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randomshyperson · 1 month

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Baby, I'm Yours - Wanda Maximoff Oneshosts

Summary: The Avengers gain a new member, and Wanda Maximoff mistakenly assumes she has gained a rival instead of a friend. Or the one where Wanda has a crush that she doesn't know how to deal with. [Requested]

Warnings: really fluff, enemies to lovers, some kissing and a lot of teasing, avengers being a family, emo!Wanda and her first gay crush. | Words: 4.564k

A/N-> This was requested a while ago and I used it as practice for a winter soldier!reader idea that I had. Idk if I would ever make a series out of this idea, but it was fun to write this reader.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Seven months after she joined the Avengers, someone else did too.

Unlike her, Sam was extremely excited by the news, he woke up early and somehow managed to convince Vision to join him in the welcome.

Wanda would have skipped the interaction - She only went to get breakfast and intended to spend the rest of the training-free day filled with interactions between the team, hiding in her room and watching old TV shows. But as soon as she noticed the little witch sneaking around the kitchen trying to go unnoticed by Sam's excited theories about who the new avenger would be, Natasha whistled and called out to her.

"Good morning, Maximoff. Do you intend to welcome our new colleague in pajamas?" The widow asked, hiding a teasing smile behind a cup of coffee.

The question already implied what Wanda had feared, and made her sigh. "I didn't know I was expected to take part in the welcome."

Nat grimaced softly - she seemed to be finding the whole thing very amusing.

"What an idea, Maximoff, of course you are! We were all there waiting for you when it was your turn."

She forced a smile, resisting the urge to snap back something bratty like "Thor wasn't". Deciding she had no reason to argue with Natasha, she busied herself with preparing some toast and pouring herself some tea.

When Sam suddenly tapped on the counter, everyone looked at him.

"I got it!" he declared excitedly. "I bet the new guy is Spider-kid!"

Nat frowned. "Who?" and then chuckled to the Falcon's obvious disappointment.

"Come on, the colorful vigilante who keeps throwing webs around? How come you've never heard of him?"

Assuming a thoughtful expression for a moment, Nat flipped through the newspapers on the counter before clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

"Ah, I think Tony's got his eye on that one." She says. "But, no, Wilson. The new recruit isn't the spider. And there's no point in giving me that look, as I won't spoil the surprise."

It looked like the subject was ending - at least that Sam was going to give up. It wasn't long before the rest of the team showed up for coffee, and Wanda mumbled a few good mornings back quickly before making her way to her own room, to change into something more presentable than fluffy pajamas.

But on the way to the bedroom, from one of the glass entrance doors, Steve Rogers appeared and he was accompanied.

"[...] Come on, we're early, they must still be having breakfast." Commented the older Avenger, busy taking off his coat, it took him a moment to notice that Wanda was in the hallway. She was staring, probably. "Oh, good morning, Wanda. I want you to meet someone."

But Wanda already knew you, straight from the television. And from the Shield's files of potential Avenger-level threats.

So maybe that's why when Steve said your name, patted you on the shoulder and you held out your hand for Wanda to shake, she just stared.

"Okay, not a handshaker." You mumbled awkwardly, lowering your arm. "You're Wanda Maximoff, mind reader and former enemy, right? I didn't expect the shock, given the circumstances."

"Hey, easy." Steve grumbled at your aggressiveness, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. Wanda narrowed her eyes at you, but you didn't look too intimidated, your posture relaxed and your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket. "That's in the past. We're all friends now. Aren't we, Wanda?"

With some resistance, she eventually forced a smile and tried to relax her posture. She sighed and nodded. "Of course, Steve. It's nice to meet you apart from the news, Miss Barnes. Should we wait for your brother to join us or does he still have Interpol on his back?"

You chuckle dryly. "Listen here, you-"

"Okay, enough." Steve interrupts, pulling you by the shoulders and giving Wanda a disapproving look. He also whispers that he'll have a talk with her later, but the witch turns away, dragging her feet back into the bedroom while you and Rogers head in the opposite direction.

On the way to the kitchen, you mutter: "And here I thought superheroes were polite."

The soldier chuckles briefly. "You tried to blow up the White House, you can understand the hesitation. Now come on, we've got the rest of the team to shock."

It had taken her hours to see you again, not that anyone had asked her opinion, but Steve had put you in the room next to hers on the justification that it would be good for the two of you to have someone close in age to pass the time.

Wanda grimaced and reminded him that you were about 150 years old. Steve chuckled.

"Technically, yes. But she spent almost all that time on ice, so she was only really around for less than 20 years. Can you please try to be friendly? You have more in common than you might think."

Wanda begrudgingly agreed to be the one to give you a tour of the tower. And so she could also discover that she was apparently the only Avenger who was hesitant about your presence on the team.

She knew your list of skills off the top of her head, but still wondered if you could read what she was thinking when you added; "Your hesitation is totally fine, Maximoff. It must be hard to share the podium as the team's coolest person, but you get used to it."

She chuckled awkwardly at the compliment mixed with teasing at the end of the tour. You offered her a farewell wink, thanking her for the favor before muttering that you needed a shower after several hours of driving. You disappeared to your own room before Wanda could come to a coherent conclusion as to why her heart was racing inside her chest.

Perhaps she was having a panic attack?

Wanda turned on her heels and made her way to Bruce's lab. A quick check-up would clarify things.

While assuring her that she didn't have a chronic arrhythmia, Bruce also - under the influence of Natasha and Tony - diagnosed her with something very common to teenage patients: a crush.

"Did you consider Miss Maximoff, that perhaps, you may have just liked her?"

She did not take this very well.

"What? That's ridiculous! I'm not even gay!" Bruce looked up from the normal results of the cardiology test she had demanded and offered her a small smile.

"All right, Miss Maximoff, maybe I made a mistake. You're probably just anxious about your return to action next week." The doctor suggested and Wanda stood up from the lab chair with an impatient huff.

"That's definitely it." She assured him, not wasting any more time on Bruce and his absurd theories after thanking him for the tests.

After such an unfortunate situation, Wanda began to avoid you. It was the most viable solution when someone caused her to have irregular heartbeats, sweat or tremors. Perhaps she was allergic to you.

Obviously, she should keep her distance.

But it seems that the team had other ideas.

"Barnes and Maximoff, you're together. No gloves, come on." Natasha arrived at the gym announcing, an iPad with the training schedule in hand. Wanda, who had spent a good few weeks with the successful plan of interactions limited to greetings, nearly had a stroke. At least her partner, Sam, was keen enough to hold off his punch before it got to her. Wanda hadn't even heard his comment about her getting distracted in a fight and her feet were moving towards the mat, her eyes quick to notice your breathless figure removing the fighting gloves you had been using on a practice dummy for the last few minutes.

"Let's see if training with Wilson has taught you anything, Maximoff." You commented with a smile that made her stomach jump. Something about your sweaty, panting appearance was making her dizzy.

The rest of the team spread out on the edges of the mat, interested to see the exercise, and it was only Natasha who came up to you to lead the whole thing.

"Start with the basics, I want to see Wanda's reaction time." The widow explained, squeezing the two of you on the shoulder. Before turning away completely, she raised a finger in warning to the younger brunette. "And no magic tricks, Maximoff. Even if you're losing."

Wanda smiled, rolling her eyes. Only once had she done that to Natasha and it seemed the widow would never let that story die.

Before the whistle blew, you looked her in the eye. "I'll take it easy on you, little witch." You whispered teasingly, and Wanda felt something burn in her lower belly. She also decided that she had to win because she had to get that smirk off her face.

It was an easier task than it looked - and it was all down to the fact that if there was one thing Hydra had taught her well, it was to exploit weaknesses.

And yours was to care about her. Every hesitation in your movements, your awareness of the super-soldier strength that could hurt her, made it very easy for Wanda to exploit it, slip away, and dodge all your blows. And there was something else too; a soft choke in your breathing every time she got too close, tangled up between one move and the next. The way your ears turned three shades redder when she managed to knock you over and landed on your chest.

"Wow, Maximoff really is kicking your ass." taunted Sam from the corner of the room, grinning at Barton and Nat.

You didn't seem to mind, licking your lips as you took a second look at the position Wanda now found herself in; sitting on your hips.

She did, however, give you an annoyed look. "Don't hold back, I can take it."

"I'm sure you can, little witch." You retorted ironically, leaning yourself fully back onto the mat.

Wanda grunted angrily, then grabbed the collar of your blouse. "Fight for real! I don't need you to take it easy, I can handle it."

The disarming was so quick that she barely had time to blink - one second she was on your hips, the next her back was pressed to the mat with her hands pinned to the side of her head.

Your body on top of hers, pressing her to the floor, made her choke.

For a moment, as your dilated eyes descend to her mouth, you also seem to forget what you were doing, and the audience around you.

But suddenly, you let go; a dry, humorless laugh escaping you as you stand up. And you turn to Nat as if you hadn't just dropped Wanda on the mat.

After ignoring you for weeks, she thinks she deserves it.

"Her fight is decent, so I think we had enough."

Nat raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. "Oh, are you the one deciding on the training now, Barnes?"

You smile briefly before retorting; "Come on, everyone knows she's not punching her way out of fights when she can use the energy tricks. It's a waste of time making the girl train like a soldier."

Natasha doesn't seem to agree. She follows you towards the locker room, arguing how important it is to eliminate the team's vulnerabilities, while the rest scatter around the gym, some giving up practicing to get something to eat and others going back to wrestling.

Wanda regrets sitting on the mat because in that position she can watch you at the locker room door, tugging at your training shirt, exposing a strong muscular back and a lot of skin because of the sports top that doesn't do much good to hide it.

Natasha continues to talk to you without taking any notice of the gesture, so Wanda is sure she's the problem. Her stupid brain and heart are clearly forgetting that she can't handle a crush right now.

She doesn't even have Pietro anymore, who, as soon as he'd finished tormenting her about it, would give her advice. Because he's always had a natural talent for this kind of thing, while the last time Wanda tried to flirt with a boy, it sounded like a threat.

She can't do this on her own. And with that conclusion, she tries to get over it. Maybe Google has some tips, or maybe, the walking computer that hangs around the tower can help.

"Vis?"

The synthesized man took his eyes off the book in his lap when Wanda called out to him, a few days after the training session where, since being pressed into a mat by you, Wanda found herself unable to think of anything else.

"Hello, Wanda." He greeted her gently, closing the pages and waiting for her to approach.

"I need your help with something."

"Oh, what would that be?"

Wanda pressed her lips together, her hands restless in front of her body. "Would you be able to tell me the most efficient way to... get over someone?" Vision frowned in surprise, and Wanda sighed. "Someone we shouldn't like. Definitely inappropriate."

Vis opens her mouth, still in shock at the whole thing, but it's someone else who speaks;

"What's definitely inappropriate?" Tony asks, and Wanda thanks the gods he didn't hear the first part.

"N-nothing!" Rebuts the witch quickly, the color of her cheeks probably giving her away. Stark looks at her suspiciously, then at Vis.

"Okay, what are you two love birds talking about?" The Vision would have blushed if he could. He gets visibly embarrassed, smiling shyly.

That's great as if Wanda needed one more extra thing to stress her out.

She can barely contain her grimace at the nickname, but Tony doesn't bother; Vision is at least quick to change the subject, and surprises Wanda with his ability to lie very well.

"We were just commenting on how inappropriate General Ross's accusations were at the last meeting." And that's enough to distract Stark.

Wanda practically flees the scene after that. For a long moment, she had even forgotten about the tension that had been swirling around the Avengers over the last few days, precisely because your absence from the compound made her - not that she would admit it - miss you terribly. And all she could think about was inevitably you, busy on missions with Steve in search of your brother James.

With your presence increasingly rare in the Compound, Wanda hoped that the crush would go away, but every time she happened to bump into you between missions, the feelings came back with an overwhelming force, like two lovers the war kept apart. It was frustrating, to say the least. Especially since Wanda was nothing more than a teammate. Hardly a friend.

When Lagos happened, and it was the worst thing that could possibly occur, at least Wanda had something else to think about. And this time, Ross's visit to the Compound was more than inappropriate - it was final.

Accords and fights between the team led to an unbearable situation. With half of her colleagues out for meetings with the United Nations, Wanda was still grounded at the Compound, waiting for news.

She didn't expect you to be sneaking around.

"You shouldn’t be here." That's the first thing she says as she fully opens the bedroom door you left ajar. Wanda could lie about being your fault that she found you, when in fact she had become an expert at sensing your aura over the last few weeks, the ability to just know when you were around, perfecting itself every time you two met.

You chuckle, without diverting your attention from the task of filling your backpack with as many things as you can squeeze inside. Wanda had the impression that many of the items you came to collect in your room were old presents; everything the others had gotten you over the last few holidays. Things that were precious.

"I'm aware. I won't be long." You retort, folding some socks together to put them away in the closet.

Wanda should call Vis - he's working as a sort of watchman for the tower or something. And he was supposed to notify Tony of your presence. But instead, she closes the door.

Twisting her fingers in anxiety, she asks:

"Where are you going to run off to?"

Offering her a quick glance as you returned to your suitcase to put away some underwear that made Wanda look away, you replied; "I can't tell you that, little witch."

Wanda almost smiled at the nickname. Instead, she took a desperate step forward.

"Would you take me with you?"

Standing back, you chuckle. "Funny."

"I wasn't joking."

You leave the St. Petersburg snow globe you got as a present from Natasha on the dresser and turn with a frown to the witch behind you. "Maximoff, come on-"

"I'm serious." She insists. "Stark grounded me. Like a fucking child. “ She then chuckles sadly. “Or worse, a problem he didn't want to deal with. And I know I fucked up in Lagos-"

"Don't say that, Lagos wasn't your fault." You interrupt her with a certain determination. "You need to remember that, alright?"

Wanda smiles softly at your reassurance, looking away because her face is suddenly very warm. You sigh then grab just one more change of clothes before zipping up your suitcase.

"It's not because of the company, Wanda." You mutter suddenly, with the backpack on your shoulders. She looks at you with confusion, but you don't meet her gaze. "I just don't think it's right, everything that's happening. And I don't think we should all be fighting with each other. But that's what's going to happen from now on. If you come with me, Steve probably expects you to be choosing sides. And I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

Her heart skips a beat, but Wanda takes a chance;

"Anyone... or me?"

You're taken aback, but you don't lose your poise. You sighed deeply before approaching her without haste, without any hint of what you were going to do either. Wanda opens her mouth again, to apologize for being so difficult, but you muffle the statement with a kiss.

It's the first time she's kissed another girl if that isn't obvious. She melts, panting and so very shy; it's a good thing that you hold her waist, while your other hand keeps your face close by grabbing her chin gently. Wanda's lungs scream for air after a moment, but she refuses to pull away from a sensation as good as kissing you.

Something like a whimper of need escapes her when you break the act, or maybe it's the way you give her lower lip a gentle tug with your teeth that leaves her trembling, ready to beg for more.

"Sorry if that was sudden." It's the first thing you say, your voice is hoarse, and as affected as your breathing. You smile, your thumb wiping away some of the mess left by Wanda's gloss. "But I think it took us long enough."

She babbles like a fish, unable to form a coherent thought for a whole moment. You wait patiently, your hands touching her shoulders, sliding down her arms as a way of calming her. Wanda has dreamed so much of feeling you that the touch meant to ease her nerves has quite the opposite effect; every inch of skin you touch tingles.

"H-how... did you know?" she asks, and you give a short laugh.

"I didn't." You retort gently. "Not for sure, at least. Not until two seconds ago when you asked to come with me. I had this... feeling. And this tension. Every time we walked into the same room, every time we were alone. I just felt…” You can put it into words exactly, so you just take a deep breath and smile at her. “I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, that the way I felt was making me imagine things but then you came in here. Sneak out into my room and ask if you could leave this fancy tower to run away with me to fight. I just had to be sure."

Wanda bites back a shy smile, feeling the heat spreading from her chest to her face and eras, and knowing for a fact that it's only going to get worse because of the way you're looking at her.

She tries to get some ground again.

"And are you..." A sigh, as one of your hands settles on her waist. "Sure?"

You hum thoughtfully before breaking the distance, kissing her in a different way than before. It's more intense and hungrier. Your tongue invades her mouth, exploring everywhere and your hands prevent her from pulling away when the oxygen is off. Every needy sound that escapes her is muffled against into lips.

Wanda tentatively follows the rhythm, one of her hands wrapping in your hair. Your backpack falls to the ground and you hold her tighter now, pulling her into you. It's a significant difference between a super-soldier's body and her own, and just the quick memory of you pressing her against the mat makes her moan into your tongue.

The sound makes you lose your mind - Your hands become more determined, the kiss desperate. Wanda struggles for air, exposing the collarbone that keeps you busy as she tries to catch her breath. You bite down on her skin and she arches against you, her hands becoming bold enough to scratch your back and pull up your blouse.

But you break into a husky chuckle, slowing the kiss and pulling away to remind her; "We have to go." Between one touch and the next, "We don't have time."

She needs a whole moment to force her brain to work, and even after you're no longer touching her, and she's sneaking off to her own room to prepare a suitcase, she's still shaking.

When you meet again, running hand in hand with suitcases back to the garage, Wanda is surprised to realize that she was foolish to be afraid of something as good as this.

That is, of course, until reality hits again.

Wanda has never seen you in action as a Winter Soldier before. She saw it through television, Shield files, and testimonies about deserters captured by the Avengers.

But she was never there.

The Avengers split up and fought each other, and your brother fled with Steve Rogers. She thought you were safe on the plane with them, she made sure you got on - but she didn't see you climb off.

Wanda accepted being captured, she accepted being drugged as a security measure. And throughout the confusion that was the transportation of the Avengers in custody to the Raft, she thought she was hallucinating the whole way there. The masked figure attacking the soldiers and opening the cells was a projection of the sedative in her mind.

She only knew what had really happened, had been able to remember, when you both were already in another country as fugitives from the United Nations.

You were by her side the whole time. You held her on your lap after getting rid of the straitjacket that had trapped her and lay down next to her when there was finally a secure roof over your heads.

Wanda was exhausted. She had lost the only thing she had left; her freedom. There was no longer a home, a team, a brother. She was drugged and trapped like an animal by people she considered family.

She started crying, and you woke up. You didn't say a word or ask her to stop. You just held her and let her sob into your chest until she fell asleep again, this time from exhaustion rather than through the influence of chemicals.

When what was left of the team moved on the following day, to another location to avoid suspicion as Natasha clarify it, Wanda got the impression that maybe it was you who needed her to hold you until you went to sleep now.

Bucky didn't come back, and neither of you knew what had happened to him or Steve.

Wanda let you cry all you wanted.

But then finally, everyone who had fought for Steve was back together. Even Clint and Scott, who would probably make deals for their families, to try to be with them, and would have to leave soon. For a moment, everyone was there and you found out that your brother was going to stay in Wakanda to be free again.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a good moment. Steve got food for everyone, you had something that resembled a Christmas, or at least an end-of-year celebration.

We're alive and safe. We're together. Steve was a man of words.

Even if they were sharing a safe house that was too small for such a group. Even if half the world was after them.

The team fell asleep between sleeping bags and sofas, and you left the trailer to get some air. Wanda went after you without thinking much about it.

"It's cold, witchy." You commented as soon as she was close enough, even though you opened your arms for her to wrap hers around you.

Your back was against Nat's truck, and Wanda pressed a little closer to hide her face in your collarbone.

"Where are you going to run off to?" She questions into your skin.

You sigh, one hand caressing her back. "I don't know." You confess quietly. "I wouldn't get to Wakanda with this, but I wasn't feeling very well in there. Having a Christmas meal without him."

Wanda adjusts her face to look at you. "Bucky needs to heal first."

You nod, giving her a sad smile. "I know, but Steve told me they put him back on ice. Until they found out what they were going to do with him. Just the fact that he's there, freezing again... " You look away, sniffling softly. "It reminds me of the past, our time as Winter Soldiers. And It makes me very sad.” You explain softly before sighing. “I know there's nothing we can do to help him now, but it's all so frustrating. I just needed to get out of there for a moment."

Wanda absorbs your words for a moment until she returns to her previous position and smiles as she feels you relax and put your arms around her.

She murmurs; "It's a shame we can't go out there. Natasha said this place has beautiful spots to visit."

You snort slightly. "Actually, we could drive somewhere further away. Far from the city." You comment. "We can watch the Aurora Borealis."

Wanda bites her lip for a moment, considering your invitation, until she adds; "Just the two of us?"

You chuckle. "Unless you want to wake up the team..."

"No, I wasn't complaining!" She clarifies quickly, and you start laughing again.

She taps you gently on the shoulder to make you stop. "Idiot."

"Your idiot." You hit back with a smirk, and Wanda's heart stops beating for a moment. There's a pause, between exchanging intense glances as you bring your hands to her face, adjusting her hair out of the way. "Don't forget, witchy."

She swallows dryly, her voice hoarse when she speaks: "I won't." She whispers back and you smile before pressing your lips into hers.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 2 months

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The Radio Times magazine from the 29 July-04 August 2023 :)

THE SECOND COMING

How did Terry Pratchett and Neil gaiman overcome the small matter of Pratchett's death to make another series of their acclaimed divine comedy?

For all the dead authors in the world,” legendary comedy producer John Lloyd once said, “Terry Pratchett is the most alive.” And he’s right. Sir Terry is having an extremely busy 2023… for someone who died in 2015.

This week sees the release of Good Omens 2, the second series of Amazon’s fantasy comedy drama based on the cult novel Pratchett co-wrote with Neil Gaiman in the late 1980s. This will be followed in the autumn by a new spin-off book from Pratchett’s Discworld series, Tiffany Aching’s Guide to Being a Witch, co-written by Pratchett’s daughter Rhianna and children’s author Gabrielle Kent. The same month, we’ll also get A Stroke of the Pen, a collection of “lost” short stories written by Sir Terry for local newspapers in the 70s and 80s and recently rediscovered. Clearly, while there are no more books coming from Pratchett – a hard drive containing all drafts and unpublished work was crushed by a vintage steamroller shortly after the author’s death, as per his specific wishes – people still want to visit his vivid and addictive worlds in new ways.

Good Omens 2 will be the first test of how this can work. The original book started life as a 5,000-word short story by Gaiman, titled William the Antichrist and envisioned as a bit of a mashup of Richmal Crompton’s Just William books and the 70s horror classic The Omen. What would happen, Gaiman had mused, if the spawn of Satan had been raised, not by a powerful American diplomat, but by an extremely normal couple in an idyllic English village, far from the influence of hellish forces? He’d sent the first draft to bestselling fantasy author Pratchett, a friend of many years, and then forgotten about it as he busied himself with continuing to write his massively popular comic books, including Violent Cases, Black Orchid and The Sandman, which became a Netflix series last year.

Pratchett loved the idea, offering to either buy the concept from Gaiman or co-write it. It was, as Gaiman later said, “like Michelangelo phoning and asking if you want to paint a ceiling” The pair worked on the book together from that point on, rewriting each other as they went and communicating via long phone calls and mailed floppy discs. “The actual mechanics worked like this: I would do a bit, then Neil would take it away and do a bit more and give it back to me,” Pratchett told Locus magazine in 1991. “We’d mess about with each other’s bits and pieces.”

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch – to give it its full title –was published in 1990 to huge acclaim. It was one of, astonishingly, five Terry Pratchett novels to be published that year (he averaged two a year, including 41 Discworld novels and many other standalone works and collaborations).

It was also, clearly, extremely filmable, and studios came knocking — though getting it made took a while. rnvo decades on from its writing, four years after Pratchett's death from Alzheimer's disease aged 66, and after several doomed attempts to get a movie version off the ground, Good Omens finally made it to TV screens in 2019, scripted and show-run by Gaiman himself. "Terry was egging me on to make it into television. He knew he was dying, and he knew that I wouldn't start it without him," Gaiman revealed in a 2019 Radio Times interview. Amazon and the BBC co-produced with Pratchett's company Narrativia and Gaiman's Blank Corporation production studios, with Michael Sheen and David Tennant cast in the central roles of Aziraphale the angel and Crowley the demon. The show was a hit, not just with fans of its two creators, but with a whole new young audience, many of whom had no interest in Discworld or Sandman. Social media networks like Tumblr and TikTok were soon awash with cosplay, artwork and fan fiction. The original novel became, for the first time, a New York Times bestseller.

A follow up was, on one level, a no-brainer. The world Pratchett and Gaiman had created was vivid, funny and accessible, and Tennant and Sheen had found an intriguing romantic spark in their chemistry not present in the novel.

There was, however, a huge problem. There wasn't a second Good Omens book to base it on. But there was the ghost of an idea.

In 1989, after the book had been sold but before it had come out, the two authors had laid on fivin beds in a hotel room at a convention in Seattle and, jet-lagged and unable to sleep, plotted out, in some detail, what would happen in a sequel, provisionally titled 668, The II Neighbour of the Beast.

"It was a good one, too" Gaiman wrote in a 2021 blog. "We fully intended to write it, whenever we next had three or four months free. Only I went to live in America and Terry stayed in the UK, and after Good Omens was published, Sandman became SANDMAN and Discworld became DISCWORLD(TM) and there wasn't a good time."

Back in 1991, Pratchett elaborated, "We even know some of the main characters in it. But there's a huge difference between sitting there chatting away, saying, 'Hey, we could do this, we could do that,' and actually physically getting down and doing it all again." In 2019, Gaiman pillaged some of those ideas for Good Omens series one (for example, its final episode wasn't in the book at all), and had left enough threads dangling to give him an opening for a sequel. This is the well he's returned to for Good Omens 2, co-writing with comic John Finnemore - drafted in, presumably, to plug the gap left Pratchett's unparalleled comedic mind. No small task.

Projects like Good Omens 2 are an important proving ground for Pratchett's legacy: can the universes he conjured endure without their creator? And can they stay true to his spirit? Sir Terry was famously protective of his creations, and there have been remarkably few adaptations of his work considering how prolific he was. "What would be in it for me?" he asked in 2003. "Money? I've got money."

He wanted his work treated reverently and not butchered for the screen. It's why Good Omens and projects like Tiffany Aching's Guide to Being a Witch are made with trusted members of the inner circle like Neil Gaiman and Rhianna Pratchett at the helm. It's also why the author's estate, run by Pratchett's former assistant and business manager Rob Wilkins, keeps a tight rein on any licensed Pratchett material — it's a multi-million dollar media empire still run like a cottage industry.

And that's heartening. Anyone who saw BBC America's panned 2021 Pratchett adaptation The Watch will know how badly these things can go when a studio is allowed to run amok with the material without oversight. These stories deserve to be told, and these worlds deserve to be explored — properly. And there are, apparently, many plans afoot for more Pratchett on the screen. You can only hope that, somewhere, he'll be proud of the results.

After all, as he wrote himself, "No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone's life is only the core of their actual existence."

While those ripples continue to spread, Sir Terry Pratchett remains very much alive. MARC BURROWS

DIVINE DUO

An angel and a demon walk into a pub... Michael Sheen and David Tennant on family, friendship and Morecambe & Wise

Outside it's cold winter's day and we're in a Scottish studio, somewhere between Edinburgh and Glasgow. But inside it's lunchtime in The Dirty Donkey pub in the heart of London, with both Michael Sheen and David Tennant surveying the scene appreciatively. "This is a great pub," says Sheen eagerly, while Tennant calls it "the best Soho there can be. A slightly heightened, immaculate, perfect, dreamy Soho."

Here, a painting of the absent landlord — the late Terry Pratchett, co-creator, with Neil Gaiman, of the series' source novel — looms over punters. Around the corner is AZ Fell and Co Antiquarian and Unusual Books. It's the bookshop owned by Sheen's character, the angel Aziraphale, and the place to where Tennant's demon Crowley is inevitably drawn.

It's day 74 of an 80-day shoot for a series that no one, least of all the leading actors, ever thought would happen, due to the fact that Pratchett and Gaiman hadn't ever published any sequel to their 1990 fantasy satire. Tennant explains, "What we didn't know was that Neil and Terry had had plots and plans..."

Still, lots of good things are in Good Omens 2, which expands on the millennia-spanning multiverse of the first series. These include a surprisingly naked side of John Hamm, and roles for both Tennant's father-in-law (Peter Davison) and 21-year-old son Ty. At its heart, though, remains the brilliant banter between the two leading men — as Sheen puts it, "very Eric and Ernie !" — whose chemistry on the first series led to one of the more surprising saviours of lockdown telly.

Good Omens is back — but you've worked together a lot in the meantime. Was there a connective tissue between series one of Good Omens and Staged, your lockdown sitcom?

David: Only in as much as the first series went out, then a few months later, we were all locked in our houses. And because of the work we'd done on Good Omens, it occurred that we might do something else. I mean, Neil Gaiman takes full responsibility for Staged. Which, to some extent, he's probably right to do!

Michael: We've got to know each other through doing this. Our lives have gotten more entwined in all kinds of ways — we have children who've now become friends, and our families know each other.

There have been hints of a romantic storyline between the two characters. How much of an undercurrent is that in this series.

David: Nothing's explicit.

Michael: I felt from the very beginning that part of what would be interesting to explore is that Aziraphale is a character, a being, who just loves. How does that manifest itself in a very specific relationship with another being? Inevitably, as there is with everything in this story, there's a grey area. The fact that people see potentially a "romantic relationship", I thought that was interesting and something to explore.

There was a petition to have the first series banned because of its irreverent take on Christian tropes. Series two digs even more deeply into the Bible with the story of Job. How much of a badge of honour is it that the show riles the people who like to ban things?

David: It's not an irreligious show at all. It's actually very respectful of the structure of that sort of religious belief. The idea that it promotes Satanism [is nonsense]. None of the characters from hell are to be aspired to at all! They're a dreadful bunch of non-entities. People are very keen to be offended, aren't they? They're often looking for something to glom on to without possibly really examining what they think they're complaining about.

Michael, you're known as an activist, and you're in the middle of Making BBC drama The Way, which "taps into the social and political chaos of today's world". Is it important for you to use your plaform to discuss causes you believe in?

Michael: The Way is not a political tract, it's just set in the area that I come from. But it has to matter to you, doesn't it? More and more as I get older, [I find] it can be a real slog doing this stuff. You've got to enjoy it. And if it doesn't matter to you, then it's just going to be depressing.

David, Michael has declared himself a "not-for-profit" actor. Has he tried to persuade you to give up all your money too?

David: What an extraordinary question! One is always aware that one has a certain responsibility if one is fortunate and gets to do a job that often doesn't feel like a job. You want to do your bit whenever you can. But at the same time, I'm an actor. I'm not about to give that up to go into politics or anything. But I'll do what I can from where I live.

Well, your son and your father-in-law are also starring in this series. How about that, jobs for the boys!

David: I know! It was a delight to get to be on set with them. And certainly an unexpected one for me. Neil, on two occasions, got to bowl up to me and say, "Guess who we've cast?!"

How do you feel about your US peers going on strike?

David: It's happening because there are issues that need to be addressed. Nobody's doing this lightly. These are important issues, and they've got to be sorted out for the future of our industry. There's this idea that writers and actors are all living high on the hog. For huge swathes of our industry, that's just not the case. These people have got to be protected.

Michael: We have to be really careful that things don't slide back to the way they were pre the 1950s, when the stories that we told were all coming from one point of view and the stories of certain people, or communities within our society, weren't represented. There's a sense that now that's changed for ever and it'll never go back. But you worry when people can't afford to have the opportunities that other people have. We don't want the story that we tell about ourselves to be myopic. You want it to be as inclusive as possible

Staged series 3 recently broadcast. It felt like the show's last hurrah — or is there more mileage? Sheen and Tennant go on holiday?

David: That's the Christmas special! One Foot in the Algarve! On the Buses Go to Spain!

Michael: I don't think we were thinking beyond three, were we?

So is it time for a conscious uncoupling for you two — Eric and Ernie say goodbye?

David: Oh, never say never, will we?

Michael: And it's more Hinge and Bracket.

David: Maybe that's what we do next — The Hinge and Bracket Story. CRAIG McLEAN

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savagegood · 9 months

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@shinjiroatae1126: To all my fans, today was a very special day for me. For years, I struggled to accept a part of myself...But now, after all I have been through, I finally have the courage to open up to you about something. I am a gay man. It has taken me a long time to be able to say I am gay. I could not even say it to myself. However, I’ve come to realize it is better, both for me, and for the people I care about, including my fans, to live life authentically than to live a life never accepting who I truly am. I hope people who are struggling with the same feeling will find courage and know they are not alone.

ps, he’s released a new song, “into the light”, which you can watch here. part of the proceeds from the single will go to lgbtq+ organisations

@shinjiroatae1126: July 26th, 2023 was a big day for me. I finally gathered the courage to come out to the public as a gay man. I am grateful to have received media coverage from multiple platforms both within Japan and overseas.

To be honest, I was extremely anxious before all of this happened. However, I've been pleasantly surprised to discover the overwhelming amount of positive feedback pouring in from both my fans and people who have come across the news about me. It's heartwarming to see that my story is being acknowledged from all around the world, and this brings me immense joy. Although they may be baby steps, I sense that this world is gradually moving into the light. Yesterday, I made an announcement about resuming my career as an artist. I also released a new song titled “Into The Light”. The music video for the song is also on YouTube now. This song is packed with the emotions and thoughts leading up to this point, including my decision to come out. Living with anxieties and struggles is not limited to just LGBTQ+ individuals. I hope this song can be a source of encouragement for anyone carrying such emotions. I've aimed for it to become a song that can uplift those with similar feelings. A portion of the proceeds will be donated to Pride House Tokyo, Japan’s first permanent LGBTQ+ center, and ReBit, an organization providing resources and support for LGBTQ+ youth. I hope this song will touch many hearts.🙏🌈

At first, there was total silence. Then, there were shrieks, wild applause, weeping and shouts of “I love you!”

Fans of Shinjiro Atae, a J-pop idol who has been on a nearly two-year performance hiatus, had come to hear him talk about “the challenge of my life.” Standing onstage in a dark auditorium in front of 2,000 fans in central Tokyo on Wednesday night, he revealed something he has kept hidden for most of his life: He is gay.

“I respect you and believe you deserve to hear this directly from me,” he said, reading from a letter he had prepared. “For years, I struggled to accept a part of myself. But now, after all I have been through, I finally have the courage to open up to you about something. I am a gay man.”

Such an announcement is extremely unusual in conservative Japan, the only G7 country that has not legalized same-sex unions. Earlier this summer, the Japanese Parliament passed an L.G.B.T.Q rights bill but it had been watered down by the political right, stating that there “should be no unfair discrimination” against gay and transgender people.

In making a public declaration, the 34-year-old Mr. Atae, who spent two decades performing with AAA, a hit Japanese pop group, before embarking on a solo career, said he wanted his fans to know his true self. He also hopes to comfort those who might be grappling with anxieties about their sexuality.

“I don’t want people to struggle like me,” he said.

AAA debuted in 2005, with Mr. Atae, the youngest member, forgoing high school. He performed mostly as a dancer, and began appearing in TV series and movies.

His sexuality perplexed him. “It was a time when on TV, comedians would say two men kissing was gross,” he said. If anyone asked if he had a girlfriend, he just said he was too busy working.

Activists said they could not recall an instance when a Japanese pop star of his stature had publicly declared they were gay, because of anxieties about losing fans or sponsors.

“I think he has decided to come out in order to change Japan,” said Gon Matsunaka, a director and adviser to Pride House Tokyo, a support center for the gay and transgender community.

The decision to open up about his sexuality, he said, evolved over seven years of living in Los Angeles, where he saw how freely gay couples could show affection in public and built an extensive support network.

“Everyone was so open,” he said. “People would talk about their vulnerabilities. In Japan, people think it’s best not to talk about those things.”

Mr. Atae’s decision, he said, was not political. All he wanted, he said, was to “normalize” being gay. Coming out, he knew, would likely draw criticism. “Whatever you do, there will be haters,” he said. “I can only focus on the people I might be helping.”

#this made my week :')#please give his new song a listen and leave him a lovely comment on instagram #shinjiro atae #aaa #japan #jpop #queer #lgbt #lgbtq #gay #long post

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vintagegeekculture · 3 months

Text

Star Trek's "Lost" Main Character

Just when you think you know everything there is to know about the original Star Trek, you learn something new, like the fact someone you barely remember was going to be a series regular. Take the case of "Yeoman Smith," played by Andrea Dromm, a petty officer secretary in "Where No Man Has Gone Before." Everyone knows that Trek had a first pilot with a different cast. But the cast of the second pilot was analyzed more in terms of who wasn't there (Dr. McCoy and Uhura were added only when the show went to series and were not in the second pilot at all), than who was.

One character in particular is easy to overlook as she seemed like just another lowly and invisible crewman, Yeoman Smith. Surprisingly, Andrea Dromm was hired to be a main character on the show.

The NBC publicity materials made for the second pilot mentioned and discussed her as they would Kirk and Spock, and treated her as a series regular, which at the time, she was:

“YEOMAN SMITH, who has drawn the important assignment of secretary to the Captain on her first mission in deep space, is easily the most popular member of Kirk’s staff. A capable secretary and efficient dispenser of instant coffee, she also provides a welcome change of scenery for eyes that have spent long hours scanning the vast reaches of space.”

Almost from the beginning though, it was not to be. Andrea Dromm caused trouble on set because, according to Herb Solow, Gene Roddenberry "hired Dromm so he could 'nail her.'" Trek was in enough trouble, as Roddenberry cast his mistress, Rachel Lee Hudec (aka Majel Barrett), which violated his Desilu "virtue clause." Lucille Ball, embarassed by her former husband Desi Arnaz's well known extramarital antics, insisted on virtue clauses in contracts for creatives.

As for what happened and why Yeoman Smith never ended up being a regular, we have two different conflicting stories. Andrea Dromm said she had to choose between making Star Trek, or making a film, "The Russians are Coming," and she picked the movie over a less prestigious tv show. Star Trek producer Herb Solow tells a different story and remembers that "Yeoman Smith" was one of two main characters who were let go to keep costs down when the show went to series. The other main character fired? James Doohan as Scotty.

After being informed he was fired after the first pilot, Doohan called his agent, the physically intimidating and formidable Paul Wilkins, who convinced Roddenberry to return Doohan to the series. It is not known how this was accomplished (Herb Solow, who's memoirs are the basis of most of what we know about early Trek, was not present, only Roddenberry was), but Doohan had his job back within the day.

As for what would have happened with Yeoman Smith if she had stayed as a main character....who knows? The character of Yeoman Rand, well known for her beehive hairdo, was a replacement for her character, so it's likely that Yeoman Smith as a main character would have filled similar roles in stories, probably beat for beat and note for note. All the same however, it's hard to ignore how much more quiet moxie, no-bullshit stares, and extrovert elan Andrea Dromm projected on screen than the more subdued Grace Lee Whitney. Dromm's character was underdeveloped, sure, but so was Scotty and Sulu at that point, and the characters they eventually became were built around their actors' strengths and warmth. It's not hard to imagine something similar might be done with Dromm, and her character might have gone on very different lines from her replacement.

#star trek #tos

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matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

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After reading the "Club Catastrophe" could I please request a Vox POV after the Club rink and it's just him going home and letting all of his questionable feelings for Reader out of his systems(See what I did there?)

A Heart's Conundrum

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: I love writing introspective chapters like this in Vox's POV, lets me mess around with his brain and just have him actually face the music that this is in fact something entirely different. What he has with our dear Reader is actually special, and that he's fucking terrified by it. Usually I've seen Vox often "tending to himself" in other fics when he's obsessed over someone but I notice it's usually because he's got a facination and interest but not something quite complicated like this. Bro doesn't feel lust here despite the closeness and he's very VERY confused. I wasn't initially going to write something like this to keep things pretty goofy but it actually slots into the narrative pretty well to have the resident TV man take another gander at attempting to understand his emotions after the emotional whiplash he'd gone through in "Reunited Again Aren't We?". Bonus points that we kind of get a jealous Valentino confrontation HAHAHAHA-

A/N: This chapter kind of mentions Vark being a good boy and taking care of his emotionally constipated owner lol, I love myself a good doggo. I plan on reader meeting the funny little dude in a later interlude but for now it's just going to be mostly Vox. Anyway, I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this series- I just wanted to say thank you to those sending me love through my inbox too! I read all the things you guys say so it makes me really happy to see my work so well recieved. As always, I hope you guys enjoy this interlude and happy reading!

When Vox had warned you back then to be careful at a party and not to drink too much-

He only said it out of courtesy in good faith that you knew how to hold your liquor.

Disclaimer, you didn't.

Another thing he didn't expect was just how easy it was for you to get drunk.

It was like your tolerance was nonexistent.

The two of you had just been hanging around by the bar and ordering drinks when he noticed you were starting to sway slightly in your seat.

That made the overlord glance over to see you'd just gone through two margaritas and you were holding a third.

Vox had been drinking a lot slower than you have, adopting a leisurely pace and just trying out the different cocktails that the bar had to offer.

Though seeing what you were doing made him wonder if you were still kind of new to casual drinking.

Rolling his eyes, the overlord finished up his martini and plucked the half-finished margarita from your hands.

"Okay doll, maybe that's enough for you."

"Whaaaaaa? Whyyyy??"

"Because you're drunk dollface, so I won't let you have any more."

"Awwwwwhhhhh... can't I at least finishhh itttt??"

Your words were slurred and your breath absolutely reeked of alcohol, your movements clumsy as you tried to grab your beverage back.

When you ungraciously slumped against his chest in a giggling mess while trying, Vox was fairly certain you were hammered out of your mind at this point.

That took a lot less than he originally thought it would.

Placing down your glass at the bar, he let you stay leaning on him while he shrugged his blazer off and wrapped it around you instead.

Your fluffy ears just wiggled around slightly when he'd done that, making Vox raise an eyebrow at you.

Especially when your arms clumsily circled his waist in a hug and kept him there.

"Mhmmmm... warmmmmm..."

Pfft, you were really out of it this time.

He couldn't help the smile on his face at your antics, but as cute as it was-

It would be really irresponsible to still keep you here in the club.

When he noticed Vaggie was nearby, the overlord waved her down to get her attention.

He didn't know if the mild surprise from her was because of how clingy you were or because he wasn't really reacting to it.

"Woah, what happened to (Y/N)?"

"Drank a bit too much too fast. I'm gonna take (Y/N) back to the hotel so they can rest."

"Sure, we'll meet you there. We'll only be staying a little while longer anyway."

"Whaaaaaaa?? Nooooooo- I don't wanna gooooooo-"

"Nope, you need rest. Let's go."

Vox just sighed when you made a small fuss about leaving and being carried.

You were cute, but your drunken stubbornness was not.

Especially with how difficult you made it for the overlord to properly carry you.

In every other way he tried to grab hold, you squirmed out of his grip and it almost made him drop you multiple times.

He panicked a few times when he almost did but it just made him feel more tired when he saw you were fine-

He did eventually find a compromise though, since it seemed you didn't have too many issues being carried on piggyback.

Your head rested on his shoulder by the time he walked you both out of the club, arms wrapped around his neck while he held up your legs.

"Vooooxxyyyyyyy~ Where are we gooiiinnnnnn~?"

"Back to the hotel, you're wasted dollface."

"Aawwwwhhh? I wanted to keep partying witchuuuuuuu-"

"There's always a next time doll, just don't drink too much again."

You giggled at his response and Vox couldn't help but smile.

Your ramblings were entertaining, and it gave him some food for thought while walking back to the hotel.

He just hummed and agreed with some of the things you would say, even if it was nonsensical or not to show he was still listening.

Of course, that was until you said something that nearly made Vox trip on his own feet.

"Mhhhmmmm- you're really cute ya knowww~? I like that yooouuu alwaayyshhh take care of meh-"

"I'm not cute, but thank you."

He tried to brush off the comment, struggling to reign in his own emotions in lest he accidentally overheat and burn you.

He already had trouble just getting over your antics, the last thing he needed was to accidentally bluescreen and drop you because you drunkenly said something cute.

Well, that was until his processing froze anyway when you nuzzled your head into the back of his neck and mumbled something he couldn't quite catch.

His heart jumped into his throat and he had to stop walking for a moment, willing himself to calm down.

Static charge began to wind up in the air around him, and he took a moment to focus and dissipate it before moving again.

He almost zapped you, and it would'be been completely your fault-

You were making it really difficult to just- exist at the moment.

Not that Vox was complaining, he just didn't really know what to do with himself at the moment.

He wondered slightly if you'd even remember any of this come tomorrow, but that wasn't really his problem.

He used his powers to open the hotel doors before stepping in, immediately making his way towards your room.

Vox already knew where it was, especially since he'd walk you there whenever he visited before leaving to return to Vee tower.

He let out a tired sigh before gently placing you down on the bed mattress, just leaving his coat wrapped around you while he tucked you in.

Considering that you were already out like a light, the overlord could only guess that you'd fallen asleep just a little earlier while he was still walking.

Not that he'd have been able to notice when he was too busy trying to keep his abilities from going sideways because of you.

Vox looked back to your resting form and couldn't help but fondly smile, slowly moving to your side and brushing away a stray hair that fell over your face.

Your expression reminded him of the one night he'd been at your side after that horrible situation with your ex back when you were alive.

You just looked so peaceful, not plagued by any worry or fear of anything else.

That made him just that little bit more relaxed compared to earlier.

Before he knew it, he placed a soft kiss to your temple while you slept.

"Rest well my dear."

Vox stays there for a while to make sure you're actually asleep before getting up and walking out.

His limbs feel heavier than earlier, to the point he actually needs to make a conscious effort to leave you.

By the time he's walking out of the hotel, he feels weird.

Like he's just extremely tired, but... pleased?

Once he gathers his bearings again, he travels through some wires to get back to the Vee tower.

However, he's a bit absentminded when he walks through the doors.

"Hold up, where's your blazer?"

Vox doesn't even look at Velvette when he replies, his posture slightly slumped to reflect his exhaustion.

Compared to his typical work day, this wasn't really much.

So he wasn't entirely sure why he felt so out of it already.

"(Y/N) borrowed it, I'll just get it tomorrow."

He mumbled, walking past the youngest Vee towards the elevator.

The overlord's only goal right now was to get to his room and just rest.

By the time Vox shuts the door behind him, he leans back against the cold metal with a sigh.

His back sliding down until the overlord finds himself sitting on the floor with his screen in his hands.

Today was... something.

From how eager you were to teach him how to skate-

Then the anger he felt from that other sinner trying to make a move on you-

To becoming one adorably messy drunk.

Not to mention the kiss you'd given him-

His fans whirred louder when he raised a clawed hand to where you'd pecked his cheek.

You nearly crashed his systems with that one.

Only when he hears a yip and some cooing does he snap out of it and look up.

Ah.

"Hey Vark..."

The hammerhead moved closer to him and whined slightly, prompting Vox to start petting him in comfort.

The little guy always seemed to know if there was just something up with his owner.

Today was no different.

"I'm okay, just tired. Today was... weird."

The shark kind of just sat there, accepting pets while the overlord talked to him about his day.

The ups and downs-

Even some of the random things you mentioned-

He recounted everything, talking to the hammerhead about it to get it off his chest.

It didn't matter if Vark couldn't say anything in response, the little guy was just listening attentively to his owner regardless.

And as silly as it was- Vox just had to let all of his thoughts out.

It wasn't like there was anyone else he could talk to about this stuff either.

"And it's so odd... I almost didn't want to leave the hotel earlier when I dropped her off."

The shark just made a displeased noise.

"Oh come on, you know I wouldn't leave you by yourself here. Hm, it's almost time for your dinner."

While preparing Vark's food, the overlord finds his mind wandering back to you again.

Especially that time you had to watch over your friend's puppy.

He didn't really understand why he did the things he did back then either.

Placing the pet bowl down in front of the hammerhead, Vox wanders outside to the common room and plops himself down on the couch to surf his phone.

He had nothing better to do, and as tired as he was-

He didn't feel like sleeping quite yet.

When the couch dips beside him, Vox looks up from the small gadget only to see Velvette gazing at him inquisitively.

"Gotta say, this is probably the most chill I've ever seen you."

The overlord scoffs and rolls his eyes, was he really that subdued today?

"I drank quite a bit earlier at the club so I'm still feeling the buzz from the alcohol."

That was a lie, he didn't really drink much compared to his usual.

It just seemed like the most sound excuse he had that didn't involve you.

Still, Velvette just rolled her eyes at his deflective response.

"Right. Anyway, how was it?"

"How was what?"

"Your thing with (Y/N)?"

"Why not just ask her yourself?"

"She's not responding and I've got to know the details old man."

Vox just looked at his colleague for a moment, debating on shrugging off her question.

Hm...

Well, he was feeling nice.

He could indulge her a little.

"We just met together at the club to catch up. We talked, we sang, we danced, and then I saw (Y/N) off at the hotel before coming back here."

"Wow, that has got to be the most boring date ever."

The overlord just shrugged nonchalantly, he left out a vital piece of information on purpose but it was mostly because he didn't know what to do with it.

Yeah... he still wasn't sure how to make heads or tails of that kiss.

And it wasn't even a proper kiss either.

But suddenly, the loud slam of a door from behind them made the other two Vees quickly look to see who caused it.

And in strolled a clearly irritated pimp overlord.

"A date? You're kidding me Voxy, you actually went on a date?"

"I wouldn't necessarily call it that, but I did go out today. Why?"

"Don't fuck with me right now Vox, did you or did you not go on a date?"

Despite the buzz of the alcohol in his systems keeping him more pacified than usual, Vox narrowed his eyes at Valentino annoyed.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because it's unlike you to just go on a date without needing something from someone. Like a deal or to conduct business, and I checked in with your secretary amorcito, you didn't have anything scheduled for today."

Velvette just stared between her two colleagues.

She wasn't about to get involved in this drama.

After all, it was Vox's fault if he couldn't properly handle his relationships.

Even if a small part of her did grow concerned about how (Y/N) factored into this.

"I just went out to a club, drank a little and came back. What's that to you?"

"Oh Voxy~ If you wanted to go clubbing why didn't you invite me~?"

Valentino moved closer to the couch, adopting a flirty tone and sensually grabbing Vox's arm.

To which the technology overlord just shrugged off his advances.

It felt wrong.

Just, all sorts and levels of wrong.

Predictably, the moth wasn't pleased with that reaction.

All the more when he had caught a wiff of something new.

That perfume didn't belong to any of them-

So who's was it?!

"You fucking liar! Who the fuck were you with at the club Vox?!"

"I wasn't with anybody, I just went to go drink and unwind. It's been a long week."

"Oh please, as if that's the case. Which new plaything did you find? Don't tell me you actually have feelings for some random tramp you found off the streets?!"

Vox didn't really know how to react to those words.

On one hand, he was absolutely livid that Valentino thought you were just some 'random tramp'.

But on the other hand, that just brought his feelings back into question again.

You were both friends-

And that was it.

Right?

Still the overlord couldn't help but question if that really was just the case.

"Fuck off Val."

"You wouldn't go around dating with just anybody, what the hell were you doing and with who?"

"I'm going to sleep."

At this point, Vox was just done with the conversation.

He didn't want to keep dancing around the obvious question and it just made him feel more tired.

Rising from the couch, he attempted to walk past Valentino and just head back to his room.

Well, that was before the pimp roughly grabbed his arm and prevented him from leaving.

"Who the fuck was it Vox? I swear to god I'm going to turn the entire ring upside down and find that bitch if it's the last thing I-"

The moth didn't even have time to finish his sentence before he got a heavy punch to the face.

Staggering back, Valentino looked at his colleague with wide eyes when he realized what had happened.

All the more surprising was just how royally pissed his colleague looked.

Vox's screen glitched as sparks and small jolts of electricity jumped across his body, his left eye swirling with rings as he just finally put his arms down and just glared at Valentino.

"If you so much as harm a single hair on their head I will personally kill you myself."

His voice was distorted by some static overlay, the white noise only fizzling away when Vox had managed to compose himself properly.

Velvette merely glanced between the two worried this altercation might end up devolving into something worse.

Thankfully, it didn't.

Valentino just grit his teeth and glared at the technology overlord, watching as he held his arms behind his back and briskly walked away.

That punch fucking hurt!

By the time Vox had returned back to his own bedroom, he sighed as his colleague's words just echoed in his mind.

He didn't have feelings for you-

You were both just very close good friends.

But when he passed a nearby mirror, he almost didn't recognize himself.

This wasn't the smiling telecaster overlord that had total control over hell's biggest technological empire.

This was just... him.

Tired and disheveled in a light blue turtleneck practically falling to pieces because he couldn't understand what was going on.

And this was considering that Vox was already a pretty self aware person from an emotional standpoint.

After all, he had to make sure not to have freak outs too bad or it could cause the entire pentagram city to lose power.

So why...

Why was he such a train wreck whenever it came to you???

Inadvertently, he'd changed over time because of your influence.

How he felt towards Valentino being more than proof of that.

And again, his chest bloomed with a warm fuzzy sensation he couldn't properly comprehend at the thought of you.

Sizzling his wires and just feeding his systems with an electrifying feeling that Vox just couldn't begin wrap his head around.

Again, it was because of you.

He stared at the mirror for a good minute before catching himself with a tinged pink screen.

Wait a minute-

He's seen this kind of situation play out before.

After all, he's aired enough shitty and cliche romance dramas to know.

There was just no fucking way.

He couldn't be foolishly head over heels in love with you.

And still, as he continued to look-

The more things in the past started to click into place.

His emotions and reactions around you just started to make more and more sense when love was inserted into the context of the situation.

The reality crashed into Vox like a freight train and he just stared at his reflection in disbelief.

"You have got to be kidding me..."

He was completely fucked.

A/N: Now if y'all are expecting Reader to start dating Vox after his oh so overdue realization- they're not. Cuz our dear (Y/N) is hilariously dense and Vox just does not wanna make a move when he's still trying to understand when and how the heck this happened without him noticing lmao so still more suffering and shenanigans that are going to make us and the Hazbin cast absolutely appalled at how a pair of people can be so blind to a truth slamming into their faces-

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #get off my screen series #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader

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jarofstyles · 5 months

Text

Oh Baby, Baby! Five

Series masterlist

Patreon for 100+ exclusive writings and early access

Warnings- Pregnancy, hormones, etc.

WC- 2.3k

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

Y/N was certain that she was going to kill someone.

This was why she normally had Harry go to the shops by himself. Her non pregnant self could barely deal with a Saturday crowd. Pregnant Y/N? She was homicidal.

People didn’t know how to walk. How to say ‘pardon me’. How to talk at a normal volume. Her eye was twitching as her hands tightened on the stopping trolly, taking a deep inhale as she watched Harry place a bag of cucumber into the basket. “Think that should be good in the Veg.” He chirped, looking at the list on his phone. She could see the little bubbles being filled in and going down each time he checked off an item. Thankfully he still had a functioning mind because hers was feeling like TV static as she tried to keep herself calm.

Her belly had begun to show a bit more and she was extremely protective of her little bump. Hand rested on it, she self soothed by rubbing over it, her stretchy cotton tee shirt dress moving with her hand. She’d chosen the green because Harry specifically liked her in that color, but she was more than aware of how she had begun to stress sweat and he would more than likely be exposed to the stains it would leave behind.

“Hey..” His hand on her shoulder startled her, making her jump. When had he even approached her? “You okay, love?” His hand shoved the phone into his pocket, instead gently tilting her head up towards him. The look of true concern made her soften her tense shoulders a tad, sighing as she nodded. This newer side to him, having to admit that she was his and he was hers, that they were an actual item, was still somewhat new. It was a weird mix of things that still was hard to understand. On one hand, it spooked her when he was openly affectionate like this, but the bigger side felt like it was natural. Settling into a place it always should have been, perhaps this aspect being the piece she felt somewhat missing in their friendship prior to this.

Harry wasn’t just her best friend anymore. He was her lover. The fucking father of her child! They were going to be around each other forever.

“Yeah.” She said tiredly, letting her face fall into his hand. “I’m a bit overwhelmed, honestly. Knew I needed to get out of the house but I forgot what a madhouse the store turns into on weekends.” A weak smile was pulled to the corner of her lips as his brows furrowed at her answer. Yes, it had been her idea to go. She had been holing up inside of the home and she needed to get some more fresh air and stimulation, but the grocery store was proving to be a bit much.

Pregnancy was a lot more strenuous than she had imagined and she knew it wouldn’t be a walk in the park. Mentally it had been taxing, worrying about her abilities to be a mother and also cultivating and nourishing this new relationship with Harry, she had been anxious for a while despite it all. She was hopeful, anyways, because there was no one else she would ever dream of having a baby with.

With all that was going on, Harry had been a saving grace. A shoulder to lean on and a confidant, now that the layers had been shed and she knew that her feelings for him were not at all one sided. He seemed to thrive, actually, by feeling needed. It was something that had initially shocked her because he used to run away or pull back in the face of commitment, but he was already talking about what they’d make a tradition for their baby's birthday, how they were going to do the holidays, if they’d request their families to come together or split their times… It was incredible but also a bit weird to see. He had slid into the role like he had been born for it.

He’d even suggested they attend birthing classes together. Picked up more parenting books than she had. Gave her the prenatal vitamins and changed all the coffee in the house to decaf, much to her dismay. He was excited and happy and it felt bad that at times she felt a bit like a grinch. To which he would remind her that she was the one growing a little baby inside of her and had her body changing. That it was his job to do the other preparations because she needed to focus on keeping herself and the baby healthy. He was infuriatingly understanding.

“M’sorry. I forgot a bit, I kind of space out in my own head.” He mumbled. “Do you want to leave? I can come back later and get some of the stuff.” See? How was he being so good?

“No, no. That’s ridiculous, we’re halfway through the list. I’m just adjusting, I think. Hyperaware.” She laughed. “Just need to get through it. We’re getting lunch after so I can unwind there. The Bluebird Cafe still okay with you?” She asked, letting his hand fall back to her arm.

“Anything that’s good with you. Y’know I’m not picky, babe.” He chuckled. “They’ve got the good sandwich and salad combinations. I’m not on the cleanse anymore.” She had forgotten about that. A juice cleanse was a little ridiculous to her but apparently he said it helped his gut. To her that meant his bowel movements must be incredibly unpleasant. “Let’s power through the other half of the shopping, I’ll stop home and run it up, and then we can go fill your hunger. All good.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t much to argue, instead letting him pull her in for a quick hug and a press of his lips on her head. She really didn’t know what she would do without him.

—----------------

“So.” Harry’s hands folded against one another. Their food order had been taken and Y/N was sat comfortably in the booth across from Harry, her feet tangled with his. He’d ordered for her, being all too aware of what she had been prattling on about in the car, along with a smoothie he just simply knew that she liked. It was little things like that that caught her off guard. How much had he always been paying attention to that she didn’t even realize?

“Yes?” She asked, amused as she ran her hand absentmindedly over the growing swell of her stomach. The habit was human nature and Harry expressed jealousy sometimes that he couldn’t always be stroking over their growing baby, but he wanted to remain somewhat normal. He was already so fastidious about everything else, something neither of them had anticipated in this whole journey, so he didn’t want to smother Y/N with his eagerness.

“How are we….” He leaned on the table on his elbows, hands clasped. “How do we tell the parents?” It was a loaded question considering they really did need to tell them, sooner rather than later. Neither knew Harry and Y/N were even together, let alone that he was fathering a rapidly growing child inside of Y/N’s tummy. They’d kept it quiet for Y/N’s sake and superstition, wanting to make sure she made it into a safer part of the growth to tell people. It had been Y/N’s idea to have a child, even if she had been a bit impulsive, but she was trying to keep this intimate piece just to themselves for as long as they could. What had started as something off the cuff had become even more important to her than she had anticipated- and that was saying a lot.

“I mean, they’re going to be thrilled.” Harry started again, seeing the little wrinkle between her brows that always formed when she thought too hard. “They’ve been rooting for us to get together since we met. I know the baby part is going to kind of… throw things off, but I know they’re going to be overjoyed to learn that we’re havin’ our little Sprout.” The fondness could be seen physically on his features, like he was floating when he spoke about them. Their little baby, the sprout he was keeping track of every week on an app on his phone. He had quite a few downloaded, actually, but one in particular had been purchased with the premium membership.

‘Might be useful after Sprout, too.’ He had simply shrugged when she asked why he bothered paying for the lifetime membership. It still set the butterflies in her stomach on flight whenever she thought of that little instance.

Her bashful smile was his response, brushing imaginary lint off her dress before daring to meet his eyes. Harry had been more confident about this whole thing even though she had been the one to say she wanted it, and it had been like they sort of switched places. His confidence was starting to be a bit infectious.

“I think we should tell them together.” She finally conceded. “I have no idea how, really. We can check pinterest or just tell them? I know it's the first grandchild for both of them so I want it to be special but I don’t want to overdo it. You know?” Y/N knew Harry would get exactly what she meant. “We can do ultrasound pictures in gift bags, or the tee shirts that say grandma on them? I’ve never done it before.” She peeped, flushing to herself. No shit, this was their first child. This would all be a learning curve for everyone involved.

“No, no. I understand, pretty.” He reached out to grab her fingers that had been fiddling with the edge of the paper napkin, ripping it up slightly. A nervous habit. Instead he spread her fingers out and curled his around hers, running his index finger down the middle of her palm. “I think the ultrasound frame would be the best option. A keepsake that they’ll both like. Maybe we can have them over for a spring dinner, do it then?” The calming touch had it’s intended effect, Harry’s sharp eyes watching as her shoulders relaxed slightly and she nodded at the idea. “Perfect. I don’t mind keeping it to just us for a bit but, you know how gossipy people are. They’re gonna start talking about us going to the appointments and shopping. Don’t want to get everything online.” Harry had been a big advocate for them going out to have the full experience. He wanted to help her choose a crib, a playpen, a baby monitor- all after scouring the safety ratings and reviews, obviously- He wanted to be the one who put together the crib, the one who helped build the nursery. He’d expressed how involved he wanted to be not only in the baby’s day to day, but her pregnancy. How could she say no? How could she not lean all the way into it when she saw just how incredibly happy it made him?

“I know. Everyone is nosy.” Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “It’s okay, though. I just want to make sure random people don’t come up and feel my stomach. Maybe get me a sign that says ‘ask before touching’ to put on me.” Her joke made him chuckle but it was a real concern of hers. Y/N liked to keep her physical touch to a minimal with strangers. Harry wouldn’t stand for her being uncomfortable. “It’s different around family, like if we go to family stuff, but a lot of strangers just go up to people and touch and it’s weird.” A fake shudder exaggerated her disgust.

“Yeah, m’not sure why that’s a thing, my love. I’ll work something out.” Knowing him, he may very well get her a sign to stick on her tummy, but she would see. “We’ve got the telling our parents squared away, so I suppose my next question is when would you like to go shopping?” The eagerness for that was not well hidden, if he was even trying to hide it. Y/N doubted it.

“Probably soon after we tell them? We can start looking online. You’ve already got the baby locks taken care of.” Her eyes rolled in her head, making him pout. That was still something that he took seriously! He’d seen too many horror stories. “When Sprout, y’know, Blooms, we are going to be overwhelmed and probably busy. I don’t want there to be an accident and we just forget to babyproof something because we have other stuff going on.” He paused, bringing her hand to his face to kiss the knuckles. “I want this to be as stress free for you as possible. Just want you to focus on growing our baby, taking care of yourself. So m’gonna try and take care of stuff in the background so there's no worry, or sudden panic for you.”

Harry truly managed to blow her mind every day. Little things like this, his pure thoughtfulness made her a bit speechless. How she’d managed to snag the best baby daddy of all time, she didn’t know, but it would be something she was always thankful for. There wasn’t enough time to thank him for it, their food approaching as she was trying to find the words, but she was quick to squeeze his hand back and snug their legs up a bit more as she brought the straw of her smoothie to her mouth.

Life had somehow stuck her with the best person to grow with.

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javierpena-inatacvest · 6 months

Text

Movie Night

Summary: You and Javi are trying to pick a movie to watch together. When Javi decides to change into gray sweatpants to get more comfortable... something else besides movie watching ensues.

Word Count: 2.3K

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), established relationship, face fucking, oral (m receiving), mastrubation (f), praise kink, Javi in gray sweatpants (it deserves its own warning), reader has hair that can be held, Javi being a menace but still soft and sweet (because that's just how I roll)

A/N: This was inspired by an ask from an anon (thank you, non, Javi in gray sweatpants is everything), and I'm absolutely feral completely normal about it!!! Also, I had this gif in mind the whole time I was writing this because GOD DAMN 🥴🥵

This can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!!

“Forrest Gump?”

“No…”

“Jaws?”

“No, not that either…”

“Pulp Fiction?”

“Not that one…”

“Well ya gotta pick something Osita.” Javi sighed, laughing to himself at your indecisiveness as he put back the VHS tape choices he had pulled out for your weekly Friday night movie. Ever since the two of you had started dating, Friday nights had been exclusively reserved for you and Javi cuddling up on your couch, eating the pizza he picked up on the way home from work, and catching him up on the many movie classics he had missed since his time away in Colombia- a well deserved way to end both of your weeks. The first few weeks of movie night picks had been easy- mandating that Javi had to watch all of the Star Wars and Indiana Jones series (your two personal favorites) before moving on to anything else. You had let Javi pick what movies he had wanted to watch from there, mostly to curb any time wasted from your indecisiveness on choosing something.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna pick?” You groaned, squatting down next to Javi as the two of you sorted through the movie collection under the TV stand.

“Osita, I’ve picked like, the last 3 weeks in a row. I promise, I don’t care what we watch. I’ll make it easy on you. Here…” Reaching back into the TV stand, Javi pulled out a few random movies, scattering them on the ground before looking back at you. “I’m gonna go change out of my work clothes, pick something from these by the time I get back. Only 4 choices. Can’t be that hard, ya dork.” Javi chuckled, pressing a quick kiss onto your forehead before standing back up and making his way towards the bedroom.

‘Fine…” You grumbled, shuffling through the choices that Javi had left. Reaching down next to you, you picked up “The Princess Bride”, deeming it the best of the 4 random tapes Javi had pulled from the TV stand, popping it in to the VHS player before settling back onto the couch, curling up in one of the blankets you had draped over the sides. “I picked something!” You shouted towards the bedroom, hearing Javi’s footsteps beginning to make their way down the hall.

“See? Knew you could do it, Hermosa.” Javi’s voice trailed behind him as he stepped into the living room, playfully rolling his eyes at you. “So, what are we watching?”

Truth be told, you hadn’t heard a single word Javi had said since you had watched him enter the living room- Not after seeing what he was wearing.

He had changed out of his work attire and exchanged it for a fitted black t-shirt and gray sweatpants that left very little to the imagination. Javi had insisted to you that they really were the only pair of sweatpants that he had, but there was a part of you that was convinced he knew just how irresistible he looked in them, and that the sight of him in those pants made you absolutely feral.

“Hmmmm?” You replied, visibly shaking your head to try and reel yourself in from the thoughts you were already having after seeing your boyfriend walk into the room in his new outfit. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked, what movie are we watching?” He nodded towards the TV as he sat next to you on the couch, legs splayed open in a way that had the outline of his bulge perfectly pressed against the gray fabric of his pants. You could practically feel your mouth watering as you looked down at his lap- you were trying your best not to stare, but you couldn’t help but swipe your tongue along your bottom lip breathing heavily as you looked up at Javi.

“Or…” You smirked, working your way across the couch to crawl into Javi’s lap, straddling him with your legs on either side of his, running your fingers through the dark curls of his hair. “We could not watch the movie and do something else.” Your hands began to travel down Javi’s body, resting on his chest and grabbing at fist fulls of his shirt as your hips pressed down into his, feeling him starting to become hard underneath you, your kisses becoming desperate and frantic.

“Something else, huh?” You could feel Javi’s boyish grin between the presses of your lips, his hands working their way up and down your body before digging into your hips as you rolled them against his lap.

“Mhmmmmmm.” You nodded, reaching down to palm at Javi’s dick, straining against the fabric of his pants. “God, you look so good in these. You know what these sweatpants do to me, Jav?” Your kisses left Javi’s lips, slowly trailing down his body in hot, wet presses against the exposed skin of his neck and soft fabric of his shirt. You slid off Javi’s lap, kneeling on the ground in front of him, tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants, springing free his cock, already painfully hard and leaking with precum. Javi lifted his legs, shuffling his pants down to pool around his ankles, letting your hands and kisses wander up his thighs.

“Fuck me, Hermosa…” Javi groaned, leaning his head back against the edge of the couch as you planted hot kisses along his length, one hand slowly stroking the base of his shaft, the other running up and down the skin of his legs. “You wanna suck my dick, baby?”

You smirked, gently shaking your head from side to side, looking up at Javi. “I- I want you to fuck my mouth, Javi.”

Javi’s eyes went wide, jaw immediately going slack as your words left your mouth, visabally taking a moment to process your request. He reached down to cradle your face, forcing your gaze up towards his. “Baby… I don’t- Hermosa…are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you or anything.”

Regardless of what either of you wanted in the bedroom, rough, soft, or anything in between, Javi’s first priority had always been making sure that first and foremost, you were comfortable. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about your request before- as much as he loved going down on you, Javi absolutely lost his mind every time you went down on him, and the thought of you on your knees, taking his cock deep down your throat as he fucked your mouth had him rock hard.

“Javi,” You giggled, biting down on your lip, raising an eyebrow at him, “I’m positive. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t want to. I wanna make you feel good, baby.” Grabbing the hand gently cupping your cheek, you tugged at it, forcing him to stand up, running your hands up and down his thighs before removing one to lick a broad strip down your palm and wrap it around his shaft, slowly stroking it, making him groan.

“Fuck me.” He muttered to himself, watching you wrap your hand around his length and taking him into your mouth, swirling the tangy mix of his arousal and your spit around your tongue. He ran his hand through the dark curls of his hair, trying his best to keep his composure, already so worked up from just the thought of what you were about to let him do alone. “If it’s too much, you let me know, okay? Tap my leg or my arm or whatever, and I’ll stop, no questions asked, I-”

“Javi. I love you, baby. I wanna choke on your dick. I promise I’ll be okay.” You smirked, nodding in reassurance, hand still twisting around the base of his shaft, making its way up to thumb at his tip, red and leaking, sliding the mix of your saliva and his precum up and down his length.

“Jesus. Okay, Hermosa. Open that pretty mouth for me, baby girl.” He reached down, thumb tugging at your bottom lip before sliding his hand along the back of your head, carefully cradling it as your jaw hinged open, sticking out your tongue for him to place his cock on. Your eyes batted up at him through heavy lashes, gripping around the back of his bare thighs as you let your mouth relax, his length hard and heavy against your tongue as you took him between your lips. He eased into your throat, setting a slow pace as his hips gently rocked as you took him deeper into your mouth, hearing him audibly moan as your fingertips dug into the skin of his legs, urging him to go deeper, pulling him closer to you. “You sure?” Javi looked at you, eyes wide as you nodded, humming against his cock in approval, as if he knew exactly what your little gesture had meant.

Javi pulled back, pausing for a moment, a devilish smirk spreading across his face before pushing all the way back in, making you hollow your cheeks and breath through your nose, brushing up against the curls at his base, the sweet and musky scent of him filling your nostrils as you inhaled. “Oh fuck, Osita. Holy shit.” His voice rasped, hitching in the back of his throat watching your mouth fill with his cock. His fingers ran through your hair, tugging a little tighter as his thrusts began to quicken, his grunts and moans becoming louder with each push and pull. “Fuck, such a good girl taking me so well. So fucking pretty when you suck my cock baby, holy fuck.”

His other hand met his first, cupping the back of your head as he fucked into you, hitting the back of your throat as tears welled in your eyes and drool pooled from your lips as his cock consumed your mouth. You loved sucking Javi’s dick because you knew just how good it made him feel- watching his face all blissed out, leaving him a moaning and muttering mess. But this? Looking up at him through your heavy lids seeing the pure euphoria radiating off of him? It was unmatched.

You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together, trying to ease the ache that had rapidly been building between your legs, feeling the wetness pooling in the fabric of your underwear. Desperate to ease your own needs, you shifted one of the hands that was holding the back of Javi’s thigh, bringing it down to snake down your sweatpants and the waistband of your panties, humming in relief around Javi’s length as you rubbed your clit, already throbbing and pulsing before your fingers had even touched it. Feeling the absent grip of your fingertips in his leg, Javi looked down to see you touching yourself as his cock thrusted in and out of your mouth, making his jaw even more slack, while his pace became more frantic and sloppy.

“You touching yourself, baby? Fuck- sucking my cock like this got you all worked up?” Javi groaned through gritted teeth as you nodded up at him with watery eyes, hollowing your cheeks to try and keep from gagging as he brushed against the back of your throat. “Fuck meeee.” He whimpered, not sure how much longer he was going to last watching you, feeling the tingle at the base of his spine already beginning to grow. “Dirty fucking girl. I’m not gonna last much longer, baby- shit- be a good girl and make yourself cum on those pretty little fingers for me, yeah? Wanna see you- oh fuck- wanna see you cum for me before I fuck myself down your throat.”

Sliding deeper into your panties, you felt the slick covering your folds as you dipped your 2 fingers inside your heat, the palm of your hand bumping against your clit while you touched yourself, feeling equally as worked up and close to finishing as Javi was. Saliva spilled from the sides of your mouth as tears slid down your cheeks as Javi’s cock filled every inch of your mouth, the veins of his dick throbbing along your tongue. You could feel your pussy begin to flutter as your hands slid in and out of your dripping entrance, arousal pooling in your belly with each brush of your palm along your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your whimpers and moans humming around Javi’s cock had him reeling, his fingers gripping tighter around the ends of your hair as he cradled the back of your head, as he pushed deeper down your throat.

Suddenly, you could feel the coil inside you snap, your cunt clenching hard around your fingers as your orgasm ripped through you, your eyes squeezing shut and the breathing through your nose becoming heavier as you came. Knowing that you had hit your high, Javi sought relentlessly to reach his own, desperately thrusting into you. “Fuck me, Osita. Fuck. I’m so close baby, shit, gonna fill up that pretty mouth of yours. Meirda, Hermosa, ay dios mío, voy a-aahhhhhhhhh (Shit, Beautiful, oh my god, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh).” With one more push of his hips, Javi’s spilled himself inside you, hot ropes of his spend coating the back of your throat as his cock throbbed, milking himself of every last drop before pulling back out of your mouth. Both of your breaths were slow and heavy, Javi’s hand resting under your chin, tilting your messy, wet face up towards his as you swallowed, taking his cum down your throat.

“Jesus Christ…” He whispered to himself, his jaw still slack and eyes wide as he looked down at you, a devilish grin now growing across his face. “Fuck me. Fuck, that was so hot. You okay, baby?” He asked, pulling you up to stand as you used the back of your hand to wipe the spit still dripping from the edges of your lips.

“More than okay.” You smirked, pressing up on your tiptoes to plant a hot kiss on his lips, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. “We’re gonna have to get you new sweatpants, Jav.” You giggled, still laughing at the fabric pooled around his ankles. Javi tilted his head in confusion, reaching down to shuffle his pants and boxers over his legs.

“Why’s that, Hermosa?”

“Because if you keep putting on those sweatpants every time we’re supposed to watch a movie, I don’t think we’re ever gonna watch a movie again.”

Taglist

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @dappydelta @blackfemalenerd

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explorevenus · 1 year

Text

something permanent, pt. 3 ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors ! u know the drill! dni or i will call ur mom

find part 1 here ♡

find part 2 here ♡

find part 4 here ♡

reminder: this is a dark fic, if any of the following bothers/triggers you, do not read: yandere!leon, kidnapping, manipulation, corruption/training, forced daddy kink, forced breeding, noncon, stockholm syndrome

word count - 6.9k (nice)

description - despite every alarm bell going off within her, darling attempts an escape. leon does not take kindly to it, and darling grapples with conflicting emotions. oh, and, those six weeks are up.

description/tags - yandere!leon kennedy, dark!leon kennedy, fem/afab!reader, pet names (doll, princess, sweetheart, etc.), forced daddy kink, forced breeding, gaslighting if u squint, degradation, isolation, stockholm syndrome, noncon (kind of dubcon tho if we’re being honest), reader gets restrained, leon is honestly rly mean in this one for a min but he gets better i promise, reader is traumatized, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

a/n - first of all. THANK U FOR 700 FOLLOWERS. WHAT. THAT’S INSANE. i’m so glad everyone is liking this series and wants to see it continue-- the engagement has been so inspiring and i don’t think i’ve made this much quick progress with my writing in like. months. so thank u ;w; ♡ that being said, as always, my ask box is always open for discussion on this series, i love hearing everyone’s ideas/thoughts/interpretations ♡

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

taglist - @dollrxst @ifeelikeflying @nexyswrites @idekman111 @starcrossedreaders @litepowee @tosuckmyweenis @cosmicerror83 @pb-n-aj @myeowza @honeysoakedbandages

fic below the cut !! thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ♡

- venus ♡

As soon as you heard the front door shut behind him, you switched back to the news channel just to see the faces of your loved ones, if anything else. They took turns speaking of how much they missed you, how worried they were, what they wouldn't give just to know you're unharmed. You could hardly imagine what they must be thinking. They probably thought you were already dead. Perhaps you may as well have been.

The newscaster droned on about different ways to reach out with any information on your whereabouts and how to support your loved ones as they work to locate you. You wondered if Leon already knew about your friends and family telling your story to the media. With their contact information out there now, you found yourself worrying more about their safety than yours.

Eventually that portion of the broadcast came to an end and transitioned to coverage about a local event you couldn't care less about. You turned the TV off, laying flat on your back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling in silence. What were you supposed to do?

Sadly, the answer wasn't simple-- if you tried and failed to escape, you would be putting yourself in danger by landing yourself back out of Leon's good graces. If you tried and succeeded, you would potentially be putting the heat on your loved ones, whose homes would inevitably be the first place he'd look after your own. You weren't sure he'd be as forgiving with them as he would be with you. After all, he loathed the idea of hurting you... physically. He didn't seem to care much about the mental aspect.

Your heart was pounding against your ribcage with anxiety. The room was beginning to feel as if the walls were closing in around you and in that moment, your panic made your decision for you.

You had to at least try.

Chest heaving with panicked breaths, you sprang up from your place on the bed and began tearing through the room in search of something to get the door open with. Your hands were trembling as you ripped your way through every drawer, every shelf in the closet, even beneath the bed. Finding the bedroom void of anything useful, you made your way to the bathroom and administered the same treatment.

Throwing open the cabinet, you nearly cried with joy as your eyes landed on a pair of tweezers. They were a bit high up in the cabinet, so you crawled up on the countertop so you could reach them. You snatched them up, nearly dropping them with how badly your hands were shaking, before rushing back into the bedroom and to the door.

Dropping to your knees, you slotted the flat end of the tweezers into one of the screws on the doorknob. Your weak arms twisted, and after some resistance, the screw began to turn.

"Yes!" You laughed to yourself, dropping the tweezers to the floor in excitement. Quickly, you picked them back up and continued removing the screws from the doorknob.

Once the final one was gone, dropping to the floor beside you, you tugged with all the strength in your body.

Nothing.

Your chest tightened. Trying not to panic even further than you already were, you took a deep breath and gave it another pull and still, nothing. Then you realized the lock itself was the culprit. If you were going to get out this way, you'd have to take the entire door off. If you were going to do that, you'd need something to stand on so you could reach all of the hinges.

Pushing one of the bedside tables over to the door, you climbed atop the wood and put the tweezers to work again.

One hinge off.

Two.

Now you were on your knees, tongue poked out in concentration as you twisted off the final three screws. You felt electric, never having been closer to making it out. The final screw dropped to the floor in front of you and you held your breath as you supported the door with one hand, gently pulling it out of the doorway. It was heavy, your arms shook as you moved it out of the way and propped it up against the wall.

You took a minute to bask in the sight of the hallway before you. The house was dark and vacant. You had nothing but time and solace to figure out the other half of your escape.

You weren't sure where Leon was keeping your shoes-- he insisted you didn't need them anymore since you weren't supposed to be going anywhere-- so you padded your feet with two thick pairs of socks, slipped a plain black hoodie on over your sweater and bolted down the hallway. You nearly slipped descending the stairs, catching yourself by the wall in the nick of time, heading straight for the sliding glass door.

Shockingly, you didn't even have to take that one out of its mechanism, let alone break it-- the lock lever was right there in front of you. You almost didn't take the opportunity, worried that it was suspiciously too easy, but at the same time it would be a shame to pass something like that up. Shakily, you flipped the lever, heartbeat slamming in your ears at the clean sound of the click, and as you slid the door open in front of you, you were so relieved you nearly vomited.

Warily, you stepped one foot out into the backyard, and then another. The sun felt incredible. There was a slight breeze going that carried some of the heat off of your skin. You hadn't realized how much you missed the smell of car exhaust and fragrant spring trees until this exact moment.

Now, if you could just find your way to a main road, you could properly discern where in the city you were and therefore, how far you were from your apartment.

Little did you know you were correct in assuming your escape, despite the effort, was far too easy to be real. Through his work for the government-- which you knew nothing about-- Leon knew a thing or two about surveillance. How else would he be able to keep tabs on the search for his "missing" darling and make sure those pesky little posters with your face on them stayed in the trash where they belonged?

He was halfway through typing up a report in his office when his phone pinged with a notification.

Motion alert: Movement detected at back door

Leon stiffened, opening the notification to be met with the image of his nightmares-- live camera footage of his darling, dressed in all black, attempting to climb the tall wooden fence in the backyard.

He was quick to abandon the task at hand-- mission reports were not nearly as important to him as you were-- and he wasted no time grabbing his keys and storming out of his office. Leon made a quick comment to one of his coworkers that there was an emergency requiring his attention and he needed to leave before rushing toward the parking garage with large strides.

Now it was his heart hammering away in his ears. He couldn't stand the thought of making it home too late to stop you. He couldn't stand the thought of you hurting yourself climbing the fence. More than anything, he couldn't grasp why you would do this. You had been so sweet to him lately and he was sure you were finally coming out of your shell and accepting the fact that the two of you were made for each other, that you were made for him and him only.

But you hadn't. You were lying to him each and every day. It was this realization that halted his sadness in its tracks and filled him with a level of white-hot anger he hadn't experienced in a long, long time.

Leon broke every speed limit imaginable on his way back to the house. It was a negligent price to pay to ensure you stayed where you were meant to. His hardened eyes switched constantly between the security camera footage and the road in front of him, any regard for the safety of himself or others gone with the wind. He watched as you came back outside with a dining room chair to place in front of the fence. All he could see was red.

He came tearing down the street, barely giving the car enough time to come to a complete stop as he threw it in park, yanked the keys out of the ignition and exited in nearly one motion.

Your heart sank into your stomach at the sound of a car door slamming shut. You froze in your tracks.

It's just the neighbors. It's just the neighbors. It's just the neighbors, you tried reassuring yourself, planting the dining room chair in the squishy grass right up against the fence.

But then you heard the unmistakable sound of the front door swinging open so hard it banged into the wall.

Oh god. Oh fuck.

Hurriedly, you climbed atop the dining room chair, knees wobbling, trying so hard to convince yourself you were just imagining the heavy, nearing footsteps behind you. Body numb with adrenaline, you gripped the top of the fence and hoisted yourself up, planting one foot against the rough wood to help push yourself up and over when a strong hand closed around your other ankle with a vice grip, yanking you down from where you stood.

You screamed as you fell to the cold, hard ground, hoping someone would hear you, but Leon was quick to scoop you up against his chest and clamp his hand over your mouth.

"Where do you think you're going, doll?" He asked, not one bit of sympathy in his tone. He was squeezing your body so tightly in his arms that it genuinely hurt. You almost worried he would crush your bones.

You were thrashing in his hold, kicking your legs out wildly in a futile attempt to throw him off his balance, but you knew it was useless. You wanted to answer him, to tell him some stupid lie about how you just wanted some fresh air, but there was no point now, not that you even could given his hand was over your mouth. He was already angry with you, the angriest he'd ever been in fact, and to that point you had no idea what you were in for.

Leon dragged you back into the house, not even reacting to the way you struggled in his arms, and as he stepped through the doorway you couldn't help but wish you'd savored the time spent outdoors a little more, because there was no way he was ever going to give you that chance again.

He released his hold on your mouth to reach for something you couldn't see-- you were less concerned about whatever it was than you were about saving your own ass.

"I-I'm sorry, daddy, I'm so sorry--"

He scoffed. "No, you're not," Leon replied coldly, tone laced not just with anger but with hurt. "Y'know, sweetheart, I thought we had something really special. Did you not promise to behave yourself for me this morning? You were acting so strange, I knew you were up to something, and still, I found it within myself to trust your word that you would do right by me. Yet, here we are."

You wailed, gasping for breath, "I-I know, daddy, I'm sorry, I swear, I'm so sorry-"

He simply covered up your mouth again as he began to ascend the stairs, freezing in his tracks as he looked down the hallway to see his bedroom door off its hinges. Leon's muscles stiffened, cranking even tighter around you-- you could hardly breathe.

"Just look at what a mess you made, you ungrateful brat," He spoke through his teeth, shaking with fury. "Did it ever cross your empty little brain that I keep you here for your own good? That I might be protecting you from all the awful, evil people of this world who just want to hurt you? God, if you're going to keep acting like an animal, I should really start keeping you on a leash."

There was little time to dwell on the plentiful irony within that statement. He continued to charge down the hallway, tossing you unceremoniously onto the bed as soon as he set foot into the wrecked bedroom. You tried to scramble away from him and back toward the door, but he wasn't having it-- now acutely aware of your inclination to escape, he simply snatched up your wrists in one hand and pinned you back down to the bed.

He pulled something from his back pocket, and you weren't sure what it was at first until you felt cool metal against your wrists and heard an unmistakable click. You froze in horror, looking up just in time to watch him finish fastening your handcuffs and locking you to the bedframe.

"D-Daddy please, please don't do this, I-I'm sorry--"

Enraged, he punched the wall right above your head to silence you and you could have sworn you heard it crack.

"No, you're not, but you will be," He nearly growled, taking a step back so he could gesture to the state of the room. "If I had known you were going to destroy our home and rip a door off just to do the one thing I asked you not to do, I would have tied you to this bed a long fucking time ago. Do you even hear me when I speak to you?"

You were crying so hard you couldn't see, knees drawn up to your chest as the cold metal cuffs bit into your skin.

"Answer me!" Leon demanded.

"Y-Yes, I hear you, I-I'm so--"

"Sorry?" He finished your sentence in a mocking tone. "Bullshit. This requires far more than an apology and you know it, don't you princess? That's why you're so scared. Brave enough to break the rules but too afraid to face the consequences... It's pathetic, really."

Your lip quivered as you tried and failed to control your breathing. You couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said earlier, about making you sorry. You couldn't possibly imagine what he meant by that.

The more you thought about it, the more you became frustrated-- in a dizzyingly short amount of time that frustration began clouding over your distress. You weren't sure how much longer you could put up with this before he'd break you. Pleading with him didn't work, begging for his forgiveness didn't work, and hell, playing by his rules didn't always work either. Suddenly you were no longer crying because you were scared, you were crying because you were pissed.

"You wanna talk about what's pathetic, Leon?" You shouted through your tears, glaring straight up at him, speaking his name with the highest volume of venom you could muster. "You're just a fucking loser who couldn't land a girlfriend like a normal person, and you're taking it out on me. If you have to shackle me to your bed just to get me to stay with you, it's not too hard to see why no one else ever wanted you."

You could see his jaw clench. Leon leaned down to your level, faces so close together you could feel the heat of his heavy breaths as he gripped your chin harshly, forcing you to remain at attention.

"I know what you watched on the news this morning," He said, voice so low with anger it might have chilled you to the bone if you weren't so completely fuming. "This is why I keep you here, sweetheart, because those horrible people just say whatever they can to get into your head and turn you against me when all I've ever done is protect you. They must be so miserable."

Now it was your jaw clenching. You almost laughed.

"It took a lot less than that newscast to turn me against you," You scoffed, trying to ignore how sore your arms were already becoming from being tied up above your head. "You took me away from everything I've ever known, stripped me of my identity and my freedom just so you could live out your delusional fantasy. You're sick in the head, Leon, and I don't want to play your game anymore. You don't need me and you sure as hell don't need a family, you need to be in prison. You need professional fucking help."

He... grinned?

He grinned.

His eyes hardened over in a way you'd never seen before and although you resisted showing it, it made you so nervous you could have puked right then and there.

"That's where you're wrong, baby," He bit back condescendingly. "I don't need you telling me what I need when you're the one who's been led so far astray. It's not me that needs saving, it's you, and I have every intention of filling up that pretty little head of yours with what's right, what's real. One of these days, you'll be thanking me."

Your rage consumed you completely-- in a split second decision, you spat in his face, speaking through gritted teeth, "Fuck you."

Ever so slowly, he raised a hand to his face to wipe off the saliva, not breaking eye contact with you for a second. He collected your spit on his fingers, staring you down in silence for a moment as if he were expecting you to backtrack and apologize, but you didn't.

"You don't mean that," He spoke as he pried your mouth open with the hand that held your jaw and shoved his spit-soaked fingers inside. "Poor, dumb little baby. You don't even know what you're saying anymore, and I'm the delusional one?"

You tried to bite his fingers but his hold on your jaw was strong.

"No biting," Leon demanded. "Try it again and I'll pry every last tooth out of your bratty mouth."

Well... you couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, but you decided you'd rather not test him. All you could bring yourself to do was reminisce about how nice the sunshine felt on your cheeks, how pleasant the breeze felt in your hair, the rough wooden fence on your soft palms as he held his fingers in your mouth until you'd adequately sucked them clean, swallowing hesitantly. Only then did he withdraw from you, hands shaking in manic fury as he pulled up the calendar on his phone and shoved it in your face, showing you an event he had entered that was coming up in three days.

It was simply marked, six weeks.

You couldn't help it-- you shuddered, trying as you might to will yourself to just keep thinking about the sun and the breeze and that fence, all so painfully close but so far away.

You couldn't sleep.

You laid wide awake, arms still bound to the bedframe by the metal cuffs that were biting into your wrists, staring at what you could only assume was the ceiling as the lights were off and Leon was asleep beside you. He'd only let you out of your restraints to use the bathroom, after which he'd force you right back into place, locked up tight every time.

It was the night before the big day, the six week mark. Leon hadn't returned to work since you'd attempted your escape and you could only imagine what excuse he'd pulled to get out of it. He did mention he held a good amount of power in his workplace, so you were certain none of his subordinates felt any reason to question his word anyway.

He'd removed anything even remotely capable of being used to hurt yourself or facilitating your escape from the room. No TV, no tweezers, no razors, no belts, no medicine in the cabinets. He'd put safety covers on all of the outlets and replaced the digital alarm clock with an analog one-- no radio, either. If your family was still out there pleading for answers, you would have no way of knowing.

Exactly as he'd planned.

The worst part-- which you never thought you'd catch yourself thinking-- was that he was practically ignoring you. He'd hardly said a word to you or looked in your direction since you'd tried to escape. He would pipe up every now and then in select situations, seemingly only to scold you. You'd tried to get back at him with another hunger strike, which he didn't take kindly to. You'd yelled and kicked at him and begged him to uncuff you, to which he would just grumble that you were being ridiculous and needed to calm down or he'd never let you out until you could prove to him you deserved it. Other than that, silence. Complete and total deafening silence.

Shamefully, you craved his attention. You didn't realize just how nice it felt until he'd withheld it from you entirely.

You nudged his sleeping form with your knee, speaking out in a sweet, sad voice, "Daddy?"

Leon shuffled a bit beside you, putting a hand on your knee to stop your prodding. "What?" He asked, voice gravelly with sleep.

"I can't sleep," You whispered.

Despite how wrong you knew it was, you hoped he would feel sorry for you. You hoped he would let you out of your restraints so he could properly pull you into his arms and rub your back until you'd finally slip away into a dream. Part of you hoped he might at least stay awake and talk to you for a while.

But he didn't.

"Count sheep," He dismissed you, rolling over to go back to sleep.

The analog clock ticked.

Now it was Leon shaking you awake.

You groaned, trying (and failing) to bury your head into the pillow while restrained on your back.

"Get up," He said sternly.

"Leon, please, I just fell asleep not that long ago--"

"That's too bad," He yanked at your restraints to shock you into consciousness. "I know what you need to do to regain my trust."

That statement alone was enough to get you to pry your tired eyes open and look at him. Morning light had flooded into the room. He was already dressed and sat at the edge of the bed, looking at you expectantly.

"And what would that be?" You asked.

Leon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small key, unlocking your cuffs. Your arms were dead and fell heavily to the bed on either side of you as you let out a breath of relief-- your limbs throbbed and tingled as the feeling returned. Still, he wasted no time taking ahold of you, pushing a pen into your dominant hand and a notebook into your other.

"You're going to write to your family, and you're going to tell them to quit looking for you."

Your mouth went dry. "W-What? Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," He answered you. "If you want to convince me that you're really trying to get better and behave for me, that's what you need to do."

Sleep deprivation and discomfort left your brain foggy-- you tried to think through what you were going to do, but as much as you wanted to tell him to fuck off, you weren't sure you could stand another length of time being cuffed, and you really weren't sure you could handle him continuing his vow of silence with you. You swallowed thickly.

"O-Okay," The agreement fell from your lips before you could stop it. "That's it?"

He crossed his arms. "It's a start. I need to know you're committed to this, to me."

"And what do I get in return?" You asked.

Leon scoffed. "A sliver of my trust back. Don't get greedy on me, now, princess."

You stared down at the book of blank pages in your lap. You wondered if it was worth it, if they'd believe whatever bullshit you'd churn out on that paper, if they would really give up. If Leon would really start to trust you again.

Finally, you clicked the pen and began writing with your dead, heavy hand.

Hey, it's me. Ever since I left my job, my apartment, everything, I've felt so free. Lonely, sometimes, but free. Please don't make this harder than it needs to be. Maybe some day we'll see each other again, but I need to do what's best for me now. Even if it hurts.

Never think that I don't think about you all the time. Only always do I miss you. This is just a better place for me, where I am now. So don't worry about me. After some time has passed I may write again just to let you know I'm okay. Freedom has never tasted so sweet. Even if it kills me sometimes.

Leave every worry you have about me behind. Every last one. Of course I still love you and I understand how you all must be feeling, but even so, I need you to stop looking for me. Now, please, leave me in peace.

You looked over every last shaky word with pride. You hoped Leon wouldn't read into it too closely as you handed it off to him. It wasn't particularly a cleverly coded message, in fact it was rather rudimentary, but all you could do was hope they would read between the lines and Leon wouldn't.

The first letter of every sentence spelled out your true message: HELPME NOTSAFE LEON

You hoped it would be enough to point them in the right direction, if they even noticed it at all.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Leon asked, folding up the page neatly and tucking it away in his pocket as he quickly reached for the notebook and pen-- he couldn't risk you turning around and hurting yourself with either one of those items. "I'll send this off to them soon, but today is just about us. You know what today is, don't you princess?"

Panicked tingles washed over you. You nodded stiffly. "S-Six weeks," You mumbled.

"That's right," He smiled softly, cupping your cheek. "Such a smart girl. Our kids are going ivy league, I can already feel it."

You flashed him an incredibly weak smile, but said nothing.

"That being said, I think you know what else you need to do to gain my trust back, don't you?" He asked, resting a hand on your thigh, looking down at you with a smug look on his face, like he'd won.

Of course you knew what he wanted, you were just hoping you weren't correct in your assumption.

You shook your head. "What?"

He chuckled pitifully, like he just couldn't begin to imagine how empty your head must be, how easily molded with such a lack of intelligence. It made your skin crawl. Finally, he answered with exactly the words you were terrified of hearing.

"Relax and let me put a baby in you," He said softly. "You know that."

"Right," You nodded, casting your gaze down to your hands, feeling your heart begin to pound-- there was no getting out of this. After what you'd just been through over the past three days, you couldn't bear the idea of making him angrier. The fight left you for now and you shrank into yourself.

His hand traveled a bit further up your thigh, fingertips squishing softly into the meat of your flesh. "You are going to give me a baby, right, doll?" Leon asked, face unreadable, but you weren't stupid, you knew this was a test. He hadn't exactly made a habit of asking you for your opinion on anything.

With a quiet, measured breath, you willed yourself to return his gaze, looking straight into his cobalt eyes as you forced a much more convincing smile than the last one.

"Yeah, of course," You spoke through your teeth. "...Daddy."

Leon visibly softened at that. At the end of the day, it pained him to punish you and he couldn't possibly stay mad at that face. He still felt you had a lot to atone for, but that didn't matter to him in that moment. All he could think about was feeling your cunt wrapped around him again after such a dreary six weeks, pumping you full of his cum until neither of you could take it anymore, until it leaked out of you, until there was no possible way you weren't knocked up.

The blonde shifted on the bed, kissing up the length of your leg until he rested his chin on your hip. "Good answer, princess," He mused. "We're gonna be so happy. I promise. You're gonna be the prettiest mama in the world."

You looked up at the ceiling, body going numb with fear. There was no way you could handle bearing and birthing and raising your captor's child, being tied to him for a minimum of 18 more years, having to explain to a child why mommy isn't allowed outside of the house.

As you pondered your future, Leon was busying himself with your body-- he was already growing hard just feeling your warm, soft skin beneath his hands, breathing in your scent, dragging his lips along your navel just to savor you. He'd so terribly missed experiencing your body this way. As hard as it was for him to hold off, he wanted to make this moment as special for you as it was for him.

With your contraception gone and your wounds healed, this would be his first real try at getting you pregnant, the first real chance his seed might take. Leon could hardly contain his excitement.

His fingertips tickled over your electric skin as he reached for your panties, pulling them slowly down your legs. Parting you by your thighs, he looked at your pussy with stars in his eyes, as if he'd never seen something so beautiful. All you could do was lay there and wait for him to get on with it.

You thought of the sun on your skin. Leon drew a finger up the length of your cunt, settling between your legs so he could bury his face in you, nose bumping your clit softly as he began to lap at your folds. You thought of the breeze in your hair. He gripped your thighs on either side of his head, pressing one down to the bed to pry you further open as his tongue flicked at your jewel, coaxing desire unto you. You thought of the soft grass beneath your socks. He groaned into you with satisfaction, sending vibrations through your lower half. You thought of the sound of birds. Two fingers prodded at your entrance.

Suddenly you stiffened, tears rimming your eyes-- all you could think of was the incident, vivid memories of the throbbing pain and the blood and the look on his face flooding back to you, filling your mind and body with a sour feeling.

You tensed, squirming in his hold.

"D-Daddy," You stuttered. "I-I don't want fingers this time... please."

It took him a second to will himself to pull away from you, looking up at you through his lashes with spit and slick glistening over his reddened lips. "Are you sure, sweetheart? I don't want to hurt you."

You nodded. "It's just... I'm scared."

"Scared of what, baby?" He asked, resting his cheek on your thigh as he continued to idly circle your clit with his thumb.

Your lip quivered, tears leaking from your eyes and dripping down the sides of your face. You looked back up to the ceiling, afraid to show him how rattled you were. "I can't stop thinking about it."

When a few seconds passed and he hadn't moved or answered you, you dared a peek down at him-- at first he looked a bit confused, like he was trying to search his brain for whatever "it" was, and then it dawned on him and his eyes rounded with guilt.

"Oh, sweetheart... no, no, that'll never happen again," He rambled out, voice dripping with concern. "I promise. It's over now, you're all healed up. You're better now, princess."

"I-I know," You said, trying desperately to conceal your tears, bringing a hand up to your mouth to quiet yourself. "I'm just scared. I can't stop thinking about it."

Leon frowned. Your attempts not to alert him that you were crying were in vain, he definitely noticed, and it shattered his heart. He pressed a soft kiss to your clit in place of his thumb. "You just need me to remind you how good it feels, huh? Don't be scared, okay? I've got you. I'm right here."

His words hardly quelled the ice cold fear that ripped through your body like a shockwave. You weren't sure how exactly that was the solution he'd landed on, but you'd given up on trying to understand his way of thinking by now. Whether you meant to or not, your body remained stiff as he resumed his ministrations, tongue dancing over your jewel, fingers pushing deeper and deeper into you, slowly, as if that would make you feel better.

You kept your hand over your mouth to silence your cries, desperately trying to keep a handle on your breathing while every fight or flight response in your body was pounding the alarm. Your eyes screwed shut as he began to drag in and out, pads of his fingers brushing over your sweet spot. You were paralyzed with fear, viscerally uncomfortable, and ashamed that you were enjoying this.

Sucking particularly hard at your puffy clit, Leon delighted in your reaction as you whimpered, completely unbothered by your tears. As far as Leon was concerned, you were in need of a good fuck to set you back on the right path and he had every intention of giving that to you, and more. He was more interested in fucking all that brattiness out of you than anything else.

Your face burned hot with shame and tears as you felt a quick peak rising deep in your stomach, wishing he wasn't so fucking good at this. Everything in you screamed to push him away, but something louder begged you to stay put and relax.

Oddly enough, that "something" had a voice that sounded a lot like Leon.

Unable to hold back anymore, you began to sob as your release gushed over Leon's face and fingers, wishing you would just die while he dragged out your orgasm, praising you quietly.

"That's it, good girl. Good fuckin' girl," He grunted into your pussy, lapping up every last drop of you. "Feels good, doesn't it, baby?"

You couldn't breathe well enough to answer him. Before you could stop yourself, you found your free hand grasping down at him, reaching desperately for his hand. He granted you that with enthusiasm, squeezing your palm lovingly.

"Oh, sweetheart... you're alright. Just breathe for me, pretty girl, I'm right here," Leon cooed, withdrawing his fingers from inside you but again, continuing to toy with your clit just to keep you stimulated and pliant. "You did so good for me. I'm so proud of you."

You clutched his hand like you would die if he let go, all the while he peppered your stomach with kisses as he rose to meet your gaze, pulling your hand away from your mouth so he could plant his lips there. Sighing into his kiss, you tangled your arms around him and cried into his mouth, too absorbed by him to notice he was unbuckling his belt with his free hand.

Leon pulled away from you just long enough to undress, gifting you another kiss before rutting his hard cock against your folds impatiently.

"Fuck, you feel so good... You have no idea how badly I missed fucking you."

"I-I missed you too," You cried, but you weren't referring to the six-weeks-no-sex thing. Just hours ago he was three days deep into ignoring you completely, and now he was giving you everything you'd wished for.

The tension in your muscles released and you went dumb, letting your head fall back as you submitted to the feeling of him, the head of his cock brushing over your clit, the pearly precum that leaked from him slicking your already wet cunt even further.

With a shudder he sank into you, watching your face in awe as your jaw dropped at the dull sting of his cock stretching you out. You whined softly, clenching around him, drawing a lustful sound from him that you weren't sure you'd ever heard before, but it certainly did something to you. His hips bumped into yours as he impatiently thrusted into you down to the hilt, dropping his head down to suck and nip at your throat.

"So fucking tight," Leon grunted right into your ear. You clutched at his strong shoulders, your body temperature rising at the praise and the second knock at your hips as his hips pushed forward again. "God, you were made for me, princess."

He stayed still for a moment just to bask in the sensation of your gummy walls clenching impatiently around him, begging to draw his cock further inside than he could possibly go. It wasn't long before he couldn't help himself anymore, planting one hand beside your head and the other firmly on your hip as he began railing into you.

You were babbling out broken cries, nails digging into his shoulder blades hard enough to draw blood, but you had a feeling he wouldn't mind. The bedframe was bumping into the wall with increased volume, sending bits of drywall from the hole he'd punched earlier flittering down into your hair.

Leon's thick cock was passing over all of the most sensitive parts of you, stirring up the need inside you so quickly that you almost felt dizzy. You were holding on to him for dear life, slinging a leg over his hip to draw him in as closely to you as possible. His skin was rosy and warm, littered with beauty marks and the occasional scar here and there. You wondered if he'd tell you where they came from some day.

Some day. You shook off the thought, trying to stay in the moment. It was just easier that way.

"H-Harder," You pleaded, taking your lip between your teeth.

His face lit up, curling his fingers into your skin with a bruising force as he picked up the pace and pounded into you, reaching deeper than either of you thought was possible-- the swollen head of his cock was bumping into your already sensitive cervix, pulsing a pain through you that made you squirm and see stars. Oddly, it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"So good," You shivered, letting your shaking hands slide up to tug at his hair. "I-I'm close again, Leon, I'm close--"

With a hum he slowed down again, watching with amusement as you griped at the loss of the sensation. "That's not what you're supposed to call me, is it, sweet girl?" He taunted you. "Already fucked stupid, aren't you? Not a single fucking thought behind those eyes."

"Daddy, please," You relented. "Wanna cum. Wan' it so bad, please..."

He made a show of pondering for a second, ultimately deciding your apology would do, just this once. Tonight was meant to be special and he was sick of punishing you by now. Hiking your leg up over his shoulder, Leon thrusted into you twice as hard as before, if that was even possible, making you cry out with bliss.

You were already close, but Leon really wanted to make sure he got you there. Sneaking a hand between the two of you, rubbing achingly slow circles into your clit. Your eyesight blurred as you yanked at his hair, twitching around you as not one but two orgasms crashed over you almost painfully, one after the other soaking his cock and the sheets with your release.

Desperately in need of a break, you writhed in his arms and tried to push him off of you, but he wasn't budging.

"Nuh-uh, none of that," Leon chided, gripping your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head. "Take it, baby, just take it. Gonna put a fuckin' baby in you, make you mine."

Your tears returned with a quickness as your limbs twitched with overstimulation, wondering just how much more he had in him. Funny enough, now you were begging him to slow down again. He wouldn't, though. He was far too close to his own release but terrifyingly good at not showing it.

Just when you thought you were genuinely going to pass out, his pace stuttered and he pulled you further into him by your hip, hands still pinned above your head as he stuffed himself as deeply inside of you as he could physically manage, and you felt the unmistakable warmth within you as his seed flooded your cunt.

Leon continued to fuck his cum into you with a few more lazy thrusts, catching his breath as he leaned over you with a smile. He let go of your wrists and cupped your chin.

"That's it, sweetheart. Y'feel that?"

You nodded, dizzy, arms latching around him once more.

"Good. I'm gonna make sure you're pregnant in no time, I promise," He chuckled breathlessly, brushing his lips over your forehead. "Just gotta make sure it takes."

Leon pulled slowly out of you, watching as a pool of pearly white cum seeped out of your hole and puddled on the sheets. He was quick to swipe it up with his finger, pushing it deeply back into you. After all, he couldn't stand the thought of a single drop going to waste.

part 4 ♡

#venustext #sintext #yandere!leon kennedy #something permanent #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #dark!leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader

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krirebr · 3 months

Text

More Than This 3

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~5.8k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, multiple references to vomit (but nothing graphic, I don't think), attempted sex that makes everyone sad - dubcon on both sides, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Alright friends, here we go! Now we're really in it.

A gigantic thank you, as always, to @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and talking it all through with me, especially the last section, which I've been anxious about since I originally conceived of it ages ago. You're the best, Chelsea!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You heard Ransom get up in the early hours of the morning and stumble into the bathroom to retch. You were glad he didn’t choke on his vomit, you guessed. You were still on the couch with the TV turned down low. You wondered if he’d come out and see what you were doing, but he just stumbled back to the bed when he was done.

You didn’t hear him again for several more hours. In that time, you mostly watched TV, dozed a little, fucked around on your phone. Time passed slowly, but it still passed. Soon, the sun was coming up. You were moving across the country today. Your new life was starting whether you wanted it or not.

A few hours later you heard the beginnings of movement in the bedroom. You called down to room service and ordered two carafes of coffee, along with a few different breakfast options, ranging from light to extremely greasy. You didn’t know what his hangovers were like, what they required. But you knew that an especially moody Ransom wouldn’t do you any good. So, a peace offering of a sort.

The food arrived before he’d shown his face. As you looked at the cart, you thought that while you were trying to start things as well as you could for your own good, it didn’t erase everything he’d done the day before, how he’d treated you. So you made no effort to be quiet as you laid out the food and got the coffee ready. You may have banged the metal covers together as noisily as you could.

“What the fuck?” Ransom grumbled as he came stumbling out of the bedroom in just his boxer briefs. “Why is there noise?”

“Coffee,” you said, handing him the mug you’d filled. “I didn’t know how you take it.”

He took a sip and just grunted at you and then turned around and went back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

You busied yourself by getting your own coffee and munching on some toast. You still had no appetite but figured you should probably eat something.

A few minutes later, he came back out with a now empty mug. He stopped and stared at you. “Am I still drunk or are you still wearing your wedding dress?”

You tried not to let your embarrassment show. “I couldn’t get it off by myself, so…” you trailed off and shrugged.

He looked at you for another moment then nodded once. “Give me a minute,” he said, as he poured himself another cup. He drank it quickly, then briefly held his head in his hands. When he looked back up, he took a deep breath, then mumbled “OK.” He came up behind you and lightly touched your dress. “Is there a trick to it?” he asked as he ran a finger down the seam.

“It’s a long line of hook-and-eyes, you know?”

He hummed and then started at the top. As he worked, he grumbled to himself, which made you feel a little better about not being able to get it off. You’d never stop being surprised by how gentle his hands were. It seemed to be in complete opposition to every other part of him. When he was about halfway down, his knuckles lightly grazed the bare skin of your back and a shudder ran through your whole body. “Sorry,” he said, softly. You just shook your head and didn’t say anything.

When he was done, he quickly took a step back. You held your dress to you, trying to preserve your modesty, even though you knew how silly that was. You just weren’t ready for him to see you, although you doubted that that mattered. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He nodded again, then “You mind if I take the first shower?”

You shook your head and he disappeared into the ensuite.

About an hour and a half later, you sat with him in the back of a town car, on your way to the private airfield where one of his family’s planes awaited you. Neither of you said anything. Ransom was staring at something on his phone, while you put all your energy into trying not to have a panic attack. You had no idea what was waiting for you in Boston. You weren’t ready for this. You couldn’t do it.

As the car pulled up to the hangar, you were beyond relieved to see Steve already waiting there, Lola’s travel crate at his feet. The moment the car was parked and turned off, you lept out, not waiting for anyone to open the door for you. You bent down in front of Lola’s crate first and carefully stuck your fingers through the door. “Hi, baby, I missed you.” She kissed your fingers and then whined to be let out. “Not yet, honey,” you said softly. “You have to wait til we’re on the plane.”

You stood up and faced Steve, who was looking you over carefully. “How are you doing?” he asked seriously.

You shrugged and sighed. “Freaking out a little, I guess, but it’ll be fine.”

“And if it isn’t, you’ll call me,” he said, voice firm. “I don’t care where you are or what time it is, you call me. Ok?” You nodded. He opened his mouth to say more, but then the call of your name came from over your shoulder.

You turned to see Ransom standing between you and the jet. Your heart dropped. No, not yet. You needed more time. You needed to be able to actually say goodbye. You couldn’t– “I’ll be on the plane,” he said, voice still scratchy and tired, sunglasses firmly on, despite the overcast day. “Take your time.” He turned around and began walking up the stairs.

You just stared after him for a moment, surprised. When you turned back to Steve, his lips were curled in disgust. But then the expression quickly changed to something much sadder. “I should have done more,” he said, “gotten you out of here, sent you away or something. I can’t–”

“Steve.” you interrupted. “Please stop. It’s no use now.” You couldn’t listen to any more of this. It had always been inevitable; it’d always been what you were for. Imagining anything else was useless.

Neither of you said anything for a moment, then he looked around and asked, “Are Dad and Lydia on their way?”

You tried to keep any hurt out of your expression when you said, “No, something important came up for Joseph and you know Mom has a hard time going anywhere by herself.” You ignored the cracks you heard in your own voice.

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion and upset. “I would have picked her up,” he said. “Hell, I’ll go get her right now.”

“I know,” you said sadly. “I told her that, but you know how she is.” You dropped your eyes, not able to look at the anger you knew you’d see on Steve’s face. You were angry too, you were, but mostly now you were just sad. And after thinking about it all night, you honestly weren’t sure how much anger she deserved. She’d been broken for a long time. It’d happened before you’d even known her, probably. It’d been unfair, maybe, to expect her to be strong for you now when she’d never been able to be that before.

Steve said your name and you looked up at him. “You don’t deserve this,” he said firmly. “I know I’ve said it before, but I really need you to understand it. None of this is what you deserve.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just nodded and muttered, “OK.”

He sighed and shook his head, then pulled you into his arms. “I’m going to miss you so fucking much,” he said into your hair. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without having you just a few minutes away to annoy whenever I want.”

You huffed a laugh into his shoulder. “I’m going to miss you too,” you said. “So much. Even when you’re being so annoying.” The tears were starting now, you weren’t able to hold them back. You pulled back and briefly got a good enough look at Steve’s face to see that his eyes were wet, too, before he knelt in front of Lola’s crate.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “I’m going to miss you too. You take good care of your mom for me.”

You couldn’t help the little sob that came out of you at that. Fuck. Steve had been stuck to your side since you were six years old. Through absolutely everything. He’d been the one person you could count on for as long as you could remember. And now you were being dragged away from him.

He stood up and pulled you into another hug. “You’re so strong,” he whispered right in your ear. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

When he pulled back, you knew it was time to go, but you didn’t know how to pull yourself away. This all felt so final.

“Let me know when you land,” he said. “And when you get to the house. And just–” he sighed. “Everything. I want to know everything, ok?”

You nodded and tried to brush the tears from your eyes. “Yeah, ok,” you said, knowing you’d send him the exact amount of information that would keep him from worrying too much. You picked up the dog crate. You locked eyes with him one last time. “I love you.”

His voice was thick when he responded, “I love you too. I’m going to sit right here until you’ve taken off, ok? I’ll be right here.”

“You’re a good brother,” you said, as you slowly took your first step backward, toward the jet.

“Yes. I am,” he said with a smile that was half cocky and half absolutely heartbreaking.

With one last deep breath and an “OK,” that was mostly to yourself, you forced yourself to turn around and make your way to the stairs up to the jet. Once you were halfway up, you looked over your shoulder. Steve was leaning against his car. He gave you an encouraging smile and a small wave. You nodded and took the last few steps to board the plane.

A flight attendant was standing right there to greet you. “Welcome aboard, Mrs. Drysdale,” she said and you couldn’t help the way your mouth dropped open in shock. Mrs. Drysdale. That’s who you were now. You tried to pull yourself together and let her show you into the main cabin. It was mostly open, with a few plush seats and tables scattered around. Ransom was already in one, fully reclined with a sleep mask pulled over his eyes. He made no indication that he was awake, so you asked the attendant for a mask for yourself and a glass of water. As she went to fulfill your request, you opened Lola’s little cage and picked her up when she came out. She was nervous, shaking with her little tail tucked between her legs. “It’ll be ok,” you said softly, the tears threatening to stream down again. You took a deep breath and settled the both of you into a seat as far from Ransom as you could get in the small private jet. You gave Lola gentle pets until she sat down on your lap. “We’ll just take a nap,” you said, “and it’ll be over before we know it.”

“What the fuck is that?”

You woke with a start and pulled off your sleep mask. “Huh?” You sat up to see Ransom and Lola locked in a staredown.

“What is that?”

“I told you that I had a dog,” you said, confused.

“That!” Ransom yelled, pointing at Lola, “is not a dog. That’s a long-haired rat!”

“Hey!” you yelled back, just as Lola started retching. “Oh, baby, no!” You knelt down next to her just as she puked right at Ransom’s feet.

“What the shit?!” he cried out, jumping back.

“She’s stressed, ok? It’s not like I can explain to her what a plane is or where we’re going!” You grabbed what was left of your water and the napkin the flight attendant had brought with the glass and tried to clean it up. “Shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“What are you doing?” He stood over you with his hands on his hips.

“I’m cleaning it up so you don’t freak out, ok? It’ll be fine, just give me a minute.”

“Get up.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to do that. The crew probably has a steam cleaner or something. My dad uses this plane. I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” He walked to the front of the cabin and knocked on the divider. When the attendant came, Ransom quietly told her, “The dog got sick. I assume you have something to clean it up.”

She nodded and quickly came out with a portable steam cleaner and made quick work of Lola’s mess.

“Thank you,” you told her.

“No problem at all, Mrs. Drysdale,” she smiled and went back to the galley.

“Well, that’s a real mindfuck,” Ransom said as he flopped back into his seat. He glared down at Lola, “She gonna do that again?”

“I don’t know,” you said, gently picking her up and holding her close to try to comfort her.

He pulled his sleep mask down over his eyes. “Great, love being a rat-dog owner.”

“She isn’t your dog,” you said curtly.

“Whatever. This hangover is still pounding against my skull. Wake me when we land.”

When you landed in Boston, Ransom led you to where his vintage beamer was parked and you both squeezed into it. The slightly hysterical thought struck you that it wouldn’t be suitable at all once there was a baby to cart around. You pushed that thought away. No use getting ahead of yourself.

Ransom’s house was on the edge of the city, surrounded by more trees than you expected. From the outside, it was mostly glass. Very modern. It felt cold.

He parked the car and grabbed the few bags you both had with you. The rest of your things would be delivered the next day. He showed you inside without much pomp or circumstance, just walked in ahead of you, and left the door open.

The majority of the first floor seemed to be one large, open-plan room. It was sparsely decorated and the pieces that were there seemed to be lifted wholesale from the pages of an upscale furniture catalog. There was nothing of Ransom in this house. Not that you really knew him well enough to say, but you didn’t think there was any information to be gleaned from his living space either. It all felt very empty. It was not what you had expected.

You set Lola down on the hardwood floor and she immediately ran off to explore. You crossed your fingers that she wouldn’t get into anything, not able to forget Ransom’s threat that he’d make you get rid of her if she messed anything up. You glanced over at Ransom to gauge if he was upset that you’d let her roam on her own, but he wasn’t paying any attention, leafing through a pile of mail left on the kitchen island.

He must have felt you watching him, because without looking up he said, “Bedroom’s upstairs. I’ll bring our things up later.”

You nodded even though he wasn’t looking at you. You grabbed your bag, not wanting to wait for him, and made your way up the staircase in the middle of the living room. Judging by how he’d treated you so far, you figured he planned to tuck you away in some guest room, out of his way except for when he needed you. It wasn’t unheard of in marriages like this, and you would honestly be grateful to have your own space. But as you looked through the rooms upstairs, you found a home gym, a study, and 2 storage rooms. There’d also been a bathroom and a few closets. The only room left had to be his, but you couldn’t imagine he’d want to share that with you. You very gingerly walked in and set your bag at the foot of the bed. You didn’t spend any more time there, afraid that you might be wrong.

When you went back downstairs, he was now rummaging through his fridge. “I put my bag in the bedroom upstairs,” you said to his back.

He just grunted his assent, then came out with two glass containers in his hands. He plated them both and put one in the microwave. “I have a housekeeper that comes three times a week and usually prepares meals for the whole week. You can give her any food preferences you have.”

You nodded. “I enjoy cooking,” you said, your mother's advice to ‘keep him happy’ floating in your mind. “I can make dinner too, sometimes.”

He nodded and shrugged as he took the plate out of the microwave and placed it in front of you on the island. You took a seat on one of the stools. “If you want,” he said, “but I don’t expect it.” He put his own plate in the microwave.

“Do you have any other staff?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Not for the house, not right now.”

You understood the implication that the staff would grow as your family did. A nanny, a driver, a gardener maybe, if you moved to a house that required one.

It was the lack of a driver that made you nervous. You’d never gone without one at home. You also hadn’t seen a large garage on the property, so you guessed there weren’t any extra cars around. You felt stuck in this house already, shut in like he didn’t want you to leave.

When his food was heated, he sat beside you and you ate together in silence. The food was fine, you were sure, but you couldn’t taste it. Your mind was ahead of you, wondering what the rest of the night held.

When you were done, Ransom loaded your dishes into the dishwasher and then said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat, so I’m just going straight to bed. Feel free to stay up if you want. I’m a heavy sleeper so you won’t wake me when you come in.”

“Oh,” you said, trying to hide your surprise. So he did intend for you to share his room. But apparently, just for sleeping. You were relieved. You were. The little voice in your head that wouldn’t stop whispering that he didn’t want you didn’t count. “I’m still three hours behind, so I might stay up a little longer.” Doing what, you had no idea. You didn’t have any of your things and you weren’t sure what was off-limits here yet. And you were exhausted, still hadn’t recovered from not sleeping the night before. But you just couldn’t deal with the awkwardness of going to bed at the same time as him.

“OK,” he said and then just stood there, looking surprisingly lost. After a couple of endless minutes, he just said, “Goodnight,” and finally went upstairs.

You grabbed your phone out of your handbag, unsurprised to see multiple messages from Steve, checking in on you. You sent him one back, assuring him that the flight had been fine, the drive to the house was fine, you were fine. You collected Lola from where she was curled up on a rug, quickly fed her and let her out, and then brought her and her crate upstairs. After a few minutes of internal debate, you decided to set her up in the gym, fairly certain that even in her crate, Ransom wouldn’t want her in his bedroom. It took a lot of coaxing to get her in. She was so used to sharing your bed. She whined when you closed the little grate and your heart broke. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “You’ll get used to it. It’ll be ok.”

You quietly went into the bedroom and Ransom was, indeed, already asleep, spread out on his stomach again, but luckily this time only taking up one side of the bed. He’d left the lamp on the opposite side on for you. You took your sleep clothes out of your bag and brought your toiletries into the ensuite, unpacking only what you’d need for the night. His things were all piled around one of the side-by-side sinks, but the other was clear for you. You went through your nightly routine quickly and then went back into the bedroom and very carefully climbed into bed. He didn’t stir. You turned off the lamp and settled at the edge of the bed. Your exhaustion took you quickly.

When you woke in the morning, Ransom was gone.

Your things were delivered a few hours after you woke. You started by trying to organize the boxes into the least obtrusive pile possible. You hoped that if they were tucked into a corner, he wouldn’t be too annoyed while you took your time going through them. You started with a few of the smaller boxes, unpacking the items into places you hoped they could go.

You took Lola for a walk around the neighborhood. It was sparsely populated, the houses spaced far apart. You didn’t run into any neighbors.

One of the walk-in closets in the bedroom had been cleared out for you, so you spent the afternoon unpacking all your clothes. By the time you were done, it was time for dinner. There was still no sign of Ransom.

You fed Lola and helped yourself to one of the meals in the fridge. You ate alone and after you cleaned up, you dug a book out of one of your boxes and settled on one of the not-very-comfortable couches with Lola to read. You didn’t know if she was allowed on the furniture – you were sure she wasn’t, actually – but Ransom wasn’t here to see it, so you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

As you were finishing the second chapter in your book, he walked through the front door. With how the house was set up, he had a clear view of you and Lola from the door. “Hi,” was all he said.

“Hi,” was all you could say back.

He just stood there for a moment and then took off his coat and shoes. “How was your day?” he asked, stiffly, as he came into the living room.

“Fine,” you said. Then you realized he was actually attempting conversation and added, “My things came, so I got started unpacking.”

He nodded, “That’s good. Did you eat?”

“I did,” you said, hoping that was the right answer. “Can I get you some food?”

“No, I’m fine. I ate at the office.” Well, that answered where he’d been all day – his family’s publishing house.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to go upstairs to unwind. Will you be heading up soon?”

Oh. Right. It’d finally come. “Yeah,” you said, your mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll just get Lola settled and then join you.”

He looked down at your dog in your lap like he was noticing her for the first time. But he didn’t say anything, just nodded and walked upstairs.

You let Lola out the back door for just a couple minutes, then took her upstairs. It was even harder to get her into her crate this time, even after you buried treats in her blankets. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cooed, once you finally had her locked in. “I promise it won’t always be this hard and scary. It’ll be ok.”

Ransom was waiting for you in his room, sitting in an armchair by the window. “We should talk,” he said quietly.

“Ok.” You perched on the edge of the bed and did your best to look him in the eye, even as your heart was racing.

He took a deep breath and leaned forward. “We don’t–” he started, then another breath. “There’s nothing that we have to do tonight. I mean, we can certainly get the first time out of the way, if that’s what you want to do. But it doesn’t have to be now. We have time.”

You wanted to be relieved, but it just felt like delaying the inevitable. “We don’t, actually,” you said shaking your head. “We don’t have that much time. Especially if it takes a while. If there’s going to be an issue getting pregnant, on either side, I think the sooner we know the better. I don’t want to be blindsided by it when we only have a month left.”

“Ok,” he nodded. “That makes sense. Yeah, we can get it over with.”

You were proud of yourself for the way you didn’t wince at his phrasing, but it was a near thing. But was it really fair to be upset or hurt by that when it was how you were feeling too? You wanted to stop delaying it. You were ready to just know how it was going to be, what he would want. So yeah, maybe ‘get it over with’ wasn’t such a bad way to put it.

He stood up and sighed, looking like he was bracing himself. “I do need to know, have you done this before?”

You swallowed. The question wasn’t unexpected but you weren’t sure how to answer it and didn’t know which answer he was looking for. You decided to be honest and hoped it would be ok. “Yes, I’ve had sex,” you said, quietly.

He let out a long exhale in relief. “Ok,” he said, “ok, that’s good.”

You stood up, unsure of what to do. You just wanted to be on the other side of it. You suddenly thought of what you’d just told Lola. It wouldn’t always be this hard and scary. You would get used to it. You just had to get through this first time. And then you’d know how he was. Resolved now, you started taking off your shirt.

“Wait,” he said, breathed really. “Just wait.”

Your shirt was already halfway off, stuck on your arms above your head, so you shucked it the rest of the way and threw it on the floor, but didn’t do anything else.

He came over and stood so he was in your space. He brought his hand up to cup your face, his thumb on your cheekbone. And very slowly, he ducked his head to bring his lips to yours. There was something about it. The intimacy. Even with what you knew you were about to do with him. You just– A kiss was too much. You turned away. You couldn’t do it.

Instead, your hands went to unbutton your pants. You undid it slowly then bent over with your back to him to push them down your legs, sticking your ass out as much as you could. That was better than a kiss, right? You could make him want you.

You kicked your pants off and stood back up, looking over your shoulder to see him watching you. But his face was unreadable. You weren’t ready for him to touch you, so you said, “I can get myself ready for you,” hoping it came off coy, but you were afraid he’d be able to hear how your voice shook. For the briefest moment, you almost thought you saw something travel across his face. Disappointment, maybe. But it was gone too fast for you to be able to tell, and you were trying so hard to look away, anyway.

You got on the bed, lying on your back, sliding your panties off as seductively as you could. You closed your eyes tight and slowly moved one hand down your abdomen while the other started to play with your breast, cupping it, tweaking your nipple. As your other hand slipped between your thighs, you brought up your go-to fantasy. Nothing fancy or outlandish. Just a man standing over you, touching you, telling you how much he loved you, how much he loved your body. How he was going to ruin you, completely take you apart. You tried to focus on that as your fingers slowly made their way between your folds, as they made their way to your clit. But this room kept pulling you back to reality. You could hear Ransom taking his clothes off. You tried to ignore it. You were starting to get wet, slowly but surely, so you carefully pushed one finger inside yourself, trying so hard to focus on the man, his voice. You heard a bottle of lube flick open. No, no, you weren’t here, as you added another finger. You could hear Ransom’s hand on his cock now as your thumb continued to rub your clit. You opened your eyes despite yourself. Ransom was kneeling on the edge of the bed, stroking himself to hardness. It was the first time you’d seen him fully naked. He really was so beautiful. You sort of hated him for it.

You closed your eyes again. You could do this. You scissored your fingers slowly, opening yourself up, a little whine escaping your lips, when suddenly, you felt a hand wrap around your ankle. You wanted to scream in frustration. It was no use. Your hands dropped down to your sides. You were ready enough. It wouldn’t hurt, it was fine. You blinked your eyes open again to find Ransom staring at your face, searching for something. You couldn’t begin to guess what. “I’m ready,” you said.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice soft, but gritty.

“Yeah, I’m good. How do you want me?”

He seemed almost startled by your question. “Uh, however you’re most comfortable.”

You nodded and flipped over onto your stomach, pulling your knees up toward your elbows and putting your ass in the air. This would be easiest if you didn’t have to look at him. If you could imagine someone else. Someone who loved you. Someone who wanted to be here.

You heard the bottle of lube again and then felt him settle between your legs. One hand was on your ass and you presumed he was using the other to line himself up. You pushed your face into the pillow underneath you. You tried to bring the fantasy back as he slowly eased inside of you. He was big, but not so big it hurt. You breathed through it as he worked his way in with short, slow thrusts. He was being so gentle with you. You weren’t sure if you liked it. The hand on your ass moved to your hip, while the other snaked around to your stomach, softly stroking you there, then moved down over your pelvis, and then finally between your thighs to search for your clit. He found it quickly. But no matter how hard you closed your eyes, his fingers made it impossible for you to pretend that it was anyone else with you, anyone else touching you. Without thinking, you pushed his hand away and replaced it with your own.

He was making little grunts and gasps behind you that you tried to ignore. You rubbed furious circles over your clit and tried to focus only on the fullness you felt. But then, that fullness started to lessen. The grunts behind you turned into a “Shit.” and then a “Fuck!” and suddenly, that fullness completely disappeared. You let out a little cry as he quickly pulled out of you. You turned around to catch a glimpse of his softening cock before he disappeared into the bathroom, the door slamming behind him.

You lay on your back for just a moment, your mind trying to catch up, figure out what on earth had just happened. That voice that had been there this whole time, since that first meeting a month ago, came back with smug satisfaction. He doesn’t want you, it said, over and over. Your thighs were sticky, probably mostly from the lube. You didn’t think your wetness or his precome had been enough to make a mess out of you. You got up, desperate to not be naked anymore. You grabbed a sleep shirt out of the closet you were using and slipped it on. You hugged yourself, standing in the middle of the room with no idea what to do.

In the silence, with nothing else to focus on, you were suddenly aware of Lola crying across the hall. Fuck. Everything just kept getting worse.

Ransom came out of the bathroom and went straight to the bed. He stopped at the foot, seemingly surprised that you weren’t still in it. He looked up and found you on the other side of the room.

“Is everything ok?” you asked quietly.

“It’s fine,” he said, voice sharp. You flinched and he sighed, then visibly tried to calm himself down. “It’s fine,” he said again, much softer this time. He held out a washcloth to you. “In case you need to clean yourself up.”

You took a few steps toward him so that you could grab it. “Thank you,” you said, as you quickly wiped between your legs, then went to finish cleaning up in the bathroom.

When you came back out, he was back in bed, on his back, just staring at the ceiling. “What’s that noise?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you hurried to answer. “It’s Lola, but she’s ok. She just isn’t used to sleeping alone. She’ll get used to it, eventually.” Your heart broke as you spoke, but you knew it couldn’t be avoided.

“Where does she usually sleep?” he asked.

It took you a minute to answer, you were so surprised by the question. “Uh, with me,” you said.

“Then go get her,” he said, without looking at you. He hadn’t looked at you since you’d come out of the bathroom.

“Really?” you whispered.

“Yeah, if it stops her crying.”

You didn’t wait to be told again. You hurried across the hall and opened her crate, scooping her up into your arms. “I’m so sorry,” you cooed. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s going to be ok now.”

When you got back to the room, Ransom had turned off his light and turned over onto his side, facing the wall. You placed Lola on the bed and crawled in after her. As you turned off your own lamp, you whispered, “Thank you,” not sure if he was awake to hear it.

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#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #knives out #reader insert #fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #ce characters #steve rogers #steve rogers & reader #captian america #arranged marriage au #kris wrote something #more than this

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inevesgf · 2 months

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SKI TRIP .. part one ⠀,⠀ chrismd.

synopsis ✩ you and chris hate each other, but a ski trip and some forced proximity changes everything.

warnings: gn!reader, drinking, series

authors note: a chrismd series! this isn’t my favorite piece of writing of all time, but i just needed to push out more chris content for myself and the other chris girlies out there. consider this little series my petition to be your favorite chrismd writer <3 thank you to @imredjack for the idea xx

THE FLIGHT TO FRANCE WAS A BREEZE: no turbulence, no boarding issues — you couldn’t have been more lucky. the crisp, cold air coveted your skin like a blanket as you exited the airport, scanning your new surroundings. even though you lived in europe and traveled around surrounding areas, you had never been to france. you liked the uk — if it were up to you, you’d never leave forever, though a holiday was pleasant once in awhile.

“bonjour,” you were greeted by your friend, george clarke, who spoke thickly with a fake french accent. you couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he spoke. you were surprised to find yourself in the position you were in. you didn’t know that helping george plan a trip with your mutual friends would result in you being invited. you had known this group of boys for years. being a friend of george’s since primary school, you became a videographer for him once he started his youtube career. because of this, you had become close with the others; the arthur’s, harry, will — the list went on. with your experience with social media, you had been a help to all of them with occasionally manning the camera. “comment vas-tu en cette belle soirée?” the teasing back from you made george roll his eyes. “ok — ok, i dont know that much!” as you laughed at his response, you found your thoughts slipping. the first glimpse you had seen of the french alps were gorgeous, but you still couldn’t help but feel awkward. as you scanned around, george and arthur in view, your eyes landed on chris. christopher dixon was something else. if it was up to him, you wouldn’t have been invited on this trip. but it was up to his best mate, george, and what george said goes.

chris was not fond of you in anyway possible and you were not fond of him. nothing particular had happened between you two, but the hateful tension always remained. you had heard from the other boys that chris hadn’t talked the best of you; always commenting on your clothing style and such in odd ways; but you didn’t let that bother you. instead, trying to keep the bond strong between all your friends, you never confronted him about it — the pity feelings you had between each other were mutual. piling into the taxi that would take you to your hotel, you sat yourself next to arthurtv who greeted you with a smile. you were far more fond of arthur and george and that thought made you mentally pray you’d be roommates with them for the holiday.

the taxi came to a stop, the driver tipping his hat at you as you slipped a fiver into his tip cup. once again the new feelings of the french air tickled your skin as you exited, george handing you your luggage that he had pulled out of the trunk. “alright,” george pulled out several room keys from his pocket, preparing to distribute them among the others. “this one’s for arthur(tv) and i — harry and arthur,” george handed harry the room key, “and chris and y.n—“ a cheeky smile formed on his face, making your eyes twitch. george knew that you and chris despised each other — you knew him rooming you with chris was all apart of some fucked up plan. “thanks—“ you were short as you snatched the key out of his hand. “can i room with arthur instead? please?“ that jersey accent had almost made you vomit as he spoke. “be nice to them, ok? c’mon, you both have a lot in common and i’m sure by the end of this trip you’ll be good friends!” george didn’t sound so sure of his words, he just hoped and prayed chris would give you the benefit of a doubt and not kill you.

you trudded your way up the stairs, reading the room numbers on the door as you and chris approached yours. you couldn’t help but mentally curse george for what he had done; later you were sure to say something to him, but for now you just had to make this work. you inserted the key into the door, twisting the doorknob. to your dismay, the door did not open and you found yourself standing there somehow even more stupid in-front of chris. before you could go to try the doorknob one more time, chris grumbled, nudging you out of the way as he twisted the doorknob. to your frustration, it opened with the first turn. “it’s really not that hard, innit?” chris opened the door as he spoke. “look — can we please just spare each other a bloody second? ok, we’re on holiday, yeah? we’re supposed to relax. i think me and you can lay off each for a week.” you didn’t mean to snap, but it happened, causing chris to stop dead in his tracks as he stepped into the room. “ok, yeah sure, but if you so much as set me off one time, this isn’t going to be easy for us.” you didn’t know what he truly meant, but you didn’t care. you pushed yourself passed chris and fully into the room, this time you being the one to stop dead in your tracks. “are you fucking kidding me right now? do you see this? those fucking basterds,” to your surprise, and chris’ as well, there was only one bed. you practically vomited at the thought of having to share a space with him and a bed was even worse. “is this your doing?” you couldn’t help but be even more irritated by his words. “really? you think i’d arrange this? why don’t you ask the boys? maybe they think you fancy me or something and are doing you a favor.” you had seemingly set chris off, but he tried to contain himself. “you wanna know what? you can sleep on the chair, i’ll sleep on the bed — problem solved.” he walked himself into the room, placing his luggage onto the bed. “yeah, right.” you rolled your eyes. “why can’t we just share the bed? we’ll have separate blankets — everything will be fine as long as you don’t touch me.” you spoke. chris shot you a glare, pulling his luggage off the bed, now placing it on the floor. “fine, but just this once.”

you had seemingly sorted out the room problem with chris, but that did not stop you from scolding george later that night at dinner. “why’d you do that? are you trying to ruin this holiday?” your words were more playful as you tried not to upset george — more issues were the last thing you needed right now. “im doing you a favor, ok? this will be good for all of us. you’ll finally work things out with him and then we’ll all be best mates.” he tried to laugh through your frustration, which only made him nervous about what he had done. “if this only makes things worse, i know who to blame.” “—blame me too!” you look over at harry whose normal resting face was replaced with a big grin. “you cheeky basterd.” was all you managed to get out before the waiter came over with the check.

the night had passed swiftly. you and chris had went the rest of the night without communicating much, which was good for the both of you. chris and yourself entered your shared hotel room, slightly drunk as you sat down on the bed. “remember our deal — we each get our own side of the bed.” he spoke, pulling his shirt off and throwing it to the side. you found yourself staring at him a bit too long; studying each line of his abs. as much as you hated chris, you acknowledged he was good looking, but you wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that. unfortunately chris seemed to notice this, which caused him to furrow his brows. “take a picture, it’ll last longer.” his teasing made you roll your eyes — you were sure not to fall for it. “in your dreams.” you didn’t know if it was the alcohol making you think this way, but you hoped it was. even though you should have looked away, you studied chris carefully as he put on a clean top. shaking yourself out of these thoughts, you reminded yourself of the distaste you had for him — the way he’d say odd things about you behind your back, the way he couldn’t stand to even be in your presence. you found yourself calming back into your little world where a pleasent thought of chris did not exist.

once it came time to sleep, you could see the disgust on chris’ face as he climbed into your shared bed. as much as you hated you had to be in the same vicinity as him, you didn’t think it was the biggest deal in the world. “do you snore?” he asked, as he pulled the blanket over his legs. “nope, i bet you do.” chris rolled his eyes, a slight huff escaping his lips as he rolled over, his back facing you. you took this as a sign turn off the beside lamp and get yourself situated to sleep. no thoughts of sharing a bed with chris bothered you as you drifted off to sleep.

“so, how was last night?” george asked you, a teasing manner slipping from his lips even though he tried to contain himself. “what? you think we’re just going to fuck and get over things? you’re sick.” you weren’t completely serious, or mad at george, but you wanted him to know his little plan wouldn’t work out as well he thought it would. you scooped yourself some eggs from the hotel’s breakfast, grabbing yourself a fork before sitting down next to harry. similar to george, he began to bombard you with questions. “didn’t make up yet?” he raised his eyebrows, pulling a scoop of hash-browns to his mouth as he took a bite. “no, and unlike george, i don’t think it’s going to happen.” “why can’t you guys just fuck already?” your eyes darted over the table, raising an eyebrow at arthur’s sudden proposal. you practically spit out your bite of eggs at his words. “cmon, don’t laugh. you have so much sexual tension, we can all feel it.” you laughed. you had noticed chris glancing at you plenty of times before, shifting his eyes away the second you noticed. you noticed how he’d tease you — but again, you just expected it was because of his distaste for you. “oh sure,” you added sarcastically, taking a sip of apple juice as chris joined the table. you mentally prayed not another word would be said in that conversation, especially because chris was now present. “so,” arthur hill began to speak, setting his fork down next to his plate, “what’s the plan for today, georgie?”“well, we’re going to hit the slopes, of course. there’s also this little gig playing tonight at one of the hotels pubs — i was thinking we could go to that.” george responded. “good, i could use a fucking drink already.” chris perked up at the idea of a bar, and drinks at that, which made you laugh. “what? is having to share a room with y.n that bad?” arthur laughed. chris seemed hesitant to answer, which confused you a little as he was always quick to make you the bud of his joke. “it’s been a long week — well needed holiday.” his response seemed to confuse everyone at the table as george looked over at you, cockily raising his eyebrow. you knew his plan had a very generous slim shot at working, but chris seemed to be becoming more lenient on you — at least this morning. which made you question if chris had woken up on the right side of the bed this morning.

you and the group spent most of the day skiing and snowboarding — you skiing as it was always easier to you. it was a fun day; full of laughs, and you got to spend most of it away from chris which couldn’t have been better. “i dont think it even matters how many layers i have on, i’m freezing.” arthur shivered, wrapping his arms around himself as tight as he could to maintain some warmth. “it’s getting late now,” george spoke, checking his watch. it was now half past 5 and you were shocked once you put together that the six of you had been out in the snow for almost 8 hours. “the gig starts around 6, if we stop here we’ll have some time to get ready and warm up before then.” everyone seemed to agree with george’s idea and began to unwind. once getting back to the shack, everyone undressed themselves from their snow gear and laid it up to dry in lockers they had rented for the week.

you and chris made your way back to your hotel room again, not speaking to each other along the way. once you entered, chris wasted no time in preparing himself for the night — dousing himself in cologne and fixing his curled hair to the best of his abilities. he was one to dress casual, but he had caught your eye once he exited the bathroom dressed in something more put together. head to toe in black, chris wore black slacks and a black t shirt, which had you looking at him far more than you liked to admit. chris didn’t seem to notice as he walked around you, grabbing his phone before he sat down on one of the lounge chairs in the room. now having an idea of what the ‘dress code’ was for the evening, you began to get yourself dressed.

it never took you long to get ready — you had taken about 10 minutes this time — which still had chris’ panties in a bunch. a knock erupted on the bathroom door, causing you to huff slightly. “are you done in there? its almost 6, i’m going to leave without you.” you checked yourself out in the mirror one more time before opening the door, meeting face to face with the boy. chris stood there, your faces close to each other. you couldn’t help but feel annoyed as you noticed him studying you. “i was in there for 10 minutes, don’t get your panties in a twist, mate.” he scoffed, backing away from you which eliminated the noticeable tension. pushing passed him slightly, you grabbed your phone and had made your way to the door. chris took his fine time getting his shoes on as you did, which made you laugh at him softly. “look who’s taking a long time now.” “you just can’t be nice to me, can you?“ you scoffed, placing your hand on the doorknob behind you as you stayed facing chris. “i could say the same thing to you — haven’t shut your mouth since we got here. hell, you even objected to being roommates with me.” chris huffed under his breath, standing up from his once seated position. the vibes in the room shifted, but you couldn’t tell what you were feeling now. chris seemed slightly bothered at your words, which had you confused. “okay, i’m warming up to you,” your mouth laid a-gap and in pure surprise you practically chuckled. “i think we can stop being at each others throats — it’s what best for the both of us and the others.” “where was this side of chris when i told you we should be civil with each other at the beginning of the trip? what made you change your mind, huh?” before chris could even think of a response, a knock erupted on the door. to pull yourself out of this unwanted conversation, you opened it up to be met with george. “are you two ready?” he hummed and you nodded your head in response. chris made his way over to the door, stepping aside you before exiting first. for a second, your bodies brushed up against each other, sending a chill down your spine that you couldn’t quit understand.

for the duration of the walk to the pub, you walked behind the others, thinking of the conversation you had with chris. you couldn’t help but be angry at him. he had been at your throat since he met you; saying bad things behind your back, and now he had changed his mind quicker than you had imagined. if only in the beginning he had gotten time to know you, this would have never happened. you didn’t know what you had said or done that was so alluring to chris — alluring enough for him to change his mind about you. you recalled him studying your body shamelessly after you exited the bathroom. but if being impressed by your body was his reason for changing his mind, he was an asshole. “are you doing okay?” harry asked as he walked up next to you, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets. “what? oh, yeah.” he pulled you out of your deep thoughts as he spoke. “you sure?” “just tired is all. i just need a drink to take the edge off.” you tried to work a smile onto your face, which seemed to be convincing enough for harry as he returned the smile. you didn’t remember the rest of the night fully. all you could recall was the flashing lights as rock music played and the countless amount of shots you had taken. you were absolutely smashed by the end of the night, according to george, who was also more gone than he’d like to admit. luckily, you could handle your drink unlike arthurtv, so you could still function semi-normally by the time everyone called it a night.

your memory of the nights events jogged a little when you woke up in bed next to chris; his body tangled in yours instead of on his side of the bed. a warm heat coveted your hips — his arms wrapped around it loosely. hot breaths down your neck made your spine shiver and your mind cloud as you assessed your situation. your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes adjusted to the sun peeking through the windows, the hangover prominent. your heart started to beat faster in your chest from embarrassment or even anxiety. over the past few days, you had gotten used to chris’ company. of course, it wasn’t your favourite, but you had realized it wasn’t as bad as you thought. to you, he was now bearable to be with, but not this close. chris began to stir in bed, making your breath hitch. once he had finally awoken, he was met with the situation you found yourselves in. squinting his eyes as they adjusted to the brightened room, chris couldn’t help but flush red once he noticed where his hands were. a mumble escaped his lips; one of an apology or just jumbled words — you couldn’t tell. he pulled his warm arms away from you, which made you feel naked from his grasp. you sat up awkwardly, sitting yourself up against the bed frame as you cleared your throat. chris huffed a little bit before he began to talk. “tell no one about this?” he seemed embarrassed, flustered even, as he spoke, a red hue accompanying his pale cheeks. you had never seen chris so quiet; so timid. a quick “mhm.” was all you could getting out without a hint of embarrassment hitting your face. a part of you couldn’t help but miss the warmth of his arms, but you knew it was stupid. you didn’t like chris and his new-found attitude didn’t change that. you still couldn’t help but crave his touch again, though. you knew that this thought was wrong, so wrong, but the idea of something wrong felt so good.

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bisexualiteaa · 4 days

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Mornings Like These

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader

CW: slightly NSFW, established relationship, mentions of sex, sexual daydream, OOC Cooper, Cooper in a frilly apron cooking, cursing, slight deviance from the canon, more domestic Cooper because 🥹❤️

AN: Had the most wonderful request to do something a little different than what I’m used to! I know it’s out of character for our cowboy ghoul but I just loved the concept. This is a continuation of my last work, so it is set in the same Fallout TV series and Fallout 4 tense. Breakfast is served my lovely Cooper simps, hope I did your ask justice @morrrrow !! Hope y’all enjoy!

“God damn this fuckin’ thing” spoke the ever recognizable southern twang of Cooper from the kitchen. You woke up to hearing a few pots and pans clank together as he removed them from the cabinet, and his not so quiet curses in frustration that he was a man who failed at being quiet. Outside of bounty hunting of course. You were still in bed, having just barely woken up as the sun poured in through the windows, making you rub the sleep from your eyes. You padded into the kitchen to see what all the noise was about, seeing him trying to work the stove that you both bought off of someone that was supposed to be repaired and in working order. “What a fuckin’ rip off” he said angrily as he threw the towel down on the floor that was resting on his shoulder, then leaned over the sink to breathe, doing his best to try to control his anger before he started breaking things. “Stove givin’ ya trouble, hun?” You asked, your voice carrying a sleepy rasp to it as a small playful smile stretched to your lips, making him look over at you. In that moment, it was as if all the anger inside of him had just melted away upon seeing you, clad in just a tank top and underwear, hair slightly messy from sleep. You were truly a sight to behold at all hours of the day in his eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry darlin’. I wanted t’ surprise you with breakfast but this damn thing won’t work. Shoulda known it was a fat load a shit when he said it was workin’” he replied, defeat and agitation still evident in his tone, making you walk closer to him and grab his hand. “Hey, it’s okay, Coop. I think it’s mighty sweet you wanted t’ do that. Can I take a look? Maybe a fresh set’a eyes can help?” You asked, watching as his shoulders dropped a little bit as the tension left him at your touch, a small smile reaching his thin, marred lips as he looked down at his girl. “Go ‘head” he replied, starting to follow you and what you were trying to do but you stopped him before he could do anything. “*You* have a seat and relax, I’ll take a look, ‘kay?” you said, your hands resting on his shoulders to make sure he listened to you, knowing well and good his stubbornness was his biggest attribute. He gave a grunt before giving in, recognizing that you just wanted him to relax after being all worked up. “I’ll take care of it, promise. I’m a big girl, but if I need anythin’ I’ll holler for ya” you said, smiling up at him sweetly once more as you rubbed his shoulders a little before kissing him softly. His hands rested on your hips for a moment as you kissed, and in that moment, everything felt at peace in the world. As you parted from the kiss, you turned and moved out of his way before coming to take a look at the new appliance. Well, maybe not *new* but new for post war standards. You took a look at the wiring, noticing that it looked pretty good for a shit box that survived a nuclear bomb or two. No rust, no corrosion, hell even the paint didn’t look half bad. Cooper knew he had to get it for you the moment your pretty eyes lit up with excitement upon seeing it, going on about how much you missed making homemade pies, casseroles, and bread. He knew you were one hell of a cook with the passion you put into making some iguana, or even your famous stew he’d grown to love that was made from just about anything you could get your hands on. He swore you put some kind of drugs in your food with the way he craved it all the time, he’d joke that you could put cyanide in it and still manage to make it taste delicious. And that was just over a fire, he could only imagine the creations you’d put out if given the right materials. Seeing you working a stove, in a house that was starting to get pretty settled into, would be one step closer to the dream of having a domestic life with you when the rest of the world had gone to shit. He wanted to see you happy, because when you were happy, everything was alright in the world in his book.

You opened the door to the stove, bent over and examining the inside for any reason as to why it wasn’t working. The broiler seemed good, all the coils were there, nothing was rusted or corroded so you weren’t quite sure what the issue was. Cooper however, was in a whole other world looking at you. Had he been the man he was before meeting you, he’d have had half the mind to fuck you right then and there while your body was half way in the oven. He gave a groan at his own daydream, watching you with your ass in the air, clad in just the panties you were wearing, making him shift in the small, dining room chair he was sitting on as his pants began to grown uncomfortably tight. You always had a way of getting to him, whether you meant to or not, that man stayed feral for you all hours of the day. He wondered if your moans would be muffled or amplified with your head stuck in the oven, how you’d squeeze him tight with the slight sensory depravation. What he really wanted was the memory to play in your mind each time you’d use it, for you to bend down and remember the way he used you in that same position as you’d slide a casserole in the oven. He was broken from his daydream when you called his name, finding that you were no longer in the kitchen but outside checking the power source. He stood up and walked towards the front door, leaning in the open doorway as you stood outside, looking to him with a relieved smile as you found the solution. “Was wonderin’ why it was so hot in there” you thought out loud, explaining that it was a problem with the power source, not the stove itself before flipping a few switches and connecting a few wires then hearing your electricity hum back to life. “‘s ‘cause you’re here” he joked flirtatiously, sending a wink and a smirk your way, making you giggle. “Wasn’t the stove, was the power. Radstorm must’ve knocked it out last night” you said as you both came back inside, plugging the stove back in and sure as shit, it turned on. You dusted your hands off, standing there proudly in front of your new, working oven. He was thoroughly impressed. “Well I’ll be damned, when’d you get so handy?” Cooper asked with a teasing grin, making you smile as he looped an arm around your waist proud that his little lady was able to fix the problem. “Since I had to start fixin’ things ‘fore you break ‘em” you teased, coming up to kiss his cheek as he swatted your ass affectionately in retaliation.

“Ya know, before you start cookin’ I have the perfect thing for you to wear” you said, slipping from his grasp for only a moment, making him raise a brow at you as you giggled and treaded into the closet of what you called your bedroom. You opened it, finding a frilly white apron you used to own back in the day when you would bake and cook everything by hand at home. You smiled as you grabbed it, knowing full and well you’d have hell to pay for this little stunt, but when has that ever stopped you before? So you snatched it up, leaving it folded before coming back into the kitchen and handing it to him. “A good cook needs a good apron, and I just know this one would look damn good on you” you said, handing it to him with the most mischievous glint in your eyes and grin stretched to your lips, leaving him to unfold it and look it over. Now this was where you were expecting to get in some serious shit. To hear a chide comment or a “never in a million years, sugar” but no, this man looked at you like you’d handed him a challenge, and he was going to take it in stride. So with a smirk, he set it aside and started to shake his duster off from his frame. “I’ll do ya one better there, little lady” he said, that look in his eyes told you he was up to no good and it had you curious. He started working his shirt off and you’d be damned if you weren’t enjoying the sight of him shirtless and just in his pants, the decorative buckle on his belt helping him maintain that rugged cowboy look. He noticed your stares, giving a dry chuckle. “Like whatchya see, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice dipping a little lower but he didn’t need you to say anything, he already knew the answer. “Always” you replied, a half lidded expression on your face as your tone dripped with something a little less pure. What you really hadn’t been expecting was when you saw him take his pants and briefs off before you, a slack jawed grin coming to your mouth as he tied the apron around his frame. Completely naked underneath. You gave a laugh as you watched him wear it with pride. “You sir, never fail to surprise me” you said, making him chuckle but you spotted the tent that started to poke at the apron where he was getting hard underneath. “Think you’re right, it’s a pretty good look” he said, turning to face away from you and you gave that same crude whistle he’d always give you when he liked something you wore or did, because you had an eye full of ass standing right in front of you. You walked up and stood behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso and laying kisses to his shoulder and back. “On second thought, who needs breakfast when you look this good? Hell, I think you pull it off better than I ever did” you said through a giggle, feeling him swat at your grabby hands the way you do when he gets handsy with you. “Can’t disturb a chef when he’s cookin’, sugar” he said coyly, making you chuckle as he started frying a few slices of Cram in the skillet. “Oh but you can disturb me when I’m doin’ laundry? I see how it is” You said playfully as you took a seat down at the dinner table you two found, it wasn’t much, but it was nice all things considered. Gave that homey touch that was missing from the house when you two first put together the settlement. You watched as he romped around the kitchen, going out of his way to put on a show for you and get you as worked up as you make him. “You are such a tease” you said, making him grin as he had his back turned to you, fully focused on making a good breakfast for the two of you to enjoy. “Welcome to my world, sweetheart” he said, making you laugh. You could certainly get used to this.

#fallout #fallout x reader #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout smut

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disneyprincemuke · 27 days

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my reputation's never been worse * fem!driver

her boyfriend's not made for her anger

pairings: matt x rocky (hehe)

notes: let rocky be happy challenge (impossible) LOL

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

she whines tiredly, throwing her head back. “draw of the luck.”

matt smiles slightly and drops himself into the vacant seat next to her, popping her pepsi can open. “you probably don’t wanna be sitting next to me right now.”

“what?” the girl snorts, snapping her head to him with furrowed eyebrows. “bub, why would you even say that?”

“because you’re sitting here instead of being on the track racing with everyone else, duh,” matt chuckles, offering her the soda can. he sits back in the chair and rests his arm on the back of hers. “i’d totally understand if you’re upset about being here.”

she sighs shakily, craning her neck to look at the small tv hanging in the garage. liam’s car is on the screen, just making the sinking feeling in her chest worse.

truthfully, what a shit start to the year.

the churning in her stomach makes her want to tear the walls of her garage down, but it’s simply too early to say. at least that’s what she’s been telling herself all day since sebastian had broken the news to her.

it’s just one race.

though, the devil on her shoulder is insisting that it’s not as simple as that.

she shakes her head, lips pressed into a thin line. “it was shocking,” she whispers with a firm nod. “but i’ll be back next week.” she leans against his arm, cheek resting on his shoulder and reaches over to take his hand into hers. “i’ll be okay.”

“i know you will be,” matt mutters, putting a hand on her knee. he glances at her. “but you don’t have to keep saying that to me — i’ll be here for you.”

“you’re really okay?” matt asks softly, bending to his side to try and get a look at the girl’s face.

the girl hums with a small grin, darting all over the room to shove everything into her backpack. “why do you keep asking that?”

he sighs, sinking further into his beanbag. “because you finished outside of the points today and you didn’t race last weekend. you haven’t lashed out yet, you haven’t cried… you haven’t even said anything about it yet.”

“it’s only been 2 races,” she shrugs with a small grin, standing up straight to look over at him. “bub, i’m okay.”

“i don’t wanna go there,” he frowns, “please don’t make me go there.”

she tilts her head, “what do you mean?”

“your only crash of last year, you got into a fight severe enough that it almost shattered your entire world,” matt points out softly, truly unsure if it’s even a wise decision to bring up one of her lowest points of the previous season. “you have to at least be feeling some type of way about this all.”

she sucks in a deep breath, tearing her eyes off of him. and he has a point.

right now, it seems like throwing a tantrum over mishaps from 2 races into the season just sounds like behaviour that she could easily get lost in. that’s not how she was raised, after all.

she just takes what she can get and she’ll remain grateful even though these past 2 weeks have arguably been getting harder to cope with. not starting the race felt like the end of the world a week ago — she’s just glad she got to race this weekend.

though she swore, stepping into the paddocks with her chest feeling tighter, that she wanted to cry into matt’s shirt. but when she opened the door to her room and saw him looking at her with sorry eyes and open arms, the anger and frustration seemed to be pushed away.

she shrugs again. “it’s just simply too early to tell.”

she can’t seem to say anything else that’s not an utter lie.

it’s unusual to be woken up by the heaviest sleeper he knows. matt had been woken by snuffling and he initially assumed it to be kidnapper sniffing either of them, waiting to wake them up for some snacks in the middle of the night.

until it hits him that they’re not even in her apartment in london right now — they’re in a hotel for the race weekend. his eyes fly open as he scrambles to sit up. he finds her sitting in a chair, face illuminated by her phone screen as she bites down on her nails.

“bub, what are you doing up so late?” he whispers so as not to startle the girl. “you have a race tomorrow.”

the room goes dark when she immediately shuts her phone. “nothing, i,” her voice quivers, “it’s nothing. i just woke up to use the toilet 10 minutes ago.”

he can’t help but notice the way her voice shakes. “is everything okay? what’s wrong? feeling sick?”

she sighs and shakes her head before she realises that matt can’t see her. “it’s really nothing,” she whispers, starting to climb into bed again. she sniffles and rubs her nose on the sleeve of her pyjamas. “i’m fine. let’s just go back to bed.”

matt scrambles to sit up, swiftly reaching over to turn the lamp on before he turns back to her before she can drop herself on the bed again.

“what are you doing?” he mutters, grabbing her arm and yanking her into his body. she doesn’t do much to fight it; just softens herself up as she lands in his lap, head buried in his chest. “why do you keep saying it’s nothing? i know something’s bothering you.”

“i just–” she grabs at the material of his shirt and bunches it up in her hand. she squeezes her eyes closed as another lump in her throat forms. “i hate feeling this way. you should see the things people are saying about me right now. it’s not fair; they don’t say any of that about liam.”

“rocky.” truthfully, he doesn’t really know what to say. how would he? he rests his cheeks on the top of her head as her soft cries fill the silence of the hotel room. “you really shouldn’t be reading that. didn’t seb tell you off on that?”

“he did,” she choked, shaking her head, “but after my performance in qualifying today… i had to see what everyone’s saying about me.”

he tightens his arms around her, hoping slightly that this would help her feel better. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s not your fault my life’s like this.”

so it seems that matt’s unlocked a part of her that she hasn’t shown anybody else. there’s a certain level of vulnerability now that not a lot of people have had the pleasure, or unluckiness, of experiencing firsthand in recent years.

once upon a time, she had people to turn to when her racing had gone to shit. but realistically, she hasn’t experienced many mishaps with machinery as a driver, which is probably what’s making it so difficult to cope with her current situation.

nonetheless, her only support system seems to have taken a life of their own that can no longer accommodate her. that’s what she tells herself: oscar and logan have lives and are building relationships and there’s no more space for her in their immediate lives.

she dreaded the media pen after another finish, barely making points out of the race in p9.

to her dismay, her predictions were absolutely right. her first question after stepping up to the mic and camera was something about her ending up behind logan in the placings after spending her entire racing career typically ahead of him.

she wouldn’t have noticed if they hadn’t pointed it out and now the resentment grows as the clock ticks.

matt sighs, “you don’t really mean that; they’re your friends.”

“but i do!” the young girl shrieks, throwing her arms in the air. she paces around the room as she heaves, hands tangled in her hair as she finally sighs about her frustrations. “it’s not fair! nobody cared that logan wasn’t producing results when oscar and i were! suddenly, they’re comparing me to him? i have every right to feel like this, matthew!”

“i know.” he grabs her shoulders to stop her in place then cups her cheeks to force her to look him in the eye. “and you do. i’m not saying you don’t have the right to feel this way, but–”

“you are, though!” she shrieks, stepping back and removing his hands from her. “you don’t get it. i spent my whole life better than logan and suddenly now i’m incompetent just because he’s scoring points? give me his teammate’s car — i’ll still beat him in a race by a margin.”

“i never said that,” he argues, throwing his arms in the air. “you grew up with these guys and i understand that you’re frustrated… it’s okay, but take it easy.”

“i can’t believe you’re taking their side right now, matt,” she sighs heavily, rolling her eyes. she throws her arms in the air. “everyone’s already on their side! i need you to be on mine!”

“and i am!” matt huffs. “i am on your side — i just don’t want you to burn bridges like this! it’s okay to be angry, it’s just me here anyway. but these are your best friends!”

“you’re the only one i can be this open to! i need you to be with me!” she stomps her foot on the ground with her hands balled into fists by her side. “i can’t run to my friends and say that that should’ve been me. do you realise how fucked up that sounds?”

“i do!”

“then let me have this one! let me hate them for a couple of minutes before i have to swallow it down and pretend like i’m not fucking jealous of the success they’re all finding this year!” she opens her mouth again to say something, choking up as she tries to speak again.

she pinches the bridge of her nose as a lump forms in her throat. “i can’t say that to them, they’ve worked so hard to be there. and it’s not their fault that i’m not up there with them.”

“you’re right,” matt whispers, taking a step forward and enveloping her in his arms. “you’re right — i’m sorry. it’s just all pent up right now, isn’t it?”

“they’ve been supportive when i’m doing well. i feel like shit feeling like this towards them,” she whispers. “it’s not fair to them, you know? i have to show up for them like they did for me.”

matt calls out her name and the girl simply holds a hand out to him and walks past him in the garage. she pulls the balaclava off her head and shoves the door towards the paddocks to leave him behind.

“hey, talk to me!”

she snatches her arm back just as he grabs it, a bewildered stare on her face. her eyes are teary as she scowls at him. “just leave me alone. not now, matt, god!”

he sucks in a deep breath watching the girl storm further from him. he clenches his jaw and turns on his heel to make his way back to her garage, only to be met by a familiar face.

oscar looks over matt’s shoulder where the girl had strayed off to. “is she okay?”

“she’ll be okay,” matt grins, trying to ignore the pang of pain growing in his chest. “just needs a while to recuperate by herself.”

“are you okay?” oscar asks slowly, flashing him a knowing stare with a comforting smile. “she can get a little angry sometimes, but i promise she’s not always like this.”

“i know.” he forces a chuckle out. “she’s great. but she’ll be okay — just wants to have time to herself right now.”

every week brought around a certain form of unknowing. it’s hard to keep sane when you keep having to adapt to survive.

perhaps that’s the problem: she’s finding it too difficult to adapt.

when she gets out of the car, there’s only ever one consistent thing. it’s always meeting the same pair of warm green eyes in the garage and his arms wide open waiting to receive her.

she crashes into his body, stumbling back a couple of steps from the impact. “i can always expect one thing out of a race,” she sighs, eyes fluttering closed when she feels his hands wrap around her. “and it’s the fact your face will always be here in my garage.”

she feels a hand resting on her back. “well, i want to be here for my girlfriend, you know? she deserves that much.”

“haha, very sweet,” she giggles, pulling away with a small grin. “let’s head out to dinner tonight?” he nods excitedly. “it’s a date.”

perhaps she’s pulled the gun a little too early on that one. the evening had seemed like it was off to a great start with her feeling uplifted from the way she made it to the third round of qualifiers. the interviews and her team meeting hadn’t gone as well as she initially expected.

she leans forward on the table, cheek resting in her palms as she pushes the sole piece of carrot left on her plate. sat across her is matt, talking about something from his audition a couple of days ago.

he stops himself, tilting his head at his seemingly unresponsive girlfriend. “is everything okay?”

she lifts her eyes, lips parted with an empty stare. “yes. sorry, you were saying about your audition?”

“right,” he smiles, “i was saying that i think my audition went great. it’s a good show so if i get the part, it’s going to be–” but the lack of reaction and enthusiasm from the girl makes him stop midsentence again. he lets out a shaky breath, “nevermind. maybe another time.”

“no, matt,” she sighs looking up slightly more aware and attentive than before. “i’m sorry. i just have so much on my mind right now. please keep telling me how the audition.”

he shakes his head and drops his head to continue his meal. he would have asked what’s bothering her, but he’s since learned that she would tell him if he really wanted to, especially after he’d already asked her seconds ago. “it’s alright, bub. when you’re feeling better. what’s on your mind?”

“okay, wait up.”

matt struggles to catch up to the girl after having stormed out of the garage after briefly stepping into it for a mere second. he’d barely gotten a glimpse of her before she started stomping towards the small exit door in the back of her garage.

the girl had stormed through the semi busy paddocks with tunnel vision to the racing home, ignoring anyone and anything that tried to get between that. he had even followed up with soft apologies as she blatantly continued to ignore bigger names.

realistically, they should have taken the look of fury on her face as a clear sign. with her race, she didn’t have the energy to stop and feign a smile to make small talk.

no, because she genuinely feels the world spinning underneath her feet.

the door to her driver’s room flies open with a loud thud as it comes into contact with the wall.

and at the comfort of her floral-scented room, she stands in the middle of it, hands fisted by her side. she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes as she does so.

surely the 30 second pit stop that caused her a points finish warrants this, right?

to some degree perhaps, she tries to reason with herself.

she opens her eyes and starts to look around her room for something **— anything — to keep her from tearing the walls down of the building of the team that keeps screwing her over. she keeps her eyes on the picture frame on the wall of her and sebastian from the year before in miami, champagne drenched with her trophy in hand.

at the call of her name, she feels something snap inside her.

her scream pierces through the silence of her driver’s room, followed by the loud thud of her helmet clashing against the wall decorated with a singular picture frame. the helmet falls to the ground followed by the framed picture on her wall.

she drops to her knees with another scream, quickly transitioning into a sob as her fisted hand comes into contact with the carpeted ground of her room with every word she screams. “that’s not fucking fair!”

“rocky–”

“don’t!” she pushes away the hand that hovers over her shoulder, desperate to console her. “don’t touch me!”

she’s been holding it in since the race had started — something felt wrong. every weekend she walks into the paddocks feels like a chore; the only thing constantly in her head is the question of how another race could possibly go wrong for her.

every single passing weekend seems to outdo the previous and there is only so much she can do as a driver with a car that’s uncooperative.

the man behind her can only watch, in agony, as the girl kneels on the ground. she slowly hunches forward, elbows on the ground with her sobs echoing in the empty room. her fisted hands hit the ground with a soft thud as she cries. “i’m not any better than i was every moment before this. maybe i’m not even as good of a driver as i’d thought.”

she throws her head back as she sucks in a deep breath. she breathes out, “i don’t wanna do this anymore.” she twists her body, eyes stinging from her tears and her cheeks stained. a soft sigh passes her lips as the initial bout of anger and frustration finally leaves her. “can we just go home?”

“you still have the debrief to attend,” he says softly and hesitantly. “that might really make you feel better, you know? maybe if you talked to your team about it, they could address what your concerns are and even come up with a solution?”

“please,” she whines with a heavy sigh. “i don’t want to stay here. fuck the team.”

and so he does what he can to help, against his better judgment and the image that he tries to keep around here for her. he helps her pack her bags, wraps his jacket around her and brings her back to the hotel. he’ll just call sebastian later and explain.

she lies on her side, kidnapper nuzzled into her chest as she taps away on her phone. on the other side of the bed is matt, on the phone with his agent, talking about something regarding the audition he had gone to a couple of weeks ago.

she shuts her eyes at the constant chatter filling the silence of her bedroom, irritability growing in her chest. the peace and quiet she’d been hoping for is now gone.

she scrambles up with a soft huff before quickly leaving the room, the door slamming behind her as she leaves. she grabs the throw on the couch and wrapping her body with it. she lies back down on the couch and closes her eyes, desperate to get a nap in before their flight later in the evening.

the door creaks open, matt’s head popping out with the phone against his chest. “is everything okay? you left without saying anything.”

“i’m fine,” she mutters, voice muffled by the pillow she’s pressed her face into. “i just need time to myself right now.”

she hears him sigh. “bub, i’m on the phone with my agent. i can’t do this right now.”

“we’re not doing anything,” she scoffs, lifting her head momentarily to glare at him before lowering her head again. “just leave me alone. i want to be by myself.”

“okay,” he answers, the door slamming closed.

she wasn’t going to cry, at least not until now. all day she’d been dreading leaving for the airport to fly off for another race weekend — there are only so many misfortune a person can take in an underperforming car before it takes a toll on their confidence.

but she does and wraps it up the minute she hears the bedroom door open again.

she urges matt towards the door. “please, please. you have to come up with some lie why i can’t make it out tonight,” she whines, squeezing matt’s arm.

“what?” matt shrieks, turning around to stop her from opening the door. “they’re your friends. you should be the one to tell them why we’re cancelling on them tonight.”

“i can’t face them right now, bub,” she sighs, shaking her head. “i miss them, but i also kinda hate them right now. please?”

she’d agreed to head out to grab a couple of drinks with oscar and logan tonight, especially since it’s one of the rare times that they’re all in london together. but as the clocked would down to the time that they’re supposed to pick her up from her apartment, she abruptly changed her mind.

she just didn’t have the energy to go.

“tell them i’m sick or something or that i fell, i don’t know,” she whispers. “please, do me this favour.”

“i’m back from the store!”

matt furrows his eyebrows at the empty living room. he’s only greeted by kidnapper sitting in front of her bedroom door, mewing softly. the cat turns its head to glance at him, meowing again before turning to the door.

“is rocky in there?” he asks softly, bending down to pet the cat on the head. “and you’re mad she’s not letting you in?”

as if the cat understood what he said, he meows back again with a slow blink. he hums and puts the paper bag down next to the door.

he pushes it open, greeted by a dimly lit room. he flinches back at the figure sitting at the edge of the bed, hunched over with soft sobs filling the room.

“sorry,” she mutters, rubbing her nose on the sleeve of her sweater. “i fell down a rabbit hole. i know we said i shouldn’t but i couldn’t help it.”

“hey, what’s wrong?” he coos, walking around the black cat that’s pouring into the room with him. “what happened?”

she keeps her back facing him, yanking her phone towards the top of her bed. “i read the stupid articles again,” she cries, covering her face with her palms, “i had to know what they were saying about me.”

he sighs her name, a comforting hand on her shoulder. “why did you do that? you know that isn’t good for you.”

“because it’s not fair!” she shrieks, pushing herself off the bed to stand. “i worked so hard the past 2 years to prove that i belong in formula 1 — that i worked harder than anybody else to make it here and be the first woman in the grid in decades. but that doesn’t matter anymore, no, because i’m washed. i’m a fluke; sebastian took the chance on the wrong girl.”

“that’s why i’d said–”

“that kimi raikkonen and fucking jenson button are starting to eat their words about the girl that their friend had taken a gamble on to put in a race car alongside 21 other men on the grid,” she rambles on. she throws her arms into the air. “you don’t fucking get it, matt! and consider yourself lucky that you don’t have to because this shit is fucking exhausting!”

matt sighs, putting his hands on his knees as he takes her spot at the edge of the bed. he watches her intently as she continues her rampage.

“this shit sucks! do you have any idea how i feel? i’ve fallen so far from grace — there’s no saving my career!” she shrieks, turning her back on him to look out the window of her bedroom. “nobody’s ever going to take a chance on another woman if my results keep ending up like that.”

he closes his eyes and takes another deep breath, trying to ignore the way his patience was slowly escaping his grasp. while he likes letting her speak her mind, lately, it just seems like nothing is ever going through her head.

she listens, but nothing ever actually takes effect.

“let’s go get ice cream,” matt mutters, standing up from his spot on the bed. he only has so much self-control. “would make you feel better.”

she whirls around, eyebrows furrowed. “what?”

“come on,” matt beckons her towards her bedroom door. “let’s go. and then let’s pick stubby up from logan’s and go for a walk in the park. how’s that sound?”

“kinda nice actually,” she says softly. “okay, just let me get dressed.”

it’s happened again. she got mad at something minuscule again. if you asked matt, he wasn’t even sure what had happened. he simply asked her if she needed his help, cleaning off the contents of the vase that previously sat on the dining table as decoration.

then she just lashed out.

“yes, fuck’s sake,” she mutters after he’d asked. she lifts her head to look at the black cat sitting in the seat of the dining table, head hung low at her. “and god, kid! i told you to keep off the fucking table! that’s exactly why i keep telling you that!”

“hey! that’s a cat you’re screaming at!” matt stands up from his position on the ground, previously helping her collect the water beads that she’d thrown into the vase for the flowers. “it was a mistake — it’s a one-off thing! what’s your problem?”

“i’ve got bigger things to worry about, matt.”

“oh, my god, rocky!” he puts the vase down on the table and looks at her. “do you even hear yourself right? actually, have you taken a step back and listened to yourself lately? you’re screaming at a cat for doing cat things. your cat.”

she clenches her jaw, tilting her head. they’ve never really fought before. “there’s a reason he’s trained to not be on the table!”

“he’s a cat!” matt emphasises, pointing at the cat that’s now run off towards the balcony of the apartment. “listen, okay? there are two people in this relationship. you can’t always fucking expect me to baby you like this.”

she squints her eyes. “what are you talking about?”

“have you really even tried to look at the bigger picture lately? there’s more to life than your time and results in a race car,” he states. he hadn’t expected to break now. initially, he’d been planning to sit her down and have a serious chat about her mental state. but hearing her lash out again over something that typically wouldn’t be an issue broke him. “everyone’s telling you the same thing. it’s the car. it’s. not. you.”

“yeah, but–”

“and if you’re just going to nod your head and then drag your feet to lock yourself away from everyone else, it’s not going to make you feel any better! you actually have to believe the words that we’re saying to you. you know that, don't you?”

he takes a deep breath to collect himself. he doesn’t even really shout often. he’s more on the reserved side. “if you don’t want my help, fine. but if you need me… when you decide that you finally want my help — when you’re really ready to listen and willing to get some perspective — call me. please.”

matt finally gets a good look at her, hands clasped in front of her, now standing with her head hung low. if he’d taken a second longer to scan her, he’d have noticed the way her lips quivered and the tears that filled her eyes to the brim. “i don’t like seeing you like this,” he says softly, “but i also don’t like being treated like a fucking doormat. and i tried to be there for you, bub, but you’re unreceptive.

“i keep giving you my hand to hold and you just keep fucking ignoring it. when are you going to get in your head that shutting down and keeping to yourself isn’t going to be a viable way around this?”

“matt,” she says softly, her hand reaching out to grab his.

he takes a step back before she can touch him. “this always happens, rocky. you lash out, you hurt my feelings, you apologise then i forgive you. it’s good for a couple of days and then something happens and we’re just stuck in this loop — it’s exhausting. and i love you.

“god, i love you. and i want to keep liking you too, but love just won’t cut it,” he sighs, slouching his shoulders. “i don’t want to get tired of loving you, okay?” he sucks in a deep breath and he knows that he will probably regret uttering these words to her. “i’m sorry, rocky, but i can’t keep doing this cycle with you. i need a break.”

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anonymousewrites · 1 month

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Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Fourteen

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Fourteen: Show Goes On

Summary: The Hotel rebuilds and moves on from the fight.

Mouse Note: Thank you for reading Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1)! I hope you all enjoyed because I loved writing this. I'm so excited for Hazbin Hotel to return because I have a lot of ideas for this series, and I'm excited to continue. But for now, thank you for everything! If you like my writing, please check out my other Father Figure series!

“Noooo!” screamed Lute as Adam fell. She ran to Adam’s side, and (Y/N) backed off, narrowing their eyes in case she tried anything. “Sir! Stay with me, sir! Adam!” He was gone.

“It’s over,” said Charlie, holding Vaggie to her side protectively.

Lucifer loomed over Lute, and her eyes widened in fright. “Take your little friends and go home! Please.”

Lute narrowed her eyes and picked up Adam’s halo. Furious at having no other choice, she glared at the demons before calling out to the exorcists. “Retreat. All exorcists fall back.”

The angels rose into the air, fleeing back through the portal to heaven.

Lucifer, pleased, turned to the hotel group. “So…who’s up for pancakes?”

Everyone, bloody and tired, stared at him.

“Good evening, I’m Katie Killjoy,” said the news report later that night.

“And I’m—”

“No one gives a shit who you are, Tom,” said Katie. “Breaking news: extermination day is canceled! Charlie Morningstar managed to fend off the angelic attack with more than just nice words. In an unseen turn of events, our demonic head honcho Lucifer stepped in to save his daughter’s ass in the last moment. We’re also hearing reports that Adam, leader of the Angelic Legions, first man, and totally fuckable bad boy, has been slain by a filthy gardening demon or some shit like that. The kid said, quote, ‘I hate cameras, and TV here sucks, go away’ before threatening our crew! What an asshole! Anyway, congrats to Charlie and her crew for not being totally fucking useless for once.”

Charlie held Keekee as she looked over the rubble that used to be the Hazbin Hotel. They’d lost so much, so many people. “Oh, there, there, it’s…” She sighed. “It’s okay.” She tried to believe it herself, but it was difficult.

Angel smiled at her as he held Fat Nuggets. Charlie managed to smile back and took a step towards him. She found herself in front of the “Happy First Week!” sign she’d made for Pentious. Her heart ached at his loss. Vaggie put her hands on Charlie’s shoulders comfortingly.

(Charlie) “He did it for us, The ultimate sacrifice. He gave me his trust, And look how we pay the prince.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. She had failed her friends. Because she hadn’t been strong enough, they had gotten hurt, killed.

(Charlie) “This bloodshed could have been avoided, If I convinced heaven to work together. I took a hotel, and I destroyed it, I know I could have done better, better, Instead of letting you down.”

Lucifer put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and smiled at her.

(Lucifer) “Come on little lady, why the frown? In the last ten thousand years, you’re the first one to change this town, You can do this, Now I know it, For your story has just begun, You can’t quit now, Hell, you owe it, There’s still damage to be undone, You’ve changed my mind, You’ve touched their hearts.”

Charlie looked around as her friends approached with a smile.

(Lucifer) “Found the good in souls gone bad, The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone, But by God Charlie, The show it must go on!”

Her friends gathered around Charlie.

(Vaggie, Cherri, (Y/N), Angel, Husk, Niffty) “We can do this, We can build it! Best hotel that you’ve ever seen! Twice the bedrooms, We can fill it!” (Lucifer) “With more sinners than you can dream!” (Lucifer and Vaggie) “It starts with you!” (Vaggie, Cherri, (Y/N), Lucifer, Angel, Husk, Niffty) “You know it’s true, Fulfill your destiny!”

They reached out their hands. Wiping her tears and smiling, Charlie stood and took her father’s hand as the group came together for a hug.

(Charlie) “So long as I’ve got all of you with me!”

And so, the cleanup and work began. It was tough going, but everyone pitched in, and the hotel began to come together better than before.

(Niffty) “To build a hotel, I think we need some brick and lumber!” (Lucifer) “Good thing we’re in Hell, check out this little magic number.”

He snapped his fingers, and the supplies appeared.

(Angel) “Start with foundation.” (Lucifer) “A remedial creation for me.”

The foundation came together in a single spell.

(Niffty, Angel, Lucifer) “It’s as easy as can be!”

Soon, the hotel was getting decorated, rooms ready to be stayed in.

(Charlie) “No time for cryin’, We got a lot of work to do and, We gotta try and make the best of what’s in ruins.” (Vaggie) “New coat of paint!” (Husk) “New lights across the marquee!” ((Y/N)) “With a little sorcery!”

They waved a hand, and plants grew up around the hotel, decorating it with nature amongst the barren city that Pride usually was.

Finally, the hotel was put back together, with a statue of Dazzle outside. Charlie smiled at the painting of Pentious and the Egg Bois going up in the foyer to honor his memory. The memories of who they lost would never be forgotten as a new era of the Hazbin Hotel approached.

(All) “We can do this!” (Charlie) “We can do this!” (All) “We’ll be better!” (Charlie) “We’ll be better!” (All) “Though redemption may take a while.” (Charlie) “Though it may take a while.” (All) “Wayward sinners, clear their ledger!”

They came together for a hug, and a familiar face popped out of the shadows.

(Alastor) “And we’re doing it with a smile!”

(Y/N) grinned. He was healed and back with them. He had survived, too.

(Charlie) “We’ll make a difference, wait and see.” (Charlie and Vaggie) “We’re gonna do this, you and me.” (All) “And then tomorrow it will be, A fuckin’ happy day in Hell!”

The Hazbin Hotel was open for business.

(Y/N) walked through the hotel to the new wing dedicated to Alastor’s broadcasts. Obviously, it was placed on the opposite side from Lucifer’s apple-themed wing. They paused at the door of the radio and knocked.

“Alastor?” they called out.

The door was opened by a shadow, and (Y/N) stepped inside. Alastor was standing over the controls of the new radio, examining everything.

“Do you like it?” asked (Y/N), slightly nervous.

Yes, they had faced Adam, but this was…different. It was a different type of encounter. With a fight, (Y/N) knew what it felt like to suffer, to go through pain, so they could handle that. With friendship, (Y/N) had very little experience, so they weren’t sure how to deal with it.

Alastor turned to face them. “It seems Charlie did a good job ensuring this was up to my standards. My broadcasts will be quality, as usual.”

“Charlie didn’t make it. Well, she helped, but I, uh, I did it,” said (Y/N).

Alastor paused, and his grin, unbidden, widened. “You did?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I saw your tower was affected when Adam hurt you, so when we rebuilt the hotel, I made sure there was something for you to come back to.”

“I hadn’t expected to have a broadcast tower at the hotel,” said Alastor.

“Do you like it?” asked (Y/N).

“I do,” said Alastor honestly.

(Y/N) brightened. “I’m glad! And I’m glad you’re alright. Adam did a lot of damage to the hotel, killed Pentious, and hurt you pretty badly.”

“It will take more than that to kill the Radio Demon,” said Alastor, but the unfortunate truth was that he had nearly died.

“I faced him,” said (Y/N) suddenly.

Alastor paused. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I fought Adam. It didn’t go that well for me, either.” They grinned at him. “But I killed him. In the end, I killed him.” They stood proud in their strength and determination. Yes, (Y/N) had nearly fallen to Adam and Lucifer had really defeated him, but dealing the killing blow had given (Y/N) so much satisfaction.

Alastor looked at (Y/N), and he cursed every part of him that still had some humanity since he felt something as they smiled at him. It wasn’t what he felt when Rosie laughed alongside him and teased him, but it held a familiar warmth. Although he had begun by seeing something in (Y/N) that reminded him of himself from oh-so long ago, Alastor couldn’t help but look at (Y/N) and just see them, now. It wasn’t them being like him, even if it still began there, but it was more.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less of my protégé,” said Alastor, unable to keep the fondness completely out of his voice.

Alastor was falling victim to all of the weaknesses he wanted to eliminate within himself.

And (Y/N)? Well, the Nature Demon stood tall. They were growing into all the strength they had ever wished for.

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