the brass doors behind him.

Joel sighs under his breath.

“I know better than to rely on you to remember all this stuff,” she says, holding up a file he’d asked her to put together for the trip.

She’s right not to – he’d probably leave that file in the car, or put it down somewhere and walk off without it. You’re the only one who can be trusted with it – with anything. You’re good at your job. And yet, he resents the fact that Martha’s about to lump you with even a fraction of responsibility for the next four days.

So when the Rolls pulls off and Martha is nothing but a pin-sized silhouette through the back window, still waving from the sidewalk, he pinches the folder in two fingers and tosses it to his left hip. Out of your grasp. You smile, eyes rolling, and pop your earbuds in. Joel breathes a laugh, eyes dipping again to skim read some contract on his phone. His hand is locked around your thigh. He likes that you just let him do it now.

Likes a lot of things about you. Likes that you put your music on shuffle, and then skip eleven tracks until you find one you actually want to listen to. Likes that your fingers twirl around the light chain of your necklace – the way they do anytime you’re nervous – and when he asks if you’re alright, you bareface lie to him and squeak, Yep.

Likes the glow the morning sun casts on you when you emerge from the car on the tarmac, pooling in the dimples on your cheeks, bright gold. The way you tug on the loose cotton of your sweatpants, bashful. Shy. And he likes that, when he follows you up the steps to the plane cabin, your awestruck expression lasts all of five seconds before that quick wit kicks straight back in.

“Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution,” you tell him, and Joel silently says his fifth thankful prayer this morning that he thought to ask you and not Martha.

He watches you settle into a seat by the window, watches you crane your neck to survey the view from the tiny circle of thick glass. He thinks about what he’d do if you were alone right now, if there weren’t crew slowly filing into the jet behind him.

He floats the idea. Tells you about the bedroom up back, tells you it’s cozy. You read between the lines just like he wants you to. And when the plane’s in the air, you follow after him.

You fall into bed together the same way you do when you arrive at the hotel. A tangle of limbs, of sweat and stuffy plane air. He sleeps the soundest he has in months – years, maybe. Pushed off by the sound of your breathing, the dip in the mattress by his side. The warmth which radiates from your body, the soft brush of your hand against his.

He puts it down to the travelling – the eight-hour flight, the plushy super king waiting on the other side. He puts it down to the way the world feels different, this side of the Atlantic. The privacy he feels come over the two of you, like sneaking into the next room: your voices muffled through the wall, your movements reduced to vague shadows beneath the door.

He watches you through sleepy eyes as you prance around the suite in the morning, twirling in and out of the bathroom while you get ready for the day. He wonders if this is what you’re like every day – if you spend your Monday mornings beaming like a little kid, toothbrush hanging lopsided from the corner of your mouth, white bubbles lining your gums. He wonders why he’s wondering. Why a part of him wants to see that version of you, too.

This version – now following his lead down Avenue Montaigne, doe-eyed and wonderstruck – is over all too soon. He’s dragged from her, from you, before he’s ready to leave.

His phone vibrates in his pocket right as he’s leading you out of some ridiculously overpriced jewelers – an irritating reminder of his meeting in an hour’s time.

“Fuck,” he whispers, holding you steady as you spin around to glimpse at the baroque building. “Hey, pretty girl,” he squeezes your hand, “I got some bad news.”

Your bottom lip pouts, eyes gleaming. It’s enough, he thinks, to convince him to stick around. If you asked him to, he’d text Jean-Marc right now and tell him to fuck off. But you tell him to go, tell him you’ll meet him back at the hotel once he’s done and you’re tired. With a teasing smirk and a tiny wave, you see him off down the cobbled street. He watches from the back window as you set off again, heading towards another iron-gated store.

Denis pulls up alongside the towering hotel, totters around the car to meet Joel as he stretches out of the Maybach. The square-jawed man stands with his hands linked, and nods enthusiastically when Joel thanks him.

“The shopping – I will take it back to the hotel,” he assures his boss, a wide smile on his lips.

He’s a good guy, Denis. He’s chauffeured Joel to five of these meetings over as many years – he knows the drill by now. Knows it’ll be a couple hours and a few whiskeys before he gets another call to pick him up.

His nodding doubles, more obedient when Joel asks him to make sure he listens for your call. “You mind stayin’ nearby that part of town?” he asks. “Just so – when she’s done, y’know…”

“Not at all,” Denis says, flapping two palms to the ground. Swatting away Joel’s concern, his worrying, his missing you.

He replies, a little absentmindedly, passing by the head of gray hair with a distant smile. “Thanks, Denis. See you later.”

Five meetings, five trips over here to be pestered by some obnoxious little man in an obnoxious little robe and obnoxious little loafers, and still, Joel never knows what to expect. He strides beneath the golden archway entrance into a domed lobby, every surface spotless and shining; marble counter in the center with a symmetrically-suited clerk sat behind.

She stands and smiles politely to Joel as he approaches, recognizing him with a flutter of her eyelashes. He feels the absence of your arm on his, an ache at his elbow.

“Monsieur,” she croons, pale fingers reaching for the telephone. She whispers something softly into the receiver and then nods, folding her painted lips together as she places the handset back into its cradle. With a floating hand aimed at the elevator behind her, she says, sultry and dreamlike, “He is ready for you.”

Joel fights an eyeroll with every fiber of his being. He wanders round the circular desk, bunches his shoulders into the tight elevator, and jams his thumb into the button marked P.

The doors shudder open when he reaches the top floor. He steps out slowly, waiting for the Frenchman to pounce on him like some kind of wild cat. Wouldn’t put it past him, Joel thinks. As he’s scanning the room, counting the six bouquets dotted around, there’s a single clap from behind the veiled curtains. A silhouette out on the terrace.

Jean-Marc swings between the sheer white, calling out to the lonely figure in his entryway. “If it isn’t my favorite American,” he sings, taking Joel by the arms and squeezing roughly. “How lovely to see you again, Joelie. Please, come.”

The sunlight blinds Joel when he steps out into it, peering over the city skyline under low brows. Jean-Marc is already sat at the top of a thin, glass table, pouring golden whiskey into a square glass and scooping two bulky ice cubes in. The nectar swirls around when the glass is held out to Joel, the ice tittering as he accepts it.

The table, a rocky terrain of pain au chocolat and brioche, pools of citrus spreads and dishes of butter. Joel keeps his hands to himself as Jean-Marc slaps jam onto a croissant, bronze flakes fluttering all over the table as he attempts to regale Joel with some investment into a casino.

“Riccardo says it is too much; I told him to go to hell. We will double the cost of the place, I know it, Joel. We have the eye for things like these, men like you and I, hm?”

Men like you and I, Joel thinks, lips tilting. He balances the glass on his thigh, watches the ice cubes turn over themselves. He thinks of you, thinks of the man you see him as. Thinks how tall he stands against the man Jean-Marc must see sat opposite him right now.

Thinks how rotten, and ugly, and how small the latter is. How easily you and your words could crumble him. All show, all sitting on perfect terraces with pretentious dickbags disguised as friends, drinking pissy whiskey with a plastered smile on his lips.

How comical it all is – the sound of yapping across the tabletop, These idiots would pay millions for manure if you painted it golden, the sprawling sheets of green-leafed plants, the headache-inducing flowers, the buckled loafers and the signet ring catching the sun.

How much he misses the weight of you on his hips, forearms flat on his chest, ear against his heart. The sound of your laughter lilting in his ear. The rosy smell of your skin and the feel of your eyelashes, featherlight on his cheek. He feels the distance between the two of you like elastic strung apart, stretching thinner and thinner, weaker and frailer, ready to snap into two halves at any moment.

“Anyways,” Jean-Marc says, lifting the wine bottle shakily. It clinks brashly against the lip of his glass, a painful scrape. Joel wonders if he’s already halfway to hammered. “Tell me how you’ve been, Joelie.”

Joel tells him he’s been fine. Business is fine. Money is fine. Company’s doing fine. Everything’s fucking fine. Easiest answer to avoid further questioning, to satiate Jean-Marc’s constant thirst for news, or intel, or just plain gossip.

He slips up, though. Makes the one colossal mistake he spent all morning hoping and praying and drilling directly into his brain that he wouldn’t.

Jean-Marc asks how his flight was, sticking the damp end of a cigarette to his bottom lip.

Joel says, “Good, yeah. We got here, maybe, ten o’clock last night.”

And Jean-Marc’s eyebrows arch. His hands freeze, match held against the striker strip. “We?” he asks, white stick flapping between his teeth.

“Uh,” Joel shifts in his seat. Your gentle wave, the corners of your lips, the toss of hair over your shoulder. It’s as though Jean-Marc can see his thoughts played on a reel before him, the haste with which Joel attempts to wipe you from his own mind. “Yeah,” he clears his throat, “Jerry ‘n Lisa. Len and Pol.”

The Frenchman’s eyes narrow, a grin pulling on his pink lips. “We,” he says again, whipping the match roughly against the strip. Speaking into cupped hands, a cloud of white billowing from his leathery fingers, he murmurs, “Joel brought company with him to Paris, yes? Who is the lucky tourist? Une petite amie?”

Joel’s tongue dabs at the sickly wash of whiskey on his lips. He thinks to grab the fucker by the throat, throttle him until the idea of you rattles from his skull, spilling back into Joel’s safe hands where you belong.

He almost fucking lies. Almost says it’s just Martha, or Drew, or his fucking mother. But Jean-Marc is like a rat, scurrying along after a source of water. He’ll find it in the end. They always do.

He breathes your name, reluctant to let it go. Jean-Marc cocks his head, leans in, a swirling snake of silky smoke lifting from the cigarette between his fingers. Joel repeats it, voice louder, but flatter. Breaks it into too many syllables. Lets his host hear every bite of annoyance.

“She’s my assistant,” he says, and Jean-Marc claps again.

“Your assistant! How wonderful. And where is she today? She is not…” his fingers circle the air, disturbing the trail of smoke, “…assisting you?”

“Gave her the afternoon off.” Joel lifts his glass to his lips. The geometric shape amplifies his voice, bass like the growl of a bear. “Busy couple days. She deserves some downtime.”

He hates the sound of your name as it peels from Jean-Marc’s tongue. Like a hangnail, the residue a gorge of bloody, torn skin. Your name is Joel’s favorite sound, he realizes now, and the way this little asshole keeps butchering it boils an anger so hot and so quick under his skin that he’s not sure he can hold it at bay.

It’s not as if he owns you or your name – far from it. He has no desire to be anything more than a placeholder: somewhere for you to slot your hand, rest your head, curl your body against. Still, he feels a direct protectiveness over you right now. An impulse to stand in front of Jean-Marc’s tiny figure, arms wide, stopping him from picturing you or learning about you or meeting you.

Which is, of course, exactly what the little fucker suggests.

A wet pff sound as he rids his mouth of bitter smoke, and he offers to host breakfast in the morning.

“No, no, we, uh –” Joel’s hands are up, like pleading with the man, whiskey kissing the lip of its glass, “– you don’t have to – Look, Jean-Marc, I’m sure you’re busy enough with all –”

“Nonsense!” Jean-Marc waves a hand. Ash sprinkles down the cuff of his robe. “It would be my pleasure. Shall we say, ten?”

Joel grumbles, eye following the flight of a bird in the distance. What are you doing right now? Are you back in the suite, trying on the outfit you picked out together? Are you still wandering down the streets, drinking up the lavish city like a perfect little cocktail of bliss and wonder?

And what the fuck does he have to do to excuse himself, to come find you, to wrap his arms around you and never let you leave his side again?

He feels idiotic. Juvenile. Like a stupid little teenager, pining for his junior year girlfriend. The feelings all sharp and brittle, prodding his heart roughly anytime he thinks too hard on them.

When he looks back to Jean-Marc – the cigarette tearing closer and closer to his fingers, an expectant smile on his lips – he concedes.

“Ten is fine,” he says, and suddenly, the sky casts over.

You’re on the terrace when he finally returns to the hotel room. Head aching from the alcohol and forced conversation, he drags himself over to you.

The sight of you, hair lifting in the breeze, the sweet smell and soft touch under his hands feels like the pouring of honey on a raw throat, like cool water lapping at his waist on a scorching day. And he needs more, and he feels the saliva pool beneath his tongue, and you’re touching him and talking to him and all he can think about is replacing his saliva with you – with every drop of you that you’ll lend him.

You follow his every request – parting your legs, making room for him between them, opening yourself to him like coming home after work, like sinking deep into your shared bed, like pushing your salt-slicked fingers on his tongue and chanting taste me taste me love me need me.

Petals opening, shards of orange separating. His cock throbs in his pants when he feels the circle of your hips against his jaw, the taste of sweet, sweet nectar spilling from your center. His clothes still smell of the smoke from Jean-Marc’s weedy lips; the sweat on his skin borne from three hours sat in the sun, dehydrated by whiskey, discussing money and gold and then money again.

He doesn’t want to fuck you here, like this. As that puny, pompous prick he’s felt like since the second he wandered through the Frenchman’s hotel doors. He can’t. You deserve him clean, new. You deserve the Joel you think he is – yours. Affected by your touch alone, moved by the gleam in your eye. You deserve him, Joel decides, on your terms.

And that same night, stood in the same spot, dregs of sunlight replaced by molten moonlight, staring at the dazzling Eiffel Tower against the deep blue sky – that same night, when he turns and clocks the silhouette of your body just feet from him, he realizes that this is it.

He’s sure he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, standing in the dim light, your fingers playing with the bust of the silk robe draped over your body. The jewelry on your neck catching the light like his own private attraction, his own little spectacle. Just for him.

He forgets any other version of himself. Shakes them off like seawater flying from his body as he emerges from the ocean. Venus stood before him; hair lifting in the light, palm over her breast. And he doesn’t notice the departure of those old versions; doesn’t feel the way they tear from his skin. His eyes are glued on you, only you, everything around the two of you reducing to dark matter. There is only his awestruck gaze pointed to your radiant form, as though the scene sits alive in the eye of Botticelli or Michelangelo.

Baby, he whispers, and you move forward, dragging him with you under a wave of lust and rebirth.

He stirs the next morning to the feeling of a weight shifting across his body, two divots in the mattress either side of his waist. Something nuzzling, warm and featherlight, into the nook below his earlobe. Wet kisses trailing down his neck.

There’s no weight of you in the crook of his arm anymore. He’s scooping thin air. He lifts it, and his palm meets the baggy cotton of his own T-shirt, draped over your body, draped over him.

A laugh brushes between his lips. “Mornin’, darlin’,” he croaks, voice still low and broken.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice like silk and sugar and tufts of lustrous clouds.

He opens his eyes and you’re hovering over him. Tip of your nose circling his, hips light as air across his own.

You look so fucking cute, he thinks. He’d take what he had last night – you, dripping in black lace and bound by satin straps – every night for the rest of his life, if he could. If you’d grant him it. But, this. This.

You – in Joel’s clothes and nothing else. You – the curl of your hair now a lazy wave, the smoky afterthought of your half-removed makeup. The smell of sex still lingering on your skin, the taste of Joel still home on your tongue. Each part of you laced with a part of him.

You – holding yourself up over him, less than an inch apart, and all Joel thinks to do is wrap his arms around your back and let you drop onto his body; his strong, solid body, which accepts the weight of you with only so much as a tiny grunt over his lips when you fall on top of him.

You giggle. He swears he feels butterflies in his stomach. He prays you don’t feel them, fluttering purposefully against your ribcage.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumble into his collarbone, words curled by the smile on your lips. You suck a mark into the hot skin, teeth and flesh and sel et sucre, and then push off from his chest, nudging his thighs wider with your knee.

Your tongue drags a wet trail down his chest, from solid sternum to suppler stomach, following the thickening of hair the lower you move. You leave wet kisses along the crests of his hipbones, the gentle slope of skin leading you to the wide base of his cock, already stiff.

Joel’s breath hitches when your tongue sweeps across it. Your eyes lift and lock with his, fingers taking a heavy hold of him. He smiles, tongue sitting patiently behind his teeth.

“Go on, angel,” he nods, “put that pretty little mouth on daddy.”

You obey instantly, as hungry for it as he is, your tongue swiping from the base of him up, curling around as you reach the head. Swollen, gleaming, slit dripping with slick precome that you lick with just the tip of your tongue and send a roll of pleasure across every nerve in Joel’s body.

He falls back, hands searching for the back of your skull as your lips sink further down down down, tightening around the smooth skin, stopping only when they meet the tuft of hair decorating his dick. His tip pushes against the back of your throat. His head begins to spin.

His back arches, hands anchored on your head, holding you steady as you bob up and down. His shoulders push heavy into the mattress, tummy sucks in until the points of his ribcage mold through his skin. And, oh – you’re so soft with it, so wet and so warm and so good with your tongue, kitten licks over his tip, wet fist wrapped tight around the width of him.

You lift your hand and meet his halfway up his stomach, fingers intertwining, Joel’s knuckles instantly whitening.

“Doin’ so good, baby,” he groans, gasping when your throat constricts around him again.

You gag, choking with a wet grunt, but you never pull away. A quick pause, a heavy breath from your nostrils, and your movements resume.

“’s alright,” Joel coos, fingers rubbing against the back of your hand, “you got it. Atta-girl, fuck.”

His hips begin to lift, slowly jerking up into your mouth. He looks down, loosens the grip you have on his hand only to run his thumb delicately across your cheek, dabbing lightly at the tears in the corner of your eye.

You suck hard around him, cheeks hollowing, tongue flattening to his underside to let him fuck your mouth – a rhythm of sopping sounds and heartbeat hums from your throat. He’s close. He’s so fucking close.

“Just like that,” he tells you, and you blink up at him. Moans muffled by the mouthful of cock, saliva and sex slipping from your swollen lips. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come. You’re such a good girl – you want daddy to give it to you?”

Mhm, you mumble into the warmth of his cock, the vibration of your throat on the eager skin enough to send Joel over the fucking edge. He throws his head back, lifts his hips up to you, and fills your mouth at the same rate he fills the room with the sound of his orgasm.

You take every last drop. You’re so good for him. Once he stills, once the screaming in his ears subsides, once the room slowly desaturates back to normal, a faded, blurry normal – he sits up and hooks his hands under your arms, pulling you up into him.

You collapse against his chest for the second time this morning, giggling and licking the last of his come from your mouth. Joel guides your jaw towards his, lips meeting in the middle, and licks the salty aftertaste from your tongue.

He rolls you both over, your thighs sitting safe on his hips.

“I know,” you sigh, head rolling against the curve of his arm beneath, “I know. You don’t gotta tell me.”

“Tell you what, angel?” he asks, one eyebrow lifting.

“Best head you ever had. I know.”

He scoffs, lips finding the hinge of your jaw. You giggle into his ear, a sound softer than birds cooing at the break of dawn, sweeter than the first bite of ripe fruit – the sharp taste bursting across his tongue and coating his teeth in sugar, numbed by the holy coaxing of feathered doves.

“You’re good with it, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, and the giggle erupts into a laugh which fuels him enough to follow your roll out of bed, tear his shirt from your shoulders, and slip into the shower behind you, kneeling before you when you turn to look.

Joel’s second encounter with Jean-Marc in as many days, goes about as well as the first.

He balls his fists as he introduces the pair of you, watches like a caged and bound animal as Jean-Marc’s eyes loop all around your face, your shoulders, the pull of your dress around your waist.

He knows he’s being quiet. The glances you keep stealing at him tell him you know it, too. He wishes there was something he could say, something his lips might be able to carve into a neat little sentence. Tongue sanding the jagged edges of what he’d really like to say into a joke, a quip to ease the tension you so obviously feel.

But he can’t. His tongue isn’t blunt, isn’t defensive. It’s sharp like the kiss of venom, protective and aggressive. He knows he’d do better to hold it tight between his teeth.

The best he finds himself able to do is keep a heavy hand on your thigh, let you wrap your fingers around his own, squeeze you in place of whispering in your ear.

You hold your own, up against Jean-Marc. He knew you would. He learned less than a week into working with you, not to underestimate you. Your quick tongue, the million and one observations hidden behind the flash of a frown. He knows you can read Jean-Marc – probably better than he can, having known the guy ten years.

It doesn’t make it feel any safer, though. Luring you into a lion’s den. He knows you’ll make it out alive, but he can’t stand the thought of the claw marks in your skin.

That feeling washes over him again – that urge scored so deep into his bones that it hits marrow, to put himself between you and anything which might come to harm you. He swallows it down with the acidic sting of orange juice – slots it somewhere safe in his chest until he can assess whatever the fuck it is. Whatever the fuck it means.

His hand tightens around your leg when Jean-Marc mutters something to his assistant. Joel decides against asking you what it means, for fear he’ll tear the Frenchman limb from limb, strips of satin robe strung across the paved patio.

The assistant – tall, thin, looming over you like impending doom on legs – offers to show you the view of the city. And as Jean-Marc settles into your empty chair, the image of that torn satin robe shunts closer towards reality.

“I wonder if you might indulge me,” Jean-Marc slithers, pinching thin air with one hand and resting the other on the back of Joel’s chair.

“I wonder,” Joel mutters, finger tapping angrily on the table.

“She is a wonderful character. Beautiful, and very smart, I can see. I would be crazy not to ask, you must understand, Joel –”

He can’t help himself. He bites before Jean-Marc lays the trap. His head shakes. “She’s – she’s –”

And suddenly there isn’t a single word in the English dictionary worthy of describing you. Not a single combination of letters, of sounds, of syllables and phonetics that would do you justice.

He settles for, “I wouldn’t be anywhere without her.” It feels fucking redundant. It is fucking redundant.

Jean-Marc nods. “And you know that I see the value in things, hm?”

Joel dead-eyes his opponent, gaze narrowing. “What are you sayin’, Jean-Marc?”

“Well,” he shrugs, gesturing to the shadow pointing out the Eiffel Tower, “Paul is fantastic. Dedicated, hardworking. But it is a lot, for one person. I am sure you can understand, being that you have two assistants yourself.”

“And you wanna take one of ‘em out from under me?”

Jean-Marc chuckles, shaking his head. Tutting. Teeth grinding. He senses the bitter tone, hears the distortion of words squeezing through gritted teeth. “Not at all, my dear Joelie, not at all.”

Placating. It pisses Joel off more.

“I simply would like to raise the question of: would she like to be…taken?”

“Taken?”

“Hired. By me.”

The smug grin which pulls over taut lips incites Joel with a desire to punch the luminous veneers from their gummy holders. His fist balls again, nails digging harshly into his palm. He swallows roughly.

“She seems…she seems happy enough where she is to me.” He glances over, catches your eye for a fleeting second before Paul’s ghostly hand perches on your shoulder and turns your attention away again. Resigned, he adds, “You would have to ask her. I ain’t speakin’ for her.”

Jean-Marc’s leer only grows. “Ask her,” he repeats, nodding. “That is an idea.” He pushes out of his chair with a squeal of wood across stone, calling to the party, “Why don’t we take a drive? There is so much of the city I would love to show you – both of you, of course.”

Before he knows it, Joel’s on his feet, too, panic hammering through every muscle in his body. He tosses some half-assed excuse to the breeze; a half-truth, a desperate attempt to pull you away from the beady eyes and sharp claws of Jean-Marc and his assistant, and back over to his side. He takes your arm and scatters, pulling you past four, five, six bursting bouquets, your heels clicking along the polished floor, your head spinning.

He can feel the blood thrashing through his veins as the elevator arrives back in the lobby. Can see the shadow of Paul the assistant still over your shoulder, the place his hand sat like charcoal on white linen. He feels red hot, anger mixed with panic mixed with a word he hasn’t let slip just yet. He covers it by answering your questions shakily, diverting the ones about the conversation on the terrace.

And then you’re back in the safety of Denis’s car. You’re back to being on your own, together. No third set of eyes watching your every move, studying you like you’re some doll to be observed, or worse. You’re touching him again, holding his arm, caressing his cheek. His breathing eases, his body relaxes into the backseat of the Maybach.

You tell him you’d like to see the Louvre. So Joel takes you to see the Louvre.

Joel Miller has never been in love.

He’s said it, sure. Said it plenty to Avery.

G’night, love you.

I’m so proud of you, sweet; I love you so much.

Thanks for makin’ dinner, babe, I love you.

It began to take the form of breath, passing over his tongue with as much ease and instinct as his lungs would push out air. She looked at him a certain way – he’d say he loved her. They’d talk about the future – he’d tell her he loved her. They fought, over his working hours or the interest rates at different banks or whose family to spend Christmas with – and he’d remind her he loved her.

He meant every single one. He did, truly, love her. He loved her auburn hair, the way it’d sweep over her shoulders like a wave of fire. He loved the way she would pause to take thirty photos of the sky at sunset. He loved how homely she was, how simple and warm she could be. Her recipe books lining the shelves in her kitchen. Her pajamas folded neatly at the foot of her bed, waiting for her at the end of the day.

He loved her enough to spend four years with her, a life split nearly down the middle. Never seeping into one another. His side of the bed, and hers. His items in the fridge, and hers. His fucking bathrobe, and hers.

But right now, standing in a jam-packed room, maneuvering awkwardly around museum guides and backpacked tourists, avoiding the knee-height glass barriers and dodging fucking selfie sticks – Joel knows: he has never been in love.

Not until the moment he turns from some headless bust to search the room – the dark marble walls and great, carved arches; the white Parisian sky illuminating everything in a pale glow. Not until he catches a glimpse of you amongst the sea of bodies – stood before the Venus de Milo, staring up in wonder at Aphrodite like she’s the first thing in the world you’ve ever truly seen. The gentle lean of her body, the low sling of marble fabric around her waist, the soft dimple of her navel.

The way your eyes scan every detail of her form – every fold draped over her thigh, ever chisel mark and chip in her torso. The round swell of her breasts and the wavelike swirl of her hair. Barely blinking, afraid to lose sight of her for even a second.

Joel’s never been in love. Not until this very moment.

He only turned to make some quip about…well, now he can’t fucking remember, can he? Something irrelevant. Something so mundane, so meaningless, so dull that he wishes he could take back every word he ever said to you and use the breath more wisely – use the time spent making stupid jokes and work orders, just to look at you. Watch you, like he is right now. Every other thought, every worry and concern drop weightlessly from his mind, with such ease that he doesn’t feel the loss.

Your fixed stare up at the statue’s set face, the slow pacing of your heels, ankles crossing over one another as you pivot around her. And the look of wonder on your face – as if Joel instantly recognizes eight-year-old you, thumbing through the pages of the first art book she was ever gifted, copying the curled hair and round shoulders of the marble goddess in a pencil sketch.

Haloed by the towering windows behind you, arms crossed over your chest. Lips melting from a content smile to agape, and then pinning back in a smile again.

And suddenly – he can’t remember the flame of hair over his ex’s shoulder. Doesn’t remember a single meal she ever cooked for him. In the blink of an eye, he realizes he doesn’t want a life neatly split anywhere.

He realizes that his life, the way he wants it, was always meant to be meshed with yours. Intertwined so tightly that there is no his and hers. Last night at dinner, you couldn’t decide between the bœuf bourguignon and the confit de canard, so Joel ordered both – as well as what he wanted – and the two of you picked at three separate meals. Holding out forkfuls to feed one another, comparing and judging them like professional chefs on a fucking cooking show.

Back at the hotel, you fell asleep in his arms. Your head nestled under his chin; your arms curved around his shoulders. In the center of the bed, laying at an angle. When he got up this morning, the robe he threw around himself smelled like your perfume. The terrycloth on your shoulders, tinged with the weak scent of whiskey.

None of it – not the relationship you had before any of this happened, not the strolling over one boundary to the next, not the blurring of lines between colleague, and friend, and lover – has been neat. None of it has made any sense. And maybe that’s why he fucking trusts it so much.

Joel spent the first two weeks after you fooled around in his office swearing he wasn’t that guy. Staring himself down in the mirror with a balled fist, a pointed finger that said, You don’t sleep with your fucking assistant, you idiot.

And now, standing opposite you in a crowded room and only seeing you – he knows. He finally gets it.

He loves you. He – no, fuck.

He doesn’t just love you.

He’s on his knees, dagger through his heart –

blood spilling all over the pristine floor –

pathetic and adolescent in its nature –

butterflies tearing through his stomach as destructive as a hurricane –

in love with you.

He thinks to say it. To wander over and kiss your shoulder, hook his chin into your collarbone like he did in the Dolce and Gabbana store, and whisper, Hey. I love you. Did you know that?

But he knows that’d be fucking insane. Knows you’d probably unstick yourself from him and back up, tripping in your step. Paris ruined.

He knows he’d probably get so far as curving around your back and then bottle it, anyway. The words would die in his throat. You’d just lean back into him, none the wiser. You’d still make his heart pound.

Pound the way it does when you reach for his wrist and drag him off into the next room, and the next, and the next. And with every piece of art your eyes fall upon, another fragment of your soul is revealed to Joel. The depth of da Vinci, the color of Bruyère. The scale of Veronese and the beauty of Canova.

And with every part revealed, a desire blooms in him to learn the next part. Understand you; know you better than he knows himself. See you, the way he’s seeing you right now.

He takes his ex’s lead, when you’re stood in front of the Mona Lisa. All those fucking sunset photos, like she was afraid to forget what it looked like. The thought becomes urgent, pushing past every other meaningless word in his head.

He taps you on the shoulder, says your name lightly. When you turn, he’s already holding the phone up, watching your delayed motions through the screen. Please don’t let me forget this. Don’t let me forget you, like this.

“Smile,” he says, and you do.

“You’re cheesy,” you tell him, wandering off from the painting.

He’s still staring at the photo. At your dimpled cheeks, your red lips. Staring at your eyes, seeing a new glint in them that wasn’t there before. Like eight-year-old you smiling back at him, trusting him, knowing him.

Joel breathes, “She’s beautiful,” taking your waist in a steady arm to guide you out of the room.

You misunderstand him. He knows it. He doesn’t correct you.

She’s beautiful – the Mona Lisa. But she only became beautiful the second you laid eyes on her. The second she handed you a piece of your soul, the transaction laid bare for Joel to witness. A bucket list item ticked, or simply your childhood self, stood before one of her own seven wonders.

Everything is only beautiful after it comes into contact with you.

There’s a change in you, the morning that you leave. Something low-lying, melancholy and blue. Joel feels it under your skin, in the grip you keep on his hand the entire car ride from the hotel to the airport.

“You good?” he asks, walking up the steps of the jet, shelled around you. Safe, with him, safe with him.

You nod, but you’re watching the Maybach roll off, rounding the corner back to the airport. The same way you watch the city disappear beneath the clouds as the plane takes off.

The same way you glance over to him, your glossy eyes twinkling, pearly tears swimming across your waterline. Joel gets it. Figures he feels much the same.

He leads you slowly back through to the dark cabin bedroom, where you peel the shirt and sweats from your body. He watches from the bed, arm outstretched and inviting you to burrow into his side, curl around his body, loop your legs through his. His own little Aphrodite, the curves and the dimples and all the beauty to go with her.

He sinks his shoulder to let you nuzzle into him, let your slow-closing eyes follow his movements like rocking you back and forth to sleep. You link your arm through his, locking your bodies tight together. Joel slows his typing down, moves gentler, so you can fall asleep without being nudged too much by his arm.

You mumble something into the sleeve of his tee. He pauses. Looks down at your already closed eyes, your parted lips.

“What’d you say, baby?”

You take a deep, slow breath. Already sleeping, he thinks. And then, in the sigh that escapes from your mouth, you whisper to him.

“Please don’t ever leave.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #sugardaddy!joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #sex on fire

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ponderingmoonlight · 7 months

Text

Gojo's little sister seducing Choso at Shibuya Part ll

Part l can be found here

Pairing: Choso x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Synopsis: After getting back on track of saving her big brother, (y/n) catches Mahito's attention. Choso has to decide if he continues searching for Yuji or rushed to her aid before she gets killed.

Warnings: injury, near death, lil spice in the end, I hope you're sat, not proofread

Tags: @96jnie @shebibtedmypepnis @chososwhoresblog @sanicsmut @curlynoodle937565 @ifuckfictionalmen @nyahctrl @khaleesihavilliard @xuanzangg

You lift yourself off the ground and straighten your uniform. Back to reality, focus your mind on what’s in front of you. It’s your mission to free your big brother, to protect the others.

What about Yuji, though? Choso made it very clear that he’ll hunt him down. Choso with that striking violet eyes, Choso with that perfect lips that kissed you without compassion only minutes ago. Lord have mercy, how is it even possible for a man to be that attractive? And the way his strong biceps felt under your longing hands…

Stop. You shake your head, desperately trying to tame down your pounding heart. This is not the right time to think about things like that. Is Yuji strong enough to face him? Wherever he is, Megumi should be right by his side. The two of them could potentially make it.

Potentially.

Satoru isn’t far away, you’re almost there. Is it really wise to turn around and look after them? If you free Satoru first, he’ll figure everything out eventually. Satoru is your priority, the strongest of them all. And maybe Choso will have some mercy. After all, you showed him very clearly that not all humans are a threat.

Your feet carry you into the direction of the train station on their own. God, how much you hope to see that man again, that man who swept you off your feet like none other. You melted like butter in his rough hands, glimmering violet eyes burning themselves into your mind.

“When I’m done here, I’ll go find you, Choso Kamo.”

-Choso’s POV-

“Oi Choso, can you hear me?”

He signs, rolling his eyes in instinct. What the hell does that jerk want from him now? He should have never agreed on these stupid communicators.

“Unfortunately.”

“Huh, why are you so mean? Did I do anything wrong? Are you-“

“What is it?”, he grumbles.

Mahito gets on his nerves since they’ve first met. Choso only agreed on working with them because he needs to revenge his brothers. He’d rather talk to you, though. God, how is he supposed to think about anything else but your vibrant smile and the way your heels are clicking so elegantly? You are the most breathtaking woman he ever laid his eyes on for 150 years, the only one that really caught his attention. And the way you whimpered against his lips, completely soaked in water and face lit up in neon purple. The thought alone makes his mind wander…

“Did you know Gojo has a little sister? Crazy, isn’t it!? Well, found her alone in a hallway not far away from the seal. You’ve got some time to kill her?”

Choso’s heart drops immediately, eyes widen at Mahito’s words. Fuck, he found you. Why him? Why did you decide to move on, right into their open arms? Of course, you came here to safe your brother, it’s only logical that you follow their traces. But still…

He can’t let them harm you.

“Hands off, I’ll go get her”, Choso hisses.

“Hmm, let’s have a race, shall we? Whoever gets to her and kills her first wins, what fun!”

No. no, no, no. Even though you showed your skills more than clearly when fighting against him, Mahito is a powerful opponent, maybe too strong for even you. If he finds you…

There is a high chance that he’ll kill you.

“No, wait!”, Choso shouts into the device.

No reaction.

“Fuck!”

With a loud bang he crashes the communicator into a nearby wall. He doesn’t have time for something like this right now. Fuck, he waited for this moment of revenge for way too long.

But you.

Your striking blue orbs linger through his mind, the way you smiled at him so cocky.

“Let’s be…friends.”

His hands clench into fists, mind fighting against his heart. He knows it’s wrong to run after you, to even care about you the slightest. But he can’t help himself.

His feet carry you back into the opposite direction, back to you.

-(y/n)’s POV-

“And who the hell are you, shitface?”, you question, gazing at the man in front of you while tilting your head to the side in a playful way.

He isn’t nearly as handsome as Choso, that’s for sure. But he’s definitely on the same side as him. Is he human? He sure looks like it. But something about him is off.

“Why so rude? This is our first meeting after all”, he remarks and makes a pout.

“Oh I’m so sorry, did it hurt your feelings that I called you shitface? I thought you already knew”, you purr.

“You should look in the mirror. After all you’re almost a replica of Satoru Gojo.”

“Caught me there”, you give in.

“And I’ll beat your ass just like my brother did.”

You yank forward, ready to hit him full force with your bare fist. He doesn’t seem like a strong opponent, definitely not tougher that Choso. But why is he here, then?

Faster than you’re able to react he slams you into a nearby wall, making your vision go dark for a moment. You cough on your own blood, too stunned to speak. That man is a cursed spirit, that’s for sure. And a damn strong one.

Your limbs are already burning like hell when you stand back up, wiping away a trail of blood that escapes your mouth with an elegant smile.

“Not nice to beat a lady this rudely”, you comment dryly.

In the dark, your mind races. Who is this? What is his weakness? What are you supposed to do? If that’s a special grade curse, your chances are pretty ugly. To be exact, none other than Satoru himself would be able to defeat him. Well, at least that explained how they were even able to seal your big brother.

“Well, you’re human. I don’t make any exceptions there”, he remarks.

He lunges himself at you, arms deformed into sharp blades. Over and over, you hide your limbs from his merciless attacks while your mind searches for a way out of your misery. It seems like your cursed energy just bounces off him with ease, despite the power you lunge at him, he parries every slash so effortlessly that you don’t know what to do.

Slowly but surely, your attacks start to get weaker, mind more and more distracted. You can’t keep up with him, it is impossible to escape the bows of his bare hands, slicing your delicate skin open with ease over and over, breaking your bones like sticks.

Suddenly, he grabs your throat and pushes your body against a wall, feet hanging in the air. Fuck, it feels as if he’s crushing your windpipe with the sheer force of his fingers, watery eyeballs feelings as if they’ll plop out any minute. Is this really how you’ll die?

Oh, how much you wish to see them again one last time. You never got the chance to say goodbye to your brother. And even though you were never as gifted and talented as him, he always strongly believed in your abilities. How would he take it, hearing you got killed by a random curse on a random Halloween night in a dark hallway while trying to save his ass?

And what about Choso? You only met him one time, but his words sounded like a secret promise, a promise to see each other again. You just wished you had more time. Fuck, why did he defeat you this easily? Your whole body screams out in agony, sliced open multiple times by his cruel blades.

“Funny, now you suddenly don’t have such a big mouth anymore”, he throws at you, maniac grin plastered on his face.

“But don’t worry, at least you’ll be reunited with your big brother then. A nice little family meeting, right?”

Focus, don’t give up so easily. Your hands fight against his, trying to push him away, to scratch him, to kick him. But your vision starts to get blurry, ears ringing. You need, you can-

You feel yourself fainting away into sweet darkness.

Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe Choso is better off without you, going his own way.

Choso’s eyes widen in pure horror when his dark premonitions come true. Without thinking twice, he slices Mahito’s hands off, your numb body falling to the ground roughly.

“That’s cheating!”, Mahito cries out in frustration.

You gasp for air like a fish on land, lungs slowly but surely filling themselves with life again. Fuck, this was really close. What happened? Why did he let go of you?

“Get your disgusting hands off her.”

Your heart stops. Choso.

He walks towards you, eyes scanning your figure. You are severely injured, but still conscious. He needs to get you out of here as soon as possible. If Mahito hits you one more time…

No, he can’t think this through. Despite the countless lives he took, all the lives that vanished in front of his eyes, the thought of losing you seems unbearable.

Why does he feel this way? What has gotten into him to start a fight over a human woman he knows for maybe an hour? This is reckless, this is dumb-

This is all he’s able to think about at the moment.

With a swift motion he lifts you up in his arms, your weak head resting against his broad chest.

“Choso?”, you breathe out, lids desperately fighting against the urge to close.

“What you up to? Do you like her? I mean, for a human, he has a pretty nice face and really mesmerizing hair and eyes but…she’s the enemy, Choso. I’m sure Geto doesn’t like hearing about this.”

“I don’t give a damn about all of you. I need her to fulfill my own mission, so stay out of it”, Choso hisses through gritted teeth, walking past Mahito confidently.

“I really don’t have a good feeling about this!”, Mahito shouts behind both of you, but Choso is already on his way back into the lonely hallways of the train station.

“What are you doing here?”, you mumble.

Fuck, everything hurts. You are pretty sure that that fucker broke a few of your ribs, let alone the countless wounds he inflicted on you. Damn, you almost died. If Choso didn’t show up…

“I came here to save you”, he explains briefly, eyes focused in front of him.

“I don’t need a prince in shining armor”, you mutter along with a weak attempt to free yourself out of his grip.

“Pathetic”, Choso notes.

He lets you down gently, his hands lifting up your skirt just enough to inspect your wound along with making your lower body screaming in excitement.

“Don’t be shy, you’re totally allowed to touch me handsome.”

“Would you just stop saying such things?”

Again, that cute little blush creeping up his cheeks. Oh, how much you longed to see him again. Even though you didn’t plan on meeting him so soon. God, the pain throbbing through your whole body seems to eat you up alive.

“Y’know, I have nothing against repeating that one part of our last encounter…”

“You mean me throwing you against the wall?”, he grumbles.

“You can throw me into bed anytime.”

“Damnit (y/n).”

He stops in his tracks, hands grabbing your shoulders while his eyes seem to pierce through you.

“I’m really trying to focus but you’re making it hard for me when you’re saying such things. You are injured and need to be taken care of”, he clarifies.

“I’d love you to take care of me.”

You grin like an idiot, making Choso almost lose what’s left of his self-control. How is it possible to look so damn fine and have a cheeky mouth after being severely injured? Don’t you understand that Mahito would have killed you right on the spot if it wasn’t for him?

“Can’t you be serious for once?”

“Thank you for saving me”, you suddenly blurt out.

His eyes soften.

“I just don’t understand why. I know you were on your way to kill Yuji. What made you stop? Why were you even there?”

“Mahito told me about your presence. I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

His very own words sound so dumb in his ears that it hurts. Damn, he knows you for a few hours, you are one of his enemies. Why is he kneeling in front of you, why did he even save you in the first place? It shouldn’t bother him, you shouldn’t mean a single thing to him. But the way you look up through your wet lashes with doe eyes, mouth slightly parted…

He can’t help but give in. Gently, he presses his lips against yours, careful to not hurt you. Fuck the rules, fuck the others, fuck the mission. His intuition tells him to pull you closer, let his hands roam through your hair, kiss you with so much passion that he can’t catch his breath.

Are you dreaming? The way his soft lips feel against yours sure make you feel this way. Instinctively, you wrap your aching arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, feeling him even better. Oh god, how much you needed this. Your heart screams at you like never before, butterflies invading your stomach. This feels just right. Yes, that is all you ever wanted.

“Choso”, you whimper into the kiss.

Hearing his name out of your sweet mouth simply drives him insane. He has to have you. No, he fucking needs you. Something about you tells him that you are special, that there is no way he’ll let you go again. Maybe it is time to switch sides. Maybe he should listen to your side of this story. Maybe, just maybe.

“You’ll be the death of me”, he mumbles against your parted lips, fingertips caressing your cheek.

“Let’s die together, then”, you reply, pulling him in roughly for another passionate kiss.

-Bonus-

“Tell me this is a joke, (y/n)”, Satoru mutters, staring wide-eyed at Choso’s and your intertwined hand.

“Well, a lot happened while you were resting your ass”, you remark, eyes fluttering by a glimpse at the breathtaking gorgeous man next to you.

“Don’t worry sensei, he’s my big brother!”, Yuji reassures, making you nod proudly.

All your big brother is able to do is stare at you with his mouth hanging open.

“How often did I told you to stay single?”, he questions.

“How often did I tell you that I don’t care?”

“He’s a bad guy, he murderer countless people, (y/n)! Use your brain just once!”

“I always told you I’m into bad guys. Come to terms with it.”

Choso wraps his arm around you, pressing your body against his firm abs.

“Let’s go somewhere more…exciting”, you mutter, eyes darken.

“Oh god, I wish I never saw that. Please kill me right on the spot”, Satoru cries out in disgust.

“Nothing easier than that…”, Choso comments dryly.

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dazed-and-confused23 · 28 days

Note

I love your latest entries with Dusty the Deathclaw😄 So you think you could do something with Cooper where he and the reader are visiting GoodNeighbor again with a juvenile Deathclaw with them? And when John goes to welcome them back, he jumps back a bit and asking why the HELL does the reader have a Deathclaw.😂 Only for said reader to give their pet Deathclaw some affectionate horn scratches and reply

“My wasteland baby! Isn’t he adorable?”

Bonus if said Wasteland baby still has some flesh hanging from their mouth having eaten a raider not too long ago.

@odditycircus-2002 this was a fantastic Lil prompt to see after the angst I've been typing up. Thank you so much! ❤️ I hope I did this justice!

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 14

Masterlist

Warnings: blood and violence drug use too

It's been a couple of years since you and Cooper had mosied up to the Commonwealth, and with Dusty now apart of the family, you thought it was high time that you introduce the juvenile to the stationary member of your group. The deathclaw stood taller than you now but was definitely still considered young by deathclaw standards. Plus, you'd been missing John lately, and it would be good to see him again.

The beast trotted behind you, his nose close to the ground as he cattalogged the new scents around him. Cooper followed just past Dusty, his rifle out, and ready for anything that might want to lose a fight. However, it turned out that very few people wanted to tangle with a ghoul of his reputation who had a deathclaw as a pet, young or not.

"I doubt Goodneighbor will be too happy with me if we come waltzing in with Dusty. Can you stay out here with him while I go get John?" You ask your ghoulish companion once the gate to Goodneighbor appeared around the corner. Someone must have recently cleared out the usual super mutants that hung around, for it was relatively safe in the city this evening.

Cooper sighs dramatically and rolled his eyes, though you could see a smirk pulling at his lips, "Don't make me wait too long, Sugar. Might go wonderin' off without you."

You scoff, "You wouldn't."

Cooper smirks right back and leans in, "Try me, smoothskin."

You search his golden gaze, and then your lips curl up in an amused, smug grin, "Dusty wouldn't let you."

The ghoul opens his mouth to protest, only to fall silent, lips tugging down into a small frown. Shit. He knows you're right about that one. Dusty would follow you to the ends of hell if you let the juvenile. He scoffs and breaks the staring contest, "Whatever, you win."

You smile in victory and then step in front of Dusty. The deathclaw coos and grunts at you, hunching down to rub the bottom of his jaw along your shoulder and cheek, "Awe. Yeah, I'll be right back, sweetie. Be good for Coop, okay?"

Dusty is smart enough to know what you're saying but whines all the same when you press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose and then disappear behind the red door. He swings his massive head around and eyes Cooper, who rolls his eyes at the baby's behavior.

"Don't look at me like that. You heard her."

The beast grunts and flops on the road, a displeased growl rumbling up and out of him. Dusty didn't like it when he couldn't scent you or feel you. His eyesight was terrible, so it left him to rely on his other, hightened scenses to track his human. A deeper, more vicious growl echos in the air when he sniffs deeply and catches the foul smell of the big lumbering mutants. They were close.

You darted through Goodneighbor, waving to Daisy and K-L-E-0, who waved back at you. As much as you wanted to stop and chat, you needed to hurry. You jank open the door to the old state house and lope up the stairs, stopping at the top floor and grinning when you catch sight of Hancock lounging on his couch, feet kicked up on the table and an inhaler of jet in his hand.

"Well, well. I come all this way, and this is the kinda welcome I get."

John jerks up on the couch, black eyes going wide as he turns and looks at you. He shoves himself off the couch and closes the distance, grabbing you by the jaw to swing you in for a kiss full of longing. You kiss the mayor back, holding tight to his red overcoat.

Your face is flushed by the time John breaks the kiss, resting his brow against your own as he takes in your lovely features. There are a couple more lines on your face and a new scar across your nose, but you're just as beautiful as the day he last saw you.

"If I'd known you were coming around, I would have had the whole town throw a party," Hancock quips with a dry laugh and then kisses you again, just cause he could, "Fuck. I missed you, Sunshine."

You hum and hold John tight, burring your face in his chest with a happy little grin, "Mhmm. I missed you too, Hancock."

The ghoul pulls away from you to take you in again. John needed to make sure that you weren't some kind of jet induced fever dream, but no. You were here in his house, with him. His hands trailed from your sides to cup your ass, and Hancock leaned down to press kisses to the collom of your throat.

"How about you show me how much you missed me then, Sunshine."

You selfishly enjoyed the attention for a moment before pulling away from him with a guilty smirk. John narrows his eyes down at you, curious.

"I need to show you something, and you've got to promise me you won't freak out," you say, and you're already tugging at his arm, leading him to the spiral staircase and out of the state house. You don't give Hancock time to process, you wanted this to he a surprise.

Outside the gate, Cooper sneers in disgust as he wipes the sole of his boot on the asphalt not stained in super mutant blood. A trio of them had attacked not a minute after you disappeared inside of Goodneighbor, leaving the ghoul and the half grown dealthclaw to defend themselves.

Not that it was a very hard fight, mind you. Cooper was well versed in violence, and Dusty wasn't a pushover either. He is shouldering his rifle when the door to the settlement opens up, and you and Hancock come waltzing out, all smiles.

"'Bout fuckin' time you showed up, smoothskin. Left me and Dusty here to clean up the big greenies," Cooper snarks at you and gives Hancock a mean grin, all teeth and hunger, "Nice to see you again, Mayor."

John hits the brake, stopping in his tracks and you with him. You grunt at the suddenness of it and turn around to look at him with a cocked brow. The ghoul stares at Dusty with a look of fear, his black eyes wide as he reaches for the shotgun he stupidity left behind in his room.

"Sunshine, that's a deathclaw," He spits, and back peddles, but you let go, allowing him to keep his distance from the golden scaled 6 foot tall deathclaw that feasts on the body of a downed super mutant. His face and entire front are soaked in gore, and the sounds he makes are enough to turn anyone's stomach as he enjoys his meal.

"Can't leave you alone for five minutes, can I?" You quip, and Dusty perks up at the sound of your voice. He raises his head, his horns are about halfway down his face now, around eye level. The deathclaw swings around and makes a soft cooing sound when he picks up your scent and sees the blurry outline of your figure. He lopes forward, dropping to his front claws, and you grab his jaws when he gets close enough, grinning down at him.

"You're such a good boy, Dusty. I'm glad you got a snack," you say and scratch the soft scales of his throat, "I've got someone I want you to meet."

He recognizes that phase. You have used it a couple of times before with other humans that we weren't allowed to eat. Dusty's focused on the red blob behind you. His human points to the figure, and he breathes it deeply, taking in the scent of acidic chems and warm radiation that the other ghoul carries. The deathclaw memorizes it and stores it into the cattalog of "do not eat."

Hancock is frozen the entire time, and Cooper laughs at the other ghoul, breaking the mayor out of his spell, "What's wrong, John? Scared?"

The mayor just tosses his arms at the frigging beast of death, all snuggled up to the smoothskin and snarked right back, "How about you tell me just what the hell's going on, Cowboy?"

Cooper does just that, explaining how you found him and John really begins think this is really a fever dream like he'd thought before, when there is a loud snuffle in front of him, and he is faced with the gruesome visage of the juvenile deathclaw.

You smile at him, "Trust me, John. It's fine, I promise," you murmur, and John must be crazy because he does. Hancock takes a trembling breath and faces the beast.

"Dusty, this is John Hancock. John, this is Dusty."

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #x reader #the ghoul x reader #dear hears and gentle people #deathclaws #john hancock x reader #john hancock

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oepionie · 1 year

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SIBLING RIVALRY. tweels

Synopsis: You have two tweels fighting for the ownership of your heart. When a fight breaks out between them, you're left to choose among the two.

Characters: Floyd Leech x GN! Reader x Jade Leech

Tags: Warning, it has mentions of violence and injuries. The tweels throw hands. Slight angst, Floyd accidentally hurts you. Jade Leech is a little shit. Floyd Leech is a little shit(2). Riddle plays doctor.

Wordcount: 1.7k+ | 💌Masterlist

Jade and Floyd had always been extremely close from the start. Even as little guppies, they were glued to each another, fitting perfectly like a puzzle. The bond between these two brothers ran deep. Forged as they grew up in the Coral sea, facing the harsh environments of their habitat together.

The two were more similar than people thought. Often sharing the same morbid interest in the most esoteric and obscure of topics. Both eels had a talent for causing mischief, always acting with an ulterior motive in mind.

Still, disagreements and fights between them were unavoidable. Despite the fact that their opposite personalities tend to work in their favour (Floyd calls it their 'good cop, bad cop' scheme), they do occasionally clash and fight.

This fight was...different though.

Ramshackle's prefect, an awkward and odd yet endearing little human who crashed the dorm assignment orientation. Despite being devoid of magic, they somehow managed to get themselves enrolled into a magic academy with a funny little cat by their side. Like moths to a flame, the two eels were practically drawn to you and your intriguing, fairytale-like life.

Everyone and their mother could see that both tweels looked at you with hearts in their eyes. They were constantly glued to your side, trying to win you over and one-upping one other. Despite the constant barrage of courtship from both eels, you appeared to be completely unaware of anything.

That was fine by them, they would give you time to gradually figure it out on your own. For the time being, they were intent on getting rid of the competition and winning your favour.

A little sibling rivalry wouldn't hurt, now would it?

Curse Crowley and his 18 foot-high kitchen cabinets. You glared up at the jar of candies perched atop the highest shelf. Now, you don't know why on earth there were candies in the home economics kitchen but you weren't against it.

You saw it and you wanted it. Now, if only you didn't have the height of a dwarf...

"I'm not giving up that easily..." You muttered, scanning around the room to look for someone, anyone, who was tall enough to reach those dreaded cabinets. You grinned wickedly as you caught sight of Jade chopping up some mushrooms. Perfect.

"Jade!" You called, pressing a hand against his shoulder. He seemed startled as he turned to face you though his eyes later softened. With a warm smile on your face, you bounced on the balls of your feet. "Are you busy?"

"Oya? Not at the moment. What seems to be the matter, prefect?" Smiling, he placed his hand over yours, tenderly stroking your skin. You intertwined your fingers with his, pulling the merman towards your station. Once you arrived, you sheepishly pointed to the jar atop the cabinet.

"I can't reach it but...I really want to have that candy." You spoke slowly, suddenly embarrassed at the somewhat childish-sounding request. Jade only chuckled, squeezing your hand in comfort. My, you really are so adorable.

"Heh heh. Of course, let me just-" Before he could finish, the eel suddenly toppled forward, his head narrowly missing the oven. Gasping, you ran to help him up but before you could, an arm wrapped itself around your torso. You turned to see Floyd holding you, lazily resting his head atop your own.

The eel grinned, all bright and sunny, acting as if he didn't just ram into his brother like a bull.

"Shrimpy~! Ya need help reaching for something? I can do it for you instead, y'know!" Floyd cheered. He sent Jade a cocky grin before turning his attention back to you. "I'm taller after all!"

"Only by a single centimetre." Jade spat out, getting up off the ground and dusting his clothes, all with a strained smile on his face. Floyd snarled at him, hugging you closer to his body. "I'm.Taller."

You were left captive in Floyd's iron grip as the two eels stared each other down. Groaning, you sunk into Floyd's embrace.

You...you just wanted candy.

"That is indeed a foul sprain." Riddle muttered, compressing your leg with a handkerchief as a makeshift bandage. Once he finished tying it all together, he irritably turned to the students crowded around you.

"Didn't I tell you all not to crowd them?!" He yelled, and the mob that had gathered around you two instantly dispersed. Shaking his head, the dorm leader guided you to sit up. "I've already wrapped up your ankle. Though it's best if you go rest in the clinic. Can someone carry them there?"

"Goldfish! I'll do it~!"

"Allow me."

Both Jade and Floyd blinked, side-eyeing one another. Growling, Floyd ran forward and impulsively yanked you into his arms. In his rush, he accidentally made you jerk your foot causing pain to shoot up your leg.

"Ah-!" A strangled scream escaped your lips, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. Floyd cursed under his breath and quickly loosened his hold on you. You shed a few tears, and he appeared to visibly deflate as the guilt set in.

"I-Im sorry, shrimpy!" He sputters out, awkwardly trying to comfort you as best as he could. Riddle moved quickly to inspect your ankle.

"You-Be careful!" Riddle scolded. Once he made sure no further damage was done to your foot, he turned to glare at Floyd.

"It would be preferable, in my opinion, if Jade carried them. I can't have you putting any more strain on their foot!" Riddle lamented, pinching the bridge of his nose. Floyd tried to sputter out excuses, but he was futile. Defeated, he handed you over to his brother.

"Not to worry, prefect. I'll make sure to take proper care of you." Jade stepped forward, tucking the long dark strand of his hair behind his ear. The older Leech brother held your body in a gentle yet firm bridal carry.

Once you both began to proceed in the direction of the nurse's office, you snuggled up against him. Jade turned to look back at Floyd, a devilish grin on his face as he mouthed. 'I win.'

Over the previous weeks, the tweels have been in a constant push&pull battle for your attention. They've been passive-aggressive with one another, pulling all kinds of shady and underhanded tricks. It seemed that all that pent-up tension between them was just about to boil over. And it didn't look very pretty.

A phonograph set up on one of the display tables of the lounge was playing soothing oldies music; the melody echoing throughout the empty cafe.

Jade rolled the sleeves of his button-down shirt up. He reached for a cup, adding sugar, vanilla extract, and strawberry slices before dropping them into a blender.

Jade received a call from you earlier wondering whether Floyd was free since you were craving a strawberry smoothie. It seems that his brother had promised to prepare one for you.

Oh my.

How unfortunate that Floyd had club responsibilities to attend to! Not to fear, prefect, he assured you that he would gladly step in and make you one himself.

The door creaks open just as he was about to pour the strawberry smoothie into a couple of highball glasses. He lifts his head up, thinking it was you, a smile spreading across his face. Though, it disappears right away, being replaced with a grim expression. Floyd was fast approaching, stomping, his fists balled up at his sides and his jaw clenched tight.

"Oya? Floyd. I wasn't aware you were free. Shouldn't you be-" Jade gets cut off when Floyd slams his fist on the wall next to his face. Unfazed, Jade observes as the wall breaks apart, a chunk of concrete falling to the ground. With a smug smirk on his face, his gaze drifts to the club uniform Floyd was still dressed in.

He continues. "-at basketball practice?"

"Don't play coy with me." Floyd spat out.

"What's all this about shrimpy telling me you told them I was too busy to hang out?"

"Well, I didn't want to disturb you from practice. Especially with that big game coming up." Jade sneered, sending Floyd a condescending grin.

"You piece of shit."

Floyd grapples Jade, smashing the teen against the bar. The glasses shattered into bits when they tumbled from the counter and landed on the floor. Jade snarls and sharply kicks Floyd in the ribs. Once his brother doubled over, Jade took this chance to drag him to the floor. Having the upper hand, he smashed his fist down on his twin's face, beating Floyd into the floor. Hissing, Floyd retaliated and grabbed Jade by the arm. He flipped the two of them over, dropping his entire weight on Jade.

"This is getting interesting!" Floyd laughed hysterically, spitting a tooth out. He raised his fist, but the doors to the lounge opened before he could even strike. There you stood, mortified, hand shakily grasping the door handle. Both of the twins froze, sporting the same dumbfounded look on their faces.

The color from your face all but drained. Your legs shook tremendously and both the tweels quickly strode over to you, afraid that you were about to just keel over.

"What- What on earth are you two doing?!"

Standing outside the nurse's office, you wring your hands together while keeping your head down. After yelling at them for getting in a fight, you dragged both of the eels by the ear to take them to the clinic. You've been waiting for a full hour now, worrying yourself sick over the two idiots.

The hanging bell above the door chimed as the nurse stepped out of the clinic. She beckoned you over, waving a clipboard in her hands.

"They've both been patched up. They'll be fine, a few broken bones and bruises but they'll heal." She spoke casually, flipping through the report on her clipboard. "I take it you want to see them?"

You hastily nodded, rushing to enter the clinic. However before you could enter, she put her palm on your chest and pushed you back.

"Um-"

"Hold on. I don't really think it's a good idea to visit both of them at the same time. So here's what we'll do, you choose who you want to go to first. Alright?" She spoke, raising a perfectly manicured finger at you. You hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Alright."

"Now, dear, which one of them would it be?"

Shit.

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

#no bcuz these two fighting while oldies play #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #octavinelle x reader #twst jade leech #twst floyd leech #jade leech #floyd leech #riddle rosehearts #tweels

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bamdelune · 9 months

Text

utterly, unbelieveably in love pt. 1 ░ scara x reader modern!au ★ mini series

summary ➜ he has six months to win you over. the famed scaramouche of tevyat unviersity wants the honor of owning a place in your heart. you want to see how far his feelings hold true.

genres/tags ➜ fluff, scara is genuinely head over heels for you, fem!reader, scara is your brother's best friend, courting, new writing style.

Your brother bringing home friends from university wasn't a surprising occurence. He'd do it all the time. The only thing surprising was how a real human being could bear to even form a friendship to someone akin to a persistent little fly that buzzes in the shell of your ear.

This time, the person who welcomed himself through the entrance of your home was none other than the flamboyant Scaramouche. Academic by nature, with ladies and gentlemen swooning over him at every stride of his feet. Sure, a little too confident over the scale but still charming nonetheless. Your brother was on the popular side of the school tier, perhaps it was a matchmade in heaven.

"I'm home." He would say, after the lock clicks free. You were hunched over a laptop on the couch, with a screen that displayed two tabs as you accomplished your essay due in about... seven hours? A hum of acknowledgement slips past your lips, eyes still trained on the bright screen in front of you, too busy to even notice the fact that he brought a new friend today but it was a sight of familiar indigo streaks of hair.

For the next few times, Scaramouche would become a frequent visitor at your apartment and you had grown accustomed to the routine. You would be studying by the time the both of them get to the apartment, you'd acknowledge them, and Scaramouche would leave an hour and thirty minutes later. But today was a different case.

Your brother, being the trustful guy that he is, apparently gave Scara his key to the apartment telling him to go ahead and use it as he did some short errands.

Now here you were sitting in silence with the ever-charming boy from uni, with his eyes shooting glances he thought was subtle enough for you not to notice.

"You've been staring." You begin, your focus shifting from your laptop to his direction, although not directly into his eyes.

He hums, "I'd say the same about you."

Well, shit. Cover blown, does a life in the countryside tickle your fancy in any way?

Heat brushes your features but you are quick to school them.

"I'm curious as to how my brother thought this whole thing through."

Scara tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing in question. "Thought what through?"

"You. Giving you the actual key to our apartment. He's never done that so there's something different about you." Your eyes squint at him suspiciously, hands reaching for the top of your laptop and it shuts it closed. "Why are you here?"

"You're pretty cocky if you think I'm here for you." Scara blurts out in response. You raise an eyebrow at him.

"I never said that though?"

His face flushes a shade of pink and he takes a big interest in the crown moldings of your ceiling.

"You're weird." You mutter.

"Right back at you."

You scoff at his reply, albeit a small tug on your lips curls them upward. Just then the knob of the front door turns clockwise. You send Scara a 'you didn't lock the door?' type of look and he merely shrugs as your brother comes inside.

"I'm home— oh, you really did use the key." Your brother says, settling his belongings down on the marble counter. You swear you caught a small smirk playing on his lips but he was far too quick at concealing it.

From now onwards, Scaramouche would become a reoccuring character in your life. How long will it take for you to fall into the wraps of his charms?

#bamdelune #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #bamdelune's bookstore #genshin smau #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x female reader #scara x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x you #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi #scaramouche

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ckret2 · 6 days

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Why do you ship billford? i want to hear all ur handcanons and reasons hehehe

ALL of them? My friend I do not think you comprehend the magnitude of the task you have requested. I can tell you some of them.

Here's a post I already wrote listing why I like them, and here's a post about what Ford thinks about Bill, and I just made a post about what Bill thinks about Ford because I've had it typed up on discord for ages and decided it needs its own post.

So, some headcanons:

⭐️ While most people who ship it headcanon that they had a romantic relationship of some kind pre-betrayal, my default headcanon is that they DIDN'T have a relationship—mainly because I enjoy making Bill, specifically, miserable, and I like headcanoning that Ford violently lost interest in Bill at the EXACT moment Bill developed a sincere interest in Ford.

Meaning that Bill "LOOKS LIKE MR. BRAINIAC FINALLY GOT SMART" Cipher destroyed his own chances five seconds before going "no no wait I actually want to keep this one," and that's SO funny. I made a graph!

⭐️ From Lost Legends we know that Ford used to date a siren. In the original Greek mythology, sirens didn't woo sailors by singing prettily; sirens offered knowledge about distant and future events. Sailors wrecked their ship upon the sirens' shores and starved to death at their feet just to listen to them sing about the secrets of the universe.

What I'm saying is: Ford has a type.

⭐️ This is a mutual monsterfucker 4 monsterfucker relationship. They look at each other and go "wow you're such a weird-looking alien" and they're attracted to each other BECAUSE of that, not in spite of that. I don't want any of this "oh how could I be drawn to something so strange..." shame out of Ford, as far as I'm concerned his first crush was Mothra, a floating triangle is nothing.

⭐️ Consequently, this means that if you take an AU where Bill gets stuffed in a human body, rather than making things easier, it ironically means that any PHYSICAL attraction Ford had for Bill instantly evaporates. A humanized Bill could be the sexiest damn thing in the room and everyone else in the vicinity is going 🥵💦 but Ford's going 😐. If they hook up with Bill in a human body it's in spite of Bill's current appearance and it's because Ford knows that, underneath the body, Bill's still Bill. You could hand Ford a perfect Tumblr Sexyman supermodel and he'll be fantasizing about a three-tiered pyramid with more teeth than a shark.

⭐️ Bill WILL play Dungeons Dungeons & More Dungeons with Ford, voluntarily, for fun. However he always wants to DM and he's brutal.

⭐️ I think that the majority of the Henchmaniacs used to be like Ford: young, naive, USEFUL aliens that Bill was trying to manipulate into getting access to their universes, probably by trying to get THEM to build portals. None succeeded, but they got far enough along that either they chose to join Bill, they were forced to flee their dimension and join Bill—or, due to Bill, their home no longer existed, so they might as well join him. I think that every one of them was once his ✨favorite✨ person. I think he sealed the deal in winning their friendship & loyalty with a calculated, scripted display of vulnerability—the exact same one he tried to use on Ford: I liberated my constricting, flat world; I want to liberate yours...

He may have dated some of them, too, especially right after they joined. Because he wouldn't have recruited them unless he thought they were JUST ♥ LIKE ♥ HIM. They're special, they're important...

... and after a few years, Bill realizes they're not that much like him after all and loses interest, and they sink down into the rank-and-file with the rest of the Henchmaniacs. The Henchmaniacs are FULL of people who were once Bill's Favorite—his best friends, his confidants, his lovers—and most of them are desperate to catch his eye and be that important to him again. They gave everything they had to Bill only for Bill to get bored.

So when he shows off the human who enabled Weirdmageddon and invites him to join the gang, they know EXACTLY what they're looking at: Bill's newest favorite. They know how this goes, he'll be gaga over this earthling for the next 5 to 500 years and then Ford will be just another regular Henchmaniac. The fact that Ford doesn't seem eager to join is no problem. Ford isn't the only soon-to-be Henchmaniac whose world Bill ended; some of them had to be talked around into joining, too.

⭐️ I think that, if you took Bill with his canon personality, didn't give him any character development, and then made him GENUINELY fall in love with Ford, and had him SINCERELY try his hardest to be a good, loving, healthy partner... he would still be toxic as hell for Ford.

Part of what draws Bill to Ford is that he sees SO much of himself in Ford—some accurate, some just projection. (You who crave power and fame and fortune like I do; you who also hunger to be all-knowing; you who would also sacrifice your world and your family and everyone you know and love to get what you want; you with an ego the size of the moon, oh, you deserve an ego the size of a star.) And so he assumes that what Ford really wants is what BILL would want in Ford's shoes.

And if Bill was Ford, what he'd want is to REALLY be the man who changed the world. Bill thinks he's fulfilling all Ford's wildest dreams if he gives that to him. Naming Ford the orchestrator of Weirdmageddon is the most generous gift Bill could ever offer.

Even if Bill is Really Really Trying and accepts that okay Ford doesn't want his world invaded: his idea of showing Ford love will be pulling the strings to get Ford fame & fortune. Teach him secrets of the universe that he can publish in a dozen groundbreaking scientific papers, arrange meetings with politicians and celebrities, get him a Nobel, get him an Oscar-winning bio pic, get him a billion dollars, get him EVERYTHING Ford's ever imagined as a marker of success and then double it.

When Bill's manipulating Ford, he offers praise and approval in little drops periodically leaking from the faucet, to keep Ford thirsty for more. When Bill's LOVING Ford, he just breaks the fire hydrant and lets it flood the street.

But the thing is, that's not good for Ford. That'll never make him truly happy. Ford's only ever learned how to measure his success by external markers, but the more external markers he collects the more he'll feel like he hasn't Made It yet. It's even possible that knowing Bill's helped him get this far will make him feel like he hasn't really EARNED it. He could have the whole world handed to him and he'll feel just as dissatisfied as he was on the day he first summoned Bill.

And Bill, even if he's trying his HARDEST to do this right, wouldn't be able to understand why this isn't working. A trillion years old and the only way he knows how to show love (or to receive love) is by showering someone in praise and gifts and favors. If that doesn't work, he doesn't know what's left.

#anonymous #ask #billford #meta #headcanons

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mochinomnoms · 5 months

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Thinking about the period stuff now and just thinking that the boys who would be total champs should Reader/Yuu be on would be;

Jamil - He's not only seen it all with his own sister, but has probably had to help Kalim's sisters at some point or another too. He's dealt with the worst cramps and flows to the "I didn't even notice I was on" girlies.

Ortho - Baby boys a walking Medwiki, has probably known your cycle before your first conversation with him. Would be more fascinated than grossed out by period stuff than most boys in the school.

Rook - Like Ortho, probably knows when you're on before you even realised you were and has a box of your preferred method of dealing with it in hand by the bathroom stall at the ready. Don't ask why he's in the toilet with you or how he knew what size pussy you wear, just be glad that in an all boys school, you have at least one (1!) friend willing to carry spare tampons/towls/mooncups/whatever for you.

Cater - Poor guys got 4 sisters and has been an unwilling student in all the "joys" of menstration. He'll look out for his favourite underclassman and bask in the praise of being such a reliable senpai/big brother type. But if his sisters are nuts normally, he's gonna have to work through some instense war flashbacks before he's any good to you.

Kalim - Most likely has a lot of sisters who are at the age where their dealing with this stuff, does his best bless him to take care of them but c'mon, it's Kalim. As soon as he tries people are calling for Jamil instead. That plus the sheer mythic level of cat fighting should any of his 30+ siblings syncronize means that like Cater, might be too scared to approach you at first but he makes it on this list for sheer effort and desire to help.

Of the human students, these all make a lot of sense! I def think the idea that Ortho already knew about your cycle before even knowing your name is super funny.

Little man's got a storage unit in him that has those stickable heating pads, pads/tampons, and pain medicine. One day, at a time that you know of Ortho, but never really spoken to him, he floats up to you. You're looking at him all confused before he opens up a compartment, takes out the above-mentioned supplies, and just hands them to you. He chirps about you needing them and lets you know that he's always well-equipped if you need anything else!

You're standing there with Ace and Deuce, confused. Your period doesn't start for another week, why did he—how does he even know your cycle? (That night, you notice that you started early).

And Rook? Fucking freak of nature he is. Why does he know your exact brand and period product preferences? Cause the man, similar to Ortho, is walking up to you one day, prattling on in poetic fashion about the beauties of human biology and reproduction (fucking weirdass). He hands you a small bag with your items, all the exact ones you get from Sam, down to the exact flow size. He tells you that you should consider heading to the bathroom now. Walking off, you freeze as you feel yourself get wet. You rush to the bathroom, finding that you started your period right at that moment.

Ortho is excusable, he's a robot. Rook's on thin fucking ice and is now required to stay 6 feet away from you at all times. If he wants to give you something, he can have Epel deliver it. He wins your favor back by buying you snacks, and you let him near you again. Just stop reciting poetry about the menstrual cycle, Rook I beg—

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #jamil viper #ortho shroud #rook hunt #kalim al asim #i think vil would also be very helpful #he is excellent at making potions so i think if he liked you enough he'd make you pain/symptom relief potions

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

Text

Porcelain Steve - Part 7

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

((TW for this part; period typical slurs and internalized homophobia. Read the tags before clicking readmore if you want the details))

Steve has been a porcelain doll for seven weeks when disaster strikes.

"What is that," Jeff says, because even though the words are in an order which would suggest that it's a question, the tone of voice Jeff uses decidedly is not questioning.

"What is whaaa-AH! Nothing! It's nothing!" Eddie, who was torso deep into his closet throwing things around to find his backup amp cord, turns to look at what Jeff was talking about, and is now launching himself across his room to stand between Jeff and Porcelain Steve. Porcelain Steve, who Eddie had lain on his bed, propped slightly on a pillow, headphones carefully perched on his little head, hooked to a cassette player currently playing the first hour of last week's Top 40 countdown that Eddie had taped for him (all three hours of it, leaving out the chatter of the radio show host. He'd had to use two tapes to get it all).

"Nothing sure looks a lot like a doll in headphones, Munson," Jeff has an amazing poker face but Eddie's certain he can see a bit of judgement underneath the carefully blank expression Jeff is wearing.

"I don't know what you're talking abo- hey! Hey, no, no, don't!" Eddie tries to bodily block Jeff when he moves forward and the two end up wrestling, a match that Eddie almost wins, if not for the hazard that is his messy room. He gets Jeff walked almost to the door before he steps wrong on something, ankle rolling and sending him down sideways. He clutches at Jeff but can't make purchase and Jeff, the bastard, does fuck-all to try and catch him. Instead, Jeff leaps out of arm's length, then lunges onto the bed as Eddie collapses to his floor.

Eddie frantically tries to stand and, in his haste, ends up with his feet tangled in a pile of dirty laundry and that sends him crashing down again, this time forward onto his hands and knees, so he gives up on standing and crawls the few short feet to the bed, finally looking up to see that the damage has been done.

Jeff has picked up Steve, holding him inches from his own face, eyes squinted in suspicion. Eddie is frozen, horrified and afraid, and can't bring himself to do anything as Jeff examines Steve closely, turning him around, poking his torso, flipping him upside down to examine his shoes more thoroughly. It's only when Jeff reached for the shirt, pinching the hem of it between two fingers that Eddie kicks back into action.

He lunges up, one knee on the bed, leaning over to grab Steve and yank him from Jeff's grip. His first instinct is to throw Steve over his shoulder, out of sight out of mind mentality, but as soon as he does, he realizes his mistake and twists, lunging to catch Steve in midair. He does manage to catch Steve, but it sends him bouncing off his dresser and almost back to the floor before he manager to regain his balance, where he proceeds to cradle Steve to his chest, which is heaving from the adrenaline, wrestling match, and subsequent dive after Steve.

Jeff is giving him a concerned look but something else piques his interest; Jeff reaches over and picks up the headphones, holding them up to one ear. His face goes through every emotion a human could possibly experience in less than fifteen seconds as he listens to whatever track was at the forty-ish minute mark on the Top 40 countdown.

Slowly, Jeff lowers the headphones, letting them drop to the bed before he gives Eddie a new, more judgmental, yet infinitely more concerned, look. "Eddie. What. The fuck."

Honestly, he's not sure there's anything he can say in response.

"Why- I don't... are you okay, man?" Jeff sounds both scared for Eddie, and scared of him, at the same time.

"I'm fine," Eddie manages to squeak out.

"Eddie," Jeff says seriously, "this is not fine. This is- this is insane behavior. You know that, right?"

"I've no idea what you mean," Eddie doesn't even know what he's defending himself from but his default response to anything is to defend himself. He grips Steve tightly around the torso with one hand and then moves both his hands to be behind his back so Jeff will stop staring at Steve.

"I mean this fuckin' insane shrine you have dedicated to Steve fucking Harrington. How did you even get a doll that looks like him. Did you- did you make that?"

Fuck. Holy fuck. What can he say to defend himself here? Is there a single way for him to come out of this not sounding deranged? If he agrees, let's Jeff's drawn conclusion be the truth, then that's all but confirmation to Steve about his big fat crush, so when Steve's back to being Steve he'll never look at Eddie again. Jeff might think he needs mental help, but he'll be here for Eddie. If he tries to deny the accusation, then he'll need an explanation. He'll have to tell Jeff something that make him seem less like a creepy stalker, but what? He can't tell the truth, not without letting everyone know he's going to tell Jeff. There's a whole other secret he'd have to let out to even have a chance of Jeff believing him.

Jeff must take his silence for acceptance or guilt, because he's speaking again. "I.... man, this is not healthy. Please tell me you aren't, like, hoarding a lock of his hair or his clothes or something."

Involuntarily, damningly, his eyes dart to the closet, where several of Steve's sweaters hang from when he'd borrowed them and never returned them. And it's not like Steve doesn't have several of Eddie's own articles of clothing, like his battle vest and a few shirts. But Jeff doesn't know they easily, willingly, swap clothes, so his eyes go wide and dart towards the closet, as if he can pick out which pieces belong to Steve on sight.

Actually, he probably can.

"This really isn't what it looks like," Eddie says because he has to say something. Being silent is too incriminating.

"I don't think you're aware of what this looks like," Jeff says, wiggling himself off of Eddie's bed to stand at the foot of it. "Of all the boys in Hawkins.... I knew you liked Steve but this is.... creepy. That doll looks so much like him that I recognized it. Does Steve know you're in love with him, or is this like a way to process your crush without having to-"

"Jeff!" Eddie yells, mortified. He can feel his whole face heat up, knows he must be bright red. Because Jeff just said, out loud and for Steve to hear, the thing that Eddie very much hasn't even said out loud to himself, even if he knows how he feels deep down.

Jeff must know he's overstepped some invisible boundary he wasn't even aware of because his face immediately shows regret. He takes a step forward and Eddie takes a step back.

Immediately, Jeff stops his forward momentum. "Shit, I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm sorry."

When Eddie answers, his voice sounds like he's been eating gravel, "Just, can you go wait in the living room? I'll be right out, and we can talk, or whatever, but can you just..."

A nod, and then Jeff is gone, closing the door behind him.

With shaking hands, Eddie brings Steve back to the front of him. Looks down at him. He's not even aware he's crying until he watches his tears mark Steve's tiny polo. He can't keep holding Steve. Can't keep looking at him. Not when- not when his best friend just outed him in the worst way possible. And Eddie can't even be upset or hurt about it because Jeff didn't know. He's teased Eddie about his crushes before, and in the safety of his own room, there was no reason for Jeff to have to watch what he was saying.

Even knowing that Steve is okay with Robin, loves her anyway, without the ability to confirm that Steve doesn't hate him right now, Eddie's going to freak out. But he can't. Jeff is waiting in the living room, and the band is waiting back at Gareth's. This was just- they were supposed to just grab the amp cable and get back, a fifteen-minute job at most, and now.

Now Eddie is staring down at Steve, willing himself to not have a panic attack.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have heard it like that, it s-should have come from me. It should- you-I'm sorry," Eddie gently underhand throws Steve onto the center of the bed. He lands face up and Eddie sinks to the floor because he can't stand anymore, and he can't really breath.

Steve knows Eddie's a fucking faggot now, and that he wants Steve, and there's no way he'll get to keep the friendship they had before this. There's no universe in which Steve isn't creeped out by this information. There has never been an instance where a straight boy found out about his crush on them and didn't abandon him. Not always cruelly, he'll admit. He's had friends that learned and just... slid from his life with no words and no fuss. Eddie just never spoke to them again because they never came back around, but they also never outed him.

That's what will happen with him and Steve. He'll quit inviting Eddie around, or calling when he's bored, and eventually it will get to the point that Eddie only sees him at BBQ's that Joyce drags him to.

Fuck. FUCK!

He's not sure how long he's on the floor but eventually, he finds the will to get back up and resume digging through his closet to find the amp cord. It doesn't take long, he was ridiculously close to finding it earlier, it seems.

Before leaving his room, he picks back up the cassette player and headphones. Silence comes from them, so he pops the tape out before flipping it to the B side and popping it back in. He puts the headphones around Steve's head again and presses play, doing his best to not actually look at Steve. He'll just have another breakdown if he does.

He trudges out of his room, closing the door behind himself before taking the short walk to the living room, where Jeff waiting on the couch, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his chin, eyes faraway as he stares towards the wall in front of him.

"Hey," Eddie says, to get his attention.

"Hey," Jeff says, sitting up straight and turning towards Eddie. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the fucking psycho here," he sighs, leaning sideways against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest, hand clutching at the amp cord just for something to ground him.

"Forget that, whatever I did, or said, or whatever, you were- when you yelled my name. You looked terrified. Of me," Jeff almost whispers the last sentence, and if not for the stark silence in the trailer, Eddie wouldn't have heard.

"Not of you, Jeff," Eddie whispers back, but his voice doesn't stay quiet because 'quiet' isn't a thing Eddie does easily or often. "Of... of myself, and these- of how I feel- I'm a goddamned faggot and now that Ste- when Steve finds out I'll lose him! Like I've lost every fucking person who ever even suspected I was a fuckin' queer!"

Silence stretches between them, enough to make Eddie fidget, dropping his crossed arms to twist the amp cord about anxiously with both his hands.

"Look, man, I don't know what's, like, the appropriate thing to say so I'm just going for the honest thing. You got me. You'll never lose me. And all those other assholes that you think you lost? You're wrong. They lost you. And if Steve Harrington is gonna be another one of those, then you aren't losing him. 'Cause he was never really in your corner to begin with."

If this were anyone else, with the exception of his uncle, he would be able to hold it together better. But it's Jeff. His best friend. Who never believed Eddie committed unspeakable horrors over Spring Break last year. Who didn't question the strange, new friends he suddenly had afterwards; who accepted as the only explanation a softly spoken 'they saved me' and that was enough. Who had said 'ok, cool' in response to Eddie telling him he was gay, years ago now, and continued trying to find out if Eddie had a secret relationship, switching girlfriend for boyfriend like it wasn't a big deal (Eddie did not have a secret relationship; his good mood that week was the result of snooping for his birthday present and finding the guitar hidden under his uncle bed).

It's Jeff. So, Eddie does the most metal, manly thing he can and bursts into tears, blindly reaching for Jeff and pulling him off the couch so he can bear hug him and sob into his shirt.

"There, there, you big baby," Jeff rubs his back soothingly, "let it out. Then pull your sorry ass together, because Gareth and Brian are going to think we died in a car crash on the way here if we take much longer."

"Ah, fuck," Eddie manager to say around the sniffling he's trying to get control of, "you're right."

"You good, though?"

"Uh, I will be."

Jeff nods and steps back. "How about this. We go to practice, and then you can come to my place tonight and we can like, hangout and talk. If that's what you want."

He's already nodding as he says, "yeah. That would be good. I- uh, I have something to do after practice, but yeah, after that I'll come over."

Eddie tosses the amp cable to Jeff after they climb into the van and head off.

Halfway there, Jeff says, "you know Gareth and Brian are in your corner, too. If you ever feel like telling them one day."

"One day," Eddie agrees, "but today has already been... a lot."

Practice goes well, with some ribbing for their tardiness allowed. If Gareth and Brian notice Eddie's been crying recently, they keep it to themselves. Which is good, because Eddie cannot handle one more thing today.

A promise to meet up with Jeff later and Eddie's back home.

Back to where he left Steve, who will be laying in silence on his bed because it's been well over two hours since he and Jeff left, and the tape only held an hours' worth of music on each side. Back to the nightmare of not knowing if Steve hates him now, or if Eddie's, and this is the most likely scenario, being a bit overdramatic.

His uncle is home, so he greets him, asks after his day, gets told dinner is Fend For Yourself Night (which just means leftovers or a TV dinner), and gets asked about Steve. Because of course he does.

"You sure he went on a vacation willingly with those parents of his, and he ain't actually kidnapped and trapped somewhere?"

That's a little bit too true. If only Wayne knew. "Well, no. I'm not sure. All I know is what he said when he left."

Wayne gives him a look. One Eddie is used to seeing, that says 'I know more than you think but I'm waiting for you to tell me' and Eddie's a little afraid of what Wayne thinks he knows. So, instead of prying that box open, Eddie just says he's tired and goes to his room.

Steve is exactly where Eddie left him.

Suddenly, without reason or logic, Eddie is angry. He's so pissed at Steve for being gone for this long. For having transformed in the first place. For not being able to assure him they'll still be friends, regardless of Eddie's stupid crush.

He snatches Steve off the bed, hand clamping around one of Steve's arms and his torso so he can hold him up with one hand. Steve's face, permanently stuck into a blank expression, looks back. Even knowing that Steve sees and hears through this thing, Eddie's so angry at the doll. If Steve hadn't been turned into this stupid thing, if Eddie wasn't so helplessly in love with him, this wouldn't have happened. Eddie could have taken his own time telling Steve, instead of hearing his deepest secret spilled easily from Jeff's lips. Instead of this not knowing what Steve is thinking, or how he feels. Is he recoiling in disgust at the fact Eddie's making him look at his face? Or is Eddie being awarded the same kindness as Robin, a quiet acceptance that won't change their friendship?

Eddie doesn't know that answer and he hates it.

He's so angry with himself because he should know better. He's forcing his own insecurities onto Steve, about acceptance and caring, when nothing Steve's done since they've become friends is prove that he'll always be Eddie's friend and not even the apocalypse could change that.

"I'm going to hang out with Jeff, so you're gonna be alone a bit longer. Or maybe I should drop you off at Robin's when I go," Eddie goes to toss Steve back on the bed when something pinches his palm. It's a startling sharp pain, quick to fade, but it's surprising enough for Eddie to let go.

Eddie watches, horrified, as he falls to the floor. He twists in the air, landing with a dull thump and cracking sound on his left arm before falling onto his back.

"Shit. Shit! Fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," Eddie is crouched, already in the process of reaching for Steve when he freezes.

There is a crack on Steve's left arm, a line that starts above his elbow on the inside of his arm and runs down and across his arm to his hand, where Steve's pinky finger is gone. Looking slightly to the side, Eddie can see the small porcelain piece that Steve is missing laying on the ground next to him. Eddie's own hand is hovering in the air above Steve, shaking.

This can't be- how did- Eddie wracks his brain. Was the crack there already? Did Eddie cause the crack when he bounced off his dresser earlier? When did it happen? Does that fucking matter when it's Eddie who broke a piece off him? If Steve didn't hate him before, he's got to now. Eddie doesn't have time to panic about this, he's got to- El. El can talk to Steve. Find out if he's okay. What if breaking him-

Eddie launches himself up and to his dresser, grabbing at the Walkie up there. He pulls the antenna up, clicks it on and tries not to actually shout as he says, "Code Red! Code fucking Red!" He lets off the talk button, counts to seven in his head, enough time, he reasons, for someone to respond before he repeats the process. "Code Red!! Code Red!"

He repeats this process for three minutes with no response. Where the fuck is everyone!? How is he supposed to- Oh! The phone!

He tears down the hall and to the phone. He must look a right state, because Wayne looks very concerned and is halfway to standing up when Eddie gets to the phone beside him. He yanks the phone up and dials the number for the Byers-Hopper household, holding up a shaking finger to Wayne, a silent plea to give him a moment.

It rings and rings and rings before the answering machine kicks in. Eddie presses down on the disconnect button before dialing the Wheelers' number next.

"Hello?"

"Mike! Code Red! Where the fuck is everyone and why aren't they answering!?"

"What?"

"Code Red! Where's Nancy. Put Nancy on."

"Dude, slow down, what's-"

"I broke St-it. I broke it and someone needs to get El here now. Code Red does not mean ask questions, Mike! It means Code. Fucking. Red."

"Shit, shit, right! I'll get Nancy and we'll get everyone- just- we'll be there soon."

Eddie slams the phone down and has to meet his uncle's eye now.

"Eddie. What is goin' on?"

Eddie inhales a breath and can feel his lower lip quivering. "It's- can we talk about it later? I promise I'm not the one hurt, or in trouble, or- it's not me, ok. I just-"

"Yer shakin' like a leaf boy. What's got you so spooked?"

Eddie just shakes his head and flees back to his room, slamming the door shut between him and his uncle. He can't bring himself to cross the room to Steve. He slides himself down the door to sit on the floor, pulling his knees up to hug.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I'm sorry."

#steddie #my fic #porcelain steve #TW: Eddie calls himself a faggot and he means it in a bad way #did I make a playlist on spotify w/ Top 40 songs for June 21-27 1987 so id know how many tapes eddie had to use to record it?#yes. its 2 tapes fyi‚ using side A and B of one. a total of 2h54m. in my defense it was a writers block activity.#couldnt figure out what to have jeff say to comfort eddie that was in character and era-appropriate so... playlist it was!#if i were titling these parts this would be Eddie's No Good‚ Very Bad‚ Terrible‚ Horrible Day #I mean... he's had worse days (Spring Break '86) but this is up there for him #also back to back updates!? who am i??? but don't expect another one too soon #i started this one as part 6 originally but decided i wanted a more lighthearted piece first #so i wrote like 2/3 of this before writing what i posted for part 6 so finishing this was quick

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ira-hydrangea · 2 years

Text

Replaced Mc? Not Really... Never Part 3

Summary: Everything is now ready. Just one final strike before they can take the fruit of their hardworks.

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 4

Obviously with the rumors plan failed. Nobody believes Eva and now her reputation is at risk. So she changed her plans. To get rid of MC once and for all.

Since no one believes her, she just needs to make it so they will have no choice but to believe her.

Luckily, she has a puppet fit for that. There is this one boy that is naive enough to believe her no matter what. He is annoying but if can change your words then making him do your bidding will be an easy feat. Who else but Kalim?

"Eh? What do you need to do with that kind of flower?" Kalim asks surprised. Eva is meeting with him in his dorm.

Currently, Eva trying to convince Kalim to bring her the Moonlight Flower. It's a special flower that only bloomed once every year and the time for each flower to bloom is different. The flower has a beautiful blue petal with a red hue right in the middle. Almost similar to the lotus.

"I'm just curious~. This world has always fascinated me and especially the flowers. At least before Mr.Crowley found the way back, I want to see every magical thing in here. Can you please do it for me, Kalim?"

Kalim then stays silent for a while before smiling. "Sure~ I don't mind. Besides, MC never really sees that kind of flower too so I can also gift it to them."

Eva clenched her fist when hearing about Mc's name. What is so special about them? They are also the same magicless human as her yet why do people here always put them in the greater light.

"Thank you so much, Kalim~. And speaking about Mc, can you tell me more abou-"

"Kalim. Your father called and wished to speak with you on the phone as soon as possible." Jamil said while emerging from the shadows.

Eva didn't fond of Jamil. Sure, he is beautiful but in the end, he is just a servant to Kalim. What she wanted is to marry into a rich family in this world, preferably royalty so Jamil is on her blacklist.

"Oh? In that case, I'm sorry Eva but I need to go now. Don't worry, I will send the flowers to you tomorrow."

Eva waves her hands with an angelic smile toward Kalim before hardening her eyes and smirk.

"Yes... Deliver it to me soon, my dear sultan. And I would use it very well~"

The Moonlight Flower although beautiful, they have some composition to make it quite a strong poison. Not lethal but it is enough to convince anyone that the symptoms are very serious.

Eva planned to use that potion for her plan. She can make the potion on her own because she only needs to follow the books.

Now she can't wait for her plan to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mc! Thank you for accepting my invitation to my small tea party!" Eva said with a beaming smile.

"Thank you for inviting me, Eva. I'm so excited to finally able to talk with another person from my world." Said Mc.

Eva then pulls Mc towards the seat. On the table, there were already so many sweets and tea that she prepared especially for today.

They talk for a very long time while laughing. When students see this scene, they would think that there both are old friends.

"So, Mc... You have stayed here longer than I, right?" Eva asked as she stirred her tea.

"Yep. I have stayed here for almost a year now."

"Oh! That would explain the fondness that most of the students have for you." Eva said and her face turn cold.

"And I truly despite it..."

"... Eva?"

"Mc, I really didn't like how you easily win the affection of the student without doing any effort. It's... Annoying... That's why." Eva then calmly sipped her tea before smiling back at Mc.

"I need to do this." With that, she suddenly coughed while standing up making the table turn around and spill everything on top of it. The sound immediately attracts the few students along with the dorm leaders as they immediately go to check.

There they saw Eva kneeling on her feet while Mc looked horrified. Before hearing a shout from Eva.

"I- I never intended to take away your friend's attention. B-but how can you *cough* be so cruel to poison me *cough* *cough*. I thought we are friends." Eva said as she collapse and Lilia immediately caught her. She smirks in her heart thinking that this finally works.

"N-no... I'm not-"

"Mc! How could you?! To think you would be this cruel to do something like this!" Riddle immediately shouts.

"No! You all get it all wrong! This is a trap!"

"ENOUGH! Mc, I'm usually very lenient towards you but this has already gone too far! You disappointed me too."

One by one the supposed friends of Mc starts to reprimand them as Eva smile victoriously as she watches the show from the side while snuggling towards Lilia. Until Ace can be heard laughing at the scenario.

"Pfft- I'm just can't Pfft- Bahahaha! Oh! To think this is the ultimate plan that girl can plan. Where did she even get this idea? A novel?" Ace laugh while Eva look confused.

"What?"

"Ace... You are not supposed to laugh. And to think I spending so much time teaching all of you to act." Vil sighs desperately. Lilia then chuckled.

"... Wh-what is going on?" Eva look confused as she looked at Lilia but Lilia just looks at her coldly with glowing red eyes and drop her from his arms.

Sebek immediately runs towards Lilia with a sanitizer ready and a box of tissue. Lilia accepts it gratefully.

"Ha... To think I would touch something so dirty with my hands. You better pay for my hard work very well, my dear." Lilia said.

"Just what on earth is going on? *cough* Why are you all looking at me like I'm at fault? It's not me but Mc is the one that tries to poison me."

"Hey. It's kinda pitiful seeing her like this, right Cater?" Ace asks as he smirks towards 'Mc'. Eva watches with widened eyes as Mc start to change form toward one of the familiar students, Cater Diamond. He just give a peace sign towards Eva.

"Too bad, dearie~ But the one that you want to frame is currently sleeping safe and sound inside the Diasomnia. It's really a waste of your good acting though. But don't worry, you still have something very useful for us." Cater said with a smile. Eva just look at them dumbfounded before processing Cater words.

"What do you mean... Useful?"

This time Vil is the one that steps up and kneels to her face level. "You see, Eva... You have something that is needed to ensure our love Mc survival in this magical world. The poor one has been sick recently and needed a cure. This is why we need you. More specifically, your heart~"

Eva just slap Vil's hands away in fear. If that means that everything has been planned all along. Her arrival in this magical world has been staged just so MC can survive all along. So she is only a puppet? A sacrifice?

Eva starts to think about the worst possibility until she starts to cough again but this time, she let out some kind of weird black ink. She looks horrified.

"Ah... It seems the fruit will soon be ripe for us to pick." Lilia said with a smile.

"P-please! Anyone save me!" Eva then looks around to see every single student but can only get scared as every single student have this smile towards her.

Why? Why? WHY?! She just wants to have a happily ever after!! She was supposed to have it and live like a princess just like in the fairy tale. THE PROTAGONIST SHOULD HAVE BEEN HER! B-but why... She gets turned into a villain!

Her coughing starts to get worse. As more and more ink flows out from her mouth. Malleus then stood in front of her and with a smirk looking down at her.

"Be hateful my dear. Hate the fact that you easily fall for us and our story. And hate how you have been playing around just like a lamb."

That is the last time Eva remembers before the darkness consumes her. The last voice she remembers are...

"Don't worry we wouldn't kill you~ You can still live without your heart~"

Okay. So the next part will maybe the last part of this AU. I'm will open a brain rot for extra chapters later. Hopefully, this is up to your expectations. AND THANK YOU FOR EVERY KIND WORD AND SUPPORT! Reading your comments always makes my days even better.

This is the taglist but I'm sorry if there is someone that still not getting tagged. I try to cross-check it so many times to make sure that none is being missed out.

Thank you for the support and maybe leave a comment and don't forget to reblog!

Taglist:

@ladykitsunesworld @shutsuyuri @lilqi @fancyhawk45 @probablynoposts @justakiro @blue-yucca @love-thanatopsis @sxftiebee @salty-salty @zlatolait-writes @feiktn @redrosetrappola @littlewitchwonderland @ilikefanfics4 @deemayaz @unre-lated @deessenya @viostar2095 @sumiko0-0 @clovers-anxiety @fluffimemes @celestialbluebed @deadflycomputerlogs @percea @mouchie @nadjababygirl @migirizuki @h3apm3ch4n151m @rebloging-everything @crazyyanderefangirlfan @mikkies @iameliseposts

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #replaced mc au #twisted wonderland replaced mc au #twisted wonderland au #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader

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wroteclassicaly · 2 years

Note

for the hot scenario thing… thinking about eddie cumming in you and steve eating it out before he fucks you then we he cums in you eddie cleans you up. steddie brain rot is so real

First of all, thank you! And second, you’re probably gonna get more than you bargained for with this one, lol. My brain is going to town on me, quite literally, so… I hope you like this? ;)

From the post here

Send me a hot scenario and I will rate it

Warnings: Language, NSFW, anxiety and self-esteem mentions (it’s brief), slight masturbation, Steve has a daddy kink, mirror play, squirting, handjobs, oral sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, fluff, slow sex, rough sex, creampie, cum eating, and MORE!

~*~

You aren’t exactly sure what you did to deserve this? Maybe winning some jackpot lottery on the sexual spectrum that life offers, but you won’t complain. Not when you’ve got the two hottest guys in Hawkins—no, in the entire fucking world—at your feet, worshipping, praising, encouraging, soothing you into their sins.

~*~

Lately, you hadn’t been your boisterous self, and though you tried to hide it, your boyfriends noticed. The kind of red flag, bells tolling, alarms beeping—type of noticing.

Your calls became less audible, the desires to go out in public and have any sort of human interaction that wasn’t with your shared group of friends, becoming too non-existent for their comfort. And that’s what one of the main rules when all this started was. Comfort. Your distress was alarming, and they couldn’t stand it any longer, having sought you out. It wasn’t a simple thing, by any means, but it was a fixable situation.

You were feeling briefly lost, on the cusp of floating through the motions, unmentioned. Eddie was the first to corner you, having gotten out of band practice before Steve got off work, given the go ahead to make some headway and cheer you up. He questioned you outright, knowing that sugar coating anything isn’t the forte you abided by. You’d shrugged a shoulder, your floral pastel t-shirt blowing in the breeze of your exasperated arms, as they thumped into your lap. Your fingers had reached out to touch Eddie’s knee through ripped denim, playing aimlessly with the threads to avoid direct confrontation.

Eddie had coaxed it from you by willing his newfound patience (a trait learned from Steve), and you had admitted to being overwhelmed with the relationship. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made you feel undeserving. After all, as you had explained, how could someone like you appeal to men like them? Whilst Eddie had explained that the three of you were the most unexpectedly, oddest people in Hawkins to become linked—it worked. And why did it work, exactly?

Love. He couldn’t feel his fucking arms without seeing Harrington’s dumbass little smirk everyday, he wouldn’t be able to take in a steady breath unless your lips hit his cheek on your way out the door. Without ‘this’, as he’d motioned with ringed hands in explanation— his balance shifted. Nothing would be right if none of you were together. You had cried when he finished his statement, moisture getting caught in your lash line as he had asked, “How does all this feel for you, baby? You know we can stop if it’s not something you are really ready for.”

But you’d objected rather vocally and quickly, soothing Eddie’s erratic breathing. He understood being caught up in overwhelming moments, and the incredulous wonder of you three.

“Feels like I’m floating, or sometimes I can’t even comprehend basic, normal, everyday things, because Steve’s voice does that raspy thing when he first wakes up. Everything goes fuzzy in my head and I swear I short circuit after you come home from practice, with that smirk on your pretty mouth. And… fuck it, my chest hurts when I see you at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette, attempting to keep that hair off your face as you work on campaign sheets for the kids, and Steve pulls it back for you. And I just look, I fucking see. I’m in—“

“Love?” Eddie had finished, a thumb brushing your mouth’s corner.

The veil had lifted off your mood, a phantom air so fresh and clear inside of you that you could taste and smell it. Steve had called in between customers and Eddie had pressed the receiver to your ear, watching as the insecurities poured out of your mouth, easier than the air you needed to survive. He’d kept a hand on your back, rubbing to reassure, to give you the time you need to tell Steve what you had told him, including your observations and declarations. Your shared partner was smooth and gentle, a tone reserved for you and Eddie, as he addressed the matter.

“If you both could feel how whipped I am for you, how much I love you…” Steve had cupped his hand over the phone to muffle his words from prying patron ears.

You’d blushed, squirming a little. Eddie saw, of course he did. He’d leaned by your head, cheek to cheek. “Think one of your words just lit her fuse, Harrington.”

Steve got off work pretty quickly that night. And after airing your feelings out to your boyfriends completely, Eddie wasted zero time reminding you about that word that set your inferno ablaze. Whipped.

“Sex, sex, sex. Is that all you ever think about, babygirl?” Steve had stroked your dumbfounded expression after teasing you with his words, and you—the way you encouraged them to push you further, pull you back into entanglement.

After your confession time, you were left with a need so raw and full, you’d die if it wasn’t satiated.

~*~

“Wait a second.” Eddie pauses his sturdy thrusts, his thick cock throbbing inside your overly wet pussy. You dig into his shoulders, nails scraping his slick skin, and mewl into the safe confines of his neck. “Shh, I know, sweetheart. M’ gonna move in a sec. I just want to try something.” He coos, cigarette stained breath hot on your mouth. “Harrington. I know you have a full length mirror in here somewhere.”

You can’t help the automatic reaction your body has to his words, clamping down, sucking his cock in deeper, causing it to squish against that delicate spot. Both of you groan, your legs hiking higher around his waist. “Holy Christ.” You whimper, earning a laugh from Eddie. Steve joins back in, seconds later, a long mirror in hand. He stumbles with it, earning a fond smirk from Eddie.

“And they say I’m the clumsy one.”

“Keep talking like that and see how well you can fuck our girl with your mouth full, Munson.”

Yep, that’s it.

Your head falls back onto the couch, limbs reduced to complete puddles of jello. Eddie praises your love for their filthy banter, multi-tasking Steve in helping him adjust that full length crystal by verbal instruction, until you catch a view so damned debaucherous that you’re probably going to hell when you cum. He’s still inside you, making it hard to catch your breath, a trembling vibration in your bones. “Eddie, please.”

The expanse of his semi-tall structure is on full display, those tattoos like sinful vines that you ache to climb, to taste. Licking your lips, it’s obvious to both panting men in the room that, yes, you like this. A lot.

“Oh, look at her, Harrington. She’s cock drunk and obsessed with my backside.” The metalhead spares a look through frizzy, sweat soaked curls, moaning around a mouthful of garbled words.

“Keep fucking her, Eddie.” Is a command that dips off Steve, that thick fucking cock leaking in his shiny fist.

Eddie and you watch his motions in simultaneous harmony, Eds picking speed back up his rhythm, suddenly shifting into railing you into the couch cushion—every lump and bump in worn pillowing—visible. Your lids have fluttered closed against an onslaught of distinctly, familiar pleasure. It’s happened before with a lot of grunting teamwork, often leaving you overstimulated and begging to be released and brought back into it, but this time it’s happening with only Eddie’s cock. Everyone hears it before Eddie says anything. That increasingly loud squelch that becomes a vulgar sloshing.

Eddie’s chocolate irises are gone beneath two black lakes, his mouth red and swollen from eager and sloppy kisses, courtesy of you and Steve. His hand lifts your thigh a little higher, the other motioning Steve over. “You hear that, Stevie? Our little girl is gonna squirt all over my cock.”

Steve rubs a fast palm down his dick, enjoying the aching stimulation. He tilts his head in curiosity, his hickeys visible all across his neck and collar bones. You smirk through the haze of pleasure, hand reaching out for him as he bends a little, letting you run your fingers through tufts of chest hair, amused as he adds in, “Yeah, think you can do it without either one of us touching that sweet clit, honey?”

“M’ gonna try. Eddie…?” You lift your other leg to lock them around Eddie’s back, pleading for him to go faster, but Steve is halting the motions, stepping into view and lifting your left leg onto Eddie’s shoulder, having you maneuver the other around his lower waist, moving off to the side and making sure Eddie feels every inch of his soaking cock drag across the rockstar’s backside.

With this, you can still see your reflection, but it has Eddie driving into that spongey spot at an angle so sharp, you swear you black out. “Fuck! Fuck!”

“Shit, dammit. She’s squeezing my soul out, straight through my dick.” Eddie says, then whimpers and grips your jaw, pressing his forehead to yours as he begins to slam himself into your cunt so hard that you feel the slip and slide of your pelvic bones, his happy trail giving your clit feather light strokes on the up. “M’ gonna cum inside her. Think I should?”

Steve doesn’t waste a second. “Soak that pussy, Eds.”

Their words bring a waterfall over your entire nervous system, a scream ripping straight through your diaphragm, and bouncing off your lungs, leaving your throat raw, and you winded. That impending climax dangling by a scrap.

“She’s getting wetter, Steve. Get the fuck over here and open your mouth. Show our girl you appreciate the show she’s getting ready to put on for us.”

Steve kneels, your leg releasing and lifting onto his shoulder, draping down that freckled back. His voice is hot and raspy, as he says, “Squirt for me, baby. Daddy needs to get wet.”

Your clit tingles with the release before your pussy feels the impact, a warmth spreading through you in a honey dripping sheath. Your muscles tighten and then relax themselves, a clear burst of your cum squirting from your cunt and around a stuttering Eddie as he fucks you through it. Steve’s pinching the meat of your inner thigh, tongue out and accepting the translucent spray, marveling in how it’s soaking his face and chin, some dripping off his chestnut tousled tresses. You can’t breath, can’t scream, you fucking cum. Eddie’s thrusts grow erratic, and you pull on his long hair, Steve slapping his ass, and he’s done for, warm spurts coating your insides in his cream.

He collapses onto your heaving bosom, panting and quivering, you struggling to take in air yourself. Steve, still hard as a rock—agonizingly so—helps Eddie slide out and off of you, kneeling completely and dragging you to the end of the couch, tongue clicking to the roof of his mouth. By this time you’ve managed to prop up a little bit, watching his back muscles move with every shift, those freckles begging to be licked. Eddie’s mirror idea may just be his best one yet.

“Oh, Harrington, you filthy slut.” Eddie knows just the direction his boyfriend is headed in, and he steadies himself beside you on the couch, palming your breasts and pinching your nipples, rings stroking back and forth to stimulate the areola.

“He’s not gonna…” You trail off.

“You made Stevie bring out the D word, Y/N. He’s going to, and we’re gonna watch him, do you understand me?”

That playful, but dominant tone has you captivated, obeying with a nod and accepting Steve’s scorching mouth. He jerks your knees apart, flattening his tongue as it licks a broad stripe up your sopping wet cunt. His mouth is drenched in yours and Eddie’s releases, Steve making sure he doesn’t waste a drop, watching you both through a very thin ring of hazel. You can’t look away from his muscular physique and every single one of those unrealistic freckles that keep you high on everything Steve Harrington. When the former prom King has managed to suck on every inch of your labia, crudely clean every cum slick crease, he lifts his head, a blob still left on his tongue.

He beckons you, Eddie pushing your sweaty back to help you meet Steve in a rough kiss, sharing that particular mixture. You run your fingers through his hair, arching as if you’re a magnet and he’s earth’s gravity personified. On a messy breakaway, saliva and remains of arousal stretch, Eddie weaving his ring covered fingers through, in awe of how it causes the jewelry to glisten. He closes his plush lips over each ring, releasing with a loud suckling pop. The three of you share a smirk, and Steve brushes his knuckles down the flushed apple of your cheek, tugging on you to help position yourself with him.

“Come here to daddy.” And he manhandles you until your ass is dangling, giving him plenty of room to grasp your ankles. Eddie, the greedy bitch that he is, reaches between your thighs and grabs Steve’s cock, slicking it up and down the seam of you. It’s got everyone in those sensual shambles.

Steve turns his head and tugs Eddie in by his throat. “Put me inside of her. Now, Munson.”

You can’t even speak human language, having given up long ago. Eddie presses Steve in, that burning stretch causing a fullness to press against your swollen walls. You hiss, toes curling, Steve’s fingers tapping across your ankle bones. “I know, baby. Daddy always splits your little cunt open, doesn’t he? Always feels like the first time, doesn’t it?”

“So fucking full.” You whisper, taking Eddie’s fingers as they’re offered, his other hand reaching to draw circles underneath the back of your knee.

“Look at us, baby. C’mon.” He demands.

Steve fucks you slow and deep, making sure you feel every ridge and curve of his cock (as if you don’t dream of being wrecked with it more than you care to admit), a slippery glide helping you find yourself matching his movements, pushing your hips into his, spreading your legs wider, letting them slide from his hold and entwining around him, thighs pressing against his tailbone. He lifts a hand beside your head, taking Eddie’s and yours in a stern grip. You’re overloaded and that coil is expanding, bursting, ready to explode and make you implode. Steve is marveling.

“That’s it. Cum for me, honey. And I’ll let you have mine.”

You fall apart, this time your vision does spot out, both of your boyfriends struggling to stay upright. Steve releases not seconds later, rowing forward and biting above your breast when he cums, layering your pussy in a sticky sheen. He doesn’t waste a moment, though, only stopping to inhale roughly a few times, pulling himself out and watching his essence and your fresh orgasm drizzle out of you. Eddie scoops down and closes his entire mouth over your cunt, devouring and sampling, nosing crudely. You let him clean you, still throbbing and recovering.

And then there is Steve, who decides he needs some more, not minding it’s his own, so he’s burying his face in between your legs again, wiggling his tongue just enough to coax more from your sore opening. Eddie cups the back of your neck as your tongue pokes out to touch Steve’s, gathering what he gives you, Eddie welcomed into the kiss next, that slurping a noisy enchantment. “Mhm, the taste of my two favorite whores.” He states, in his matter of fact way.

Yeah, you’re gonna need to hydrate and eat up tonight.

~*~

Tagging some babes: @prettyboyeddiemunson @inklore @ethereal27cereal @littledemondani @likedovesinthewnd @corrodedhawkins @thisishellfire @gothbitchshit @indouloureux @boldlyvoid @roanniom @master-of-munsons @runningmunson @munsonquinns @cowboy-kylo @pinkchubbiebunnie @pixiemunsons @munsonmunchies @manicpixiedreamcurl @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @st-eve-barnes @oliveoilthoughts @sending-love-letters @screaming-blue-bagel @spookycreepycookie-blog @gublers-ghost @munsonxdays @hellfirehope @taurusxmun @captaincarmel164 @mrsanxiiety

I tried tagging everyone on my tag list (I tagged some mutuals that aren’t on there, so I hope that’s okay?), but I couldn’t tag some of you for some reason. I’m sorry :(

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ponderingmoonlight · 7 months

Text

Gojo recklessly flirting with Choso's little sister at Shibuya

Pairing: Gojo x Choso's sister! reader

Word Count: 1,5k

Synopsis: After being set in Shibuya to distract and exhaust none other than Satoru Gojo, Choso's little sister soon learns that the rumors about his charm are true.

Warnings: This has no major plot, basically just a fic to tease y'all, Gojo being a smooth operator, furious Choso lol

Tags: @celestair

„You‘re late“

Your sweet voice echoes through the hallway, figure unseen by Satoru Gojo in your hiding spot on the ceiling. Urgh, you’ve been sitting here for what feels like hours, the voice of your big brother lingering through your mind.

“Don’t cause trouble, (y/n). I’m serious, we have a mission to fulfill.”

“Yeah, whatever. Working with that idiots won’t bring back our brothers tho.”

“Careful.”

He stepped closer to you, eyes glistering so deadly that you had to swallow.

“Don’t forget why you’re here.”

“I’m here because you forced me to”, you remembered him.

“If Satoru Gojo is half as strong as that guy told us, he’ll kill me. I’m nothing but a bait, you know that right?”

“I won’t let any harm come over you, (y/n). I promise. Also, you have immense powers, just use them. I’ll meet up with you again later.”

One last hug. One last hug before he sent you away.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, I was expecting a larger reception committee to be honest”, he comments dryly.

Your eyes roam over his body in the dark. Rumors were true as it seems, Satoru Gojo is indeed a handsome man for being human. Tall and quite muscular, an undercut to die for and that blindfold that holds the mystery of his powerful orbs. You crane your neck to catch a better glimpse of him. Interesting appearance.

“Be assured that I am more than enough for you.”

With a swift motion, you lower yourself onto the ground, feet landing elegantly right in front of him.

Your breath hitches when your gaze meets his. How is this man so good-looking even though a blindfold covers half of his face? He smells absolutely intoxicating, the way his cocky smile decorates his face makes your heart beat a little faster.

Stop. You shake your head, trying to get these thoughts out of your head. None of this matters. You are here to distract him, to drain him, to lead him to the others. Satoru Gojo is nothing more than a mission you have to fulfill.

“Oh, and you are?”, he questions, putting an arm casually on his hip.

“The villain”, you clarify with a satisfied grin.

“Too bad. You look way too good for being a villain.”

He really wants to play with you, cute. You’ve been walking on this earth long enough to know how men work, especially those like him. Always so sure of themselves, convinced that they can get any woman. Way too easy to manipulate, though.

“Yeah? Let me show you what I’ve got in store, then.”

Blood manipulation makes it easy for you to attack him from a distance over and over again. You aren’t a fool, though. The way your attacks simply bounce off him shows you more than any words could specify how fucking strong the man in front of you is. When using his technique, there’s absolutely no chance for you to win this fight. But still, you promised. You promised Choso to distract and tire Gojo out. The sooner he’s gone, the sooner you can take revenge for the death of your brothers.

“Blood manipulation, huh? Interesting, so you’re a descendant of the Kamo family.”

The amusement that radiates from his voice irritates you. It’s like he isn’t bothered by your powerful technique at all, making fun of you instead of fighting back.

“You know I could just kill you on the spot, right? Why are you here on your own?”

“Maybe to fight you, maybe to seduce you. Who knows?”, you remark, now trying to land a hit on him in close combat.

He grabs your hand faster than you are able to react, making your eyes widen. Fuck, this isn’t good. His radiant touch alone would be enough to kill you on the spot.

“I have to admit, you are a decent jujutsu sorcerer, maybe a semi grade 1. Could make you a grade 1 if you ask nicely.”

Gojo hates to admit it, but it’s way too easy to get lost in your mesmerizing orbs. Are you a curse? No, your skin feels too real and soft for that against his palm. You are human. Maybe reincarnated, but you are human. A striking human, to be exact.

Even though he is very aware of the fact that you are here to distract him from something bigger, he just can’t help but play your little game.

“You know I could make you kneel just by touching you, right?”, you purr, head tilted to the side.

“Oh believe me honey, I could do the same without using any technique.”

For the split of a second you can feel your cheeks heat up, heart pounding hard against your ribcage. What the hell is this strange feeling? You are reincarnated, you aren’t supposed to feel anything. But why…Why does the way he hold your arm so close against his body and the way he smiles down at you send shivers down your spine? You’ve been alive for so damn long, meeting countless men on the way. What makes him so different?

“I know you’re here to distract me. I gotta say that’s pretty rude considering I’m the strongest. Do they want to get rid of you?”

“Maybe I’m a good match and they know that”, you reply with a sweet grin.

“You’re fighting on the wrong side. When this is over, I’ll show you that you’re capable of so much more. With the right motivation, of course”, he hushes.

“Is this an offer?”, you question.

He can tell by the look in your eyes that your mind is racing. To be honest, he isn’t asking exclusively because of your striking powers.

“Absolutely.”

Softly, his touch traces along your arm, up your shoulder, over your back. Gojo’s other hand joins, brushing over your waist. You see stars, it’s like you’ve forgot how to function. Even though it was part of the job many times to wrap a man around your finger, it never really bothered you when they touched you. If you felt something, it was nothing but disgust and anger. But that right now, that isn’t anger or disgust. This is a completely different feeling, foreign in the way it makes your knees weak. No, not even the emotions you hold towards Choso can compare to that.

Is this what attraction feels like?

“You’re dangerous, Satoru Gojo.”

Your voice is as cold and calculating as ever while you feel like dying and flying internally.

“What’s your name?”

“(y/n), can you hear me?”

Fuck. The voice of your brother inside your ear makes you tear away from him in an instant.

“Yeah. What is it”, you mumble.

“So your name is (y/n), huh? What a beautiful name. Fits you perfectly”, Gojo coos behind you.

“Did that guy just flirt with you, (y/n)? Bring him here. Right now”, Choso hisses.

“Sure. Already on the way.”

“You heard him. Get your ass moving”, you instruct the man in front of you while rolling your eyes in annoyance and moving towards the main hall.

“What a bummer, I thought we had more time alone."

“Don’t say that out loud when my brother is here. He’ll kill you right on the spot and I want to have this honor”, you warn him.

The way you walk in front of him with your delicate hips swinging from side to side makes him smile into himself. You’re a feisty woman, not that easy to get, unapproachable at first glance. But oh how you caught his attention. Not only with your immense powers, but also your sharp tongue and striking looks.

“You’re too good looking to be one of the bad guys”, he comments before he can stop yourself.

“And you’re too good looking to fight for the wrong side”, you reply dryly.

“And how do you know I’m on the wrong side and you’re on the right?”

“Because your students killed my brothers without flinching.”

“And the people you are working with killed thousands of innocent humans with countless brothers and sisters still grieving them.”

You turn around slowly, just about to reach the meeting spot you agreed on with Choso.

“I would recommend to not say something like that to my brother”, you hiss.

“Choso, I’m here!”, you announce loudly.

Another figure appears out of the shadow.

“I hope you didn’t hurt her, Satoru Gojo. Otherwise I will have to kill you right on the spot.”

“I guess sneaking up to other people is like a family thing”, he notes.

“Don’t worry, she was really nice company. Made me almost forget that this is a trap.”

“Gojo”, you warn him.

“Watch your mouth”, Choso hisses through gritted teeth.

“Tell me you didn’t flirt with him”, he continues whispering in your ear.

“Oh, I absolutely did”, you reply without thinking twice.

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an-idyllic-novelist · 5 months

Text

Heracles with fem!giyuu!reader scenario

Collab work with @deathmetalunicorn1. This can be seen as either a platonic or a slow burn romance scenario.

warnings: violence, canon divergence, and possibly Brunhilde's potty mouth.

Giyuu!reader is selected to fight in round four against Heracles, the mightiest demigod of Olympus. Brunhilde had emphasized that his strength is nothing to scoff at and to make sure to secure a win so that Humanity will be given an advantage against the shitty gods. While she was not someone who judged a person by someone’s words alone, Giyuu!reader had promised Nezuko and Tanjiro that she would come back to them. And that is what she will do, regardless of who her opponent is in the arena.

To her shock, Heracles had actually tried to persuade her to forfeit the match because he did not want to fight a woman. To him, it was dishonorable. She just looked at him for a moment, then unsheathed her sword and charged at him, though he had parried the blow with his club.

Giyuu!reader clicked her tongue, leaping backwards and landing on her feet. She straightened her posture, [Eye Color] orbs staring at him icily.

“This is a fight to save mankind…my gender is irrelevant. Or will you dare to change the match to suit your own benefit, as Zeus had done in the second match?” She asked, maneuvering her fingers around the leather handle of her sword before bending her knees. She inhaled her nose, exhaling through her mouth.

“Water Breathing. Fifth Form. Blessed Rain After the Drought.”

Giyuu!reader darted across the arena, swinging her blade from the left, aiming at the demigod’s neck. She had hoped to finish her opponent in an act of kindness, but alas the tip of her blade barely made a dent as he had used his club again to parry. He pushed back against her, allowing Giyuu!reader to use his arm as leverage and leapt away again, putting distance between them.

She frowned at him. “Stop this.” She said, “Fight back.”

“I cannot and will not unless you lay down your arms.” He replied, lowering his club towards the ground, cerulean orbs bright with conviction and sincerity. He might…mean what he said, and these aren’t just pretty words to lower his opponent’s guard…it still pissed off Giyuu!reader that he was under the impression that she is weak. Yes, she is a Hashira, but she is neither the strongest nor the weakest Demon Slayer of the Corps. She did not survive for as long as she has, protecting Valhalla from the monsters on the other side of the Bifrost, by being soft either.

“You are not a warrior.” Giyuu!reader snapped. “You….are pathetic.” Ignoring the outraged cries bouncing across the arena, she raised her blade at him with a single hand, the tip pointed at his chest.

“It is one thing to show mercy upon an enemy. But what about an opponent who is willingly to lay down her life in this fight, and she is expecting you to share the same courtesy, yet instead she is treated…like she is weak? This is not an act of mercy you are showing me. It is dishonorable. You, Heracles of the Grecian pantheon, have done nothing but humiliate me. Is that the reason you have chosen to be a representative of the Gods in this tournament, even when you proclaim to love humans? Or will you raise your weapon, shut up, and fight me with all of the strength that you possess?”

“Then tell me what drives you.” Hercules pleaded. “Why are you doing this?”

“...I can’t tell if you are being serious or just stupid.” Giyuu!reader spat. “You are fighting against someone who is considered to be powerful under Lord Hades’ command. Pummel me into the ground, right here and now, and I will gladly answer your question. Unless you have figured it out already, then congratulations. Either way I’m still going to win against you, even if it means I will sacrifice myself to ensure mankind will survive.”

For a split second, Heracles noticed how his opponent’s shoulders tensed as someone called out to her from humanity’s side of the arena. He saw a young boy with a burn mark and wearing a checkered haori waving his arms frantically, a smaller girl with a bamboo piece in her mouth mimicking him, albeit with a bit more enthusiasm.

The demigod closed his eyes. Inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling through the mouth, Heracles raised his club, the spiked edges pointed at Giyuu!reader as she kept her sword pointed at him.

“I love humans. I do not wish to see them destroyed when I know there is still hope for them to strive, to grow, and become better. Therefore…I will not kill a warrior who is fighting for such an honorable reason. Come, I will give you what you want. Instead of a clean death, however, I will fight until one of us loses consciousness. There has been enough death here today.”

“Fine. The victor shall be the one who is not incapacitated.”

Heracles nodded, and got into a fighting position. So did Giyuu!reader. Although the crowd - humans and gods - jeered at their words and wished to see more carnage, Zeus silenced them with his own agreement. He will make an exception in this round of Ragnarok…but no more mercy beyond round four.

Giyuu!reader fought against the red-haired giant, deflecting his movements and using her Breathing techniques to counterattack. But….in the end, Heracles was too powerful. Giyuu!reader lost. Another win for the gods. And Brunhilde reminded her of her failure as soon as she gained consciousness in the medical wing, the Valkyrie glaring at Giyuu!reader.

The Water Hashira felt frustrated tears building in the back of her eyes, rapidly blinking them away and praying that Brunhilde would not see such…an unsightly display of weakness. She was prepared for another tongue lashing when a familiar, deep voice rang in the white room.

“That’s enough, Brunhilde!”

Giyuu!reader looked up and saw Heracles hobble through the door, his broad chest and left arm covered in bandages. She noticed that the demigod was leaning heavily against his club, using it as a cane of sorts as he glared at the Valkyrie.

“It isn’t like I walked away from this fight unscathed either. Nor was it a failure on her part. Do you know how rare it is to find a human who is able to keep up with my physical strength? And it was a tie, Brunhilde, not a failure.”

Giyuu!reader stared at him with widened eyes. “...A tie?” She whispered, averting her attention back to the dark-haired woman. Brunhilde sighed, her hands planted on her hips and lips curled into a frown.

“He speaks the truth, though in hindsight, there is no predicting how this tournament will proceed. A complete victory would have been preferable…but this…I’ll accept it. For now. And you did fight hard, and with courage, unlike some of the warriors I had spoken to before coming to you. So…forgive me.” She inclined her head slightly to Giyuu!reader before she strode towards the door. The Valkyrie then looked back at the Hashira.

“Get some rest.”

That was the last thing Brunhilde had said before she skittered out of the room, leaving Giyuu!reader alone with the demigod. She said nothing, watching Heracles smiling boyishly at her as he carefully lowered himself on the edge of the bed, causing Giyuu!reader to scoot a little towards the right so that he’d have enough room. “How do you feel?” Giyuu!reader asked, tilting her head. “If we were both knocked out…then why weren’t you in the same room as I? Did the gods fear I would try to finish the job as soon as I was conscious?” She would have done it too, if Heracles had been a demon instead of a half-mortal, half-god she fought against in a tournament where the fate of humanity hung in the balance.

Giyuu!reader watched as his eyes widened for a fraction before he threw his head back, a booming laugh bouncing off the walls. He laughed for a bit, and then looked at her, his grin stretched from ear to ear.

“Sorry. I-It’s just…wow, I definitely wasn’t expecting that! No. The hospital policy is to not have men and women share the same room, even when there are curtains that can be used for privacy and so on.” He chuckled, using the back of his hand to wipe away some tears that were trickling down his face from laughing too hard.

Giyuu!reader blinked, staring at him blankly. “I suppose that does make sense.” She muttered. “Will you be leaving soon then? I’ve heard gods and demigods have extraordinary regenerative abilities.”

“Soon.” He said, flexing his left arm. “The facilities used here are amazing, and you’ll get to go back home too!”

“And our fight was most definitely a tie?”

“Absolutely! It was a double-knock out! Everyone saw it, and they can certainly not deny it! Even Heimdall was astonished at your strength. Oh, we could even have another match when you’ve made a full recovery! Ares is an amazing fighter like you, but he’s not always available! And I’ve never seen a fighting style like yours, it’s incredible!”

Giyuu!reader stared at him for a long moment until she slowly nodded in agreement.

“I would not mind.” She said softly. “Although…knowing Tanjiro and Nezuko, they will probably give me quite the scolding when I return to the compound.” Just when she said those words with a small smile, which caused Heracles’ heart to skip a beat upon seeing such a lovely expression on the warrior’s face, however, the door opened with a loud ‘bang’. Both of them turned and saw a little girl with a bamboo piece in her mouth, pink eyes widening before she began to weep. Without a word of warning, she blitzed towards Giyuu!reader, performing a small backflip as her body shrunk to the size of a toddler and landed squarely on the Hashira’s solar plexus, knocking the wind of her with a grunt.

But Giyuu!reader didn’t push the child away. Instead, she pulled the little one into a hug as chubby arms coiled around her neck. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m alright, Nezuko. See? I told you everything would be fine.” The Hashira cooed, slowly rocking her body back and forth.

From the corner of his eye, Heracles saw another human enter the room. Taller, and he couldn’t have been younger than fifteen or seventeen summers with dark red hair and a green checkered haori draped over his black uniform with silver buttons. The demigod immediately recognized him, and the little girl. They were from the arena, and the boy called out to Giyuu!reader during the match.

The boy, whom he had to guess was Tanjiro, stared at him with nervous, inquisitive eyes. Heracles smiled at him, and stood from the bed, allowing the tiny mortal to approach Giyuu!reader. Tanjiro beamed at him before he walked over to Giyuu!reader’s side, throwing his arms around the Water Hashira and Nezuko, burying his face in the former’s shoulder. When he pulled away, the demigod saw that this boy wasn’t even trying to hide his tears. He had been truly worried about Giyuu!reader.

Giyuu!reader smiled at him, raising a hand and stroking the top of his head before trying to wipe away his tears, although such a tender gesture only made him cry even harder.

While he didn't know the history between these three individuals, it was clear to Heracles that they shared a close bond with one another. He smiled, watching Giyuu!reader panicking over Tanjiro while the little one, Nezuko, looked up at him with tiny flowers over her head till she decided to hug his uninjured leg. His grin widened.

Humans were truly amazing.

“Say, once we’ve been cleared by the healers to be released, how about we all go out and get something to eat? My treat!”

Tanjiro and Nezuko definitely wanted to go, but they left the final decision to Giyuu!reader as they stared at her with wide, curious eyes. Giyuu!reader nodded.

“It would be our honor, Heracles of the Grecian pantheon. I hope we can wait to spar until we’ve fully healed?” She asked with a raised brow. Heracles beamed, jabbing a thumb at his chest.

“Of course! I swear upon my honor!”

“Then it is settled.”

Heracles felt his heart race and his smile widen upon seeing her smile for the second time. He did not know why he felt like this. The only conclusion he could come up with is that he didn’t have to kill this strangely wonderful woman and cause grief for these children. He wouldn’t find out the actual truth until much, much later.

Taglist

@swallowtailcherry

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@nunezs-stuff

#an idyllic novelist #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok #ror x reader #snv x reader #fem reader #snv #snv heracles #ror heracles #giyuu!reader #fem!reader #heracles x reader

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rukkiya · 11 months

Text

say my name

༻(mammon x reader)༺

‧꒰ა what kind of joke was this? why were you looking at him that way? why couldn’t you remember his name? ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

There wasn’t a second Mammon wasn't seen without you. He was practically glued to your hip, you didn’t mind it one bit though.

Throughout your stay, Mammon’s attitude towards you had switched over time. You two grew closer than you thought you would. You’ve never been so vulnerable or so trusting with someone until you met him.

Before he would whine and groan about having to be your “babysitter” but he’s come to terms with it himself, he wouldn’t want anyone else but him to be the one to protect you during your stay.

Of course, you spent time with the other brothers too. You enjoyed being with them all together especially but they always complain about how Mammon steals you all for himself and you only ever spend time with him. He can’t help it; he's the embodiment of greed after all.

Mammon just shrugs at the accusations, flashing his million dollar smile every time he drags you away.

Today was like any other. Mammon was waiting for you outside of your now empty class to walk home, though you two weren't the last one there.

A witch Mammon had met a while back before you had arrived has been keeping an eye or you two, specifically you since you arrived. She had been livid ever since you’ve come down here. A whole year has passed and he still can’t seem to get enough of you, she was sick of it.

All his attention was solely on you, she couldn’t stand it one bit. He looks at you the way she looks at him.

He never made any moves other than just spending time with her but he was everything she ever wanted. She tried to win him over but you came into the picture and he can’t seem to look anywhere else but you.

She wants you out of the picture.

“Oi, hurry ya tiny legs up human, the great Mammon has things to do, places to be.” Mammon slides open your empty classroom door, waiting for you to step out into the hallway first.

“I'm going, I'm going, no need to rush. I promise we'll get home and watch the movie in time ok?” You laugh at him, seeing him with his hand on his hip, foot tapping impatiently. So dramatic.

“Ya know you’re lucky I’m here otherwise your little human self would be lost, but you have me to keep ya in check.” Mammon feels the corner of his lips turn upwards as your laughter gets louder at his remark.

Though his smile falls flat instantly when he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand, making him shoot up from the doorframe standing tall turning to look for the source of where he feels it coming from.

Bloodlust.

He feels pure bloodlust.

He feels someone watching you both but he can’t pinpoint where. This only makes him more nervous. He isn't one to be scared too easily by others but the feeling in his chest told him to get you and leave as soon as possible.

“Mon? Hey are you alright?” you ask, fixing your bag on your shoulder, taking a step closer to him. You lift your hand to poke his cheek but he takes hold of your hand before you even make contact with his skin.

“Ya done? Come on, let's go.” he quickly says, grabbing your hand, dragging you with him before you can even reply.

“Is everything alright? Are you ok? You seem a bit off.” You ask, worried by his sudden change in demeanor, from where you walk a couple feet behind him you can see the uncomfortable clench of his jaw. He seems bothered.

He doesn't reply, he can't. He doesn't want whoever was watching the two of you to sense his worry, he cant put you in danger. If they want to do something they'd have to go to him and him alone.

You don't ask anymore questions, sensing he was uneasy made you feel uneasy. He never is like this around you, let alone unresponsive.

Once you both make it outside the school by the entrance he slows down, looking behind him to see if he can spot the person who was there. The feeling he felt was much less intense but he still felt it nonetheless less.

“Mammo-“

“Don’t worry ya pretty head about it, everything's all good ok? I just wanted to get out of there. Stop ya silly question game. Ya don’t need to worry so much alright? Come on, let’s go home now.” He assures, flashing you a smile hoping you buy it. Giving your hand a small squeeze, he’s been holding onto it since he felt the intense feeling, he can’t seem to let you go just yet, not until he can’t feel it anymore.

He can’t tell you what he feels, the feeling of something bad about to happen any second. He doesn’t want to scare you.

“As long as you’re ok then alright. But if anything is bothering you, you know you can tell me right?” You nod, giving his hand a small squeeze back.

“The great Mammon doesn't have problems, nothing bothers me. Don't worry about me so much, you know you're the here human right? I’m the second strongest demon!” He huffs, turning away feeling his face heat up at your concern. Why’d you have to care for him so much? Be so attentive and kind, to make things worse you look so freaking cute everytime too! The poor demon can’t handle this!

He starts walking again, pulling you along with him, not letting go until you both arrive at the House of Lamentation.

“Y/n do you want to grab some food with Belphie and I? It won’t take long we just-“

“Oi, we have plans for later, find someone else to go with.” Mammon sighs, stepping in front of you and into Beel’s view.

“But they said they will next time we go out, you have them all the time.” Beel looks behind Mammon and at you, look of disappointment on his features.

“Mammon we still have a few hours until the movie airs on TV, we’ll be back before. How about I grab you your favorite ramen before so we can have some snacks for the movie hm?” You ask, only to feel mammon pull you to him a bit more.

“Ya promised.” He turns to you, small pout playing on his pretty lips.

“Yes I did, and I’ll be back. I promised Beel and Belphie too. I won’t be out long ok?” You laugh, lifting your arm giving his cheek a small squeeze hearing him let out a dramatic sigh.

“Ya can’t miss the movie ok?” He asks, bringing his free hand up holding his pinky out. “Promise me you’ll be back.” He asks, you only smile at him and lock your pinky around his.

“Promise.” You whisper, seeing his lips tug down.

“Please be careful out there.” He leans down, head resting on your shoulder. He feels uneasy again, he just got away from that weird source of energy he was feeling a while ago and now you were going out? Without him to keep an eye on you at that.

the horrible feeling of something bad happening creeps up on him.

“Is he throwing a tantrum?” Belphie speaks up from behind beel, annoyed look etched on his features as he glares at Mammon.

“Mammon you steal y/n from us all the time, let them spend time with us now. You’ve taken away our scheduled nap time the other day, let them spend time with us too.” He rolls his eyes, making Mammon click his tongue.

You feel the weight of Mammon’s head lift from your shoulder, the look in his eyes is different from just a few seconds ago.

“Oi listen you two, ya better keep an eye on them alright? Keep them close and bring them back safely.” He turns to them, look of worry in his eyes as he speaks with the most serious tone you’ve heard from him.

“We know, we will.” Beel nods his head, surprised by the second borns change in attitude

“Alright, understood. No need to give us the Lucifer lecture now.” Belphie moves toward you, looping his arm around your free hand pulling you towards the door with him.

“I ain’t messin’ around, I'm serious.” Mammon glares at the youngest, making Belphie roll his eyes again.

“I said ok. They’ll be safe with us. Now let's go.” He pulls you again, Beel makes his way to the door and opens it for you both to exit first.

“I’ll be back, we’ll both watch the movie and I’m yours for the rest of the night ok?” You assure him, you only feel him give your hand one last squeeze before Belphie practically rips you from Mammon's grip.

He can’t hold you back from spending time with the other brothers though he wishes you’d just stay with him, the uneasy feeling made him all the more protective, he can’t help it.

The evening with Beel and Belphie went well. You all ate at Beel’s favorite restaurant and caught up, everything was fine until Belphie shot up from your shoulder while he was taking a nap. His eyes were blown wide and he immediately started checking your surroundings, but nothing was out of the ordinary. The restaurant was somewhat empty, only a random woman sitting a few tables down facing your way and an old couple in the table across from you.

You had asked what it was and when he calmed down, seeing nothing was really wrong and he brushed it off as possibly being a nightmare. Though he knows full well why he got so on edge, his senses were heightened and he felt danger was near though looking around no danger was there.

He was still wary the rest of the time and couldn't find it in himself to sleep again so the remainder of Beel finishing up he kept his eyes open, looking around just in case.

You all ended up leaving shortly after but not before stopping to get some snacks you promised Mammon.

“I'll be out in a second, do you guys want anything?” you ask, reaching onto your bag and turning to look at Beel.

“Chips and chocolate please.” Beel smiles at you and you smile back, nodding your head.

“Alright i'll get you those two things Beel, Belphie how about you?” you turn to Belphie who was falling asleep while leaning on your shoulder, eyes fighting to stay open.

“No thanks, I just want to get some sleep.” He hums, nuzzling close to you.

“We’ll head home right now, Im quickly going to run in and grab a couple snacks for Mammon and Beel.” You give his arm a small squeeze and Beel steps around you , grabbing Belphie and leaning him on his shoulder.

“You don't want us to go in with you?” Beel calls out before you reach the sliding doors, feeling a strange sensation. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand, he felt nervous for no reason.

“Belphie is sleepy, I don't want to make him walk anymore, but thank you, i'll be out right now.” You assure beel, sending him a smile and a nod of your head before turning and walking into the store.

You step into the empty convenience store, waving at the old lady who runs the joint who sees you come in with Mammon most of the time.

You make your way to the snack aisle and stop in front of the chips, picking out Beel’s and looking at the other options for Mammon, that is until you hear some ruckus come from the aisle next to you.

The sound of someone falling caught your attention, making you walk away from the aisle, Beel’s bag of chips still in your hands as you peek out the side to see what happened next to you.

In the middle of the aisle you see a young woman who doesn’t seem like a demon , she was probably a witch. She was on the floor, different things from the shelf surrounding her as she struggled to get back up. She looks somewhat familiar. Like the woman who was eating at the same restaurant you were previously at.

“Are you alright? Do you need a hand ma’am?” You ask, taking a step into the aisle, your legs walking up to her immediately to check if she was ok.

“Ah dear, thank you. I’m so clumsy I can’t seem to catch myself before I trip sometimes.” She smiles up at you and you smile back, reaching your hand out to help her up.

“Don’t worry, I’m the same. I can’t seem to do anything without accidentally hurting myself in some stupid way.” You laugh as she stands on her feet.

Beel checks his phone, he looks around the dark street and clicks his phone off. He feels uneasy, he feels the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. It’s only been two minutes since you’ve walked in. He knows you’ll be out but he can’t spot you in there through the big glass windows from where he’s standing.

“Thank you for helping me up, you didn’t have to. Most demons here will walk away or don’t even bother.” She gives a small pout, leaning down to pick up some of the things she dropped.

“Oh no need to thank me it’s the least I can do, you’re not hurt are you?” You ask, leaning down helping her clean up around her.

“Nono, I’m not but I think my fall might’ve cracked my homemade cookies I just made.” She frowns, looking in her hand bag, taking out a small package of beautifully wrapped cookies that were somewhat broken.

“Oh no! Sorry you broke them, but hey at least you can still eat them!” You try to cheer her up, making her laugh.

“You’re right, I have many bags in here they’re still edible. Would you like one, sorry it’s broken though.” She hands you one, her frown long gone as she was smiling brightly at you, holding the cookies up to your face.

“Uhm it’s ok I-“

“It’s the least I can do! you’ve so kindly helped me up, I just baked them, they're good!” She assures, taking hold of your hand and gently putting the small bag of cookies onto your palm.

“Ah, are you sure?” You ask, feeling bad for taking her cookie’s. But also unsure because if you’ve learned anything from the human world ist to not trust anything anyone gives you, especially if it’s upon first meeting.

“Please, take them, they'll only go to waste, I’ll probably end up giving the rest to my family or eating them for myself now.” She waves you off.

“Foolish human, so trusting and gullible.” The witch thinks as she smiles at you when you nod your head, agreeing to take the cookies.

“Try one, tell me how they taste.” She urges, making you still for a second. You weren’t sure if you should, she was being a little bit too persistent.

“Come on, they won’t bite. They’re chocolate chip cookies. I’m practicing my baking skills. You see, I want to be a baker and open my own shop. I need people to tell me how my treats are or else they won’t sell right.” She asks, somehow making you agree with her because yeah, it makes sense. Right?

“Alright! I’ll be your first customer.” You nod your head and see her smile grow wider.

“You’ll regret ever coming down here, fool, he’ll be mine. He’ll be mine again for sure I know it.” The witch can’t help her smile from widening, she knew humans were trusting but gosh, you were too trusting, you were dumb, this will be your demise.

You reach into the bag and pause, seeing her look so happy made you feel somewhat assured. She just wanted someone to try them, no harm. Right?

The feeling Beel had was getting worse. It was so bad Belphie started to feel it too.

“Beel, where’s y/n? Why is she taking so long? I don’t like this feeling.” Beel feels a tug on his arm and sees Belphie wide awake, eyes blown wide just like earlier.

You reach into the bag, fingertips brushing against the cookie as you grab one of the small pieces that had broken off.

You bring it out of the bag and the aroma of chocolate fills your senses, you're such a sucker for chocolate it’s not even funny.

You bring the piece to your lips and take a bite of the small piece in your hold. The cookie was crispy and soft, the chocolate was sweet and it balanced out just perfectly.

“Mmmn, this is really good.” You smile at her, giving her a thumbs up of approval making her chuckle.

“I’m glad you like them! Please eat the rest too, that'll make me so happy!” She clasps her hands together, happinesses filling her being. Her dark wretched soul was happy, this will surely work. She will have mammon back to herself one again.

You nod your head, wrapping the cookies and placing them into your bag before you hear the store doors open with the small bells over the doors chiming.

“Y/n?!” You hear Belphie call you.

“Y/n where are you at-“

“What happened?? Why were you taking so long?” Beel asks, his long legs walking down the aisle when he spots your head from the one over.

“Ah sorry, I was just helping this woman she had fallen and….” You explain, turning around to the woman who gave you the cookie only to see zero trace of her ever being here.

Belphie scopes the rest of the store, looking down each aisle to find the source of dark energy.

Beel takes another step up to you and leans down a bit.

“What woman?” He asks.

“I think she left when you both came in then, she just fell, I helped her up and you both came in that’s all.” You recall.

He eyes you for a second before turning and looking back at Belphie.

“Did you see anyone when we came inside?” Beel asks, Belphie only nods his head no.

“Who were you talking to? Did you get what you came for?” Belphie steps up to you now, his eyes were wider than his usual sleepy hooded eyes. He was wide awake.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to take so long, I just helped a lady, and yes. I got the snacks. Let me just go pay real quick!” You assure them before walking past the two to pay for what you got.

“Sorry I kept you two waiting, let’s go home.” You turn to them, sending them your signature closed eye smile and they feel somewhat relieved, you didn’t seem hurt or anything. You were still your normal self.

“By the way, are you guys alright? You seemed pretty anxious when you came in to get me back there.” You ask, looking at Beel then Belphie who only shudder at the feeling they felt earlier.

They felt strong dark energy radiating from inside the store, it got really bad for a few seconds until they couldn't stand it anymore, that's when they walked in. But everything seemed fine in there, you were ok. That’s all that mattered to them.

“We just got worried, you took a bit longer than we expected.” Belphie sighs, walking slower to match your pace.

“Now I’m extra sleepy thank you.” He yawns, making you laugh.

“We’re here, you can get rest, sorry about that, I didn’t mean to worry you both.” You apologize again to the twins, they seemed very shaken up back there. You’ve never seen them both so worried, so on edge.

Beel unlocks the door, mentioning for Belphie’s and you to walk in first.

“Ah before I go to bed, here Beel. You must be hungry now, I made you wait too long.” You hand him the bag of chips you grabbed earlier and see Beel’s eyes brighten up.

“Thank you y/n I forgot you got me these I’m hungry no-“

“Oi!” A loud voice cuts through, stomping from the staircase is heard making the three of you turn around.

“You both kept em’ out for too long, the movie is about to start right now!” Beel and Belphie hear Mammon already nag, making them both sigh.

You stare at the two in confusion.

“Movie starts in five human, get ya little legs movin up to my room.” Mammon makes it to the bottom of the steps, glaring at the two youngest.

“Oi human.” Mammon calls again, reaching down to grab your hand to get your attention.

You haven’t even looked at him.

You feel a hand come in contact with yours and you immediately pull away, looking at the strange man who tried to grab you in confusion.

“Oi, what’s wrong? Are ya hurt?” Mammon asks, slight ping in his chest when you pull away.

Belphie and Beel look at you confused, why did you move away from him?

“No, uhm I’m not….” You say, confused at the white haired man’s actions.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” You ask, brows furrowing together the longer you stare at him.

Mammon's smile drops in seconds, his hands still, he can’t find it in himself to blink because what?

“What? Are ya jokin with me human? If ya are, this ain't funny.” He asks, feeling his stomach sink.

You were giving him a strange look.

The same one you wore when you first arrived down here.

Beel looks at Mammon, then at you, then at Belphie who looks just as confused as Mammon.

“Joking? Ah, nono uhh sorry I don't really remember you. Have we met before?” you ask, trying to think back to where you could have possibly met the strange white haired man with beautiful golden eyes with blue undertones.

Nothing, no recollection of ever meeting him comes up. He's handsome, you're more than sure if you had met him before you'd remember his face.

“Oi what are ya guys doing? Belphie, is this your idea of a funny prank huh?” Mammon grits, walking away from you and up to the youngest, grabbing him by his collar.

“Mammon calm down it isn't one of Belphie’s pranks.'' Beel steps closer to them, not wanting to see them fight.

Belphie stills in Mammon’s hold. Looking up at his older brother with wide eyes because he himself doesn't know what's going on.

“This isn't something I'd tell them to do, Mammon, I swear.'' Belphie whispers, eyes wide because he is not getting why you're acting strange all of a sudden either.

Mammon wants to laugh, you are all playing along so well, especially you. But he wants this to stop. It isn't funny anymore.

“Come on guys, please.” Mammon lets out a breath, letting go of Belphie and looking back at you.

You only look at Beel and Belphie just as confused as them.

“I'm sorry, Beel Belphie, what's going on? I don't get it? Why does he think this is a prank?” You ask, the twins and the strange man look even more worried now, the white haired man's face went blank once again.

“Y/n, what's wrong? Are ya feeling sick? Did somethin’ happen?” Mammon calls you by your name, making you all the more confused now.

“How does he know my name?” You think.

He takes a step closer, pleading look in his eyes as he stops in front of you.

“Y/n what's wrong? Why're you acting strange?” Belphie cuts in, he was getting more uneasy the more you kept this up.

“I'm fine, why do you guys keep asking me that?” You sigh, they were the ones acting strange. How did Beel and Belphie know this strange man? Why was he in the house?

Mammon slowly lifts his hand near you, looking you in the eyes, stooping before his hand makes contact with your forehead. “Can I make sure ya dont have a fever?” He asks, cautions of his movements now. When you moved away earlier it made his heart sink. He doesn't want to see that look on your face again. He feels something horrible.

He knows you wouldn’t pull a stunt like this on him. You would never dream of it. You would always scold the brothers everytime they would do something similar or bring him down, this isn't like you at all.

You nod your head yes, feeling him gently brush your hair away, his warm palm laying on your forehead.

“Y/n, I want you to do somethin’ for me, please?” Mammon feels his voice waver a bit, your temperature was more than normal, you didn't feel too hot or anything that indicates you were sick. But he felt something was more worse than it looked, he shouldn't have let you leave.

“Can you say my name?” Mammon’s voice comes out so soft, the concern etched on his features makes you feel so bad.

The white haired man seems so worried about you, but you can't understand why.

“I-Im sorry, I don’t know you. I don't know your name.” Your voice comes out just as low as his.

A sudden sharp pain in your chest crawls its way up when you see the man in front of you stare at you with glossy eyes, look of defeat when he brings his other hand up to his hair frantically. It felt as if the pain he was feeling was rubbing off on you. “I'm sorry.” You repeat, seeing his head drop.

Everything else seems in place, the house, the brothers. Today all you can recall was walking home from school with the twins, then grabbing something to eat. The only thing out of the ordinary was the white haired man who stood in front of you. His reaction made your heart ache, he seemed to be in so much pain. It makes you want to comfort him, you feel so bad, so bad for not remembering the one who fell in love with you, the one who you’ve been in love with since you’ve first met.

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authors note: hello loves!! ⸜(˙꒳˙ ) bagel is back with another obey me fic wooooo!!◝(⁰▿⁰)◜this one is dedicated to my sweetest boi mammon, I swear to freaking gosh I’ve been thinking about him so much lately I needed to write for him LOLOL, BUT!! this fic was so much fun to write (yes it’s an angst-open ending AGSISN SORRYSHSHSH two in a row back to back I know I’m a monster) but I’m so excited to share this one with y’all!! this is for my obey me enjoyers mwah mwah I do hope you all enjoy!! reminder to stay safe, drink plenty of water and take care!!^~^<3 (also!! this isn’t proof read so I do apologize for any errors or mistakes!)

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