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multifandomfanatic02 · 2 months

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"You Don't Own Me."

pairing : Alastor x overlord!reader

summary : A new overlord has came to play in Hell, you. Alastor took notice in how many souls you've accrued in such a short time. He has to let you know where you stood in the overlord hierarchy, however things don't go the way he originally planned.

warnings : slight blood play ig? Idk. Author trying to edge the reader :)) not proofread

word count : 900

You hadn't been in Hell for long but it felt as if you belonged. It didn't take long before you started catching the hearts of the sinners. A lot happily giving up their souls to simply breathe the same sulfuric air as you. The way you used these souls was unique. You weren't mean or evil in anyway shape or form. In fact, you were often seen as an inspiration.

The overlords in Pentagram City were a different story. None of them liked the way you shot up the hierarchy without even trying. Instilling fear was what got them where they were at and they weren't going to give up their seat to a goody-two-shoes like you. Your methods interested one overlord in particular, Alastor. Despite literally being stuck in the past, he was quite the open-minded demon.

He didn't know whether or not to applaud you or challenge you. Your talent would be useful. He wanted you for himself. And for years he fought to claim your soul and make a deal. And not once out of the hundreds of proposals did he convince you it was a good idea. The two of you slowly started to develop a strange relationship. Nothing romantic but there was definitely tension. While he didn't own your soul, you were often in each other's company.

It was like mutualistic relationship. He staved off the overly pushy overlords constantly offering you a job; jobs that would obviously make you uncomfortable. In turn, you offered your assistance in a lot of his business. It came with pros and cons like any other agreement. He was extremely possessive of you. You were treated like precious property. You had enough. There was no reason for this behavior. Typically it didn't bother you, but something snapped.

"Alastor. You do not own my soul. I'm not property that you can toy with. I should be allowed to go wherever I please." You crossed your arms in frustration hearing him explain why he didn't want you in the Vees territory.

"Darling, you know I hold you with upmost respect. It's got nothing to do with you being property. I understand you are immune to Vox's hypnosis spell. It's not him I'm worried about. My worry is of Vox's plaything, Valentino." He gripped your wrist, leaning ever so slightly to place a kiss on your knuckles. "Understand that you are a sight to behold in the entirety of Hell. Valentino, is not honorable in his job as I, my dear. Without the proper protection, you might as well be an easy target." His breath ghosted your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

It's like he forgot who you were, what you were capable of. It was time to show him how that talent of yours has affected him over time. And trust when you say, it did.

"Oh Alastor, I think you forget as to how I became an overlord in the first place. The feminine charm that you oh so fear backfiring on me is why you have been by my side after all these years." You wrapped your fingers around his bow tie, pulling him down to your level. An enchanting smile creeping up on your face as Alastor's expression glitched out from the bold action. The other hand running through his hair making him let out a soft purr. His eyes focused on yours trying to determine your next move before you could decide.

To his surprise, you gently pressed your lips against his. His head was dizzy with confusion and guilty enjoyment. Your lips trailed down his neck, biting down a bit. Enough for his blood to trickle down. Your hands were now trading between playing with his hair and drawing small circles on the back of his neck. Your lips returned to his, smearing the blood from your tongue as if it were a beautiful crimson lipstick. The poor guy was so touch starved, he gave in to the sudden intrusion of affection. He couldn't do anything but allow you to press his buttons.

Your tongue ran over your lips, swallowing whatever blood was left on them. You took a step back to view the obvious mess you've made. Alastor's eyes were dazed as if he was in another world. His face beet red nearly matching the color of his suit. It was such an unusual sight to see on him. And you managed to do it.

"My my, Alastor, you look like you would be willing to sell me your soul just readingthe look on your face." You held your hand to your lips to cover the laugh attempting to escape. "How the tables have turned, dear." A joke of course, he would never actua-

"Yes." His ears dropped to the back of his head, still standing at your level. No sign of humor on his face.

"I'm sorry, what?" You blinked dumbfounded, mouth agape.

"I will give you my soul, but only if I'm the only one to experience that from you." Your face flushed from his proposal. Alastor had actually submitted to you because of a single kiss? But it wasn't JUST a kiss to him. It forced out desires he had been holding in for a long time. Now more than ever was he determined to have you be his. It didn't matter as to how anymore.

"You've got yourself deal, Al."

a/n: I know this one is short, it was more of an experiment because of a dream that I had. However if you like this concept, I'd be more than happy to build upon it in the future.

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin #the radio demon #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbinhotel #alastor imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor smut #alastor x y/n #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor angst #alastor fanfiction #alastor oneshot

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poisonlove · 2 months

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Stay with me | t.c

Pairing: Tara Carpenter X reader

Summary: Tara had a nightmare and the first person she thought of calling is y/n.

Words: 7.6 K

Warning: Post-traumatic trauma

"Tara! What the hell happened?" I tighten my grip on the phone, wondering why Tara was calling me at 4 in the morning. Sleep fades away as anxiety takes over.

I had met Tara Carpenter weeks ago almost by chance, arriving late to class. At that moment, I saw an empty seat next to a girl with brown hair and without a second thought, I headed in that direction

.Later on, we exchanged pleasantries, but over time those exchanges became more frequent, with added walks along the corridors and chats after school.

"Are you okay?" I ask quickly, feeling a deafening silence from the other end.

"Tara?" I inquire, feeling the worry growing inside me.

I was bitten by anxiety, my lower lip trapped between my teeth as a thousand thoughts, none of them encouraging, raced through my mind. Recently, Tara had told me about the horrible experience she had in Woodsboro with her friends and sister because of two psychopaths disguised as Ghostface. She literally went through hell... losing friends, suffering horrible injuries, and the growing anxiety of being pursued.At that moment,

I had hugged her to try to convey my support. Tara had buried her head in the crook of my neck, returning the gesture almost hesitantly. I knew she was scared, terrified of the idea of trusting someone again and reliving that horrible experience.

But despite everything, she trusted me.

"Y/n?" Tara's voice was broken, her nose sniffling as she sobbed. "Tara!" I say with my heart pounding, waiting for Carpenter's words.

"Can you come over?" Her voice becomes weak as she speaks, sobs threatening to escape any moment. "Are you hurt?" I ask, terrified, anxiety threatening to drive me insane.

Tara sniffs, the sound of her breath making me even more anxious. Should I run? Take the bus? Call an ambulance and rush to her apartment with a weapon? But would I be able to kill to defend her? A thousand questions assail me, and just the thought of having to kill sends shivers down my spine.

"No..." she says hoarsely, and a sense of relief washes over me.

"Has he... come back?" I timidly ask, biting my lower lip.

I didn't know what the term Ghostface would provoke in Tara, so I just asked if her fear had followed her to New York.

"No" Tara says timidly, her sobs threatening to escape from her lips.

I relax and look out the window, seeing the city shrouded in silence, the light from some lampposts illuminating bits of the street, and cars passing by occasionally.

"What's going on?" I ask calmly, knowing the brown-haired girl was safe."I need you..." she whispers weakly, her nose sniffling. "I had a horrible nightmare," she concludes with a faint voice, her voice still broken.

"Tara..." I respond gently, my heart squeezing at so much tenderness. "Is Sam not there?" I ask as I get out of bed, searching for my clothes.

"No... She'll be back from work at 7," she says timidly.

"Is it really that urgent?" I ask, biting my lower lip, sighing. "Yes..." Tara replies hoarsely, and I know the only way out of this situation is to go to the brown-haired girl's apartment.

"What did you dream about?" I ask timidly as I put on my pants, the phone between my ear and shoulder to keep it up. "I... I dreamt of him again... He was killing you in front of my eyes, laughing," she says with terror in her voice, sighing loudly. "I felt so powerless and scared," she sobs.

"I'm here," I say gently.

I put the phone on speaker as I put on the sweatshirt Tara had given me. "When I woke up, I was crying, and not seeing Sam panicked me," she confesses quickly, and I smile at her words.

I was glad she called me because she wanted my company.

"I'm coming, okay? Just give me 10 minutes," I say gently, wanting to reassure Tara, and the brown-haired girl mumbles in response. "10 minutes," she says timidly.

She had woken me up in the middle of the night, but when it came to Tara, I didn't mind.

(...)

"Hey! sorry for being late, I thought some chocolate might..." I start to apologize for being late, but Tara's arms around my neck freeze me in surprise.

A smile spreads across my face as I let myself be enveloped by her warm embrace, responding to her need for contact. Tara seemed to have developed a particular affection in the last few weeks, perhaps she was scared to be alone. It was entirely understandable considering what poor Carpenter had been through.

I sigh and leave a kiss on her forehead.

"You're here," Tara whispers against my neck, the sound of her voice muffled but full of meaning, and I can only smile in response.

Her arms tighten slightly around me

"always," I whisper timidly.

Tara pulls away from my neck but her arms remain around my waist. Her eyes look at me sweetly, chin up and a dazzling smile showing her dimples "you're my friend, that and more for you" I confess a bit bitterly for the word friend.

Why deny it? I liked Tara, a lot.

Tara continues to look at me without blinking, a shy smile on her lips. I could see the freckles dusted along her face. "So... Did you bring the chocolate?" Tara clears her throat, her eyes pointing to the chocolate in my hands.

"Oh yeah," I say and chuckle timidly, cheeks reddened with embarrassment."Thank you, you're adorable," Tara smiles widely and takes the chocolate.

The brunette puts the chocolate on the glass table.

Then her arms found purchase around my shoulders, her nose brushing against the weak point of my neck. "Why did you want me here?" I ask timidly, my voice just a whisper against Tara's ear.

Tara sighs loudly and presses her face more against my chest

"I feel safe with you" she murmurs weakly and my cheeks flush red.

Tara looks at me and her cheeks were flushed.

I raise an eyebrow seeing how Tara's eyes were slowly closing due to sleep. Tara mumbles and yawns."You're sleepy huh? I could keep you company on call until you fall asleep" I chuckle timidly and Tara yawns again.

"No," Tara whines with a cute pout, and I feel her body curl up even more against mine "I was really scared... I needed a hug."

I sigh deeply, feeling the weight of her vulnerability and without hesitation, I pull her into my arms, trying to convey all my support.

"I... felt like that night when I was attacked," Tara continues, shuddering against my body as her words pierce my heart. "Alone at home... vulnerable... but terrified because I knew there was someone who wanted to hurt me," she confesses, and my heart breaks for her.

"I'm here," I whisper gently, placing my lips on her forehead hoping that my gesture can somehow soothe her suffering.

Tara sighs against my chest.

"Come on... Let me take you to bed," I say timidly, my arms around her waist. "Sam is coming," I whisper, and Tara nods against my chest.

"Will you take me?" she asks weakly, yawning, and I smile when I notice her firm grip on my neck.

I bend down to gather her into my arms, and we head towards the bed where Tara emits a small sigh of satisfaction at the contact with the mattress.

"Goodnight," I say timidly, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek. "No... Stay with me," the brunette says determinedly, her hands clinging to my hoodie."But Sam..." I begin, trying to express my concerns about her sister's reaction, but Tara interrupts me with a pout.

"Sam won't say anything, stay with me please," Tara whispers sweetly, looking at me with eyes full of hope and vulnerability like a deer in need of comfort.

Faced with her tender request, I find myself unable to resist.

I sigh and settle down next to her, feeling the warmth of her body close to mine and a smile graces Tara's face. "When Sam arrives, I'll go home," I whisper gently, feeling her hands wrap around my arm as if I were a plush toy to cling to.

"Yeah..." Tara responds briefly, resting her head against my chest, and my heart skips a beat at her response.

I sigh with contentment, allowing myself to be completely enveloped by her embrace, smiling weakly as I reflect on the evening (or rather, morning) we've spent together.

In the end, Tara doesn't let me go, and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #scream movie #scream vi #scream #ghostface #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter #post traumatic stress disorder

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toxicanonymity · 9 months

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Jailbird.

1.5k / Cellmate’s nephew!Joel x inmate f!reader

thank you @iamasaddie for the mood board!!!

PART 2 HERE: Collect calls

Summary: Your cellmate introduces you to her hot nephew and he comes to visitation hours. A/N: Part 1 of 3. This one is due to @beskarandblasters and @wannab-urs and their hilarious list of new joel tropes and @raccoonhandedhottie's nerve to put the idea of doing one in my head. My masterlist WARNINGS: References to sex work, ACAB. Horny phone/visitation talk, mild/non-explicit over-pants masturbation. Mickey Avalon Easter egg.

Without Mabel, you're not sure how you would've survived your first six months in lock-up. You were cuffed for solicitation when a dirty cop wouldn't pay what he owed. He says he took it easy on you -- you also clawed him and spit in his face. As soon as you told your new cellmate what really happened, she took a liking to you. She said you should've bitten him in the pecker. Mabel had been there, done that. She even knew of the cop who put you away. It wasn't Mabel's first time behind bars. She had the ink and reputation to prove it. Her knuckles said "TAKE NONE" and that was accurate. By now, nobody gave her any shit. Soon enough, no one gave you any either.

Mabel had a few photographs on her wall, mostly of her and a younger man. Not a particularly young man, but certainly younger than Mabel. He was probably in his early forties in the pictures, which were five years prior, before she violated her parole. She was giving you a poke and stick tat of a four leaf clover on your hand one day when you asked about the pictures.

"I was wonderin' when ya were gonna ask about my lil Jojo. I've seen ya lookin' at him, ya little horndog..."

She let you stammer around in response. "No, I, I'm just, making conversation, wanna get to know you better."

"It's okay, baby. He's my nephew. All I got left. He's a neat kid."

"He looks happy to be with you–ouch!"

"Don't be a pussy. Oh, he's a real sweet boy. Bet he'd like you, too."

"What makes you say that?"

She looked up from your hand "cause ya got a cunt and you're not bad lookin'," she laughed. "Hey,” she raised her eyebrows. “You ever wanna borrow one of those pics, you let me know, I'll give ya some privacy."

"No thanks."

"Oh, come on. You can fold it so ya don't have to see my pretty face."

You laughed.

"Bet he'd dick ya down real good, too."

"What?" You asked, quietly disturbed.

"He lives with me. Walls are thin."

"Ah. That must be awkward."

"Not really! We're all human. I could even tell ya the kinda shit he says if ya want. He can get real filthy. Or shit, I could just give ya his number."

"That's ok."

"Baby, he'd love to hear from ya. Trust me. I've told him all about ya." She put down the needle and picked up a tissue to dab your skin.

"You have??"

"Oh yeah. Here, I'm gonna write it down."

She took one of the photos off the wall and wrote his number on the back. Then she folded it in half and winked at you as she handed it to you.

—----------------

It only took a week of her nagging for you to call “Jojo.”

Your breath hitched when you heard his smooth, deep voice. The first thing he said was, “Ah, call me Joel,” and you could hear the smile on his face.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” you laughed. “Well your aunt’s told me a lot about you, Joel.”

“Yeah, I can only imagine what,” he faux grumbled. “Real character, ain’t she?”

“I love Mabel,” you blurted out.

You found yourself opening up about how in some ways, she was more of a mother figure than you ever had. Joel was easy to talk to. It just came pouring out. You told him about Mabel’s antics and the mischief the two of you got up to. Things you’d steal from the cafeteria. The way Mabel kept the ladies in line who tried to dom you. Next thing you knew, your time was up. You apologized profusely for talking Joel’s ear off about yourself.

“Nahhhh, it was nice,” Joel said. “Hell of a lot more interesting than my life.”

“Well it was good talking to you,” you told him.

He said, “Hey, call me back any time.”

There was nothing sexy at all about that first conversation, but his voice did something to you. You squeezed your thighs together when you got back to your cell and looked at the photo. Mabel kept giving you a knowing look.

—------

You started calling Joel regularly. Mabel told you he liked you a lot, but you weren’t sure if you should believe her. She seemed overly eager to set him up. The conversations were brief and casual. When you didn’t call him one week, the next time you spoke, he told you he missed the sound of your voice.

Something came over you and you broke the tension. “My voice?” you asked. “Joel, your voice. . . you dunno what it does to me,” you blurted out. Zero to sixty, just like that.

“Well damn,” Joel said. “Shoulda said somethin’. Coulda given ya better than stories about Mabel.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like whatever ya want, jailbird.” Your heart fluttered “Whatever gets ya hot and bothered.”

“Honey, you could read me the phone book,” you told him.

He chuckled. “Haven’t seen one of those in a few years.” His voice was sexy to begin with but the sharp edge of the phone connection made it even hotter.

After a moment of tense silence, he said, “Hey, uh, you notice any of your pictures missin’?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, Mabel mailed me one. Didn’t tell me you were a fuckin’ smokeshow.”

You laughed bashfully.

“Well she did. But I had to see it for myself, and shit”

“Well, thanks. You’re not bad looking yourself.”

Your time was almost up.

“Hey I’m comin’ to see Mabel later this week. Y’all got the same visitor’s night or what? Cause I’d love to see you, too, if it’s allowed.”

“Nah, mine’s the next night.”

“S’alright, i’ll come back for ya, sugar.” Your heart skipped a beat.

“I’ve gotta go.”

“I know. Be good, jailbird.”

—--------

It was visitation day and you were getting nervous. Mabel thought it was adorable. She helped you get ready. Did your hair nice. “He’s already smitten with ya, baby,” she said.

You were escorted into the visitation room and sat at one of the booths, separated by glass, with a phone on each side.

When Joel came in, you didn’t recognize him at first. In just those five years, his beard had turned half-silver. He was striking in person. He was wearing a tight t-shirt and jeans. Tight jeans. You couldn’t help but size up the bulge in them.

When you looked up at his face, he was raising his eyebrows at you like he caught you looking. He sat down and put his elbows on the table. You picked up the phone, a little nervous, but more excited than anything. He checked you out and smiled at you coyly before picking up the phone.

“Like what ya see?” he said softly into the phone.

You replied with a low whistle, then asked, “You always dress like a piece of meat?” He had a few hand tattoos of his own. Faded, blurred together. A spade between his thumb and forefinger. A spiderweb curving around one of his biceps. He’d probably done his own time.

“When the hell are ya gettin’ outta here?”

“Up for parole next month,” you said.

“No shit!” He looked genuinely excited.

“Mabel didn’t tell you?”

“Thought she was yankin’ my chain.” He stretched his free hand behind his head and you watched his bicep. “You been good? Think you’ll get out?”

“Haven’t been bad.”

“Good.” He lowered his voice. “‘Cause sugar, I’m gonna need to see what’s under that garb.”

You smiled with faux shyness, and he continued, “God damn,” looking at you like a juicy leg of lamb.

You stared at each other, checking each other out for a moment. You watched his pupils dilate as your chest rose and fell with desire.

You made small talk for a minute or two, all the while fucking each other with your eyes. But, things took a turn again.

“What do you miss the most?” he asked in a low, sultry voice. “Bet ya don’t miss the clients.”

You shook your head.

He lowered his voice further. “When’s the last time ya had a nice hard cock ya really wanted?”

Your eyes widened. “Shit, I dunno.”

“Ohhh you’re in for it.” You looked around, paranoid, in disbelief that you could get away with a conversation like this. “Ain’t nothin’ harder than mine, baby.” He reached his hand into his lap. “Fuck. ‘specially for you.” You could see his arm moving very slowly but there was no mistaking what he was doing. His eyes devoured you.

“Joel,” you sighed. “Fuck, I believe it.”

And just like that, a guard approached him from behind. “Time’s up,” the guard said and glared at you. You rolled your eyes as a guard approached you, too.

Joel said “Later, jailbird” and hung up the phone. When he stood up, his massive erection was visible and made your heart skip a beat. You glanced up to his face and he was wetting his lips. He winked at you with pink cheeks and your eyes immediately fell back to his crotch as he adjusted himself and the guard hurried him away.

FUCK. You were gushing. Mabel’s Jojo. Joel. What a man.

---------

Part 2

Ty for reading. strip club manager!Joel will be an alternate timeline of this Joel set in the past while Mabel was on parole. DIFFERENT READER. preview

this trope actually gave me so many more elaborate ideas lmao.

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All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #toxicanonymity ☠️#cellmate's nephew!joel #CN!Joel Miller #CN!Joel #cellmate's nephew!joel miller #jojo ☠️

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allysunny · 3 months

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hiii! first of all, congratulations for 200 followers! im so proud heheee! and second, i just read your nanami's fic (patching up wounds) AND IT'S SO GOOD 😭😭🤍🤍 WE LOVE FLUFFY FLUFF NANAMI

and third! i wanna make a request hehee

15+28 with a make up prompt with nanami 🤍

"Is it someone else?" + "Do you trust me?" / "Always" + Make up x Nanami Kento

Words: 4.3k words

Warnings: Angst, mentions of infidelity, arguments, some angst? Some suggestive themes, but nothing downright explicit, I would say? I'm so bad at tagging omg if I missed anything!

A/N: Hey everyone! Here's another one of the entries for my 200 Follower Event!!! I missed writing for my man Nanami sm, I love this man so bad... <3<3<3

Anyway, I would ALSO like to say that my Event is now CLOSED!!!! I'll of course finish the requests I have in my inbox, but regarding this event in particular, I won't be taking any more! I feel like if they keep on coming, I'm going to panic and not be able to finish any of them.

Thank you for everyone that participated and sent in their great ideas; they're all genius and I am having a blast writing them. Thank you so much!

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this little piece!!!

You'd long stopped waiting for Nanami to come home

Asking him to please come at a more decent hour, and letting you know whether he was going to make it to dinner or not proved to be useless, as he often did not check his phone, and even when he did, he'd give you one-worded replies that did nothing to soothe your nerves. You loved your husband; knew him inside out and loved everything about it. But sometimes, these little quirks managed to annoy you.

Were you being selfish? All you wanted was for your husband to come home to you, have some dinner, ask how your day was, maybe make love to you once or twice. But as days turned into weeks, it seemed like none of those were a possibility.

Dinnertime together became "Sorry. Won't be able to make it in time. Don't wait for me." texts, casual conversations about your jobs became "I had an exhausting day. Can we not talk about it?", asking your husband for a bit of affection became "I'm really tired. Some other day." It was starting to become unbearable.

You knew Nanami to be a hard worker. He was a very thorough man, efficient and determined, and he always gave 101% of himself in whatever he did. But lately, it seemed that he was lacking in terms of your own life. It hurt to eat by yourself, it hurt to read or watch TV on an empty couch, it hurt to go to sleep in cold sheets.

You'd tried to talk to him once, ask what was happening. Not only did he brush it off as him simply being busy, but he also failed to provide you with information as what to what kept him busy. He was never a man of many words. You knew this. But it was one thing for him to be quiet and reserved. It was another to simply refuse to tell you certain information about what he did for a living.

All he'd told you was that he worked at a high school, as a teacher. Taught something about finance. On one hand it made sense. All the books and certificates inside his study were clearly not for show, and he'd always been extremely intelligent. But on the other hand, it was weird. Nanami never expressed much interest in teaching. Hell, you didn't even know he had the qualifications for teaching. But apparently, he did, and that's what he wanted to do from now on.

He'd told you it was a high paying job. He wouldn't be as miserable as he was as a salaryman, and you two would be able to take that lovely vacation in Malaysia, the one you'd been envisioning for years now. But how did a high-school teacher earn so much? And why did he have to spend so much time at his school?

The sound of the door broke you out of your thoughts, and you looked behind you from your place in the couch. Your husband walked home, hair slightly dishevelled and jacket hung on his arm.

"I'm home," he said softly, before taking off his shoes and hanging his coat.

"Hey," Your feet instantly carried you from the couch to him, as if second nature. Your feet would carry you anywhere Nanami Kento was, that is how deep your love for him run. Because where was home, if not by his side?

"I stopped by the bakery on my way home," he mumbled, placing a white paper bag on top of the couch. "Brought you those croissants you like."

There he was, your sweet husband, remembering you even when you worried and worried. Here you were, chewing the inside of your cheek out of sheer preoccupation, and he was out there buying you croissants. You felt a little bit guilty.

"Thank you," you smiled, returning to his side, and continuing to speak, "How was work?" It was when he flexed visibly in front of you when you moved to undo the knot of his tie that you had realised, you'd asked the wrong question.

"Tiring. I don't want to talk about it," he answered, moving past you towards the kitchen.

The guilt you'd briefly felt earlier washed away, if only a little bit.

Dinner was uneventful, as usual. It was nice having his company, but it was almost as if it didn't even make any difference. He was quiet, more so than usual. You tried getting a few conversations going, talking about your day, gossiping about your coworkers, but only received one-syllabic words, or soft hums of acknowledgement. You tried to get him to talk about his work, but he wouldn't budge. You asked about his students, and he shut you down. It seemed as if there was a barrier coming up between you and your husband, and you didn't like it one bit.

He offered to do the dishes for you while you decided to go take a quick shower, and when you came back, you found him sitting on top of your bed, quietly reading a book.

"Aren't you heading to bed?" you asked.

"I came home late enough the other days. I'd like to enjoy a book for a while before I go to sleep. Is that so wrong?" There was a slight harshness to his voice that you didn't like, and you became defensive.

"I'm sorry – it's just, you've been so tired every other day, I thought you'd maybe like to get some actual sleep."

Nanami must've realised the tone he'd taken with you and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"I appreciate your concern, honey, I really do. But I'd like to relax for a bit. I promise to get enough sleep."

You nodded and grabbed the remote, turning on the TV in front of you to zap through a few channels. When you couldn't find anything that amused you, you picked up your phone and scrolled through social media, internally sighing at the photos of your friends and their respective partners on their own private vacations. It reminded you of Malaysia, and it made you frown just a bit. You had half a mind to ask your husband, but there was no way you wanted him to think you were annoying, so just kept quiet.

After a while, he put down his book and walked towards the bathroom to get ready for bed. You would've done the same, but he closed the door behind you, causing you to wait for him. When you were able to brush your teeth and go through your whole skin care routine, you returned to bed.

Nanami was already lying down, facing away from you.

It hurt. A lot. You used to sleep pressed close against each other. He would hug you close to him, and you'd fall asleep to the beating of his heart. It nearly made you cry, until you realised you were made of tougher things, and would do your best not to let it get to you.

You laid down, pulled the covers over your body, and looked at your husband's back, admiring the broad planes of his shoulders and the pale skin you so adored to touch and kiss. It had been a while since you'd done both.

You don't know what made you do this. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe you just missed your husband too much and seeing him like this before you awakened memories in you that had your cheeks heat up and your thighs clench instinctively. But something made you press against Nanami's back and snake your arms around his chest.

He all but whispered your name, and you couldn't tell if in exasperation, or desire.

"I miss you so much," you mumbled, pulling your body up to sit beside him, and leaning down to press kisses against his neck and jaw. You felt him tense, and something inside you churned. Why was he tensing before you? Before your touch? He was your husband. Were you so unfamiliar that he would flinch away from you?

"I'm tired," he sighed, rolling so his body would stay even more out of reach.

"We don't have to do much;" you mumbled, scooting closer to him. Your hands carded through his hair. "I just miss you. Miss your touch, miss your body," each word was punctuated with a kiss on his jaw, and you heard Nanami sight. "Please, Kento. Don't you miss me?"

Why you kept going, you had no idea. He had arrived home extremely tired and had not given you any signal that he wanted this. In fact, the only thing he'd demonstrated was wanting distance, peace, and quiet.

But still, you kept going, kissing his soft skin, and playing with his golden hair.

"I have to get up early in the morning," he said, but you could tell his voice was breathy, husky. You gloated internally, happy over the fact you still had this effect over him.

"We can be quick. Can't we?" He could. You could. Nanami liked to take his time with you – and lord knew how much you liked it when he did. But you also knew he was efficient. You'd been pressed against several walls inside bathrooms or broom closets, mouth against the column of his neck to stifle your broken moans to know it. "Please? You know I'll make you feel good."

Nanami remained quiet for a few seconds, and for a while you thought he might say yes. Then, he promptly moved away from you, his voice cold as ice.

"I'm tired. I need to get up early tomorrow, I don't have the time for this."

"But Kento – "

"Can't you listen to a word I say? You've been going against my wishes all night." This time, he turned to face you, a hint of cruelty in his eyes, something that made you tear up immediately. "All I want is to get some rest. I can't do that with you all over me."

You said nothing, staring at the man before you. Is this how he felt? That you were all over him? That you'd been going against all his wishes? It's not your fault you wanted to talk to your husband, to be worthy of some of his time.

"I just wanted to spend some time with you," you replied, brows furrowing in confusion. "What's so wrong with that?"

"I've told you before, I'm tired. I got home late today; all I want to do is just get some sleep – "

"You're always getting home late now!" You raised your voice, sitting up completely and crossing your arms over your chest. "And you're always tired. What am I supposed to do?"

"Not disturb me, when I'm working so hard for us."

"At a high school? I love you, Kento, and I love how dedicated you are to your work, but what's a high school got that makes you get home at nearly 11PM?"

"It's complicated," he muttered, looking away.

"Is it now?"

"Yes! It is! And I wish you would just let it go and let me sleep. God knows I need it."

That's when you ask the question that's been plaguing your mind for a while, the one you'd never been brave enough to ask, the one you never wanted to ask, afraid of what the answer could be.

"Is it someone else?"

You could've asked anything, and yet Nanami would've never guessed what you'd just said. Why would you ever think such a thing? Did he ever give you reasons to think he loved anyone else other than you?

It seemed almost silly to ask, because as soon as he thought the question over in his head, he realised just how much he'd been neglecting you.

"It's not," he reassured you, sitting up and turning to face you, now sitting up as well. He hadn't realised you had started to cry, only noticing it when he saw small tears running down your lovely face. He'd made you cry. He had been an asshole and now you were crying because of him. Just great.

"I'm just working hard. For you. For us."

"Don't give me any of that bullshit. No high school teacher has to stay inside the school until close to 11PM. You can't even make it do dinner most nights. Just what the hell are you doing in there? Is it someone else, Kento? Fuck – just tell me if it is because I can't take this any longer! If you’re just staying with me because you can’t be bothered to get a divorce, then I don't want it!" You said, crossing your arms over your chest. You couldn't control the tears that had escaped, and once they started to fall, you feared they wouldn't stop.

"It's not someone else!" He said, running a hand through his blonde locks. "Look, darling, I only love you – "

"Then tell me why the hell you stay in there until so late."

Nanami was stunned into silence.

You'd never really asked about his job. He had told you he was a teacher and made up some believable enough financial-like class. You'd believed it, and he thought it would be the end of it. But Nanami should've known better. You were curious, and worried about him a lot. It was very endearing, and he loved you even more for it, but sometimes – like now – it could be a tad impractical.

"I'm working," he whispered.

"Bullshit. Again, with that stupid excuse – I don't believe you, Kento." It was the first time in 6 years together that you had ever doubted your husband. And it tasted foul. Doubt tasted foul, taster bitter in your mouth, and you hated how quickly its taste spread over everything you said. "Just tell me the truth already!"

"I'm telling you the truth, I'm a teacher, and I'm working!"

"I know high school teachers, Kento!" you yelled, "And they might bring some work home, but they're usually there in time for dinner. Hell, every teacher I've spoken to gets home much earlier than you, and everyone has said that your working hours are unusual. And there's of course, the matter of the bruises."

Some big, some small, but it has become more and more usual for your husband to arrive home injured. At first it was nothing. A paper cut. An accident while cutting bread. He slipped. He tripped. He fell. The excuses started getting weirder and weirder, and you’d become suspicious as hell.

"They're just accidents honey, I told you – " Nanami's words do little to soothe you, instead enraging you even further.

"No, they're not! You've never been clumsy Kento. You've never tripped, never fallen, never had accidents with knives! Just tell me what's going on? Have you gotten yourself into something dangerous, Ken? What is it?"

Nanami looked at you, at your eyes wide with worry and heartbreak, at your pouting lips and cheeks wet from the small pearly tears. And as much as the sight broke him inside, this wasn't the time nor the place to try and talk sense into you. He couldn't tell you about what he did, couldn't introduce you to the world of Sorcery and Curses. He'd only endanger you, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Nanami sighed.

"I think you should need some sleep. We should both get some sleep and continue this conversation in the morning."

That was the last straw. How dare he dismiss this conversation, as if it weren't something important and worthy of your attention? As if your whole relationship, your trust, your life wasn't on the line?

It was too much.

"Out." You uttered, pointing at the door.

"What?"

"Out." You repeated. "How am I supposed to share a bed, let alone a life with a man I don't trust, with a man who insists on lying to my face like this? I can't sleep on the same bed as you."

"Honey, you can't be serious – " Nanami pleaded, but you were intent on interrupting him.

"Out! I won't share a bed with you until I trust the man sleeping beside me!"

With this, Nanami nodded silently. He got up and promptly left the room, leaving his pillow where it was on the bed next to you. He knew you – you might be upset, but you still loved him, and you couldn't fall asleep with some sort of presence from him next to you. He'd found you once or twice hugging his pillow as you slept, and it made him smile. Ever since, he’d sprayed it once or twice with his cologne or aftershave, to see which scents made you relax more. It was corny and lame as hell, yes. But it helped you a lot, and he was glad for it.

Once the door of your bedroom was closed, you simply let go.

Loud sobs erupted from you, and you hid below the blankets, hoping the small fortress of cloudy fluffiness would save you from all the anguish you were feeling, and wishing sleep would take you soon.

With Nanami's pillow hugged close to your body, you found that it did, and you were out in just a matter of minutes.

The following morning, you woke up to the smell of pancakes and orange juice.

Weird, you thought, who the hell is making pancakes?

You got up and ready, going through with your usual morning routine before putting on some clothes and walking downstairs. You’re not used to having company on your day off, let alone wake up to some delicious as hell smells.

When you walk into the kitchen, you spot your husband in front of the stove, a spatula in his hands, whistling some tune he seems to be hearing from the radio.

It was as if last night hadn’t happened at all, as if instead of refusing your touch and walking away, he’d turned to you and reciprocated everything.

Nanami turned to you, having heard the soft thud of your fuzzy slippers against the floor. He was wearing his “Kiss the Cook” apron, the one you’d jokingly gifted to him a few years ago and hadn’t seen him wear in a long time. If you weren’t so upset at him, it’d have made you smile.

“Good morning,” he said, placing a plate of pancakes and a glass of orange juice on your usual spot at the table.

“What’s all of this?” you asked, hesitant to sit down. Was he going to pretend it was all okay?

“An apology.”

You stopped in your tracks. An apology. Huh.

“I behaved terribly last night,” Nanami sighed and placed the rest of the pancakes on a separate plate, also putting it on top of the table. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded and sat down, taking a sip from the orange juice. It was great, and it took you every bone in your body not to jump on your husband and shower him with kisses. It’d been a good while ever since he prepared you breakfast like this.

Well, since he’d gone out of his way to do something nice and apologise, you wouldn’t play games. You and Nanami had long gone past that stage.

“Surely, you understand everything I said came from a place of worry,” you told him, grabbing your favourite jam (that Nanami had so attentively put in your reach) and smearing it all over a pancake. Your voice was calm. Not too sweet; firm, but still somewhat soft. “You’re barely home nowadays, Kento. And I miss you. You come home with scratches on your face and bruises on your arms. What am I supposed to think?”

Your husband sat before you and grabbed a glass of orange juice himself, before starting to speak.

“I understand. And I can guarantee that everything I have told you is the truth.”

You stopped your arm, fork up in the air.

“The truth? Please, Kento, I’m tired of that.”

“I’m serious.”

He shifted in his seat and sighed.

“Look – I didn’t lie to you when I told you about my new job.”

“Hm. But?” you asked, taking the forkful of pancake to your lips.

“But – “ he sighed again, “I wasn’t entirely honest either.”

“I see.”

“The truth is, I can’t tell you all about my job.”

You raised an eyebrow. Is this how he was planning to get on your good graces again?

“I’m a teacher, yes. But my job, it’s… It’s hard to explain. It’s dangerous. And I don’t want you tangled up in that world.”

Your stomach twisted in an unpleasant knot. Dangerous?

“Kento, did you get involved with the wrong people?” you whispered. Surely, that couldn’t be true. The sweet man before you would never dabble in those nasty, sketchy business you always saw out there, the kind that would have him trapped for life and made a slave to their every whim.

“No! No – Christ, no,” he was quick to reassure you, reaching out to hold your free hand. You decided not to move it, allowing the warmth of his palm to spread through yours. “It’s not like that. I did not get involved with any kind of bad people. I promise you that. But my job is dangerous, and I would be putting you in danger if I told you all about it. But I can’t stand keeping you in the dark like this – it hurts to see you suffer.”

Now you were getting scared. What the hell had your husband gotten himself into? A dangerous job? That would put you in danger? What was he talking about?

“Fuck, it’s,” he released your hand, and you immediately missed his touch. Nanami rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and shook his head. “It’s so complicated. I don’t even know where to start. I don’t even know if you’ll believe me. I just… I just need some time. Please. If you’ll have me, if you love me. I just need some time, and I’ll explain everything to you.”

“Is this what you want to do?” You asked

“Yes.”

“And you’re saying it’s dangerous.”

“It is.”

“Is that why you’re injured sometimes?”

“Yes. But I promise you – everything is okay. Everything is fine. I promise you darling – it’s okay.”

You looked at him, and he looked at you.

And there was something in his eyes that made you understand.

Not what he did, or how he did it or when.

But that he was having a tough time explaining it to you. You could see his internal dilemma clearly, and it made you ache a bit, because you saw just how conflicted he was. You loved reading. Books of all kinds. Long, short. Fun or emotional. But even after all these years of reading page after page after page, it wasn’t books you’d learned to read best.

It was your husband.

He reached out to hold your hand again. It was warm and it provided comfort. So much comfort – something you needed more than anything right now.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, speaking to you in that barely-a-whisper voice of his, the one he uses to murmur soft words against the skin of your shoulder, the one he used to say his vows to you on your wedding night, away from prying eyes, the one he’d used when he first told you he loved you.

You knew all of Nanami’s voices. Knew his monotone one, directed at coworkers and bosses; knew his warmer one, the one he used when thanking shop clerks, baristas, waiters, workers; knew his joyful one, the one you got to hear every once in a while, deep and rich and warm, accompanied by one or two chuckles if you were lucky; knew his husky one, saved especially for late-night lovemaking or mind-blowing quickies; knew his sugary sweet one, saved only for you.

And of all the voices you knew your husband to have, this was the one you trusted the most. It meant he was serious. It meant he wasn’t lying, it meant he was offering you the whole truth; he’d offer you the whole world with this voice, and you would take it.

“Always,” you found yourself replying, turning your palm, and giving his a soft squeeze.

Because it was true. You’d follow Nanami Kento to the ends of the earth. You trusted him, more than anything. And if he told you he had a hard time telling you, then you would believe him. If he told you everything was going to be fine, you would believe him. You trusted him to tell you what this dangerous job of his was and were ready to support him until the end.

You'd long stopped waiting for Nanami to come home.

But you’d start doing it. Again, and again, and again.

You would wait for him until he came home.

Whether he came home early or late, it didn’t matter. You would know he had been working. You’d know he hadn’t broken the promise he made to you the day you got married and would not lie with someone else. You’d patch up his wounds and kiss his injuries and shower him with love – so, so much love.

All that would matter, is that he would come home to you, and you wouldn’t worry.

Because you loved him, and he loved you.

And as long as you held on to that promise, you knew everything would be okay.

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys enjoyed this little piece! I love Nanami so much, he'd be the most understanding husband, and a great communicator okay.

Once again, I ask for your patience, as uni is kicking my ass real bad, and it's taking me longer to write stuff. I fear it's only going to get worse, and I may have to take a break.

But I'll keep trying until then!

I hope you're all doing well, and have an amazing day!!! <3

220 notes · View notes

l0v3tast3 · 1 year

Note

AHH Hello!!! I absolutely love your writing, it’s so good!!!!

I was wondering…

Y/n always wear a mask to conceal her identity, in hopes the 141 doesn’t find out that Makarov is her father!!

141 had captured Makarov for interrogation, and y/n is there. As the interrogation continues, they start to notice that y/n and Makarov know each other, by the subtle little informality they spoke to one another. And the truth starts to come out, little by little!!!!

✎ tysm i love you :(( i absolutely love this idea the angst potential is just *chef's kiss* i'm sorry this one took like over a month to make oops, also i tried to keep personal details abt the reader as vague as possible, pls let me know if there's something i can fix!!

✎ tags: female reader, military reader, major daddy issues, violence, mentions of blood, hurt/barely any comfort if at all, not proofread im too cool for that,

✎ word count: 2,704

the silence in the cold, gray interrogation room was so thick that you were choking on it. you knew you had just fucked up, badly.

you had done so well so far, too. you're fabricated identity had fooled everyone. the name you had chosen stuck, and no one ever noticed your old one threatening to jump from your mouth when you introduced yourself. you always kept the childhood memories and little anecdotes vague. you stuck to your rehearsed lines better than a world-famous actor. you did every single thing right.

and now, here he was, your own blood, fucking it all up for you, again.

technically, he had made you fuck it up for yourself. it was just how makarov worked; he was a spider weaving a web in the corner, watching, waiting. this man, your supposed father, didn't know anything real about you. he didn't know you as a father should know his daughter. but he knew which buttons to press.

he only knew what to say to you when it would allow him the opportunity of watching you fall a little deeper towards rock bottom.

you knew that the room had cameras covering every square inch, and the microphones ensured that you're accidental admission to your heritage was heard by your entire task force.

there was a red hot pit opening inside of you, caving your insides in like a black hole and threatening to consume your entire being. it was rage, you realized. something you only ever seemed to feel in the presence of one person.

you briefly considered killing him, right there and then. was this really the straw that broke your back? it truly was just another thing to add to the list. you had known he would do this.

no, you were angry at yourself.

on the other side of the door, the four men of the 141 task force were all stood still in shock. what the hell did you just say?

none of them wanted to believe it. they especially didn't want to admit that it made sense. you had done a fucking fantastic job of hiding it, they'll admit that, but even you couldn't hide everything.

price saw the way you tensed when you were passed laswell's photo of makarov in the bar, after you had all put an end to hassan's plan. he saw the way you dropped it and slid it to the next person quickly, as if touching the picture had burned your fingertips.

soap had asked you if you were okay more than once during the plane ride to russia. you were so restless, so different from your usual grounded self. you just said you were having some flying anxiety. he felt stupid now for writing it off so easily.

and kyle, the first one to trust you (and to even really talk to you), he had seen the anger sparking off of you while you shot your way through the tower to get to makarov. floor after floor, bullet after bullet, you had paved a path of blood through the mercenaries. he wondered if someone else had taken your mask and gear and was pretending to be you.

simon saw the fear in you when you all got to the last door. you had been so quick in your endeavor to get here, but he saw you hesitate to follow them in. he saw how you never took your wide eyes off of him, and how you stayed a few steps back, moving far out of the way when price began to escort him out in handcuffs.

and when they had asked you to go into the interrogation room, they all saw how you stopped breathing, and the sweat collecting on what little skin they could see above your mask. you had stuttered when you quietly agreed.

when you stepped into the room, makarov took one look at your eyes, and you knew he recognized you. no, he recognized the hatred. and it made him smile.

now, sitting in the cold metal chair, you realized that it wasn't just one mistake, but a series of them; you had let him unravel you, again. you understood, finally, that he saw you as he did everyone else. he saw you as someone that held him back.

part of you had always known, ever since you were young, still single-digits, and he would only visit you once every few months, if that. you had elected to ignore it. now you couldn't.

you couldn't move. behind you was the door that would lead you to the consequences of your actions. in front of you was the reason for those actions.

this is what you had wanted, wasn't it? it was like something snapped back into place, and you suddenly remembered that everything you had done up until now, every time you put the mask on before leaving your room, every lie you had told and every person you had killed had been to get you here. in front of your father. you remembered that the image of him with a bullet between his eyes was what kept you going.

if you killed him, would it finally absolve you? the gun on your hip felt twenty pounds heavier now. your fingers, folded together in your lap with a white-knuckle grip, felt like lead. would this sin make all the other wrongs right?

a tiny voice was telling you to just walk away, let the team's wrath come down on you and let them deal with makarov, but you had already thrown the table between you towards the wall, he was already on the ground with your hands wrapped around his throat.

you were yelling, no, screaming at him. all the compacted feelings from years and years of being as quiet as possible came up like vomit, spewing out in a mess that could never be cleaned up.

there were more than just makarov's hands on you, pushing and pulling you away from him and dragging you out of the room, kicking and screeching to let you just finally kill him, while two other blurry shapes hauled him back into his own chair.

the heavy metal door shut behind the two people practically carrying you, and they finally let you go. you stumbled a few steps away, whirling around for the next target of your fury.

your captain and lieutenant were standing in front of you, both tensed, waiting for you to do something. you couldn't exactly make out their faces- were you crying?

"what in the bloody hell just happened in there?" price snarled. it was the voice he used when he was face to face with his enemy.

"let me back in there." it was a demand. you needed to kill him.

"that's not gonna happen," simon barked. john and kyle had come out from the interrogation room to stand behind the other two men. "you need to explain, now."

they all stared at you with varying looks of anger and hurt. it wasn't the first time you'd ever had it directed at you, but this was somehow worse than all the others.

every cell in your body was shrieking at you to just run for the door, to somehow get through all four of these men, your teammates, your friends, and kill makarov. but their glares glued you to your spot.

"please-" your voice was trembling, years of grief and agony dripping from every word, "please, just let me kill him. you have to let me kill him." you spoke slowly and quietly, focusing on just trying to get the words out. you took a shaky breath and focused your eyes on a muddy bootprint on the floor. you didn't want to see the looks on their faces.

"you don't understand, you just- just let me back in there, please, i'll get whatever you need out of him, but he needs to die!" your voice was getting louder, and you briefly wondered if your father could hear you. "his men are probably already on their way here. don't you get it? if i don't kill him now, he will get out."

the men in front of you were more shocked now than anything at the change in your demeanor. you had been coined the "second ghost" throughout the units, partly for the mask, but also because of your detachment. you were kind, but you always held logic above emotion.

in front of them now was nothing short of a nervous wreck.

despite not moving, you were frantic. you were wringing your hands together, pressed tight against your stomach. your eyes darted from side to side, person to person, between them and the door to makarov.

price took a step forward and you took a step back. he was slow, bringing his hand up as if he were approaching a wild animal. if he was still angry, he was hiding it now.

"come on, kid, let's just get out of 'ere, eh? go somewhere away from him," he said lowly. the other three men watched tensely, not moving, but their hands still close to their guns. just in case.

"no, no- just let me- price, you need to let me back in there!" you were a broken record, you knew it, but there was nothing else to say, nothing else you could think about. this was what you had been waiting for, you were right where you had wanted to be for the past- how many years now? how long has he tormented you for now?

you could feel your father's presence in the next room like bugs crawling across your body. it made your head feel fuzzy and your hands shake. was it from rage or fear? you couldn't tell, so you chose the rage.

it was like bile stuck in your throat, all the pain makarov had caused you finally being unearthed. you wanted to throw it all up and spit it out onto him, lay your organs and hatred alike out on the table in front of him so he could see the decay. you wanted him to rot from the inside out like you had.

your eyes glanced at the door one last time before focusing on price. he was watching you, just a couple of steps in front of you now.

"let me back in there, john." it was a whisper, but still the steadiest thing you had spoken since they had dragged you out.

"no." he said your name quietly, and you heard it as the plea it was, but you're head decided it was done listening.

your body threw itself at him, swinging underneath his arms and onto his back to try and get him on the ground. the room exploded into yelling, and multiple pairs of hands were on you in an instant, hauling you off of price and forcing you face-down onto the ground with your hands behind your back.

cold metal latching around your wrists didn't stop your screaming and kicking, lashing out at the air around you. it didn't work well, because you were being hauled back to your feet and pushed into a separate interrogation room.

whoever was carrying you didn't bother with trying to attach your handcuffs to the table, basically throwing you in and slamming the door shut before you could get back on your feet.

outside the cell, the four men stood in silent shock. what was there to say, where would they even start? would they really be able to hear each other over your muffled screams to let you out?

you didn't know how long you had been in there once the door finally opens again, but you had stopped screaming and struggling to get out of the room. you had sat down at the table, your hands folded in front of you on the cold surface. you stared down at the blood beading and smearing around the handcuffs.

kyle squeezed in through the tiny amount he'd let the door open before he shut it quickly, keeping his eyes on you. you didn't look up, your red eyes staying fixed on one point even as he slowly moved closer. he followed them to see the red rings underneath the steel, and a pang of guilt squeezed his heart tight.

he sat down across from you, folding his hands in front of him on the table, mirroring you. you still hadn't looked up at him, or done anything to acknowledge his presence; you hadn't even moved.

"are you alright?" kyle implored. he kept his voice soft, bending over a little to try to look you in the eye.

it took you a few moments to respond; he almost started to think you didn't hear him before you opened your mouth slowly.

"is he dead?" you croaked.

kyle let out an audible sigh while he leaned back in his seat, bringing his hands up to drag them down his face.

"no, we still need him. you know that."

you didn't say anything after that.

after sitting in silence for two full minutes, he spoke up. "you realize not telling us about this makes you look really bad, yeah?"

"you don't trust me anymore?" you whispered it, like you didn't want him to hear and answer. you knew what he would say.

"you aren't making it very easy."

kyle wanted to trust you still. part of him was angry and confused as to why you had kept something like this from them. the other part, the bigger part of him, knew that you were on still on the same side of it all. and he knew the other three men felt the same, but they couldn't just dismiss this.

"we can work this out, ya' know. you just have to be honest with us," he added after you once again stayed silent.

"be honest?" you echoed. you finally looked up at him. "about what? you heard me. makarov is my father. i want him dead. that's all there is to say."

kyle took his turn to not speak, weighing your words, figuring out where to go from there.

"why didn't you tell us?" he finally asked.

you looked back down at your wrists. "if i had told you i was makarov's daughter before i joined the team, then all i would have ever been is makarov's daughter." you paused to take a deep, shaky breath. it was uncomfortable with your mask still on, wet with tears, but you refused to take it off, to give away the last piece of your identity that was still yours at the moment.

"it's something we should have known," he contended quickly. "we could have used the information you have-"

you cut him off, your eyes snapping back up to glare daggers at him. "you think i know anything more than you?" you barked. something between a laugh and a sob escaped your throat before you could continue. "i was eight years old the last time i saw him in person. i was raised by live-in nannies. he only visited, what, maybe twice a year? and i don't know why he even bothered, either."

your hands were clenched into tight fists, and the same sting that circled your wrists was appearing in your palms. you kept going though; you didn't know if you could stop now.

"every time i get somewhere, every time i start making a life for myself again, he fucks it all up. never showed his damn face, but it was him, it was always-" you finally cut yourself off, not wanting to drag more memories out from the dark.

"makarov may be my father, but i am not his daughter. i swear, kyle, i fucking swear it." you were pleading with him to believe you now. you needed them to understand.

you could see it in the way his eyebrows creased that he wanted to take your words as the truth. but he didn't say anything (what could he have said?).

the door opened once again, and price half-entered the room to wave kyle back out. he avoided your gaze, something he'd never done before. then you were alone again.

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moonstruckme · 6 months

Note

hi love!!! I love ur work sm!! could you perhaps write a Sirius black x fem!reader, but the reader is very masculine? and sirius is more feminine? and maybe rude comments are made towards the reader for this or smthn? sorry if this is a specific request, but this happened to me recently with my boyfriend so i hope it’ll make me feel better. Ty!! ❤️❤️

Hi gorgeous! I'm so sorry this happened to you, people can be such assholes. I know "don't let it get to you" is much easier said than done, but I hope you're able to keep doing you without thinking about them too much. Thanks for requesting <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 602 words

“Baby,” Sirius sighs, wiping under your eyes while you sniffle and try to act like your tears aren’t falling. “You can’t let them get to you like this, gorgeous.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” Your voice comes out bitter; Sirius tells himself it’s not aimed at him.

Sirius gnaws at his lip, taking a moment to look at you while you look at your lap, a stubborn dam of tears shining in your eyes. He wants desperately to make a joke, to make light of what’s happened in the way that always helps him get through these things, but he suspects that’s not what you need right now. You’d come home red-faced and ranting, but it hadn’t taken more than one word from Sirius for your angry facade to crumple. The protective ire that had propelled you home was faded, leaving behind a frustrated sort of hurt.

“I hope you don’t mean me,” Sirius says, shuffling closer to you on the couch so that his thigh is half atop yours. “I can take care of myself, sweetness. Trust me, you don’t need to be angry on my behalf.”

“I’m just—they called you—” Your face screws up in indignant fury, even as a new wave of tears breaks hot and fast down your cheeks. “I just don’t get why anybody thinks they know more than us about our relationship.”

Sirius blows out a breath. Any other time, he’d be the one fuming, but when it’s you that gets like this, it’s like calm rushes over him to balance you out. He doesn’t know how you do it most of the time; he much prefers being the one to rage. “But we know they have no idea what they’re talking about,” he reminds you. “It’s none of their fucking business, okay?”

You squeeze your eyes closed, probably trying to keep more tears at bay. When you open them, the fight seems to have gone out of you. Somehow, this is worse. Sirius’ chest aches for you.

“I know,” you say, softer now. Your hand comes up to hold his face, fingers weaving into his hair hardly an inch below the barrette keeping it out of his face, and Sirius can guess what those pricks said to you. About him. He’s not unused to comments on how he presents himself, but he can understand why you’ve gotten so upset; if someone said that sort of thing about you, he’d open his mouth to yell and flames would come bursting out.

“Hey,” he says. “You like the way you look, right? And you like the way I look?”

He bats his eyelashes at you when you glance up, and you smile just like he hoped you would. It’s a small, tired thing, but he’ll take it.

“Yeah,” you answer him.

“Good.” Sirius mirrors you, placing his hand on the side of your face. “Then if those fuckers want to say that you wear the pants, let ‘em.” He leans down, kissing the soft, ticklish spot underneath your jaw. “Pants are uncomfortable as hell. You can have them, honey.”

You’re laughing by the time he’s finished talking, and Sirius nips at you as you squirm away from him.

“But if you want to try and be more traditional, I could get on top for a change,” he says, holding you in place while you cackle and writhe. “What do you think, gorgeous? Want to satisfy those conservative pricks?”

“No,” you say, panting as you shove him off you. “No. I don’t want them affecting anything we do.”

Sirius grins. “That’s my girl. Let’s show ‘em, love.”

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ghouljams · 6 months

Note

My little poly heart is crying at your Alejandro and Rodolfo post 🥹

But it got me thinking…

Do you think, in your demon!darlings au, would Alejandro and Rodolfo share a demon darling? I can’t imagine them having separate ones.

I feel like it would be something with Ale earned a demon, and when Rodolfo found out, she just kind of got bound to him. None of them asked for it, but their happy with it nonetheless.

Even if they didn’t share, I feel like their demons would be inseparable just like the two of them.

OK YES I have ideas about Alejandro(and Rudy) in the demon au that are inspired by a waaaay old ask I've been holding onto because I love it but don't know what to do with it about Cadejos. Which is basically this:

Alejandro earns himself a demon, it's the loyalty that his men show him, his ruthless abilities in battle, it's also partially Hell going "yeah this guy will know what to do with one of these." Alejandro is smart, very smart, his demon shows up and he thinks the best course of action is integrating them into his ranks. Keep the demon close, but also visible. He doesn't like the idea of talking to shadows, and his demon doesn't see a need to hide if their summoner doesn't want them to. The problem: Rudy. Rudy is his right hand man, closer than a brother, he tells Rudy everything, shares everything with him. Of course Alejandro tells Rudy about the demon as soon as he gets them.

I think it's Rudy's idea to integrate the demon into their army, make the demon their third. It makes more sense for both of them to bring someone new into the fray. Then it's just... Well... They already share everything, and you have no issue being shared. As long as you're well fed and as long as Alejandro says it's alright you take orders from Rudy too. Now, for any other demon this could be tricky, but not you. What does Hell think Alejandro needs? More people he can trust, more fire power. I think Alejandro's demon can split in two, or maybe even more(I'm thinking Gemini for a callsign). So when the three of them are out in the field there's a demon on each other their shoulders.

Duplication magic is easy too, making more weapons, more ammunition, more money, more fuel, more people(although splitting themselves probably has a hard limit at two or three), and Alejandro is smart enough to make that work for him. Also I think it would be really funny for Ale and Rudy to show up to the 141's base with this new person that is clearly with them(in many different senses of the term) but was NOT there for MW2. Neither of them is mentioning it other than that you're trustworthy and- Oh no wait sorry you just whispered in Alejandro's ear that this place is crawling with demons, never mind the "normal human" act they can introduce you as a demon.

#ghoul speaks #x reader #cod x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro cod #alejandro x reader #rodolfo parra #rodolfo x reader #rudy x reader #rudy cod #demon!darlings au #cleaning out my ask box

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psychwxrdd · 3 months

Note

Hey! I’ve been wanting someone to do this idea for the longest time but could you please do Rafe and reader and trapped in singh’s hotel and they have to escape together? Like they hate each other but they’re forced to work together to escape!!

can you believe i was thinking about something like this these days? i loved it babe, not sure if that was what you wanted but i thought it would be cute like this

YOU?

summary: you have to work with rafe to escape singh's hotel, and it turned out you both have a lot in common.

warnings: none (possibly enemies to lovers someday?)

(gif is not mine)

"You're gonna act like a bitch the whole night? Seriously?" Rafe asked annoyed. As if you had any other choice.

"I'm not acting like a bitch, i just dislike you! And i'm being forced to stay here with you, so what did you expected?"

"As if i liked you!"

"None said that!"

"You think you're that much better than me? J- just chill out and don't bitch about it, i hate you just as much and i'm not complaining"

You sighed. That would be a long, long night.

And it was indeed, but not for Rafe. He slept like a baby, and you couldn't even close your eyes, thinking about how you would get out of this whole situation. You thought about breaking the window, it was so stupid, but you felt desperated. There weren't many options, any options to be honest.

You got ready for run against the window, when a hand grabbed your feet.

"What the hell are you DOING?" Rafe shouted.

"Watching The Goodfellas. What does it seem like i'm doing, dumb bitch" You tried to get rid of his hand, but he was an hell of a strong man.

"I'm serious right now Y/n, this is not a fucking play, he can kill you!" He said annoyed, pushing your arm to the bed.

"Don't touch me!"

"Look..." he got on his knees, raising his palms, trying to make you stay calm "I know you hate me, and i know you dont trust me and you're stressed, but so do i. And it would be much better if we could quit it just for tonight"

"Rafe, you're a murderer, you can't just expect me to sit here and look pretty while we're stuck, you think i'll wait on you for have a plan?"

"I'm not a murderer!" He said, panicking. Oh shit. "See it...you have done some questionable things to that i'm not throwing on your face!"

"I don't i ever-"

"God, shut up!" He shouted. You realized it was worthless to keep fighting, you both had the habit of running mouth around. Both stubborn. Both have a smart mouth.

"I'm sorry for yelling." He breathed. "But i really need you to listen to me."

For the first time, you did as Rafe told you to.

"See...I'm the only one you have now. And you're the only one i have. So we either trust each other and work on this or we're fucked"

You closed your eyes, running your hands through your face.

"Please..." he tried to put his hands on your knees, but you shifted and he stopped. "Just for tonight, or untill we leave this place. Lets forget about all outside, it's just us now"

You hated to say this, and you never imagined you would, but you had to agree with Rafe.

You stood up, sitting next to the door. Rafe stared at you in silence, and after a minute, he decided to sit by your side. Avoiding even looking at his direction.

His breath was heavy, you could tell he was anxious. You were anxious too. Who wouldn't be?

"I like your shirt" he said all of sudden. You laughed.

"Thank you?"

He nodded his head. You were wearing a Red Hot Chilli Peppers shirt.

"So you like Red Hot Chilli Peppers?"

You asked, your tone was almost cold, but you tried your best to be nice.

"Yeah, they're dope"

"Yeah"

You both stared at your own hands, awkwardly. But you couldn't hold your laugh for much more. And surprisingly, so did Rafe. You felt shocked by hearing his genuine laugh.

"You don't seem like the type to listen to them"

"Is there a type?" You raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, i thought you liked Taylor Swift or something."

You giggled.

"I do like her, too."

"What else?"

"Anything, i listen to quite literally anything."

Rafe nodded. Another brief silence.

"I like Kid Cudi"

"Yeah you look like you do"

He stared at you with a frown and you couldn't help but giggle.

"Whats that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you look like someone who listens to Kid Cudi."

"Right, is that good or bad?"

"Nothing wrong with that."

He smiled.

"I mostly started getting into the Chilli Peppers because i wanted to connect with my dad, you know" You admitted. He didn't asked, surely, it was out of pocket, but you just felt like saying. It was starting to feel slightly comfortable to talk to him.

"I get it"

You both stared at each other.

"Most of the things i do are for my dad's validation, so... Yeah i know where you're coming from" He sighed.

"I'm sorry about it."

Rafe bited his nails. You never noticed how handsome he was, but now staring, he was really cute. You wouldn't say handsome...He was still Rafe. Maybe he just looked beautiful at that moment, being the first time you actually had a conversation and he wasn't talking about how much he hated pogues or high and acting like a jerk. He was acting like a normal guy.

"Thanks. I'm sorry for you, too" He looked at you. He always thought you were the loveliest thing, but you were always such a brat. He always tried to talk to you and all you ever did was curse at him. If it wasn't for that, maybe you two could have more conversations. He would like that.

"You have any idea in mind?" You asked, softly.

"What?"

"You have any idea in mind already? About how we're gonna escape?"

"Uh..." He caressed his buzzcut.

"You know, if we just...break the window-"

"No"

"Okay" you raised your hands.

Rafe stared at them. And then at you. His eyes were running all your face, and you blushed a bit, feeling uncomfortable.

"Stop staring, weirdo"

"I get lost when i'm thinking. Sorry"

He stared at his own hands, again.

"We could call him and beat him up, so we can escape" you suggested. Rafe chuckled.

"Thats your plan?"

"We don't have any other do we?"

He sighed, agreeing. It was stupid. But he was strong, he could deal with that man.

"And what after that?"

"I don't know, didn't thought that much far"

"We can run to my boat. I'll take you home."

You stared at him and nodded slightly.

"But only you, not those pogue friends of yours"

"There he goes" you rolled your eyes.

#rafe cameron #outer banks #drew starkey #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe x reader #obx imagine

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

AITA for yelling at someone, making them cry, and indirectly making them loose their friends

This happened several years ago but it plays on my mind sometimes. Everyone in this story is 15/16 at the time, in our last year at secondary school, UK. (🏎️ for finding this)

Myself, my girlfriend at the time [F], my best friend [B], F's friend [D], and a few of our other mutual friends were hanging out at lunch break. There aren't enough chairs at the table so F and I leave to go get extra. I come back and nothing seems amis.

Adding in some context now. No one in this story is cishet. We were all painfully awkward queer teens who haven't figured ourselves out yet. So we were all bottom of the social ladder, very much 'losers'. Me and F were, to my knowledge, the only 'same sex' couple in school. So by this point I'm used to people constantly making remarks about our relationship, but that's usually from ppl I didn't know or care about.

D is the only person, at this point, at school who's openly trans and genderqueer. They got a lot of hate for it. A lot of people harassed them and they didn't have many friends. I think for transparency's sake I have to say, I didn't really like D, we just didn't jell, but I made an effort to be kind and include them bc it's hard being queer in secondary school and I'm not gonna add more hate to that when me not getting on with them was my issue not theirs. And as a fellow victim of bullying I wasn't gonna exclude them from our friend group

Back to the story. As soon as we're back in classes, B tells me that D leant over to them while me and F were gone and said that it's "so sad seeing A and [OP] together" because "I took F's first kiss" and "poor [OP]". I trusted B's word on this as at that point we'd been best friends for several years, they weren't a shit stirrer, and had no reason to lie. In fact, they were confused D even said that to them since they were barely friends and knew B was best friends with me and would tell me they said that.

Hearing this really annoyed me. While I knew F and D had dated in the past, that didn't and shouldn't have effected mine and F's relationship in any way. And they'd been broken up well before I knew either of them. It's none of D's business who F kisses, and it's a shitty idea that because they'd dated before their later relationship first didn't mean as much. It felt very much like a dick thing to think never mind say about me and F. Also, B was my best friend, who did D get off to shit talking me to my best friend?

Anyway. Usually at the end of the day, several of us walked home together, and this group included D. I get to the spot we usually wait first and when I see D I confront them. I ask them why they'd say that and if they've got a problem with me. They don't deny saying it or really explain themself at all, they just look guilty. At first I kept calm. I knew D was F's friend and I didn't want to put a wedge in their friendship because of any issue I had with D. But, I keep asking why they did that, and if they've got something against me. If they're gonna shit talk me yanno. Then D starts crying.

I know it probably shouldn't have but this made me really mad. So I start yelling at them, saying something along the lines of 'so you're going to be an asshole to me and then you're gonna start crying?' and 'you started this, why are you crying?'. They start saying something along the lines of 'I didn't mean it like that' so I ask how did you mean it? And that they knew it wasn't something fine to say, because they said it behind my back and not to my face.

By this point, other people are watching, some of which were our mutual friends. I keep demanding they explain themself or at least apologize to me, but instead they run off crying. I don't follow them. If they're going to remove themself from the situation then fine.

People start asking what the hell that was about and I explain briefly to the people I knew and told the people I didn't to mind their own business. Someone I don't know tells me Ds gone to the head of year and I tell them I don't care, let them, I didn't do anything wrong. (This later amounts to nothing as no teacher ever comes to speak to me about this, so I doubt D did go to the head of year at all)

Eventually the people who were curious about what happened leave. All of the group who walk home together show up, including F. I explain to F what happened and they're upset that D said that about me, but wasn't happy to hear that D left crying.

For the rest of the school year, D ends up avoiding me. Literally staying out of my way, moving if I even glanced over at them. I thought they were overreacting. I never threatened them, and they were the one who chose to be an asshole first. I felt they were making this much more than it needed to be by avoiding it all together. We barely had an argument before they left, but anyone would have thought I'd attacked them or something. But because I obviously was always around F, D didn't have anyone to hang out with anymore. F was their only real friend and their other sort of friends were in our friend group.

No one told them they couldn't hang out with us anymore. (I'm pretty sure because they started avoiding me, I never ended up speaking to them again.) I know they still spoke to F still, but it seemed like their friendship was heavily damaged by it all.

D later ended up dropping out and finishing the school year through home schooling. I believe this was in large part due to the harassment they got for being genderqueer openly. (I remember on several occasions standing up for D and telling people to stop being transphobic assholes behind Ds back after this argument happened. Just because we didn't get along doesn't mean was gonna let that shit slide.)

I feel like I could be the asshole because due to this whole situation, D stopped hanging around their friends and through that lost a lot of the support they had. And obviously, I did make them cry.

On the other hand, no one stopped them from hanging out with their friends. They chose to avoid me and the situation. A situation they started by being a dick to me with zero provoking. They never apologized or recanted what they said. It's hard to feel bad that they lost their friends because they were being a shitty friend

Luckily, from what I know from friends of friends, D is doing better now and is around ppl who support them

This got a lot longer than I wanted but I believe I got all the details in there.

So, wita?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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alyswritings · 1 year

Text

Kook Boyfriend

Request: could i request like jj maybank and sister!reader gets a kook boyfriend and jj is telling her she shouldn’t be with him but she says she loves him then he cheats on her ?

JJ Maybank x sister!reader

Summary: JJ doesn't trust his sister dating a kook.

Warnings: cheating

a/n: thank you for the request! hope you all enjoy!

(gif not mine)

"Are you fucking insane?"

Y/N rolls her eyes at JJ's question, dropping her head back onto the couch.

"JJ." She heavily sighs, tired of arguing with him about this.

"No. Really. A kook?" JJ asks. "You're dating a fucking kook?"

"Yes." She lets out a deep exhale.

"And you didn't tell me for five months?!"

"Because I knew you would react like this!"

"No, shit, Y/N! He's a fucking kook! You know he's just gonna dump you sooner or later!"

"No, he won't!" Y/N argues.

"Okay, guys, how about--" John B tries to intervene.

"Shut up!" Both siblings yell at him.

"Yep." John B mumbles, sharing a look with the others. None of them are super pleased with the idea of Y/N dating a kook, but JJ is the most upset about it.

"Look, JJ, it's my life. So your opinion doesn't really fucking matter. If I wanna date him, I'll date him!" Y/N declares.

"No. No, I-- I am forbidding it." JJ says.

"Oh, Jesus." Kie mumbles, rolling her eyes.

"Forbidding it?" Y/N asks and JJ nods. "You can't forbid me to date, JJ. This isn't the 17th fucking century or something." She says.

"I can lock you in a bedroom."

"Oh, yeah? For how long?"

"Until you get some fucking sense knocked into you."

"JJ, I'm dating him. I love him!"

"Oh, please! You're, like, fifteen. How the hell do you know what being in love is?" JJ asks.

"What? Cause you'd know any better?" Y/N asks.

"I know I wouldn't fall in love with a fucking kook!" JJ exclaims.

"Well, good for you! Not all of them completely suck, JJ!"

"Yes, they do!"

"Um, hello?" Sarah speaks up, motioning between her and Kie.

"You two don't count." JJ says.

"Why not? They're kooks. They don't suck. They totally count." Y/N argues.

"Okay, well, they're girls. Girls are lot less toxic than guys." JJ says.

"That's debatable." Kie comments.

"Yeah, it's more of a person thing, not really a gender thing." Pope says.

"Okay, well, trying to forbid me from dating someone is toxic. You can't control me, JJ!" Y/N shouts.

"I'm just trying to look out for you! He's gonna hurt you sooner or later!" JJ exclaims.

"You don't know that!"

"He's a kook! Of course he will!"

"Yeah, well, fuck you!" Y/N shoves him and storms out of the chateau.

"That went well." John B comments.

"Shut up." JJ glares at him.

- - -

Y/N climbs up the fence that leads to her boyfriend's room. It's been a week since her fight with JJ and they haven't talked to each other at all. Y/N stopped hanging out with the pogues somewhat since she knows they'll just try to talk to her about the fight and the kook.

Y/N gets up to the window that's already open and she quietly climbs in. Once she's on the floor, she looks up, freezing at the sight.

There, on the bed, sits her boyfriend and a girl that Y/N knows is a kook, practically sucking each others' faces off. Y/N stands frozen for a few moments, knocking out of her shocked state a few moments later.

"What the fuck?!" She exclaims making the two jump apart.

"Y/N." Her boyfriend's face pales. "I-- it-- it's not what it looks like." He says.

"Then what the fuck is it?" Y/N asks.

"It... it's-- well, it's..." He stammers. "Babe, look."

"No. No, I'm not your fucking babe." She says, backing away from his touch. "Fuck you."

"Y/N, come on. Let's just--" He's cut off as Y/N slaps him hard enough, his head spins to the side.

"Fuck you. We're over." Y/N seethes. "Have a nice life." She grumbles, crawling back out the window.

"Y/N." He tries, but she only flips him off before climbing back down the side of the house.

- - -

Y/N is sitting on the couch on the porch of the chateau. It's late at night and a bit chilly out so she has a blanket covering her legs. Her legs are pulled up to her chest and she's wearing one of the guys' hoodies since it was the first thing she found that would keep her warm.

She got home a couple of hours ago, having spent most of the afternoon just walking around, not wanting to face her friends and definitely not wanting to face her brother.

She snuck into the house and found John B asleep, but the others weren't there. So Y/N grabbed a blanket and a hoodie and stepped outside, deciding to do her crying on the porch so she had a smaller chance of waking her friend up.

Y/N hears a car drive up and glances up to see the Twinkie. She quickly wipes her eyes, trying to act like she wasn't crying. She keeps her gaze down as she hears JJ get out of the car and walk up to the house.

JJ walks onto the porch, stopping when he spots his sister on the couch.

"Hey." He says.

"Hi." She mumbles.

"What, uh... what are you doing here?" JJ asks.

"Well, didn't really wanna risk going to our actual house." Y/N comments.

"Right." JJ mumbles. "Why are you outside?"

"Wanted some air." She says, shrugging.

JJ almost accepts the answer, except for having the feeling that something's actually wrong. He walks closer, going to walk inside, but when he glances back over at her, he finally notices the tear streaks on her face.

"Are you crying?" He asks.

"No." She denies, but her voice cracks.

"Y/N, what happened?" JJ asks, walking closer to her.

"Nothing. I'm fine." Y/N insists.

"Y/N, come on, what happened?" JJ asks.

"I told you. Nothing." Y/N says.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I'm not."

"Well, you were."

"It's nothing, JJ." Y/N says.

"Come on, just tell me. Please." JJ pleads.

Y/N huffs, glancing up at him.

"You can say "I told you so."" Y/N says.

"What?" JJ asks.

"You were right. He broke my heart. So-- so gloat all you want, throw a whole fucking party. Whatever. Have a blast." Y/N says.

It takes a moment before realization hits JJ.

"Y/N, I... I didn't want you to get hurt. I'm sorry." JJ says and Y/N scoffs.

"No, you're not. You got proven right. He's a kook and he's a dick. Your standard of them holds up." Y/N says.

"Y/N, I'm serious. I didn't want you to get hurt. I was just trying to help you not get hurt. I didn't want you to get hurt." JJ says.

"Whatever. Just leave me alone." Y/N says.

"Y/N--"

"Leave me alone." She states, her voice firmer.

JJ frowns, but doesn't argue. He walks back over to the door and goes to open it. He looks back over at her and his heart breaks when he sees her tears have resumed and her hand is over her mouth to muffle her cries.

JJ forgets about listening to her as he quickly makes his way over to her. JJ pulls her into a hug and that's when Y/N lets herself just completely fall apart. JJ keeps her in a tight hold, doing his best to comfort her.

Taglist: @glxwingrxse @venomsvl @wildieflower @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @itsmaneskinbitch @ironmaiden1313

#jj maybank #jj maybank x sister!reader #obx #outer banks #obx jj #outer banks jj

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intimacyequalsdeath · 2 years

Text

You're My Girl (Patrick Hockstetter x Reader)

My IT obsession has been reignited. Specifically my obsession with the Bowers gang. This is an idea I have been sitting on for awhile and I hope you guys enjoy! (This is also the first fic trying out a new format in the top section here so lemme know what you think)

Trigger Warnings: None

Notes: Somewhat out of character Patrick Hockstetter.

"Patrick what the fuck?" I asked him as I opened my window.

I had gotten woken up by him throwing pebbles at my window at 2am on a school night and was absolutely not happy with him.

"What?" He shrugged "How else was I supposed to wake you up?" He asked nonchalantly, I groaned and rolled my eyes.

"Maybe you could have waited until tomorrow after school and not at 2 in the morning" I seethed through gritted teeth, Patrick laughed at this.

"Get dressed" he demanded

"Excuse me?"

"I said get dressed, the boys and I are going to the quarry and I told them you would come with" He said. I sighed, knowing full well I would rather go to the quarry with my boyfriend and his idiot friends then have to listen to my parents argue when my dad finally gets home from his graveyard shift with Butch Bowers.

I peered down at the lanky boy standing in my backyard and nodded

"Give me five" I said before turning back into the room to get dressed.

Once dressed I climbed down the lattice my dad had put up last summer for my moms plants, and hopped down in front of Patrick himself. The kids at school couldn't believe I had began dating Patrick Hockstetter, especially that I had chosen to date him voluntarily.

We have been together 2 years and still get strange looks, especially from the "Losers club", I don't mind though, it may sound cliché as all hell but Patrick is different with me then he is with everyone else, According to him it's because I'm "Real" though I am never 100 percent sure what he means when he says that.

Patrick wrapped his lanky arms around my waste and pulled me in for a kiss, and Patrick being Patrick he shoved his tongue into my mouth, at this point I had accepted that Patrick Hockstetter does not kiss "Normally".

"Yeah, because we came all this way to watch you guys suck face" Said a very peeved Henry Bowers from his place leaning on the Trans am.

Patrick pulled away and flipped him the bird.

"Don't be jealous Bowers" He snickered, throwing an arm around me and leading me to join the rest of the boys at Belch's car.

Henry scoffed and rolled his eyes as he got into his usual shotgun seat in the front. Vic and Belch snickered as they joined henry in the car, Patrick opened his side door and stepped out of the way so I could slide in between him and Vic.

"Malady" He said dramatically bowing and putting his hand out to help me into the car, I giggled and slid in next to Vic. Patrick got in and immediately gathered me in his arms to place me in my usual spot of his lap. Not that he doesn't trust Vic, he just likes to show what's his to any possible passing members of the Losers club as it is well known that quite a few might have a crush on me.

Belch follow the all too familiar roads of Derry until we reached the quarry. The boys one by one piled out of Amy, I went to get out but Patrick grabbed my arm halting me in place until he climbed out of the car.

"What are we even doing here at 2am?" I asked him, The loosers club would all be at home in bed by now along with most of the rest of the town so I didn't see much of a point. Patrick shrugged while closing the car door.

"It was the only time Henry could escape his old man, and all of us were awake anyway so we figured why not" I was almost shocked.

"Wow, the big bad Bowers' gang finally isn't fueled by the thought of bullying little kids" I teased him, He rolled his eyes as we followed the rest of the gang to the edge of the cliff.

We had all been at the quarry for maybe an hour when I heard another car pull up, I turned my focus away from Patrick and the gang and noticed what appeared to be a police car in the darkness.

"Hey hen?" I asked getting nervous.

"Yeah Y/n?" Henry answered, not noticing what I was seeing yet.

"Isn't that your old man?" I asked as I watched a figure get out of the car and make his way over to us, as the figure got closer it was obvious that it was Butch Bowers.

All the boys attention snapped to where I was looking as Butch approached us.

"Well, Well" He started when he was close enough "Look what we have here, It's 3 am on a school night, you kids should be at home" He said looking at Henry "Especially you" I heard him say under his breath when he got close enough to Henry.

Patrick had moved me slightly behind him silently hoping Butch wouldn't notice me, My dad worked with him on the force and surely he would go blabbing off about me hanging around his son and his friends. Patrick also knew what kind of man Butch was and didn't want me anywhere near him.

Butch continued to walk towards us to get closer when I heard his footsteps stop.

"Y/LN?" I heard him question, Shit. I stepped out from behind Patrick so he could see me but I still had the barrier.

"Yes sir?" I asked him, Through the darkness I could see a sick smile stretch across his face.

"Wait until your old man hears about you being out here with four boys at night" He snickered

"She's my girlfriend sir" Patrick spoke up "Not some whore" I nudged Patrick to get him to shut up, Butch Bowers was not one to be talked back too and I didn't want the already bad situation to worsen.

"What was that boy?" Butch asked, getting in Patrick's face, Patrick squared his shoulders and made direct eye contact with Butch.

"Patrick lets just go" I pleaded with him, really not wanting him to get into a fight with Butch Bowers of all people.

"You should listen to her, All you kids should take your asses home and don't let me catch any of you out here this late again" Butch commanded stepping back from Patrick and glancing to Henry.

"Except you boy, You're riding home with me" He said to him before turning back to his Cruiser, I sent Henry a sad glance as he followed behind his father.

Patrick, Belch, Vic and me all briskly walked back to the trans am and piled in. On the way back to our respective houses we were silent, Henry's empty seat being loud enough for all of us, even Patrick was quiet. When we pulled up to my house I got out and then motioned for Patrick to follow, he looked surprised at this.

"My dad won't be back until later this morning, Please pats" I begged, He smiled and nodded following me out of the car and into the house. After what happened with Butch I didn't want to be alone, Belch pulled off as we entered the dark house, He followed me upstairs and right into my bed after getting comfortable, he wrapped his arms around me and I laid my head on his chest.

"You don't have to worry about Butch Bowers baby" He whispered as my eyes were slowly shutting as I drifted off, "I won't let anyone touch you ever, You're my girl"

#patrick hockstetter #slasher x reader #patrick hocksetter x reader #patrick hockstetter x reader #it chapter one #bowers gang #henry bowers #victor criss #belch huggins

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secretdiaryofcrowley · 1 month

Text

Where we left off:

Nina, purveyor of coffee, whirling into the scene like a thunderstorm, woke our hero from his precious sleep (and a weird dream) to give him - me - another telling-off.

She's quite scary when she's angry. Not demon scary, but most definitely human scary.

"Do you even understand how all of this affects Maggie?" I'm not surprised at the burst of emotion in her voice as she says the name.

"She's been worried sick about you! Trying to write to you, trying to call you, and some days even waiting by your car for you to wake up, so she could make sure you're all right."

"I'm not." How does she even find me? I drive around and park the Bentley in different places every couple of days.

"We KNOW. Do you think none of us has gone through breakup before?"

Well, maybe you have. I certainly haven't. I don't do relationships and I have no idea how to process this. Except for drinking, sleeping and curling up in a little snake ball of pain.

"Of course it's bad. It hurts like hell..."

Worse. Speaking from experience here.

"... and you have every right to be sad and mopey and angry, but stop shutting out your friends. Talk to us! At least let us know where you are and what's going on."

"I don't have friends. Never wanted friends. Completely friendless person, me."

She sighs. "Yes, you're a devil and you're evil, blah blah blah, real man solves his problems on his own. Heard all of that before, except maybe the devil part. But you've got to realize that your actions have consequences for others. You're not alone in this world."

But I am.

I've always been alone. For 6000 years on this godforsaken planet, doing the bidding of my ridiculous headoffice and trying not to go completely insane. Using every excuse to be close to my angel and every excuse not to get too close, so we wouldn't be in trouble. Missing him after every encounter, every meeting, every conversation. Sometimes positively yearning for his presence, but never ever being able to act on it.

Because that's just the way things are.

I was alone the last time I hit rock bottom. Healing one step at a time, slowly piecing myself together after my 33 years of torture. Because I allowed myself to save one human soul and got caught at it. One. Single. Human. Soul.

No good deed goes unpunished.

I never had anyone to talk to because angels are my enemies, demons are my rivals and humans wouldn't be able to shoulder all this bullshit that's been going on with me. And God doesn’t answer to any of us.

And yet, Nina has the nerve to come here, shake me awake and tell me that I'm not alone? That I’m supposed to 'talk about it'? Throw overboard all my harshly earned survival skills because now apparently, I have friends?

No, absolutely not. I don't make 'friends' with other people. It's not something demons - the word is demon, not devil - do. You can stop pretending to care now and walk away.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she throws my very own words back at me. “For once in your life trust somebody!”

~ * ~

More Diary Parts

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable idiots #nina and maggie #nina gives crowley a pep talk #crowley is a little snek ball of pain

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leiawritesstories · 7 months

Note

throne of glass twitter/instagram/influencers fic? love your work!!💞

🥰🥰🥰 awwwww thank you!! i LOVE this concept omg let's see what the brain decides to crank out...

word count: ~1k

warnings: none?

enjoy!!

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

Aelin threw her hands into the air in exasperation. "What do you mean, my numbers are dropping? I've been watching the charts myself, I'm not an idiot." She quieted for a moment, listening to the person on the other end of the call. "Yes, Lys, I know my content hasn't changed in a while. The hell do you want me to do about that?"

"Shake shit up, Ae," Lysandra returned. The sharp-tongued woman had been Aelin's manager for almost four years now, and while Aelin was indebted to Lys's expertise, she wasn't afraid to call her out on what she gracefully called her "buzzword bullshit."

"And just what brilliant thing are you going to suggest that I do to 'shake shit up,' my dear and very wise manager?" Aelin drawled.

Lys snorted a laugh. "I think it's time for a boyfriend reveal."

"Absolutely not. You know how Rowan feels about being on my social media. I'm not going to violate his trust like that."

"I'm not saying it has to be a full reveal," Lys clarified. "I just think you should consider posting some kind of reveal that you, the famously single power woman who only loves her book boyfriends, has a special someone in her life."

Aelin considered her manager's idea. "That's....well, that's not as terrible as some of your ideas have been." She chuckled at Lys's playful scoff. "I'll talk to Rowan, see what he thinks. Bye!" She waited for Lys to say goodbye and then ended the call and flung her phone across the room, landing it on her plush, pale grey sofa.

Rowan strolled out from the office, where he'd probably been watching her animated phone call through the glass doors. "What's wrong, love?"

"Fuckin' everything," she grumbled.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest in comfort. "What specifically has you all frustrated, Ae?"

"You're too perceptive," she huffed, but a half smile curled her lips. "I... Lys told me my engagement numbers are flattening, and I love my audience and don't want them to be bored with me." She blew out a sigh. "Lys thinks I should do some kind of relationship reveal, because that shit spikes numbers like crazy."

"Do you think it's a good idea?" Rowan sat down on the couch, tugging Aelin with him.

"As an idea? Yeah, it's a great idea, and it's worked for literally every other influencer who's every posted about their relationships." She twisted the ring around her left middle finger. "As an idea for me? I'm not so sure. I won't make you do anything you're not interested in doing, and I know how you feel about being on my pages."

"What if I agreed?"

Aelin's jaw dropped. She pulled away from Rowan's side and faced him, her stunned gaze scanning his face for any sign that this was some kind of prank. "What?!"

He chuckled. "Let me explain. Yes, I heard you and Lys on the phone, but you knew that." She laughed softly and nodded. "Here's the thing. I don't want my image to be splashed all over the internet. However, if you're willing to agree, I'm okay with little pieces of us being out there."

She raised a brow. "Can you explain what you mean by 'little pieces of us?'"

"Like this." He grabbed her phone, swiped to the camera, and took a photo of their shoes lined up by the front door. "Little things--bits of our home but definitely not all of it, things like a close-up of our hands or matching outfits or something. Basically, I don't want my whole self in photos that you post, but I'm okay with the world knowing that you're mine."

"So possessive," she teased. She settled back down onto the couch, took her phone from his hand, opened to her notes app, and started typing ideas. "I'm honestly a little uncertain that I'm not dreaming, but yes, I agree to your terms."

"So formal," he teased, poking her in the side.

She yelped and scooted away from his wicked fingers. "Ro!" He grinned and held up his hands in surrender, and she relaxed. "You're absolutely sure about this?"

"I am." He laced his tattooed fingers with her ringed ones, stroking his callused thumb over her knuckles. "Call me a caveman all you want, but I'm ready to tell the world you're mine."

"Caveman," she snickered. Swiftly, almost without thinking, she picked up her phone, swiped to the camera, and captured a few different photos of her and Rowan's intertwined fingers, the aesthetically pleasing contrast of his tan, tattooed skin against her pale, silver-ringed fingers and manicured nails. Humming with satisfaction, she showed him her favorite photo. "What do you think?"

He swept a brief, appraising glance over the picture on her phone. "I think it's perfect." Smoothly, he rolled them over so she was half-sprawled on the couch and his arms were caging her in in the best possible way. "Why don't you go ahead and post it, and then we'll see how long I can keep you from checking your notifications?"

"Are you calling me addicted?" Aelin faked a dramatic gasp. "Why, how could you?"

Rowan chuckled. "Hardly, love. I'm just remarking that you're always glued to your phone right after you post, and I can think of a few ways to keep you...relaxed."

She smirked in that slow way that always set his blood afire. "What if I don't want to relax?"

"Then I'll wear you out."

Heat raced between her legs. "Rowan?"

"Hmm?" His hand--which had been inching steadily up her thigh--stilled. "Talk to me, love."

She exhaled deeply. "I...I need you to tell me yes one more time before I post this."

Quietly, firmly, Rowan reached over, locked his steady emerald eyes on her, and tapped the post button with his own finger.

Swiftly, Aelin put her phone on "do not disturb," turned off the screen, and tossed it onto the side table. "Ro?"

"Yes?"

Taking his hand, she settled it squarely between her legs. "I'm stressed about that post, love. I want to relax."

"That's my good girl," he murmured into her neck.

Then he stood, lifted her effortlessly into his arms, strode down the hallway to their bedroom, and kicked the door shut with a resounding slam.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #drabble #answered prompt #kinda a drabble lmao #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin the influencer au #and rowan the insta boyfriend #and lysandra the manager #we love a supportive man #influencer au #except idk how to write influencers #lmaooooo #fluff #fluffy little drabble fic #surprise it's fluff!!!

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intestinalemphasis · 2 months

Text

So I'm making a story now.

Blaming @lesbianoms for sorta planting this concept in my brain. This one's made for you, you wonderful human! Enjoy!

Sweet-Tooth Manor

Pt. 1

(F/F story, semi-NSFW?? Mostly foxy stuff. EVENTUALLY but not here yet: non-fatal vore, painless digestion, reformation)

A brief, shitty synopsis of idea: young femme meets middle-aged rich classy woman, and becomes her, ah, "plaything" at home...of the voracious sort.

Odette was enamored with this place. The atmosphere, the people, the blooming gardens spread vast and wide across the rolling hillside. It was simply breathtaking.

"You must have a very fine taste." Said a voice from nearby. Odette looked around, finding a tall, elegantly dressed older woman sitting at one of the metal dining tables outside. She sat cross-legged in a deep red dress, a cigarette between her manicured fingers.

"Oh, I don't mean to intrude, dear," she said, "I just had to tell you how much I admire your physique, your style."

"Oh, thank you!" Odette said, "I don't really dress this fancy most of the time, it's just this place is so beautiful, I wanted to look at least a little bit like I'd fit in with it..."

"Oh don't be so modest, honey, you look absolutely ravishing," the older woman said, flicking the butt of her cigarette off into the ashtray. "Come, sit."

Obediently, Odette walked over to sit with the compelling woman. She was even taller close up, more than a head higher even while they were sitting down. And in heels of all things, too! She must've been one hell of an iconic figure in town.

"Forgive me, where are my manners. I haven't even asked your name."

"Odette," She replied, "my name is Odette."

"Oh what a lovely name. Just like-"

"Swan Lake, yes." She finished. The amount of times she'd heard that...

"All the more reason you're such a dazzle, darling. Trust me, I'd kill to be able to pull off that young, naive charm again..."

Odette smiled – a thin, humble-but-not-all-too-convinced-of-herself smile that she'd practiced giving in return to any form of compliment. The woman sitting across from her seemed to frown, noticing her cover.

"I do mean it, you know." She added, with a little smile of her own. The bright red lipstick almost made it appear devious.

'You mean which part?' Odette almost said, as she contemplated her last words. She was stopped in her tracks, however, by the way the older - and impressively tall - woman turned in her seat to look her straight in the eye.

She looked the young woman up and down: long hair tied back in a ribbon, flowery sundress with modest sleeves, and a youthful, springlike aura which seemed to surround her. Yes. She would do quite nicely, she thought. Quite nicely indeed.

"I don't usually ask this of people this soon," she began, "ordinarily, I like to have a drink or two first, let things wander where they ought to before I make any propositions. But you've..." - she made a popping sound with her lips - "...let's just say, you've piqued my interest. I admire your modesty even in your sheer beauty."

"Oh?" Odette asked, curious.

"I can see that whimsical sparkle in your eye. You long to live in this kind of a place, no?"

"it's been my dream for all my life," she said, "this village, the people who inhabit it...I am so deeply connected with it, and it means so much to me."

"So you might be open to this proposal, then, I take it?"

"What proposal?"

The older woman leaned forward on her elbows, twirling the end of her cigarette in her hand. "How would you like to stay here, in the villa, under contract of a...business venture, I'd like to offer to you?"

Odette blinked, her big brown eyes appearing to the mistress like that of a mother doe's in the woods. She was slow to respond, either thinking too many things, or none at all. Finally, she nodded softly. As though the concept was equally intriguing and intimidating.

"I'd love to be able to stay here, yes. But I'm curious...What's this of your business venture?"

"Oh come now, the evening is still so young," the woman said, "we have all night to catch up on these things, back in my quaint little hillside manor."

"Of course, yes," Odette said, smiling more genuinely now. "That sounds quite lovely, I look forward to learning about it."

"I have a feeling you'll be just suited for the job..." The woman said.

"Forgive me, where are my manners." Odette added in, "I still have not even asked your name."

The woman smiled, chuckling softly. "No worries, dear. Most people only ever refer to me as the Mistress. Sometimes theirs, sometimes not. But I like you, especially so. Mmm...I think so, yes. You can call me Edith."

The way the woman smiled, Odette was unsure whether to feel enamored, honored, or slightly unsettled.

#v0re #; vore #v.ore #; vore story #wlw vore

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everydayyoulovemeless · 11 months

Note

I don't know if you're doing requests, but I recently downloaded Tumblr again and happen to stumble across your account when looking through fallout stuff.

but, my request would be an (sfw, fluff) overboss reader x porter gage. but, here's the twist: the reader could be 16 or 17 years of age. obviously having a child as an overboss of three raider groups could never end well, but the reader knows how to hold their own; they're tough, reliable and gage gives them a chance as the overboss of nuka world, since they were able to take down colter.

the location of this one-shot would be in kiddy kingdom, after the reader convinces gage to go with them (without explaining why). the power in nuka world would be on, so the rides would be active.

could it be that the reader somehow convices gage to ride with them on one of the rides? e.i. the carousel, the spinning cars, Farris wheel, etc. gage could secretly enjoy this, but when they finally leave kiddy kingdom, the cherry on top would definitely be him saying, "listen, boss, if you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you myself."

this is completely random, and I'm unsure if you still write, but I thought this was a cute idea!

Kiddie Kingdom ↠ Platonic!Gage x Teen!Reader

➼ Word Count » 1.0k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Summary » Reader takes Gage to ride the Ferris Wheel in Kiddie Kingdom. ➼ A/N » This is so cute! I love fluffy Gage moments <33

There weren't many people who had any hope of taking over the park once you were elected to be their new overboss. There was a lot of risk in giving all the power to some kid who just happened to win against Colter. You couldn't blame them, after all, you weren't all too sure what you were doing when you first showed up either, but you were smart and picked up on what needed to be done early on. People eventually began relying on you, and you always came through, soon enough winning the trust and loyalty of most.

“Hey, Gage, I'm headed out to Kiddie Kingdom, did you wanna come with?” You called out as you rummaged through your trunk up in the Fizztop Grille.

“What the hell are you plannin’ on doin’ all the way out there? We cleared it didn’t we?”

“You coming or not?” You asked, moving to take your place on the elevator.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll come, just gimme a second.”

Taking over the park wasn't as easy as you originally thought it'd be, especially since you had to do most of the heavy lifting, but as you walked down the dirt paths of Nuka-Town, seeing the place brought back to its former glory, all the work you accomplished felt worth it.

“Hey, boss, do I slack off on my job?" One of the Disciples called out as you and Gage passed by.

“No?” You answered, not entirely sure how to respond. It wasn't like you had files on all of your grunts, you had no idea who this guy even was.

“I told ya!” He said, hitting the other's shoulder with his hand, “Thanks, boss!”

The whole place was much more lively now that you had the power back up and running. The flashing carnival lights made everything seem brighter and more exciting. You preferred the newer atmosphere to the previous one. It was way too devoid of color and you liked how the raiders now all seemed full of wonder at everything they spotted.

"You gonna tell me why we're goin' here, or are ya just gonna keep me in the dark?" Gage glanced down at you, his rifle held firmly in his hands as he followed.

"You'll see," You spoke, "just be patient."

"Come on now, just spit it out." He pressed, "I feel like I'm walkin' into a trap."

You giggled, "Quit whining, we'll be there soon enough."

There was something so charming about the child-like aesthetics of the Kiddie Kingdom blending with the rustic horrors of the apocalypse. The bright colors and welcoming decorations added much to the impending danger that awaited behind the arches. You remember it feeling so enchanting when you and Gage first stepped foot inside the park's walls—like a Brothers Grimm fairytale.

You made a beeline to the Ferris Wheel once it came into view, "Well, hop on Gage."

"There ain't anythin' that could convince me to get on that giant deathtrap, boss." The raider retorted, "No offense, but that thing looks like it's gonna fall apart any second now."

"Come on," You said, sliding into the seats closest to the ground, "It'll be fun."

"I'm not gettin' on it."

"You followed me all the way out here, you might as well just go on one loop with me. Just press that button there and get on."

That seemed to have convinced him as he rolled his eyes, pressed the button, and slid into the capsule across from you, pulling down the handrails to keep either of you from falling out.

The heavy machinery slowly began to lift you both into the air, swaying and groaning as it did, making its age evident. It went slowly, pausing suddenly at certain moments due to it being so ancient. Gage noticeably tensed whenever it froze like that, gripping the handles with incredible force only for the ride to continue its route upward.

You were both about the same height as the castle when the ride came to a full stop, allowing you to peer out at the rest of the park.

Gage's ragged breaths continuously broke the silence, "You sure it's supposed to stop like this?"

"Yeah, I'm sure it's fine." You dismissed, waving away his concerns, "Look! You can see Fizztop Mountain!"

"That ain't nothin' special, you can see it from just 'bout anywhere in the park."

You undid your restraints and stood to better see everything, causing the capsule to sway and Gage to reach out and pull you back down into your seat.

"Knock that off! You tryin' to get us killed?"

You rolled your eyes, "Calm down, Gage, this thing's stable enough."

The look in his eye told you he didn't believe you, but he didn't argue, just strapped the bar back over your torso.

The Ferris Wheel then sparked back to life and slowly started to bring the two of you back to the ground, threatening to break at every creak and groan, until you were brought back to solid ground again.

You climbed out, jumping around excitedly at the thought of being so high up. "Ah! That was so fun! We should go on another one sometime!"

"Yeah, don't count on it."

"You can't tell me you didn't enjoy it a little bit." You said, walking quickly to keep up with Gage as he made his way back to Nuka-Town.

He couldn't hide the small grin that made its way onto his face, "No, I hated that. Felt we were gonna fall at any minute."

You only gave him a knowing glance and a doubtful hum as you clasped your hands behind your back before he finally stopped walking. “Listen, boss, if you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you myself.”

You snickered before saluting him, “Sure thing, Gage. I doubt anyone would believe me anyway.” And with that, you both started toward the Fizztop Grille again, certain that you'd be able to get him on another ride someday.

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