#I spent WAY too long on the eye thing just for it to be like. a second long
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"can i call you later?"
the wind bites at your cheeks, but the sting you feel is as much from the smile on your face as it is from the chill.
"dunno," you muse, pursing your lips as though you're contemplating the question deeply. "can you?"
rintarou groans, but the sound isn't half as plaintive as it ought to be. you watch as his head hangs down defeatedly where his frame is folded over the railing that lines the front of the train station, his body pitched forward over the barrier like he's trying to reach you on the other side.
you've been saying goodbye for the past twenty minutes—or, you've been trying to. sort of. maybe. the train you'd planned to catch has already come and gone, and the next is set to soon arrive. one more and it will be the last of the night, but not even knowing that fact seems to be moving you closer towards the door to the station—content to stay here, like this, as the wind of the late fall night nips at your cheeks and the two of you muddle through your goodbye with the inelegance of two people who couldn't be less committed to it if they tried.
rintarou lifts his head to meet your gaze.
"i mean it, though." he says. "can i call you tonight?"
your stomach flips when he looks at you this way. when he keeps looking at you this way.
"we just spent hours together," you remind him, but your words are too breathy to make impact. too elated to be reproachful.
you've been on three dates with rintarou now. you think they're dates anyway, though it's never explicitly been stated. his invitations are always casual, sandwiched in between all the other texts he sends to you these days, so you might be reading into things too closely for your own good. but dinner doesn't just feel like dinner when rintarou has this way of looking at you like you're the only person he's ever laid his eyes on.
"i know," he answers. it's not an explanation, or an excuse, or even an apology. it's plain acceptance. a shamelessness you find wretchedly endearing.
you glance back at the station behind you, biting the inside of your cheek to temper your delight.
"my train is coming," you say.
he looks a bit crestfallen. laughably glum, considering the circumstances.
you drag the heel of your shoe back ever so slightly, not quite a step—at least not in any meaningful way—but inching in the direction of the doors at a glacial pace. continental drift seems positively hasty in comparison to your retreat.
"bye," he calls, his tone dejected. you watch as he lifts his hand weakly, still slumped over the railing, and waves at you with only a few fingers raised.
you want to laugh, but your chest is so full of something else—something syrupy and fluttering and good—that it's like there's no space for it underneath your ribs.
you call back to him just before you step into the station.
"rintarou—"
there are other people around, stepping between and around you both—rushing into the station to escape the cold, or moving briskly as they brace themselves and step out into it—but you hardly notice them when your eyes meet.
you smile.
"—call me later."
he calls you almost every night after that.
even as the cool autumn winds change with the seasons; carrying flakes of snow as winter blankets nagano, warming with the spring, turning heavy with humidity in summer, and then repeating the cycle anew.
even as your reluctant goodbyes turn from late nights outside of train stations to early morning words whispered under blankets as rintarou leaves for practice or away games.
even as the uncertainty of whether or not you're getting your hopes up—of whether those meetings were even really dates at all—melts away into nothing more than a memory.
you're not even sure what the two of you manage to spend so much time talking about on the phone. nothing, really. everything in its own right. rintarou's phone calls are something you come to look forward to at the end of a long day. something you anticipate when you have exciting news to share. a comfort when you're missing him and a relief when you need him most.
"is that the last one?" you ask, turning just in time to see your boyfriend—your live-in boyfriend now, officially—flop back on the sofa after he drops the last moving box atop the stack piled near the balcony door.
"yeah," he wheezes, evidently winded from the exertion—from the exhaustion—of moving house. you laugh a bit to yourself as you shuffle over to the sofa, leaning over the back so you can peer down at him where he lays sprawled against the cushions.
"aren't you a professional athlete?" you tease him. "shouldn't you have better stamina?"
rintarou cocks a brow, something sly swimming behind his gaze.
"i need better stamina?" he drawls. "you're usually complaining about the opposite."
you roll your eyes in the wake of his remark, grabbing a throw pillow from beneath his head and yanking it from under him unceremoniously, only to press it lightly against his face.
you shuffle back towards the kitchen where you'd left the box you were unpacking abandoned. you grab a plate from inside the cardboard and turn to place it on the shelf you'd decided would house your dinnerware.
"it's late," you tell him, reaching for the next plate in the box. "you should go wash up first."
you don't get a reply, and that surprises you. you creep over to the sofa again, only to find rintarou staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.
"hey," you laugh a little, leaning on your elbows against the back of the couch. "where'd you go?"
rintarou's gaze snaps back to yours. he still looks at you like he did on your first date. like he did outside the train station on your third. he smiles, bit it's a bit sheepish.
"sorry, was just thinking," he answers quietly. he reaches up from where he's lying on his back, brushing his thumb against your cheek. his smile turns a little bit giddy, then. boyishly charming. "can't believe we finally got a place together."
you lean into his touch, huffing a little breath through your nose—halfway to a laugh.
"guess you won't have to call me anymore," you joke, and rintarou's expression changes—falls slightly—but only for a moment. you realize what you've said, or at least think about the implications more, and you sort of understand the shift.
you fell in love through those phone calls.
you'll miss them—the ritual, the familiarity, the comfort—even though you know they've been replaced by something better.
you turn your face, pressing a fleeting kiss to rintarou's palm. "go wash up," you tell him again, heading back towards the kitchen and your (now twice abandoned) box of plates.
he seems to heed your advice this time, peeling himself up off the sofa and shuffling off in the direction of the washroom.
"don't use all the hot water!" you call after his retreating frame, and you hear him reply noncommittally under his breath before the door clicks closed behind him.
you've only got three dishes left to unpack before your box is emptied, but the shelf you'd been organizing doesn't seem to want to accommodate all of your bowls in the way you wanted, so you're left arranging and rearranging them as you try to find a way to get them to fit.
in the back pocket of your jeans, your phone begins to ring. with three plates balanced in one hand, you reach for it with the other—the movement muscle memory now, instinct more than volition, after all this time. you answer the call without even looking at the screen, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you continue juggling the dishes in front of you.
"oop—hello?"
you pause after you answer the call, realizing for the first time that you shouldn't be getting a call at all. not at this time of night. not in this apartment.
the line is quiet, just the sound of breathing that you could recognize anywhere to be heard from the other end of the call.
"why are you calling me?" you ask rintarou, but the words are light. too fond to be reproachful.
you hear rintarou laugh—from the other end of the call and from the other side of the bathroom door.
"just wanted to hear your voice," he answers you (the same way he has a thousand nights before when you've asked him that same question.)
"you're ridiculous," you tell him, completely enamoured.
"i know," he replies.
it's quiet for a moment as the two of you stand on opposite sides of your apartment. on opposite ends of your call.
you shift a stack of bowls a little to the left. it all fits now. just the way you wanted it to.
"y'know, the hot water won't run out as fast if we shower together—"
you hear the bathroom door open, and when you look over your shoulder, rintarou is peeking at you from around the edge of the door—his phone held to his ear, a smile on his face you know is mirrored on your own, and a look in his eye that's never once wavered.
he tilts his head.
"—wanna join me?"
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🗒️ 、HOW SWEET
downbad!sunghoon x fem reader 500 words warnings kissing genre fluff mikaela’s note back to my roots of simping over men w glasses
Sunghoon wonders if you know how sweet you taste.
It lingers on, the taste of you — a hint of cherry pomegranate under the tint of mauve that glazed over your lips. The cold air sends chills down his spine yet his glasses fog up at the tickle of your warm breath caressing him in winter midnight.
And it feels like summer, the way you make him feel so alive. His cheeks a shade pink as he brushes it off, blaming it on winter when it’s really you that’s to blame.
The existing fatigue from his arduous day fades into a mere shadow beneath the both of you as he presses his lips onto yours yet again.
“It’s cold Hoon, we should head in,” you murmur as you watch his glasses fog up yet again — and you want to draw heart shaped stars around the lenses of them, a symbol of your love towards him.
Your boyfriend hums, pulling you closer into his arms. “Just a while more,” he answers softly, fingers wrapped delicately around your waist, chin perched on your head.
And if the winter wind had memories, it’d remember the countless times you and Sunghoon spent in the chill, away from the comfort of your home. The gentle breeze through the leaves, yet strong enough to engulf the both of you — making you savour the warmth brought by him.
Sunghoon shifts from his comfortable position to catch your gaze, a small smile appearing on his face as he moves in to kiss you for the nth time. And you can see the tinted mauve pink that you’ve transferred onto his lips, a testament of the love shared between the both of you.
“What are you doing,” you giggle softly, the quiet atmosphere calming and alluring, as you stare at Sunghoon — clad in his favourite black Armani suit and tie, sleek black hair slightly messy after a long day of work. And you can’t help but notice the shades of pink that contrast his aloof aura.
Sunghoon stares back, admiration shining through his eyes. “It’s because you’re too pretty,” he comments, facial expressions serious and stern.
You scoff, pulling away from his embrace, and Sunghoon’s body instinctively searches for your warmth again. “I told you not to say sappy things,” you whined, “it’s cringey, Hoon,” you grimace, holding back a giggle.
“It’s not sappy, it’s real,” he reiterates, taking big steps to return by your side, fingers once again finding their way to the dip of your waist; pulling you into him, “you’re the prettiest girl in the world.”
You throw your head back in laughter, filling the once empty atmosphere with a ringing melody. “And I guess you’re the handsomest man in the world.”
“You guess?” Sunghoon probes, fingers tickling your sides as he dips down to get a taste of your lips once more.
And even with the thousand more kisses Sunghoon takes from you, he can’t seem to get over how sweet your lips taste.
© SJYUNS
#⪩⪨ mikaela's#enhypen#enhypen drabbles#enhypen soft hours#enhypen x reader#enhypen fluff#enhypen headcanons#enhypen imagines#enhypen x you#sunghoon drabbles#sunghoon headcanons#sunghoon oneshots#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon scenarios#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon
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Steamy - Sam Monroe Smut
Summary: Sam has been your best friend since you were kids. When he starts avoiding you and acting strange, you decide to take matters into your own hands and things get steamy…
Warnings: afab!reader, she/her pronouns, penetrative sex, shower sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (Sam receiving), handjob (Sam receiving), teasing, voyeurism, masturbation (Sam receiving), inexperienced!Sam, Sam finishes too fast, multiple orgasms (Sam receiving), thigh-fucking, nipple play?, slight dacryphilia, subby!Sam, edging, Sam whimpers a lot, maybe a smidge of degradation, Sam is down-horrendous.
A/N: This is ridiculously long, I got carried away.
Masterlist
Sam rested his forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall as he relentlessly fucked his fist. His eyes were squeezed shut, trying to block out the guilt as his mind raced with perverted thoughts.
It wasn’t his fault, really. He hadn’t intended on showering in your bathroom as an excuse to touch himself. You had just decided to wear one of his old t-shirts today and that…that had sent him over the edge.
Sam had been fighting off these feelings for a long time. If he was honest with himself, they’d always been there. When you were kids, it was easier. He didn’t understand the mechanics of all of it. He just knew he liked being around you more than anyone else, so he spent all the time he could with you. You were best friends, after all. That was normal.
Then, puberty happened. You developed tits and he developed an innate need to see them, touch them, taste them, anything.
It was harder now. You were both in college and still spending all of your time with each other. Every waking moment of Sam’s was spent thinking of you, watching you, imagining all of the ways he wanted to be with you.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be your friend — he loved being your friend. You were the only person in the world that ever actually saw him for who he was. It was just that he couldn’t escape these desires that grew stronger and stronger every time you smiled at him or batted your lashes or laughed or…
Yeah, he was fucked.
He knew that he needed to get his feelings for you in check. His biggest fear was doing some dumb shit to lose you. That’s why he’d been trying to create just a little distance lately. He only resorted to that when he felt like he wouldn’t be able to control himself around you. It just so happened that, lately, that was almost all of the time.
When he’d gotten to your place today, he had told himself that he wouldn’t let his attraction get the better of him — that he’d be normal — but, the minute he saw you in his shirt he felt like he could’ve melted into the earth. It was so cute, hugging your frame perfectly and just barely covering those tight ass shorts you had on underneath.
He’d tried to contain himself, he really had. He tried looking anywhere else but at you, tried thinking of every unsexy thing his mind could possibly dream up, but his efforts were all in vain. No matter what he did, his gaze would eventually wander back over to you. His mind would run wild with different scenarios. You in his shirt with nothing underneath. Him bending you over, lifting the material up just enough to take you from behind. Giving you more of his clothes to wear so that everyone knew you were his.
He hadn’t even realized how painfully hard he had gotten or how labored his breathing had become until you asked, “Are you alright, Sammy?”
Fuck, he almost came in his pants from the sweet sound of your voice as you said his nickname that he only allowed you to call him.
He felt his face flame as his eyes widened and he pulled the covers from your bed further over himself to make sure his erection was hidden.
“Y-yeah, fine,” he sputtered, trying to will himself to get a fucking grip.
“Are you sure?” You asked, reaching your hand out to touch his forehead. “You look flushed.”
He had to fight not to moan as your skin came in contact with his, so soft and tender. Your eyebrows were scrunched up in that adorable way they did whenever you were worried about him.
He wanted to see them scrunched up for other reasons, for all the pleasure he knew he could give you if you let him try. He wanted to hear you say his name like a plea of desperation, begging him for more, more, more.
“I think I just need to take a shower,” he muttered, quickly getting up and rushing to the bathroom before you could see any evidence of his arousal.
He paced in the bathroom, fisting at his hair as he tried to calm down. This was getting a bit pathetic. He couldn’t even be in the same fucking room as you without being embarrassingly close to coming untouched.
He stripped down, tossing his clothes to the floor as he stepped into the shower and shut the glass door behind him. He turned the water on to the coldest setting, cringing as he stood beneath it.
C’mon, this needs to work, he thought to himself as he shook from the cold. The icy water caused goosebumps to erupt on his skin, but did nothing to calm the raging hard-on that was still standing proud and aching. He groaned in frustration, hitting his head against the wall as he tried his best to fight off his arousal.
Finally, he gave in and wrapped his fist around his cock. He gave himself a few slow, guilt-ridden strokes as he squeezed his eyes shut. He hissed at the feeling, relief slowly flooding through his abdomen.
He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this. Touching himself to the thought of you was already bad enough, but touching himself to the thought of you while you were in the next room? If only you knew how fucked up he truly was. You’d never look at him again…
He fought the urge to moan at the thought of your hand replacing his, or better yet — your mouth.
“Fuck,” he whispered, biting his bottom lip as he thrusted into his hand.
He needed to get this over with. He needed to handle his problem and get back out there before you started to suspect that something was wrong.
He was desperately chasing his release but, despite how badly he wanted it, his own touch wasn’t getting him there this time.
He needed more.
You had worn his shirt on purpose.
You were tired of him avoiding the situation — avoiding you.
It hadn’t taken you long to figure out why he’d been acting so strange lately. You’d noticed the way his eyes would linger on your form, the way his face would flush when you called his name, the way he’d try to discretely adjust himself in his pants when you’d get too close to him.
You’d always wondered why he’d never had a girlfriend. It wasn’t that girls didn’t desire him. He had just always been oblivious to their advances.
In actuality, you’d realized, he was just too focused on you.
You’d always harbored feelings for Sam. Ever since you were kids. He was your first childhood crush. You’d never told him, though, too scared that he’d tease you relentlessly for it. It wasn’t until lately that you realized those feelings had been reciprocated. 
Once you’d made the realization, you’d started trying to push him further and further. You’d hoped that he would snap, finally admitting to you what he’d been feeling.
He never did, though. In fact, he did the opposite. He kept avoiding you, frustrating you to no end.
You huffed out a sigh, looking over at the clock on your bedside table. He’d been in the shower for almost twenty minutes. You gnawed on your lip, contemplating your next move.
Finally, with a newfound determination, you got up from your bed and walked toward your bathroom. You were tired of waiting for him to get the hint. He’d left you no choice. You needed to take matters into your own hands.
You opened the bathroom door, shutting it behind you as you called out, “What’s taking you so long in here, Sammy? I have to shower, too, ya know?”
Sam yelped, startled at your entry. You could only barely make out his figure behind the frosted glass, but it made your heart race nonetheless.
“J-Jesus, don’t you knock?” Sam sputtered, his voice laced with nervous energy.
“It’s my house,” you retorted, crossing your arms as you leaned against the sink.
You heard Sam sigh before he said, “I’ll be out in a minute just…give me a second.”
You began undressing before you could talk yourself out of it. This was a bold move, even for you, but you knew that Sam needed something to be shoved in his face for him to realize what was right in front of him.
“You’ve already been in here for twenty minutes and I have things to do later,” you grumbled, pretending to be inconvenienced. “I’m just coming in.”
“W-what?!” Sam stuttered, his voice nearly jumping up an octave.
You opened the glass door, stepping into the shower as you tried to appear nonchalant. Sam quickly covered himself with his hands, his entire body flushing red as he looked up at the ceiling to avoid looking at your naked frame.
You took this time to unabashedly look him over. His cupped hands only left little to the imagination. You bit your bottom lip, drinking in the sight of him. Arousal immediately began pooling between your thighs as you stepped underneath the water.
You yelped at the temperature, jumping back and adjusting the valve.
“Christ, Sammy, why the hell is it so cold in here?” you asked, despite knowing exactly why he’d been taking a cold shower.
“I-I just like it cold, okay?” Sam retorted, attitude biting with his words.
You turned the knob until the water ran hot, letting the steam fill the confines of the shower. You sighed, contentedly, stepping back under the water.
“Much better,” you breathed, practically moaning as the warm water washed away the tension in your muscles.
As the steam filled the air, Sam’s head was spinning. It was suffocating. He was surrounded by your scent. It took everything in him to keep his eyes glued to the ceiling. Even the glimpses he caught of your body from the corner of his eye were nearly enough to make him fall to his knees.
He had a difficult enough time keeping it together around you when you were fully clothed, how could he be expected to keep his composure when you were naked and wet a foot away from him?
He could feel his still-hard cock pulsing beneath his hands as he tried his best to cover himself. He felt like he’d somehow entered one of his wet dreams. Confusion and arousal fogged his mind as he tried to make sense of what was happening. The two of you had never even seen each other naked, much less showered together.
He refused to let himself believe that this could mean that you wanted him the same way he wanted you. He wouldn’t give himself that kind of false hope. He could only pray that he’d be able to get through this without making a complete fool out of himself.
You reached for the shampoo, lathering it into your hair. You smirked when you heard Sam breathe in a little too deeply. Glancing back at him, he still had his head facing toward the ceiling.
“You don’t have to break your neck trying not to look at me,” you laughed, rinsing the shampoo from your hair. “It’s not like you’ve never seen tits before.”
“I’ve never seen yours…” Sam mumbled, quietly, a new blush rising to his cheeks.
“Mine are just like any others,” you shrugged, brushing your conditioner through your hair with your fingers.
Sam had to bite his tongue to keep from responding that nobody could be like you. He was fighting so hard to keep his gaze averted but now you were practically inviting him to look at you. Even on his strongest day, there was no chance he could pass up the opportunity. He’d just look once, he told himself. Just enough of a glance to embed the image into his brain for when he jacked himself off to the thought of you.
He took a deep breath before stealing a quick look over at you. He involuntarily squeezed his dick, trying not to come on the spot. None of his fantasies could’ve prepared him for the way you’d look standing naked in front of him, water dripping from your body.
He forced himself to look up at your face instead of your tits — your goddamned perfect tits — but that didn’t help his situation in the slightest. Not when you were smirking at him like you were privy to some secret that he was not. Or when you were batting your lashes, sending water drops down your cheeks. Then you bit your lip and Jesus fucking Christ he felt every cell in his body burn at the sight.
You couldn’t help but giggle at the way his eyes fought between looking at your face and looking at your chest. You could sense the stress he was putting himself through, and almost felt bad for what you were doing. You weren’t going to stop, though. Not when you finally had him right where you wanted him.
You moved to grab the bottle of soap, intentionally letting it fall from your grasp. Out of instinct, Sam reached out to catch it. You gasped quietly at the sight of his erection springing forward into view.
He was big. Bigger than you’d expected. He was hard and leaking, his tip red and aching. He followed your gaze down, his eyes widening as he realized what you were looking at. He quickly handed you the bottle of soap back, moving to cover himself again.
“You know,” you started, smirking as you poured the soap into your hand, “if you need to take care of that, you can. I don’t mind.”
“W-what?” Sam coughed, his face a deep shade of red. “No! No way.”
“It’s natural, Sammy,” you shrugged. “I do it all the time. Besides, it looks real painful. I won’t watch if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Sam wanted the earth to swallow him whole in that moment. He didn’t think his skin could burn any hotter than it was right then. You were teasing him, torturing him.
He didn’t know which part was worse — the way you said his name, the mental image of you touching yourself, or the attention you had paid to his predicament. His body felt like it was going to erupt into flames at any given moment.
You had to know. You had to. There was no way that all of this was just some random coincidence. The two of you had never breached that line of friendship and now, here you were, telling him to touch himself in front of you.
He couldn’t do that. There would be no coming back from that. There would be no way that he could recover. He’d come the minute he touched his dick if your eyes were on him, and how would he explain that?
However, you had said you wouldn’t watch…and he did really really need the relief…
Sam bit his bottom lip, breathing heavily as he contemplated his options. He knew that he shouldn’t, but the offer was so tempting…
“You promise you won’t watch?”
Your smirk grew as Sam gave in to his desires, just like you knew he would. You crossed your heart with your finger and Sam squeezed his eyes shut as his gaze was unintentionally brought back down to your chest.
Giggling, you turned back around to face the other side of the shower. You didn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes travelled down to your ass as you did. You began lathering the soap into your skin as you heard the wet sounds of his fist stroking his dick over the hum of the shower.
You bit your lip, focusing on the way he let little breaths escape him. You could imagine how hard he was trying to refrain from making any other noises. You wanted to hear him, wanted to know exactly how he was feeling.
Curiosity and the need to push him further getting the better of you, you asked, “Are you always this quiet when you jack off?”
He sucked in a breath and sputtered, “Jesus, fuck, you…you can’t talk to me right now.”
You stifled a giggle, feigning innocence as you said, “Why not, Sammy?”
“Don’t say my name,” he practically pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I thought it would help,” you laughed, done beating around the bush. “Don’t you usually imagine me saying your name when you do this?”
You turned back around to face him, cocking your head to the side. His eyes widened and his hand stopped moving as his mouth opened and closed repeatedly.
Your mouth practically watered at the sight of him, chest flushed and heaving, his fist squeezed tightly around his erection.
“W-what…I don’t…I haven’t…” Sam stuttered, trying to come up with some kind of denial to your statement.
“Oh, come on,” you huffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’m not oblivious and you aren’t exactly subtle.”
Sam’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Relax, Sammy, it’s okay,” you said, beginning to slowly lather the soap into your skin. “Keep going.”
“What?” He gulped, eyes shooting open as they focused on the way your hands moved across your body in an agonizingly tempting motion.
“Keep going, Sammy,” you repeated, not taking your eyes off of him.
He released a shuddered breath, licking his lips as his eyes locked back on yours. Slowly, he began to move his fist again.
His jaw fell slack as his gaze followed the motion of your hands, teasing him as you trailed suds across your chest. His hand moved faster, his eyelids fluttering as a strained noise sounded from his throat.
“Is this what you think about, Sammy?” You taunted, moving your hands lower down your stomach.
Sam gasped, nodding his head as he muttered, “uh-huh.”
His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his hips thrusting into his fist. His hooded eyes were dark with desire as they traveled over your body. His movements became sloppy, his brows knitting together.
You could tell he was close, soft sounds involuntarily escaping his lips. His muscles were visibly tensing as his breaths started to come out in short spurts.
You’d had enough of being a bystander. Every nerve in your body was alight with desire and you wanted to close the distance between you two. You were done playing this game. If he was going to come, you wanted it to be by your hands.
Sam let out an involuntary whine of protest as you grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from himself. His eyes widened as you moved him until his back was pressed against the cold shower wall.
“W-what are you…what’s happening…oh, fuck.”
Sam’s questions were silenced the minute you pressed yourself against him. He gasped, clenching his fists by his side, seemingly using all of his restraint to keep from touching you.
He looked down at you, his gaze pleading and questioning as he asked, “What is this?”
“I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move,” you shrugged, grabbing his face.
His brows furrowed, confusion etched into his features. His mouth opened and closed, as if trying to form the words he wanted to say.
“Waiting for…what do you mean?”
“God, you’re so oblivious,” you mumbled, pulling his face down to yours and pressing your lips against his.
He immediately buckled, leaning into the kiss. He couldn’t help but groan into your mouth, a sound that betrayed the intensity of his arousal. The pressure building in his groin grew, his need growing at an unbearable pace. He arched his hips forward, desperate for contact. You pulled back, biting your lip as you peered up at him.
Sam held his breath, the moment teetering on the edge of ecstasy. His heart hammered so loud that it threatened to drown out the sound of the shower. His eyes were dizzy and unfocused as he looked down at you. This was both the most exhilarating and most terrifying moment of his life. The anticipation was agonizing, maddening.
You glanced down at his pouted lips, as if daring him to make a move. His tongue darted out, flicking across them as his gaze moved between your eyes and your mouth.
Finally, after working up the courage, he leaned forward. You grinned as you tilted your head back, keeping your lips just out of reach. He furrowed his eyebrows, releasing a shaky breath before trying again. You let his lips barely brush against yours before you dodged him again, smirking at the teasing game you were playing with him.
He looked at you with pleading eyes, desperation etched into his features, as a needy whine sounded in his throat. He whispered your name, fists tightening as every muscle in his body tensed with longing.
“Please,” he whispered, his jaw clenching with the effort to keep his composure.
With that one word, he completely crumbled your resolve. His eyes were dark and glassy with desire and unshed tears and you were prepared to give him anything he asked for.
You tangled your fingers in his wet hair, pulling him into a heated kiss. His lips immediately parted, devouring your own. He kissed you like he was starved, like you were his only source of oxygen after he’d been suffocating with need.
There was still a hesitancy in his actions, a part of him that was restraining himself. Whether it was out of fear or lack of knowledge, you didn’t hesitate to guide him.
Your fingertips trailed down his arms, causing him to shiver. You grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips. He moaned into your mouth, his touch instantly beginning to wander.
The urgency in his kiss increased, his hands roaming your back, your sides, your legs. Years of built up tension came bubbling to the surface as you both began to drown in each other.
Sam’s voice was low and husky, barely coherent against your lips as he whispered, “Don’t stop.”
The pressure between his legs was a stinging reminder of his desperation. The need within him was leaking with each touch, each kiss. He reveled in the control you wielded over him. Sam’s mind was lost in a sea of lust. This was a moment he’d dreamed about for years. The thought of it was almost too much, the entire situation overwhelming.
You guided his hands up to your chest and Sam wasted no time in palming your tits. He squeezed gently, kissing you with blazing fervor. When his thumbs experimentally swiped across your nipples, you let out a sigh of pleasure against his lips.
Sam’s brain short-circuited the minute he heard your reaction. His hips surged forward, pushing his aching erection between your clenched thighs. He had been so worked up and the pressure provided just the right amount of friction. He gasped, letting out a strangled moan as he clutched onto you. His eyes rolled back as an orgasm ripped through him, instinctively continuing to thrust between the plush skin of your thighs.
Sam panted, slowly opening his eyes again as he came down from the high. His entire body flushed at the revelation of what had just occurred. He took in your amused expression, groaning in embarrassment as he buried his face into your neck.
You stifled a giggle, gently rubbing his back as you whispered, “It’s okay, Sammy. It happens.”
He whimpered against your skin, wrapping his arms around you. He was torn between wishing he could disappear, never having to face you again, and wanting to stay in this moment forever.
“Besides,” you smirked, leaning down to pepper gentle kisses across his shoulder, “I’m not finished with you yet.”
Sam inhaled, sharply, his breath hot against your neck. His body instantly responded, his arousal already stirring again at the prospect alone.
You grabbed his face, lifting his head back up to meet his gaze. His cheeks were still tinged pink, bringing out the bright blue of his dilated eyes.
You traced his swollen lips with your thumb and asked, “Do you think you can do it again for me?”
“Mhm,” he responded, nodding eagerly. “I’ll do anything for you.”
You grinned, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Promise?”
He pulled you into him, closing the gap between you so that you couldn’t pull away again. He kissed you passionately, groaning as you bit down on his bottom lip.
“Promise,” he mumbled into the kiss, “anything you want.”
You reached up to grab his chin, tilting it to the side as you slowly kissed down his neck. His eyes fluttered shut, his body quivering at the tender attention. He cradled your head with a trembling hand, urging you on as your lips made their way across his skin.
Sam whimpered when you nipped at his pulse point, the hand in your hair tightening as you gently sucked a dark mark into the pale skin. You kissed across his chest, letting your hands run down his sides. He gasped as your teeth grazed over one of his nipples.
Your lips continued their descent down his body as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him. Sam let out a shaky breath, whispering your name as his legs nearly gave out.
You blinked up at him, water drops coating your lashes, as you rubbed your hands up and down his thighs.
“You’ll do anything I want?” You asked, kissing across his hips.
“Uh-huh,” he rasped, licking his lips as he nodded his head. “Anything you want. I swear it.”
Your mouth watered as you sat eye-level with his dick that was steadily twitching back to life. He gasped as you took him into your hand, his fists clenching tightly by his sides. You slowly began to stroke him, watching as he bit his lip to try and hold back the sounds threatening to spill from his lips.
“Then I want to hear how good it feels, Sammy,” you told him, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip.
“Shit,” he cursed, hardening again in your grip.
Your tongue traced a line up his shaft, slowly circling it around the head of his dick before taking him entirely into your mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, panting as he gripped the shower wall for support. “That’s…a-ah…that’s really good.”
The sight of you was overwhelming. He had only ever pictured you this way in his dirtiest dreams. You, on your knees with your lips wrapped around his cock, gazing up at him like the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, peering down at you through hooded lids. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”
You watched his chest heave as you worked him, using your hand to cover what your mouth couldn’t fit. His fist was still tangled in your hair, but he didn’t dare attempt to control your movements.
Sam’s eyes rolled back as he felt himself hit the back of your throat, the sensation causing his hips to stutter. You swallowed around him and his entire body threatened to crumble. Strings of lewd moans and whimpers escaped his lips as his back arched off of the wall.
“Oh, god,” he panted, throwing his head back against the shower wall, “I’m…fuck…I’m gonna…”
You pulled off of him and he let out a whine, thrusting to desperately chase your lips. You grabbed his hips, holding them still as you rose back up to your feet.
“Why’d you stop?” Sam pouted, scrunching his eyebrows together in desperation. “I was so close.”
Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath it, as you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.
“I didn’t think you’d want to stop before getting to be inside of me, but if you’d rather settle for my hands then I can keep going,” you taunted, cocking your head to the side.
“No,” he croaked out, his voice breaking off into a desperate moan at the mere thought of that privilege. “I wanna be inside you. Please, let me be inside of you.”
He clutched at you, pulling you into him as he crashed his mouth against yours. You immediately responded to the kiss, parting your lips and tasting his tongue with your own.
Without breaking the kiss, you pulled him forward and switched your positions so that your back was now pressed against the shower wall.
You reached down, grabbing his dick and stroking it as you lined it up with your entrance. He gasped, breaking apart to rest his forehead against yours. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he looked down between your bodies, watching you tease them finally joining together.
“Please, don’t keep teasing me,” he begged, his voice hoarse with need. “I can’t take it.”
You wrapped a leg around his waist and Sam held his breath, his mouth falling open as you guided his hips to slowly sheath into you. As his length filled you, stretching you out with a delicious burn, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan.
Once he was buried to the hilt, his hips flesh against your own, he finally released his breath in a strangled whimper.
“You’re so tight, fuck,” he breathed, unable to take his eyes away from the sight of you wrapped around him.
“Fuck me, Sammy,” you whispered, watching as his gaze snapped up to meet yours.
His breath hitched as he nodded, his body trembling with nervous anticipation. He pulled back, almost completely out of you, before pushing back in with a slow, experimental thrust.
You both gasped at the feeling, moaning into the shared air between your mouths. He repeated the motion again, familiarizing himself with the way your body practically pulled him in.
His thrusts got faster as his lips found yours again in a heated kiss. You clutched onto his shoulders for support, feeling every nerve in your body ignite in flames of pleasure.
“You feel so good,” you mumbled, arching into him. “Such a perfect fit.”
Sam groaned against your lips, his hips picking up the pace. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed, the dam of his emotions suddenly breaking as he fucked into you. “I-I dreamed about you, every day. You were all…ah…I ever wanted.”
“I know, Sammy, I know,” you panted, reaching up to kiss him again. “I’ve always felt the same way, you were just too blind to notice.”
He whimpered at the revelation, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He grabbed your waist, using it as leverage as his hips snapped up into yours.
“Fuck,” he whined, breathing out your name. “I-I’m getting close. I’m not gonna be able to last.”
“I need you to hold on just a little longer, Sammy,” you told him, earning a desperate whimper as his eyes grew glassy again.
You grabbed one of his hands, guiding his thumb to your clit. You moved it in slow circles, showing him how to touch you. He picked up the action quickly, moving his fingers on their own accord.
You moaned at the added stimulation, feeling Sam’s hips stutter as you squeezed around him. Ragged breaths wracked through him as he tried desperately to hold on for you.
“Wanna hear you, Sammy,” you prompted.
A single tear drop fell down his cheek from the sheer effort of keeping his climax at bay as he began to mindlessly ramble.
“You feel so good. Squeezin’ around me all tight and warm. Could just stay buried in you forever. Never wanna stop. I’ll do anything to satisfy you. Anything you want. I’ll get on my hands and knees if you ask me to. Just wanna make you happy. Just wanna keep feelin’ you like this.”
He kissed down your neck, needing to occupy his mouth. He buried his face against your chest, gasping and whimpering as his movements chased the high he desperately craved.
“No one else gets to have me like this,” you promised, feeling that familiar knot of pleasure tightening in the pit of your stomach. Each stroke of his thumb against your clit, paired with the tip of his dick repeatedly brushing that spot inside of you, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re the only one I want, Sammy. The only one who can make me feel this way.”
He let out a strained cry against your skin, his fingers gripping the plush skin of your waist tighter.
“Please, I need to come,” he begged, the desperation making his voice raw. “I need it, baby, please.”
The sweet sounds of his pleading was the final thread that unraveled the knot.
“Come for me, Sammy,” you breathed.
You felt the white hot pleasure course through your veins as you tightened around him, feeling your climax wash over you in a tidal wave.
He came with a cry of your name, clutching onto you as he continued to thrust into you. His vision seemed to black out as he finally let go, giving you everything.
The world around you seemed to fade as you both came down from the mutual high. Sam’s body relaxed into yours, his hands still trembling as you both tried to catch your breath. You settled into a blissful haze, engulfed by the warmth of the shower.
You held him close to you, running your fingers soothingly through his hair as you smiled lazily, “You done avoiding me now?”
“Yeah,” he whispered, grinning sheepishly. He nuzzled into your neck, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Never gonna avoid you again.”
“Good,” you responded, “it would be a dick move to avoid your girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” Sam asked, his head snapping up as he looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes.
“Well, yeah,” you grinned, biting your lip. “Unless you’d rather this just be a one time thing.”
“No!” Sam interjected, quickly, shaking his head. “I want this to be an all the time thing. Every day. Multiple times a day, if possible.”
You rolled your eyes, giggling as you playfully shoved him. He laughed, his entire face lighting up with joy and relief as he hugged you to him.
“You know, it was kind of a creeper move to barge in on me in the shower,” he joked, looking down at you with an amused glint in his eyes.
“Hey, you were the one jacking off to me in my own house!” You argued, laughing as you poked his chest.
He grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before grabbing your face and sweetly kissing your lips.
He hummed softly and whispered, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.”
You beamed up at him, feeling your heart flutter in his embrace. You used up the remaining hot water to actually shower off, tending to each other as you did. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how it was always meant to be.
Maybe it’s true what they say. Everything happens for a reason.
#hayden christensen smut#hayden christensen#sam monroe#Sam Monroe smut#smut#smut requests#Hayden Christensen fanfiction#Sam Monroe fanfiction#Hayden Christensen imagine#Sam Monroe imagine#Drabble#one shot#life as a house#life as a house smut
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Wanderlust
Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader
Summary: Your wandering hands are keeping Ben up at night.
AN: My nightly daydreams led me to Soldier Boy this time. 😂
I was imagining the Break Me Down-verse for this one (shortly after Checkerboard), but it can also be general Soldier Boy x Reader.
Word Count: 650
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Fluff, innuendo, Sleepy Ben, implied smut.
You traced down his back with light, trailing fingers.
Lying next to him in bed, with scraps of moonlight filtering through the closed blinds in the window as your only guide, your mind was still drifting even though you should’ve been sleeping.
You couldn’t help yourself.
You drew invisible patterns across his bare skin. Ben was warm, always warm, even though the AC was making the room almost frigid. You knew it was the ever-present radiator in his chest that made him your own personal heater.
You propped your head up better with an elbow on your pillow as you laid on your side. You then let your hand drift over every dip of muscle between his shoulders, every small freckle you knew just from memory, then down and down his spine.
You flirted with the idea of inching down the sheets, where his bare ass would greet you. From there, you supposed you'd decide what wandering direction your hand took next.
“If you don’t go to sleep,” his deep voice rumbled, “I’m gonna wake up and fuck you again.”
You bit your lip against a giggle, but you didn’t quite succeed.
“It sounds like you’re already awake,” you remarked.
Ben grumbled incoherently in response. He was tired, you knew. He’d just come back from a week-long mission with Butcher and Co. for Supe Affairs. Hence the long night you two spent catching up.
If you were honest, you were still tingling between your legs. Your thighs and ass were a little sore too. Likely they’d be sporting a few fingerprints tomorrow.
You didn't mind it so much though. You two now had a safe word for that kind of thing.
You smirked, sifting your fingers through his hair. It was getting long again. Maybe you’d trim it for him tomorrow, since you both had the weekend off.
Your hand meandered down the back of his neck, just to begin dragging your nails up and down the slope of his back.
“What does that feel like to you?” you asked curiously. You often wondered how much his invulnerability affected the way he felt things, especially the way you touched him.
“Like a tease,” he muttered.
You applied some more pressure with your nails. Not the way you’d scored his back about an hour ago, when he’d had his sinful mouth all over your body, but enough to be more than a tease. Enough that it would’ve left an angry, red trail on your own “fragile” human skin.
Still, you weren’t able to leave any marks on him. Just a faint whiteness of pressure against his skin that soon returned to normal when you moved your hand away.
“How about that?” you asked.
“Like you’re playing with fucking fire,” Ben said, though you heard the smirk in his voice. “Go to sleep.”
You smiled too.
“We'll pick this up in the morning,” he made sure to add, though he was already halfway back to slumber, from the sound of it.
“Oh, I’m sure,” you said, laughing lightly. You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss against his shoulder. “G’night, babe.”
“Mhmm,” he responded.
He groaned deep in his throat and turned over onto his back. Your smile remained as your body tensed in anticipation, but all he did was slide an arm under your waist and curl you towards him, trapping you against his chest. His hand splayed against your lower back, heavy and warm.
His lips brushed your hair away from your forehead and lingered there. He closed his eyes and let out a deep exhale. You did the same, relaxing against him. Your hand came to rest against the steady thrum of his heart.
Moments like this with him still managed to surprise you…but admittedly, less and less the longer you lived and shared together.
A girl could get used to it though.
AN: Lol should she have pressed her luck? Let me know what you think of this one! 😉💚
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Break Me Down Masterlist
Soldier Boy Masterlist
Main Masterlist
BMD Tag List (Part 1):
Including the BMD tag list on this, since that's what my heart was imagining. 😂
@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26
@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort
@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28
@nancymcl @ashbatz @vavafaure1994 @kristophalis @wonderland2022
@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow
@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky
@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun
@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2
@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420
@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx
#Wanderlust#Jensen-a-Thon#soldier boy#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy/ben#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x female reader#Soldier Boy/Ben#the boys#the boys AU#the boys season 3#the boys amazon#soldier boy fanfiction#the boys fanfiction#jensen ackles characters#jensen ackles#Break Me Down#BMD-verse#the boys x reader#soldier boy fic#soldier boy drabble#zepskies writes
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Hello hello! If you are still taking requests I've been dying for an Alastor x reader where the reader was married to him when he was alive, and she outlives him quite a while before they reunite in hell, only for him to nearly die again when the angels attack. I love your work!
I've been wanting to do this prompt for a hot minute, sorry it took so long Anon :')
But here's a good long fluffy, angsty, fic to balance out how much of an ass Alastor is in Suffer lol
Curiosity Killed the Cat | Reader x Alastor
What caught your eye first, was how much whiskey he could down before losing his composure. You found yourself in awe, watching this charismatic stranger go round after round, only to end up on the dance floor with more energy than you had when you were sober. Truly a spectacle. Why don't you go tell him that?
"Excuse me-" You say in a sing-song voice, slipping by the stranger to beckon another drink your way. You may or may not have brushed your body against him in some sort of attempt to get his attention. It went unnoticed, but that's alright, that trick didn't usually work on the ones who had one too many drinks.
You decide the next best action is to sit at the seat next to him, despite there being multiple unoccupied stools at the bar. That’s something he has to question, right?
Of course not. You spent far too long trying to get his attention in any way, and he's either humming a song to himself or chatting with the plump, noisy, owner who would come by. They seemed to be close friends.. but she definitely wasn't his type. She looks like one to cause trouble.
You get a good scope of his character. He came in wearing a pristine trenchcoat, shielding an expensive-looking vest and tie combo. But, by now the tie had come undone and was draped across his neck. The heat of the whiskey might've gotten to him, he left his top few buttons precariously opened. You didn't mind that one bit. Next thing you spot; slightly messed hair and smudged glasses- bingo.
"Hey, birdy-" you finally muster some courage to get his attention. "-may I?" You pull out a handkerchief you usually have on hand, in case handsome strangers with glasses need a quick clean. It took you a good half hour to finally speak up, but he's looking you up and down as if you had just walked in. It takes a moment, but you see him finally decide you aren't a threat. He sits silently. Taking another swig of his drink, he looks at you with a smile. Does he want you to.. no harm in trying.
You bite at your lip, hesitantly reach out to his face, and carefully pluck the glasses from the bridge of his nose. He shuts his eyes as you do so. A man hasn't made you blush in quite some time. You decide to blame the drinks. Luckily, you have a task to keep your mind preoccupied. You're carefully swiping any smudges clear from the lenses when you hear his voice for the first time. Or so you thought.
"Mimzy, dear, do tell me who this little kitten here is. A regular?" You're assuming he's speaking about you, he's gesturing in your direction with his empty glass. The owner of the speak-easy, who you now know as Mimzy, trots behind the bar to top off his drink.
"For sure! What do ya say, kid, you're here.. on most weekends, ain't ya?" She turns to you, and you take a moment to confirm. You didn't think she'd notice, you don't come here that often. That's what you tell yourself at least.
"Got an eye on her tonight, Al? Sounds like someone's not goin' home alone~" She teases him with a quick jab, and he's quick to roll his eyes.
"Now now, she's been perched here for quite a while and has barely said a word to me, I doubt she's getting any more than a free drink." He sounds snarky, yet.. familiar..
"Al… as in Alastor? That radio host fellow? Well, I’ll be damned! I wasn't expecting a celebrity such as yourself to frequent little joints like this one." You comment, finally joining the conversation. You hear a throat being cleared dramatically and turn to the owner behind the bar. You laugh nervously.
"Not that- it's still a good bar- I.. Sorry." Good recovery. Your attention is taken to the hand outstretched to you, and you instinctively lean away from it.
"Kitten-" He beckons his hand, and you follow his eyes to his glasses that were still in your grasp. You let yet another nervous laugh and quickly pass them over. He slips them on with a satisfied hum.
"If I remember correctly, Al-" you attempt to mock the nickname you picked up from Mimzy. "- You have a broadcast tomorrow morning, no? You really think drinking like a sailor tonight is the best idea?" You weren’t concerned, really. You wanted to tease him a bit longer.
"Props to you for knowing my schedule." You realize how strange that might've sounded and quickly finish your drink to prevent any more embarrassing thoughts from slipping from your lips. "Are you implying I can't handle my liquor, dear?" He scoffs, beckoning the bartender over. He has them refill your glass.
"I'm sure you can, birdy, but you've been pounding down more drinks than I can count." You respond. You weren't one to flirt effectively. That, or he just happens to see right through your nerves.
"So, you've been counting, hm?" You realize you had outed yourself to watching him all night. You curse yourself quietly, hoping the music filling the room will cover your frustration. "Appreciate the concern, but I promise you, I'm more than capable of doing my job. No matter the circumstances."
While he seemed to be reading you quite easily, you had picked a few things up yourself. For one, he watches everything. And he seems to only drop his intel when he needs to. Or to mock you. And two, he's a bit of a narcissist.. quite an ego on this one. But that could work in your favor tonight.
"Well, fine then. I'll be up bright and early to listen to your broadcast. I doubt you can get through it with a hangover. Especially considering how much you've been drinking." You state proudly. He lets out a chuckle, and despite how quiet it is, you can't help but appreciate his sultry laugh.
"Is that a challenge, kitten?" He purrs -ha- leaning his chin into his hand and slouching his body towards the bar.
"I mean if it is, there must be stakes." You say it as a matter of fact. "Let's say.. you cover my bill next time if I catch you slip up."
"Hm. Seems fair. You better be listening close, though, I'm very good at what I do." He enunciates his final sentence and it sends a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment, you consider this could be a bad idea.
"And when I win, what will be my prize?" He asks. You let out a little giggle at his cockiness.
"I'll tell you my name." He cocks his head to the side, an intrigue hitting him. Did he really manage to get this far without a proper introduction?
"I see your little detective game going on, I'll give you that. You are quite the observer. But you won't find my name just by looking." You say smugly. That's true for a number of reasons.
"I suppose you did leave that information out, hm?" He let's his eyes drop, as if he was trying to piece it together with what little information he had.
"I must say, you've got me hooked, kitten." He lets out a sigh, leaning back in his chair and finishing off yet another drink.
"Deal?" You hum, holding your hand out to him. He smirks, taking it into his own, not expecting a firm shake, but receiving one. He went on to press a quick kiss to your knuckles.
"Deal."
You went home alone after that night, but it was likely for the best. You were sure you'd see him next time, anyway.
Now that you had to tell him your name.
You thought for sure he'd at least stumble through a sentence, but no. He went through the entire show, even an interview with some big shot, and spoke perfect English. He talked like he'd never had a drop of booze his entire life and got a full night's sleep, which you both knew was far from the truth. You almost dreaded the next encounter, but at least you didn't wager anything too crazy. Sure, he'll see you differently after this, but if this were to go any further - what are you on about? You only met him once and listened to him on the radio occasionally at best. He's a perfect stranger to you. Let's not get too excited.
You find yourself seated in the same spot as before, shrinking into your seat and downing a few drinks to build your courage. You told him your mark. An awkward introduction, first and last name, made you feel like a new student at a children's school. He perks up, which is what you expected.
"Ah! So you're the famed physician! It's almost silly of you to call me a celebrity, you're the talk of the town, kitten." You groan, of course, he recognizes you. Everyone in this damned small town knows your name, your family.
You were one of the first women to complete their studies and practice medicine from your hometown. But to attend such high schooling in this time, your family had to be well off. And you were, in fact, well off. When it came to your love life, men were either disgusted by your pursuit of knowledge or took it like some fetish. You haven't approached anyone for years.. not like this, at least.
"You know, I spoke with your father a few-" You groan at the mention of him, cutting Alastor off mid-sentence.
"Don't be a fool, I heard the little interview on your show.. Can't say that was my favorite broadcast." Alastor had a certain segment where he would chat with some of the richer and more.. stuck up.. men in society. It wasn’t titled as such, you just noticed the trend of guests being pompous and wealthy. And your father was the perfect fit for that.
You didn't know this at the time, but Alastor was suddenly hit with some mixed emotions. There was more than one reason as to why your father was chosen to be on his broadcast. Alastor used his interviews to initiate close ties, and make powerful allies. If they weren't complying how he hoped, he would usually cut ties. Permanently.
Your father was definitely not a reasonable man, in fact, you made it a point to avoid him when you returned home. But did he deserve death?
"I didn't expect just the sight of me walking the streets to be as interesting as it is." You mumbled, leaning forward on the counter and drinking something much stronger than you expected. But the mentions of your father called for a hard hitter.
"You didn't?" He asked bluntly, twirling the liquor in his glass. You hum in agreement. Gossip spreads like wildfire here.
"Well, you've picked up some interesting feats. If you were hoping to go unseen, I would've put some more thought into my rags." He gestured to your clothing. It was definitely of higher quality, but it was something you were used to wearing while attending your school in a high-class city. You felt a bit embarrassed, placing your hands in your lap to subtly hide your body.
"And a beautiful doctor like yourself just 'walking the streets'? Some might be concerned for your safety." You tilt your head to the side at his words. Your confusion makes him smirk.
"I'm sure you're aware, kitten, but there seems to be a killer on the loose." He seems far too excited for the subject at hand, and it's almost noticeable.
"Hm. Guess I shouldn't be going out alone and talking to strange men, should I?" You say with a smile.
"I suppose you shouldn't." He shrugs off your words, getting another drink. You didn't even see him finish the previous one. "Though I must say, I'm glad you did. You've been quite the conversationalist." It's barely flirting, but it seems to leave you blushing a bit.
You went on to chat throughout the night, your drunken rambling turned to complaints about your father, and morbid details about what you'd learned in medical school. Both topics that you didn't realize intrigued Alastor to a personal extent. Later on, the rambles started to become incomprehensible. He decides it would be best for you to leave, considering you were refusing to do so and thoroughly embarrassing yourself in the process.
A giggling, stumbling mess, you were carefully lifted from your seat and brought to your feet with his assistance. He helped you out to the streetside, calling a taxi and bringing you into the backseat gently. He then went ahead and paid the driver, and turned at his heels to head back inside.
As he was reaching for the bar's door, a loud call forced him to turn back to the cab.
"Buddy, she's too sloshed to give me an address. You know where she lives?" Shit. Alastor looks to the bar’s door, then to the cab, where he spots you leaning your head against the window in the backseat. He sighs.
After insisting the driver keep the fair, Alastor brought you back out. He kept you standing with a hand on your lower back, as you gripped onto his shirt, far too small to reach your arm over his towering figure. He was cringing at the sight of his clothes becoming disheveled.
"Alright, kitten, where are you staying? I doubt you'd appreciate me taking you to your family home.." He was talking in a hushed voice, in the hopes that you'd have enough conscious to respond, but knew that likely wasn't the case. He looks around the area as if the answer would be in plain sight. He lets out a sigh of defeat when it clearly wasn't.
"Didn't even get to finish my drink.." He mumbles, pulling you closer to keep you stable enough to walk a few blocks.
There, sat a charming little motel. However, calling it charming was.. optimistic. Your memory, to this day, is in small flashes. Only certain things come to mind when trying to picture what went on.
You remember Alastor talking to the older gentleman at the desk. It seemed like they were acquaintances. Maybe they've done business in the past.
You remember him giving up after finding that the room he booked was on the second floor. Unwilling to deal with the staircase, he hoisted you up quite easily. You definitely remember that. How such a slender man can hold you in his arms with no strain.
You remember the room, it was cleaner than you expected. He seated you on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of you to remove your heels. He didn't seem to go much farther than that. He could've removed your entire wardrobe with your state of mind, and you'd be none the wiser. How awful it must be, to live in a world where a man not making a pass, surprises you.
As far as you know, you drifted to sleep almost right after. You're pretty sure he wrapped you in the blankets, and you remember the faint touch of hair being brushed from your face. His hand was far colder than you would have expected.
Being in your occupation, you don't exactly have time to confront all the horrific sights you've seen. So, your body deals with those emotions in other ways. A common occurrence, you were plagued with a number of night terrors. Something seems different in tonight's regularly scheduled program, though. A radio static overwhelms your senses, and any horrifying disfigurations that were taunting you seem to fade into nothing. A yellow grin and glowing red eyes are the last thing you can see.
You woke up the next morning with an excruciating headache, an ache in your stomach, and sore feet. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you barely care about the makeup that you'd smudged beyond repair. You try to recall your dreams, which usually stay vivid in your mind for most of the morning, but.. there's nothing. And despite the killer hangover, you feel more awake than you have in ages.
The panic settled in after you ran your hands across the unfamiliar sheets. With a soft gasp, you observe yourself. Still fully clothed, you spot your heels set next to the door. You look around the room next, and you almost feel relieved, seeing Alastor seated in a lounge chair in the corner of the room. He had his nose in a book. It was better than seeing him lying on the other side of the bed.. wait, was it?
You let out a pathetic little sound, your voice too weak to form any coherent words. He sets the book on his lap, and your sad attempt at a greeting seems to catch his attention.
"Good morning to you, too, kitten. Sleep well?" You were sure he drank as much as last night. If not, more. How dare he look so put together?
"Morning. I-um.. I suppose I did.. I-I hate to ask, but did... did we-" you stammer out, and he quickly holds his hands up in defense.
"Heavens no, dear, I wouldn't dare defile a woman who can't handle her whiskey." You scoff at his insult but still feel disarmed by his reaction.
"So then.. the motel room?" You question. He cocks his head to the side, only now realizing that your memory must've gone from the previous night.
"Ah, so you really can't handle your whiskey.. Well, not to fret, dear. You weren't telling me where you were staying, and Mimzy seemed keen on me taking you elsewhere." In actuality, she was trying to play matchmaker. Thanks for trying, Mimzy.
"I'm sorry for the trouble, Alastor, I hate that you bought a room just for me.. I can pay you back." You sit up, running your hands through your mess of hair and letting out a pained groan.
"I'm sure you can, but I simply can't accept." He stands, tucking the book under his arm and walking to your bedside. You swing your legs over the edge, only to notice how close he seems to hover over you. You look up and realize how statuesque he was. You hadn't seen him in daylight. And his height is much more intimating when he stands.
"It was my pleasure, getting to witness you thoroughly embarrass yourself." He bends at the hips, a taunting smile across his face. You try to recall anything embarrassing you might've done the night before, but you can barely recall a thing. That did little to ease your mind.
"You'll have to tell me about it one day." You grumble, standing with his assistance. He offered to escort you home, and you happily accepted.
The two of you stand on your small porch. It's a quaint duplex you've been renting, you go on about how how the family who lives here travels for the summer and was more than happy to offer their home to such a sweet thing.
"Well, since you insist that I can't handle my liquor, it might be a better idea to find each other.. somewhere other than a joint..." you say sheepishly, your eyes wandering to anywhere but his gaze. When he steps closer, you finally fix your wide eyes on him.
"You don't want me to court you, kitten. You're a lovely, educated, pretty little thing, you'll be wasting your time, unfortunately." He doesn't sound insulting, he says it very truthfully. It only makes you want to see more. To ask him to come in, and stick around awhile. But you're aware he has a broadcast coming up soon. You wonder if he would've stayed by your side if you slept through it.
"I'll be the judge of that. Besides, getting coffee doesn't waste too much time." You decide to stand your ground. You aren't sure why he's refusing if he thinks all that of you. You see him look you up and down, then let out a sigh.
"Hm. I suppose. I'll be back here tomorrow morning since you're so insistent. Just remember I warned you-" He says playfully as he makes his way down the stairs.
"Curiosity killed the cat, my dear!" He calls out before giving another heart-melting smile. You nervously bite your lip and watch him walk off through the cracked door. Like a damned puppy, you couldn't help but watch him walk off. You quickly shut the door, after realizing how hard you were smiling.
-
This was supposed to be for fun. You were just supposed to be some extra company on occasions. And he knew you came with your perks. You were an heir to a decent fortune, it only made sense for him to befriend you. You were knowledgeable and smart, he could definitely benefit from your skills if he needs to do so. There were plenty of ways Alastor could use you if necessary.
But with every little dance, every little coffee, or walk home from the bar, it was making him nervous. Of course, he would never call it that, he's too disgusted by the pangs in his chest he gets around you. Unfiltered, yet still delicate and professional. Incredibly intelligent, yet still makes the silliest mistakes. You were flawed. You came from such a slob of a man, and the fact that you are so kind despite that amazes him more than you realize. You are more than willing to stand for your beliefs. For one of the first times in his life, Alastor admired someone.
He's not sure what conversations led to him agreeing to cook yet another dinner in your home, but here he was; standing at your door with a bag of groceries.
"Oh- you didn't need to do all that, you're always free to use anything in the kitchen." You greet him as he comes inside, where he sets the bag at a nearby counter space. You reach up and pull his trenchcoat off his shoulders, which he willingly surrenders to. It was a little action you took, taking his coat for him when he would stop by. He's come to expect it. You hang it up on the rack nearby.
"Nonsense, I'm sure you have plenty to work with, but I'm following a special recipe tonight." He insisted, already unpacking things, setting up pots and pans, and rolling up his sleeves. He pulled an apron from the bag last, and the sight of him all prepped for cooking leaves you weak in the knees. You want to see this every night. You want him in your kitchen every mealtime. You shake the desires from your head, pushing aside the dreams of domesticity that have been plaguing your mind recently.
"Can I help with anything?" You chime in, peeking around the corner to smile at him through the doorway. He shakes his head.
"If you feel the need to help, you're more than welcome to get the table set, but I am quite in my element here, kitten. So, not to worry." You were mostly listening to him, but one part of you kept your focus on his skillful knife practice, watching him chop vegetables in a nearly professional manner.
"Kitten? The table?" His words and his moving on to something else snapped you from your funk.
"Oh! Of course, yes." You stumble a bit but do as he instructs. It wasn't anything special, but the space was more than enough to give the ambiance of a good date.
Damn, this man could cook. He's cooked for you before, but something you couldn't quite put a finger on left you swooning at the sight of the still-steaming gumbo in front of you.
"Damn, you can cook." You're muttering, between bites. You almost can't taste all its decadence, digging in before letting it fully cool.
"Slow down, dear, we have all night." He says softly, despite bringing a spoonful to his own lips. You catch yourself staring at the sight of him eating beside you, enthralled by his enthusiastic hums.
"So where did this come from? I'm a bit suspicious of the finery if I'm honest." You place your elbows on the table, perching your chin on top of your hands. He scoffs in response.
"How rude. All my meals are of the highest quality. I simply haven't made this in quite a while, I thought tonight would be a good time to do so." He replies.
"A recipe for special occasions, hm? Would you consider this.. a special occasion?" You tease, looking at him with a cocked eyebrow. He looks confused, letting his eyes wander in thought for a moment. Was this a special occasion? Is there any specific reason he wanted to bring his own mother's recipe to some girl he's befriended? He pushes the thought aside, planning on mocking you like usual.
"Any night with you is plenty special, kitten." He hums, popping another spoonful into his mouth. He doesn't see your face turning red, but his oblivious flirting always leaves you flushed.
"In that case, when are you inviting me to your own home? I won't lie and say I'm not curious, Al." You set your finished plate aside and notice his eye twitch. You've been staring at him long enough to notice even his smallest ticks.
"Someday. I've a bit of a mess to go through before considering bringing any guests over." He brushes clean his already pristine top, as you stand and take his empty plate to the kitchen. With a sigh, you take yourself over to the sink to do a quick clean. It's the least you could do after such a lovely meal.
"If you say so." You try your best to sound calm, but you're slightly hurt by his constant rejection of letting you into his personal life. It wasn't all the time, but there were clearly things he refused to talk about. You want nothing more than to know him.
Lost in your mildly upsetting thoughts, you recklessly take one of his knives the wrong way, the blade slicing surprisingly easily down your finger. The shock takes you back more than the actual pain. These are far too nice for everyday cooking.
Letting out a quiet curse, you feel his hand brush over your own, his shadow casting over your entirety. "Such a clutz." You hear, his voice causing you to tense. You let him guide your hand under the water to rinse it, effectively caging you in place.
"Be careful, will you? These are my nicer tools." Interesting way to say it, but you were too focused on the fact that you could feel his breath heating the back of your neck. You simply nod, before turning the water off with your free hand. You turn your body around, leaning your back against the edge of the countertop and effectively facing Alastor. His hands stay planted on either side of you, making it a bit of a tight squeeze. You weren't sure what you were trying to accomplish here, but here you are. Neither of you seem to be moving away, though. He drops his head to look into your eyes. You're lost in them.
You reach your arms upwards, holding them around his neck as best you can, and you feel him willingly lean within your grasp. The moment is heated, you feel his breath against your lips as you pull him impossibly closer. His breath is quick, almost shaky. You've never seen this side of him. You'd never associate Alastor with the term nervous.
Nearly closing the gap, you feel a hand come to your throat and fingers gently holding your jaw. With a quick turn, he places a soft kiss on your cheek. It lingers for a moment, and even if it wasn't what you were expecting, you're gasping beneath his affection. The room seems to cool down for a moment. He steps away silently, pulling his things all together.
You may have made a mistake.
"Oh, Al- I'm sorry I didn't think.. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, i-if that's what happened there." Your words quicken, suddenly becoming anxious that you may have upset him.
"No, don't fret." He waves his hand dismissively, his back still turned to you as he keeps himself busy with a bit of tidying. "I'd be an idiot to not expect that, eventually." He almost sounds insulting, a little cocky.
"Why's that? Are you used to women just throwing themselves at you?" You tease but keep yourself from his eyeline.
"Well, yes- but, you've been especially touchy recently. And you seem to be acting like I make you.. nervous. Fidgety." His little observations leave you a bit embarrassed.
"It's not nervous.. exactly. Never mind that, though.. Does.. that interest you..? At all?" It takes you a while to get the question out and it still comes across shaky. You're response is silence. Fill it.
"H-How about a drink before you head off, hm?" You quickly shuffle to your liquor cart, looking for anything to drown out your essential confession.
"It does." You freeze in place, missing the cup entirely with your first pour. That was an answer neither of you were really expecting. You finally turn to him, seeing that he had looked away just as you did.
"So, that means-" you want him to elaborate. You want to hear him say all the things you've been dreaming of. That he wants to spend his free time with you, hold your hand, and kiss it with more than just a greeting in mind. To call you anything other than kitten. Well.. that last part you didn't mind as much.
"I've not prepared myself for such a conversation, but I.. enjoy your company. And your brains.. and you certainly aren't terrible to look at." He said he didn't prepare himself, and it was pretty obvious. This wasn't his usual taunting, his usually eloquent beats. He's pausing between phrases, to come up with the best words on hand.
"Jee, thanks." You roll your eyes, your smile still shining.
"I suppose you leave me speechless, kitten." You leave a radio host, a man who talks for a living and is quite good at it, speechless. This time, he sees the freshly pink hues across your cheek. He lets out a devious chuckle, one you recognize when he's about to do something you'd consider nefarious. He starts to approach you, his clean shoes clicking against the wooden floors being the only sound. You knew you weren't in danger, but you find yourself walking backward until you hit the table. Continuing to lean away from him, he towers over you, only following your avoidance until you are straining to stand upwards.
"Well?" You let out, your words barely a whisper. "Are you going to kiss me or not?"
That seems to shock him a bit, you see his shoulders tense just slightly. You watch him contemplate his next action. He let his hand snake around your waist, not exactly to pull you closer, but his touch still left you weak. With a soft kiss on your lips, he gave you no time to truly enjoy it.
"I hate to repeat myself, but I warned you, kitten. Curious little things like yourself deserve.. more." After processing his words, you're still melting to his touch despite how fleeting it was. He steps away.
"W-What- No! I thought you said you were interested! And that kiss- W-What were-" You throw a bit of a tantrum, but quickly calm yourself. "I don't understand, help me understand. Please.." You sound a bit defeated. He sighs, clearly pained that this conversation has to continue.
"Hm.. I don't believe I'm able to give you everything you need. But, you deserve everything you need. It's as simple as that." He's pausing between words, and his expression shows that he's still not exactly satisfied with how it came out.
You shrank in place and held your arms, your mind trying to scrap together any little hints to what he means. Maybe something he's mentioned in the past. But as elusive as ever, it still just doesn't make sense to you. He catches a glimpse of your upset appearance, then takes in the rest of your state a bit longer. You can feel his eyes on you, forcing you to nervously bite at your lip.
"Okay. Let's forget all that, then." You said softly, smiling the best you can and waving your hand dismissively. He obviously knows that you wouldn't lose these feelings as quickly as he'd hoped. He'd reassure you, you'll get over it.
But you couldn't. You tried, you did. You went on other dates, considering how many men were throwing themselves at you in the right bars. You kept your distance for a bit but still saw him at Mimzy's bar on the weekends. Despite all your potential suitors, you still only seemed to look forward to those nights with Alastor. You'd go as far as to complain about some unruly men to him. His disgusted reactions were a comfort.
You kept trying to pry his real reasoning as to why he wouldn't be with you. He'd admit to not being trustworthy, which you would always dismiss. He'd go on about the other men that would be a much better fit, and all with good reasoning, but you still wouldn't stop pestering him. Then, after a few too many drinks, he finally let slip his disinterest in intimacy. And from everything he's told you, this seemed different. It wasn't an excuse or an avoidance, it was the truth.
"So, you don't find me physically attractive?" You ask him, swirling your half-empty cup.
"It's not that, I assure you. I'd just prefer to shower you in other affections, I suppose." He seems a bit unfiltered tonight, still avoiding your eyes.
"Other affections, hm? Like what, birdy?" You were already enraptured. But you were kicking yourself for getting your hopes up at all. You can see his immediate regret in his words.
"Kitten-"
"Please? I'm just curious." You say sincerely, placing your hand over top of his. You hesitate for a moment, but he seems to not mind the touch.
"Well.. I'd like to buy you the finest things. Any book you're slightly interested in, any frock that draws your eyes, any accessories that would bring out your natural beauty- you deserve it. I want to keep you proudly on my arm throughout the streets, showing everyone that you belong to me. I'd like to cook you every meal, until the day I die." His drunken rants leave an obvious sparkle in your eyes.
"Well that all sounds lovely to me.." you say softly, twisting and turning his hand until your fingers are comfortably interlocked with his. "Simply put, you're not interested in sex?” He was taken aback by your bold words, looking around as if he were nervous someone would hear. “I’ve read about it before, there’s an interesting essay that describes this sort of phenomenon. I'll have to lend it to you.” Your calmness surprises him.
“Well.. Thank you. That puts an end to that, then. Go on and find a man who can properly bed you.” He tries to act just as calm, but his voice still seems a bit frustrated by the idea. You make an act out of tapping your chin and humming in thought.
“No, I’d much rather spend my time with you.” You say bluntly. He quickly chimes in.
“But, I-”
“Alastor, I’ve never met someone as arrogant as you.” You let out a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “If you’ll have me, however you want that is, I’d love nothing more than to spend my days with you.” You speak slowly, almost mockingly, trying to get this damned point across after so long.
He’s still quiet, opening his mouth to respond, then letting his lips shut again. He smiles at you. You couldn't ask for a better response. It was the sweetest smile you've ever seen from him, no sign of teasing or mocking you, no hidden intent, and just slightly bashful. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, in a sweet sign of acceptance.
Things went on after that without a hitch. Mostly. There were some kinks to work out, sure, but you were absolutely head over heels for him. No one’s ever brought you this much joy, and having this more intimate side of him, despite its physicalities, was more than you could ever hope for. He’d finally let you into his home after a while. It was near spotless and he was more than willing to show off the space to you. You wondered why he felt the need to stall this for so long. But you’re together now, hardly anything else matters.
As the summer came to an end, and you had to find somewhere else, you were invited to stay with Alastor. After walking freely around town, as promised, with his arm around yours, gossip spread as it always does. Another talk of the town, two unwed youths in the same place, sharing the same bed assumedly. It made you two snicker at the rumors. Living with him was heaven.
Following through his previous statements, he showered you in compliments, cooked every meal for you, and spent as much of his free time with you as he could. He offered little physical affection, little pecks here and there, and had no issue with sharing his bed. It wasn't long before you popped the question. Neither of you were really interested in the big fancy wedding idea, he was even comprehended by the marriage itself, but if anyone could wear down his nerves, it was you. That being said, Alastor did get you a ring that you were sure cost far too much. He brought up the idea of eloping. A little vacation just for the two of you. It sounded perfect.
“Birdy~ You let out in a sing-song tone, opening the door to your shared home. Every time you’d walk up to the house, you’d slow down, taking in your flawless reality every day. You’d hold your hand out to yourself, looking at the still newly polished ring, then finally entering your perfect home.
Although, it wasn’t perfect today.
You call out his name, no response. You know he should be home, so you peak around corners to no avail. You checked tables and counters, no note to be seen.
After setting down your bag, slipping your heels off, and hanging your coat after your quick search, you head to your room to at least change for the evening. You and Alastor usually go visit Mimzy on these nights, an unspoken routine.
On the way to your room, your tights hit a wet splotch on the floor. With a groan of disgust, you finally realize what you had stepped in.
Blood.
Of course, you’d recognize blood. It trailed from the door in front of you.
Alastor assured you this was his office and showed it to you on occasion. The door was always open when he wasn't home, and although you never felt the need to intrude on his personal space, something was clearly wrong. You swung open the door.
“No.”
You cover your mouth after your quiet refusal. You're silent, unwilling to believe what you're seeing. Your darling husband-to-be, kneeling over a stained and still wet corpse wrapped in canvas. His hands are covered in blood. Actually, his entire body is covered in blood.
How he managed to get in and out of the house without making an entire mess was a thought that managed to cross your mind in your state of shock. You glance up for a second to notice one of the heavy bookshelves pushed aside, a sort of patio doorway leading to the swampy area behind the house.
You look at the door, then to Alastor. Who’s giving you a wide-eyed face that pains your chest.
Say something, Alastor. Say something that’ll make this all okay. You're a deer in headlights.
He notices your eyes dart to the right, then back to him, staring for a moment longer. One thing is on your mind without his reassurance. You’re in danger.
Run.
You book it down the hall, clearly going to the exit. Both your feet soaked in blood at this point are tracking through the house. The moment was such a blur, that you hardly remember how far you got before feeling the pain of hitting the floor. You look down after scrambling onto your back, seeing Alastor’s hand wrap around your ankle.
“Hold on! You’re covered in blood, you’re a mess, just-” He sounds deranged. Who is this man? Surely not the one who’s been treating you so well all this time. He sounds anxious and angry. You’re face is stained with tears as he essentially drags you across the floor briefly, not considering his heightened adrenaline in these moments. You kick. You scream.
“Listen to me!” He grabs you by your arms, giving you a good shake. That seems to calm you down.. or at least quiet you down. You’re staring at him wide-eyed, your breath rapid. He has your attention, yet he’s not sure what to say. A pained expression grows on his face. You’re leaving him speechless, again.
“Let’s.. clean you up.” He scoops you up, and maybe it's the shock that leaves you so lenient. Or maybe it's all the good times blurring what you've witnessed. When you come to, you’re sitting in the bath, Alastor by your side, and running a sponge across your arm, thoroughly staining the water with blood. The sight brings a gasp from your lips, that feels like the first breath you've taken in hours.
“A-Alastor-” You let out weakly, your frightened expression now burned into his mind. “Was that real..?”
“It was-” He lets out a pained sigh, seeing if he could soften the truth. It's not possible. “-It was.” no words can save him from this.
“W-Why..?”
“He was rather unpleasant. A man with too much money, who wasted most of his time on hitting his women staff. He had his chance to make things right, I assure you, this is always the last resort.” That doesn't help for obvious reasons. You pull away from his gentle washing.
“Always? You've done this before?” Your voice squeaks as it comes out. You don't want to know the details. But you can't stop the words from spilling from your lips. He stands and rings the sponge out into the sink, watching the red-tinted water swirl down the drain.
“Yes.”
“How many times have you-” You stop yourself finally. You don't want the answer to that one. You don't want the answer to any of these questions. Unconsciously, your mind still seems to piece together every strange thing he’s done and said to you.
Your half-sentence is replied to with silence. He goes on to finish cleaning you up, helping you in and out of the tub, and drying you as best he can. He wraps you in his own robe and brings you to the bedroom. You’re mortified when you notice him guiding you by your shoulders to avoid the bloody footprints still on the ground.
Some time passes. You sit empty-minded on the edge of the bed, your eyes gazing down into nothing. Alastor leans against the vanity across the small room from you. He runs his hands through his hair, pausing and clenching some strands in his fists before moving on.
“I can..get all your belongings together, find you a place to stay. I’ll do what I can to keep you safe.” He finally says, breaking the silence and your endless train of thought. His offer seems reasonable, but you still feel hurt.
“You want me to leave?” You ask quietly, gripping the edges of the robe and shrinking into yourself. He’s shocked by your response, you can hear it in his voice.
“You want to stay?” He asks in response.
“I.. I love you.” You say weakly. It stings to say it out loud. And even more so to hear it. “Will you hurt me? I-If I go to the police? If I rat you out..?” What are you doing? You can’t ask a murderer that. Your mind is running on fear, especially after what you just said. You feel his hand lightly lift your face to his, flinching slightly considering you hadn't noticed him approaching you.
“I would never hurt you. I’d spend my days rotting in a jail cell if it meant you’re safe..and happy. I love you, kitten.” You aren’t used to seeing this face. It’s almost emotionless. You start to picture this face carrying out his murderous intentions. But there's a crack in his psychopathic mask. There's a hint of softness and anguish at the sight of you.
“I don't.. I don't want to leave.” You take a hold of his hand, still shaking and clearly unsure of your words. You hear a soft hiss leave his lips, clearly trying to conceal his reaction to the unexpected. “I don’t want you to be in jail- or.. I suppose I don't want you to be caught..?” You groan, holding tightly onto his hand. “I’m so confused, Alastor. I want things to be normal. I want to go back to when you cooked for me, and.. And go back to planning- o-our elopement…” You let out weakly. He doesn't respond at first, you force your eyes up to meet his. He looks heartbroken at the sight of you.
“I just want to pretend that none of this happened..Please, stop this. F-for me, please don't do this anymore.” Your voice becomes a whisper. His hesitation only makes it all worse. He responds once he feels your grip on him loosen.
“Okay- okay. I’ll clean up this mess, and- I’ll stop. For you.” You manage to give him a weak smile, before resting your head against his chest. After holding you for a moment he settles you into bed after you had essentially fallen asleep in his arms. He does as promised. Mostly. He cleans up the mess at least.
The next morning, you wake up and hope everything that happened before a nightmare. But, you feel his robe still wrapped around you, then notice Alastor’s side of the bed empty. It's real then. It was too vivid. And if it's real.. Then he’s stopping. Because of you. It’s almost touching.
You go on about your day, and he greets you as if nothing is wrong, making your breakfast as usual. He’s chipper and goes on to chat about his plans for today. He’s pretending that nothing went on. How often has he done this? Convincingly pretend that he didn't take a life less than twelve hours ago?
It takes you a few days. A few months.. years, actually. To accept what he had done. You never forgave him, but you accepted it. You had to go on and enjoy your newly wedded life together, didn't you? Alastor had a broadcast to work on, an audience to appease, and you had to work as a physician, helping locals from within their homes. Besides, he stopped the murders after you caught him that one awful night, didn't he?
Didn't he?
Police are at your door. A nightmare of a sight. You open it, putting on your best face. It wasn't as easy as it used to be, but your smile still convinced the public. Leaning against the open door and batting your lashes you greet them sweetly. your face instantly fell to their words. You almost hoped that he had gotten caught. But he didn't.
He's dead.
“Shot in the woods, ma’am. A hunter mistook him for a deer in the dark.” you'd recall these words later, but for now, your ears were ringing and your mind was absent. You thanked them and shut the door.
You can't recall how loudly you screamed and sobbed, or for how long that went on. You need to be held. You need him to hold you and that only pains you more. You mourned for days, canceling appointments, and not answering any guests who were there to offer empty condolences. You rotted in his home. He was so young. You were both so young, there was so much to look forward to in your future. It's all gone now.
The first place you went to was Mimzy's bar. A few months had passed, and all your good liquor had run out. Plus, a familiar face could be a good change of pace right now.
“Oh, hun!” An immediate greeting at the door, Mimzy brings you to the bar. It's a late night on a workday, it was essentially empty. “I'm so sorry for your loss. Everyone in town is worried bout ya! I'm sure you don't wanna hear this, but how are you doin'?” She was right. You didn't want to hear that. You hated that question.
“Fine.” You say squeakly. It was the first word you had spoken in weeks, you realize. She slides you your drink and you immediately down it. She tops it off just for it to be finished off even faster than the last.
“Slow down, hun.” She says, sliding a glass of water to you next. When you drink it thoughtlessly, the absence of alcohol has you scrunching your nose. “I'm sure this isn't the best time, but.. I got somethin’ for ya.” She disappears into some backroom before reapproaching you and your barely touched glass of water. She places an enveloped letter in your hand. Your name written in neat cursive fills its front and your hands start to shake.
“It's from Al. He wanted me to give this to ya. If he ever.. well, if this ever happened.” as she's speaking, you've already opened it and begun reading.
It was instructions. And a large wad of cash. Above the instructions, A small blurb about how sorry he was, how much he loved you, and prayed that you'd never have to read this. Then a list of how to thoroughly clean and dispose of all evidence in his shed.
“Did you know?” you ask Mimzy, your hands crinkling on each side of the letter. She nods. “He never stopped, did he?” You say in a hushed tone, mainly in disbelief to yourself.
“Well- not exactly, no. he was finishing somethin' up in the forest that one night.” Mimzy talks as if she's practiced this conversation. He must've kept her up to date with all this.
“He told me he would stop. He said he was doing it for me-” You grip at your heart, letting out a shaky breath.
“What important is that he loved ya, right? He was an equal opportunity killer, hun, he only did what he had to. It was for the greater good, ya know?” Mimzy was speaking far too calmly about this. you let out a flurry of curses, shoving the crumpled-up instructions into your purse before standing at the bar.
“You're all fucking psychopaths!” You yell out to the empty bar and leave the building in a huff.
You needed to leave town. The two people you were closest to were both criminals. And being in this house was only hurting you more. You packed as much as you could, hand hovering over the phone to call for a taxi. You freeze in place. Then see your ring. You look at it for a moment, the light giving it a beautiful shine. With a defeated sigh, you set your bags aside and pull the instructions back out from your purse, straightening it out as best you could.
After finishing a very thorough cleaning, and questioning your actions through it all, you did everything on the list. You burned the letter alongside some other items that he told you to dispose of. You still aren't sure why you did it. He was never caught before and he must have cleaned up his job in the forest before getting shot. Maybe it was for the best. Let his radio persona live on. Let it be the last nice thing you ever do for him. You finally leave that hellhole behind.
-
You went on to live another sixty years, quite a feat if you must admit. You weren't much of a religious person, so passing in your sleep and waking up in the streets of Pentagram City, was a bit of a shock. After accepting the idea of an afterlife, you put the little details together. You were sure after all that went down in your youth, you would end up here. And if you're here, then maybe..
There are more important things right now. Lucky for you, you fell right in the middle of a bustling street. You scramble to your feet and quickly escape the speeding cars. Why were there cars in Hell? Why did it look so much like a big city you would visit at some point, how is it so human? There was so much to question, but you were desperate to find any sort of sanctuary.
You weren't sure why your first thought was to find the nearest bar, but something seemed to bring you in. You're almost disappointed in yourself for stepping into a club decorated as a 20s speakeasy. But it was familiar- nostalgic. A shrill voice draws your attention.
"Oh my stars! Get over here, doll!" The shriek brings your attention to the bar, where a slightly familiar face greets you. “What are ya gawkin’ at? It’s me! Mimzy? Get that tail over here!” Mimzy owns a club even in Hell? You approach her after some more beckoning.
"Long time no see! How long you been in?" She goes on. You observe her appearance as she speaks. She looks almost the same. The red eyes and sharp teeth were definitely new. You realize you hadn't had the chance to take in your own appearance, but clearly, it must've been similar enough for her to recognize you. Still questioning your position, you finally process her words.
"Oh- I just arrived actually. Lucky me to walk straight into your bar, hm?" You lean against the counter as she pours you a drink, a flurry of trauma and nostalgia turns to confusion.
"Wow! You had quite a life after old Al got you outta town, didn't ya?” She teased. You let out a nervous chuckle. Good old Al. You haven't thought about him in years. You were so young, so head over heels for this man you barely knew. You somehow managed to suppress all the bad times as you aged. Mimzy notices your face droop a bit.
"I suppose I did.." a brief smile meets the wedding band still on your hand.
"Well? Finally gonna reunite? Ooh! How romantic! You'll have to update me, sweetie!" Mimzy bats at you, letting out an excited giggle. You quickly shake your head, not processing any other way to respond.
"I-I can't- I mean.. Not after everything he’s done.” Your hands clench at even the thought.
“Sorry to break it to ya, but we’re all for a reason. You got plenty of time to forgive him, with the whole eternal punishment of it all.” Mimzy’s tone drops to a more serious one as if she’s heard that line before. “Not everyone’s lucky enough to rot in Hell with someone they love, you should see what he’s up to!” Her tone seems to immediately switch to something more chipper.
“Still, I uh.. I shouldn't. He’s been dead for so long, I’m sure he’s got some other dame cleaning up his messes.” Excuses. You didn't want to see him, because this is his fault. You're here because you helped clean up his space after his unfortunate death. Even when you had no idea, he relied on you. He trusted you to carry this burden for the rest of your life. Your rage was suppressed when you heard Mimzy's voice chime back in.
"Nope! He's been busy with uh.. his work. Still wears the ring, though~" She hums, tapping her finger to emphasize her words. You look down at your own hand. Why did you still wear yours, again? You never remarried, but mainly because of the trust issues that were instilled in you for the rest of your life. Maybe it wouldn't be a terrible idea..
“N-No, I just cant..” You let out louder than you meant to. Mimzy shrugs off your panic. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare room, would you, Mimzy?”
-
Mimzy did in fact have a spare room. You stayed in one of the ratty rooms about the bar, alongside some of the demons that rented the rooms for their own business. You realized, after finding a mirror, that you were portrayed with some feline features, nothing too disfiguring. Once you saw your new form, Alastor’s voice, every single time he beckoned you with kitten, rang throughout your mind. You couldn't bring yourself to look at yourself for the first few months. This was Hell after all. Eternal punishment can manifest in several ways.
Mimzy was still a clear supporter of Alastor, so she had a radio set up in your room already. No matter how hard you tried, you realize pretty early on that Alastor had some power over the radios that force his broadcasts to be the only thing streaming. You heard it all. The screams of souls being torn apart, his constant gossiping and cruel words making fun of other demons.
But damn, if it didn't feel like living again. Waking up every morning to the sound of his voice on the radio, before you can truly decipher what he’s talking about, it almost feels like a normal life. But then you hear the pain in those demons that he’s mercilessly tearing up. Sometimes, you see Mimzy cheering at the radio like some sports game is being narrated. You try to avoid her when she’s doing that.
Things were comfortable for many years. As comfortable as Hell can be, at least. Alastor became a distant part of your daily routine, you'd hear his broadcasts all the time, but only in addition to the other bustling city noises. It all seemed to cancel out after a while. You worked with Mimzy, picking up at the bar when she had to run off. In exchange, you stayed in that room indefinitely. You two seemed to become friends again, despite your living history. It became clear to you that what happened when you were alive really didn't matter down here. You all made the same degree of mistakes and you all learned that you’re here for the same reasons.
You went through extermination days as best you could, only having one face-to-face interaction. That day, you were already on the verge of death from falling debris and trying to escape a specifically insistent exorcist. She had you cornered. You shut your eyes, wincing at the upcoming angelic weapon you saw her raise at you. Only feeling a slight sting across the bridge of your nose and cheek, you open your eyes to see her flying back towards the portal to heaven. You can't believe you got that lucky. You’re still in disbelief at the entire scenario, but unlike most wounds down here, your face was permanently scarred. It was small, barely noticeable! Mimzy says.
But you knew not everyone had this much luck on extermination day. After noticing the silence on the streets, during the most recent extermination, you nervously left the bar. Everything was empty. The portal had opened closer to that hotel you’d heard of. And the exorcists were going straight to it. You scoffed, walking back into the bar. They’d finish off those demons there quickly, so you still wanted to hide. As you barred yourself up in your room, you remembered Mimzy telling you about her visit to that hotel. About why she visited the hotel. Alastor's there. You try to not panic. It’s been decades, why are you worried about him? Besides you know how powerful he is, you've picked up his whole radio demon shtick from others. He’ll be fine.
Then why are you so restless?
A loud knocking at your door shakes your entire core. You keep yourself hauled up in the corner of your room, covering your ears and squeezing your eyes shut. You still hear a voice call your name from the other side of the door.
“You gotta come see this! The angels are gone!” It's Mimzy. it's far earlier than usual, you were almost worried it was some new tactic they picked up. You crack the door open just slightly, and her small frame pummeled the door open. She paces your room, rambling words that you barely catch, and she shoves her phone to your face. You have to take it from her shaking hands to get a glimpse. It's hard to see, but it's very obviously footage of Alastor fighting Adam. His body is warped through the drone’s camera, and you watch him fade away into nothingness after one blow. There was no audio, You couldn't hear what happened. Considering you weren't familiar with his shadow antics, you had no idea what actually happened to him.
“You gotta find out if he's okay! I can't go back to that hotel, you gotta do it!” she sounds frantic, taking her phone back. “What? Absolutely not! I'm sure he's fine.” You wave your hand dismissively, despite the hesitance in your voice. Everyone's in Hell for the same reasons. Your mind goes back and forth on the possibility of forgiveness.. of mending burned bridges.
“The videos from a few hours ago, those angels are gone! Ooh.. He's just gotta be okay..” You didn't realize how much Mimzy actually appreciated Alastor. Whether it be the protection he offers or their actual friendship, you aren't sure. But she's clearly worried about him. You just aren't ready.
Mimzy spent the next few days begging you to go down there and find him. And you refused every time. She mentioned going to Cannibal Town to visit his "Gal Pal" and even she hadn't heard from him. He's disappeared before, just recently too, You're sure it was just like his last seven-year absence. Even if you were getting a bit worried, you'd never admit it. There were no broadcasts, there was no public trash-talking from the Vees, it was just.. quiet.
“Didn't you love him?” You stare at Mimzy, in disbelief that she just said that.
“Excuse me?” That seemed to strike a nerve. And maybe she meant to do that.
“I remember you two in my bar, you were two peas in a pod! I've never seen him like that with any gal, hun. That's not somethin' that just goes away.” Mimzy takes your hand from across the bar. “Please, go check on him. Maybe it'll be like a final hurrah, but I just gotta know if he's okay.” You look around the room as if someone would offer to go in your place. But she's right. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't missing his broadcasts. You let out a dejected sigh.
“Okay.. okay! Fine.” You huff. An immediate change in attitude, Mimzy lets out an excited exclamation and pours the two of you drinks, to celebrate her pushy victory.
-
You take in a deep breath, looking around the new hotel's exterior. It was much larger than the previous one and more lavish. You hesitate before knocking on the door. A series of whispered voices, then scrambling feet, follow the door opening. It's the princess of Hell. You weren't expecting Alastor to greet you, but you still feel a bit disappointed.
“Hello! Welcome to the Hazbin Ho-” You quickly interrupt.
“No! Nono, sorry.” You laugh Nervously. “I'm not here for the whole.. redemption thing. Is.. uh…” You peek around her shoulder, seeing a few demons you recognize from the commercial, but no Alastor.
“Is the radio demon here..?” You finally ask quietly. Charlie still seems a little hurt from the interruption, but just because you're not interested in redemption doesn't mean she won't try to convince you.
“Alastor? Sure! He's been in his tower since we reopened.. So, he's probably up there.” She explains, pulling you into the building despite your refusal. “I can go get him for you! What's your name? I'll tell him who-”
"That's actually okay! I was sent to check up on him, so.. if he's alive, then that's all I need to hear!” Mimzy will just have to be satisfied with that. You're chickening out. If they're saying he's fine, then that's good enough for you. The longer you're here, the more anxious you're becoming. You're worried he could pop out of nowhere. Which is a legitimate concern apparently.
“Charlie!” A greeting comes from behind the blonde, and you see a red-clawed hand engulf her shoulder. “Already a new resident? How exciting! What unfortunate sinner has found themselves here as a last resort.. today…”
You know that voice. Of course, you know that voice. He looks fairly similar to how he did when he was alive, the hair was new. Ditto the antlers. A deer? They turned him into a deer down here? You almost want to laugh. Maybe being in Hell for so long has turned your sense of humor that crude. You're staring with wide eyes. He whispers your name so quietly that all you can really take in is his lips forming the word.
“Hey, Al! She was just looking for you! I think she might be worried, right?”
Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up-
“I.. was! But I see he’s clearly fine now, so! I should get back to Mimzy’s-”
“Mimzy? You're with that trainwreck?” a low voice comes from the bar, interrupting the conversation. The cat demon behind the counter scoffs at you. “Nice ears.” They fold down involuntarily from embarrassment.
“Kitten.” You immediately turn at the sound of Alastor’s voice, shivers thoroughly covering your body. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but it clamps shut. His eyes widen for a moment, looking around the room to see how almost every resident had gathered to witness the new face. You start to back away to the door.
“This may not have been the best idea.. T-thank you, princess, it was nice meeting you.” with a blink of your eye, Alastor’s arm is around your shoulder.
“Why of course! Thank you for visiting! I'll escort you out!” His chipper attitude startles you, and you feel almost insulted by his eagerness to have you leave.
“Oh! Well.. come back anytime! Our doors are always open!” You hear Charlie call out as Alastor takes you outside the building. Before you even have a chance to protest, you're suddenly in a recording room. Your mouth is still open ready to scold him, but instead, you examine the dizzying change in scenery. Your eyes finally drop to Alastor, who had taken both your shoulders and let his head drop from your view. He startles to mumble.
“W-What are you-”
“Why didn't you tell me you were here?” His head finally lifts and you catch his perplexed expression. Pained eyes paired with a strained smile, it's almost frightening.
“W-Well, I.. it was just-”
“When did you arrive?”
“A few.. decades ago..?”
“Decades?” His voice goes low and static. You pull away from his grasp as his voice changes. “You shouldn't be here. There has to be a mistake.” His voice returns to normal, and he starts to pace the room. Mumbling more nonsense to himself, he starts gripping at his hair.
You watch this for a while, before finally approaching him. You take hold of his arm, effectively stopping him in place. Pulling down his arm, you feel the grasp on his hair loosen.
“Calm down. You're pulling your hair out, again.” You say softly, brushing his hand clean of stray hairs he had torn out. Reaching forward you attempt to brush his hair back into place. Your hand pauses, hovering just by his cheek. You want to hold him. He seems to follow your hand when you decide to quickly distance yourself.
His eyes look bloodshot and demonic. How could you still possibly be getting lost in them?
“You shouldn't be here, kitten. You’re here because of me.” You flinch at his words, despite how true they are, you manage to feel some underlying guilt.
“Yeah.. Mimzy just wanted to know if you were alright. And you seem just fine. I should go.” You say bluntly, taking hold of your arms and going towards the door.
“Why didn't you find me?” His words cause you to stop.
“Sorry, you weren't exactly the first thing on my mind when I woke up in Hell.”
“Kitten, I-” His voice seems to drop the radio static. It sounds entirely too familiar.
“-don't call me that.” You snap, biting at your lip unconsciously.
“I'm sorry.” He finally says. “It was.. irresponsible of me to lie to you. I made a mistake.” He sounds more embarrassed to admit he messed up. His ego makes you scoff.
“Yes, it was irresponsible. It was downright cruel, Alastor. I had to live with the burden of your murders and had to die with the consequences.” You turn back to face him, a rage that had been boiling for decades finally spilling over. “I did so much good after you died. It has to be your fault I'm here. I never told the cops, I followed your ridiculous instructions, and it was the worst decision of my life! And now I'm paying for it. For being too far in love to realize that you were just using me!” You've had this conversation in your head so many times, that you have no issue saying exactly what you want.
“No!" He stops himself before he can shout anything else. "I assure you, that isn't the case at all. I love you more than I can put into words, kitten, can't we just-” Alastor reaches his hand out to you and you quickly lean away. You spot the ring on his finger.
“Love? You used me to make sure your record stayed clean! That's not love.” You hiss.
“I did it to protect you. I gave you everything you needed to remove yourself from the situation if anything were to happen to me. You said you went on to do good, and I believe you. That was because of me! The letter and the money were both for your safety- I was helping you.” He isn’t exactly shouting, but his tone is certainly sending chills down your spine.
“You don't get to take credit for my life! I should have never come!” You fling your arms up, turning back to the door. He grabs your arm and turns you back to him, a tight grip on your shoulders. He opens his mouth to seemingly scold you, and you're ready to bite back. You notice him scanning over your facial features, and his expression seems to falter.
“What happened to you?” He runs a clawed finger delicately across the scar on your cheek. It had faded but was still visible. You wince at his touch, which makes him pull his hand back.
“Oh, don't act like you care.” You mumble.
“Of course, I care.” His soft response forces a pained groan from your lips.
“All these sweet words you’re saying.. I-I don’t know what to think with that ridiculous smile.. I can't take you seriously!” Your voice is beginning to crack, losing the strength to have this go on.
“About that-”
“I hate you.” He flinches at your words, Out of everything you’ve said, you don't understand why that seems to silence him. He grips onto his chest, his coat and shirt scrunching into his fist. You watch him drop his head, bracing himself on his desk that he had stumbled to. You’re sure he’s being dramatic. Hamming it up to get some sort of pity. A sigh passes your lips.
“Um.. Alastor… I didn't mean to-” His act only fools you a little bit. You wonder if you’ve let out too much steam. If he really-
Before you can finish any other thoughts, he collapses to the floor.
“Fuck-” You quickly move to his side, flipping him to his back and helping him at least prop himself up against a wall. “Should I get-”
“Don't tell the others.” He breathes out, putting his hand up dismissively. With the wave of his hand, you see the blood across his palm. Your eyes follow the source to a continuously growing stain on his top. The sight of blood didn't seem to bother you after everything. “Just help me up.”
“O-Okay.” You do as he says, helping him stand. Almost feeling like an instinct, you pull his coat off of his shoulders. He struggles to keep up with the movement but still gives in. He quickly loses his strength and stumbles to the small couch nearby. You almost enjoy watching him stubbornly refuse your help.
“I.. might require.. some assistance.” He says it so softly you almost want to ask him to repeat himself. Even if you understood him just fine.
“You're asking for help?” You correct him, placing your hands on your hips.
“I don't need help.” He snaps. You would've been offended if you knew he was just to flustered to admit it.
“Then what do you need?” You sit beside him on the couch, placing your hand on his blood-stained shirt. He immediately winces.
“For.. you to stitch this up.” You start unbuttoning his shirt, your hands grazing the fluff of his chest with a mild curiosity. You finally get the full scope of a completely untreated slash that would've surely killed any human if left untreated. But for an almost immortal demon, it was just a painful nuisance. Very painful.
“From your fight with… You want me to help you stitch this up?” You ask because that it seems near impossible to do so, even with someone of your medical history. It's wide and seems to be covered with specks of gold. It feels like small shards of glass when you swipe your hand over him.
“.. yes.” He says quietly. You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head at him. He’s reckless, too stubborn to have looked at the wound because of its reminder of his defeat. And you know that's exactly why it got this bad. No matter how small, Alastor sees the smile growing on you.
“I missed your smile.” He says softly.
“Please stop saying things like that.. You're confusing me.” You make sure to speak your words quietly as if you don't want them to be heard. A small demonic creature rushes to your side, holding a tray up with the essentials to properly treat the slash. It stays perfectly still once in your reach.
You went to work, after some proper scolding, trying your best to keep the process as painless as possible. Every so often, you wonder why you are being so careful with him. He doesn't deserve your tenderness. Your thoughts are stopped when you see his hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you away. His face is scrunched, a hiss passing by his tormented smile. You must've hit the wrong spot while lost in thought. Your eyes fall to his ring, again.
“Why did you keep this on?” You ask, examining his hand that’s still engulfing your wrist.
“It reminds me of you. And yours?” His voice is hushed, still recovering from the pain. You realize he has a full view of your own hand, your wedding band sitting just as clear to him.
“It.. reminds me of what you did to me.” You hear a quiet groan in response to your words, and he releases your arm, gripping the couch in its stead. You keep going.
“I'll admit, I was worried about you.. after the battle with Adam. Maybe it was Mimzy getting me all worked up..” You finally admit. You don’t want him to think you’ve spent your whole life and death hating him. But why would it matter either way?
“I can't be killed, you had nothing to worry about.” He replies, not willing to comment on your sudden vulnerability. Not in this position. All you can do is laugh at him. He's clearly talking out his ass.
“Looks like you got pretty close to it.” You scoff. His ears flatten, and he looks away like a stubborn child.
You finish up after an hour. It felt much longer. The silence with quiet quips mixed in, the surprisingly intimate moment, it was suffocatingly uncomfortable.
“I didn't want to come here. I was perfectly content in being in Hell. I didn't expect this form of torture.” You say, setting everything back onto the little tray presented to you. That little demon had been standing there this whole time. You notice it started shaking a while ago.
“Come now, you're being dramatic. You chose to find me, did you not?” He says, sitting a bit taller with the regained strength.
“I'm not being dramatic! You try to avoid Mimzy's constant nagging! I hear your voice everywhere, see all the ads for this hotel, and they made me a damn cat, Alastor!” You feel yourself starting to lose your composure, gripping your hair and letting out a pained laughter. “H-how unfair is that..?” You let out a weak chuckle, feeling tears well in your eyes. He pulls your hand away from your hair, brushing his thumb across your ring as he holds you for a moment longer.
“Completely unfair. Your appearance may be.. unappealing … to you, but your face is still the same. Your eyes still bright as usual, your smile just as sweet.” His sincerity is muddling your thoughts. Those thoughts that warn you he’s hurt you before. And now he’s a cruel overlord, he’ll hurt you again tenfold. You feel his thumb drag along your lip after realizing you had leaned in towards him.
“Still biting your lip, hm?” His static fades again, and you wince at the raw skin he's brushing over. Old habits apparently don’t die hard.
“N-nervous tick, I guess..” His closeness leaves you a bit breathless.
“Do I make you nervous?” His tone confuses you. There’s an underlying sense of worry, a genuine concern for your well-being. But you’re still distracted by his strange smile. You don’t have much time to think any further about it before you’re startled by gentle lips against yours. It’s quick but is more than enough to let out a flood of feelings you’ve been suppressing since the day you left your hometown. He looks at you with a sly smile on his face.
“I’m still mad at you.” You say quietly.
“I know.” He kisses you, again.
“Y-You don’t have to-” He interrupts you with another kiss.
“I know.” Still holding your face you barely take in his next words with a clear head. “I miss you.” Another kiss, just to throw you off this time, “I miss having you at my side.
Stay.. please.”
There was no way you would drop everything to live with a man you were barely married to in life. That didn't stop you from seeing him more, though. You were actually.. kind of glad to see him. To patch things up, even just a little. You’d visit, sneaking around at first to avoid any interaction from the other residents of the hotel. They were all more than intimidating to you. Especially considering one of them was the king of Hell. Alastor was more than happy to keep you away from him, though.
You updated Mimzy on how he was when you left that first night, but you left out the unimportant bits.. Like the giant angelic slash across his chest. You didn’t need Alastor to tell you that you shouldn't be going around spreading that information. A true accomplice. When Mimzy noticed you were visiting him to the point where you couldn't cover the bar when she needed you to, she was more than happy to kick you out. You knew exactly what she was doing. She didn't want you homeless, but you were essentially left with nowhere to go. Except for the hotel.
It wasn’t the worst thing to happen.. Things almost seemed normal. Alastor had lots of sucking up to do, even though he wouldn't call it that. He was definitely working at it. Making you breakfast like before, treating you like even higher royalty than he ever could while alive. He has the power to do so now and he fully intends to use it. And it’s working.. A little bit.
Okay, a lot.
You’re shocked that he still seems the same after becoming the powerful overlord he is. You’d love to convince yourself that none of that mattered, his status in Hell or what happened when you were alive. That you could just forget mortality to look forward to the potential future facing you. It’s easier said than done.
You're still struggling with your nightmares. Even more so in Hell, likely another form of punishment. Something about the hotel seemed to subdue some of them actually. As if the air were clearer here. It only helped most nights, though. Whenever you woke up in a cold sweat, struggling to breathe, clutching at your heart, there was only one thing to calm you. The radio at your nightstand would play a specific song. One that Mimzy was fond of, so you heard it most nights at her bar on Earth. Whenever you heard that, you knew he was there. He was waiting for you.
"Birdy?" You knock on his door, which seems to open slowly just from your touch. Alastor is sitting contently in front of his firepit. This wasn't the first time you've found him in the middle of the night.
"Another one, my love?" He tilts his head up slightly, the book he had in his hand shutting immediately. You nod your head slowly, already approaching him. Your blanket still wrapped around your shoulders is dragging across the ground. You give him a look he recognizes, and he nods at the implications. Without caution, you let out a tired whimper and plop into his lap. He pulls the blanket over your entirety.
Getting completely comfortable, he adjusts his arms to pull his book back to his eyeline. With your head nuzzled against his shoulder, you're too tired to conceal your little habit of purring. He doesn't mind, though. He loves it.
♡♡♡
Another big boy for ya 🫶
Human Alastor is really fun to write for, I had to do some research tho lol
I tried to keep Alastor's sexuality in mind, so I hope I represented it well. That's always something that makes me nervous when writing for Al 😬
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can you write about spencer getting flustered around confident!reader please thanks<33
spencer reid x confident!reader | fluff | cursing, banter
spencer was completely enamored.
that was the only word for it, he decided. it was a weird moment to come to this realization, seeing as he spilled his glass of red wine all over your dress and was helping you clean it up frantically, but that's when he realized he was completely and utterly enamored with you.
you were always this way, so unapologetically yourself even when anyone else in the situation would be embarrassed. it's half of the reason spencer had decided to drink tonight. he didn't usually drink but he decided that tonight was the night he'd work up the courage to ask you out, and since he didn't have half as much confidence as you, he found himself relying on the liquid to give him that push.
but he just found his hands shaky as he approached you. he didn't expect you to look so good tonight, not that you aren't usually stunning, but tonight you were adorned in a short white mini dress that puffed at the end, white heels making your legs look longer than they were, and a simple silver chain wrapped around your neck, the one you always wore. you were tightly hugging garcia, almost squeezing the air out of her as you handed her a gift, wrapped in a cheetah print gift wrap that screamed 'garcia'.
spencer spent too long getting ready tonight, choosing to show up in a grey suit, loose button up and tie. spencer would never admit this out loud but he began wearing his ties looser so that when you saw him, you would adjust it. he liked the contact and being close enough to you to smell your perfume, but it didn't make him feel any better for tricking you.
he approached, one hand shoved in his pants pocket, the other one holding his glass of wine. he sauntered over to you, grinning ear to ear with his cheeks tinged pink.
"hey spence," you smiled, turning to him. he liked when you did that, gave him all your attention, your body, mind, and eyes solely focused on him, "you clean up nice."
he practically choked at your comment, words coming out in a jumbled mess but the smile leaving his eyes, "w-well, ye- yeah, you clean up nice... as- as well!" he managed out embarrassingly, but in true you fashion you didn't make him feel bad, you didn't pity him or tease him, you just did a spin in your dress making his throat go dry.
"thank you!" you giggled smoothing down your dress with your hand, "i got this dress on sale and was so relieved when it fit me like a glove," you beamed at him, pulling up the straps, "it was the last one left,"
"well, you look," he blinked for a moment, "stunning," he surprised himself with how effortless that came out and for a moment had stunned you too. you blinked back, a smile creeping back onto your face.
"thanks spence," you replied quieter, but still with all the quiet confidence you carried everywhere. spencer liked being friends with you, but more than that he liked being around you. he always assumed that people who liked themselves would be stuck up, vain almost, but it was never like that with you. you made it a point to make sure everyone in your life saw themselves how you saw them. you'd do small things like give compliments to nearly everyone you met, to bigger things like creating an entire book of your 'favorite things about penelope' when she made an offhand comment that merely suggested she didn't like herself. it was clear you were content with who you are by how you viewed the world. there was no competition, there was no need to put anyone down, just the kindness of your heart.
your compliments usually made spencer fluster, trip over his words (and his feet) but he always assumed you were being nice. you complimented everyone and he fell in line with everyone. but when you stepped towards him, lifting your hands to adjust his tie, he felt himself faltering again. your manicured fingers adjusted his tie just as he planned but you didn't move when you were done. you stared up at him with big doe eyes that made spencer melt immediately.
"you smell really good, spence," you said, no, you whispered and it made him nervous. the way you were looking at him made him think that you wanted this, that you wanted him. in that moment he decided now was a better time than ever to finally ask you out, but the thought alone of you rejecting him made him nervous. it made his hands shake as they got clammy and as he went to speak he forgot his glass of red wine was still in his hands. before he knew it he was spilling red wine all over the pretty dress that was the last one left. the one you just told him had fit you like a glove and that you had been excited to find. it spilled and he felt his chances with you trickle to the floor as everyone looked over.
"shit," he cursed, "i'm so sorry," he looked up at you nervously, putting his now empty glass on the table beside them. he was ready for you to yell, to cry, to shove him, but instead you just laughed, giggling as you wiped at your dress.
"well, there goes two dollars down the drain," you shrugged, looking up at him to see his nervous face, eyes almost glossed over, "oh, spence," you cooed, "it's fine, i'm fine. mistakes happen."
"but you just bought it, and it does fit like a glove and i'm so sorry, i'll buy you a new one," he rambled out walking over to the kitchen to get some paper towels, you hot on his trail as he took the whole roll and starting dabbing at the stains on your dress. you wanted to push him off, tell him it was okay and to not worry, that there was no way he would be getting the stain off. but you liked the contact so you just watched. you knew it gave his hands something to do while he anxiously patted at it and apologized over and over again like an incantation.
"spence," you said, voice sweet and saccharine, "stop, it's okay. it's just a dress and the dress was literally two dollars," you stilled his hands by placing yours over his, he stopped breathing for a moment as he looked at you anxiously.
"i just got so nervous, you were so close-" he started.
"oh, shit, i'm sorry. i know how much you like your personal space, i should have-" you rushed out immediately feeling guilty but he cut you off as well.
"no, i liked it, i like you being close, i just got nervous because-" he stammered out, the confession getting lost in the dual apologies.
"because germs, i know. i'm so sorry, spe-" you were cut off by him squeezing your hand.
"because i like you," he cut you off, his hand now shaking, "and i know that sounds childish but i just want-"
"it doesn't sound childish," you whispered gently, "it sounds sweet,"
"it does?" he asked, voice dripping with worried as he looked in between your eyes.
"yeah," you stood taller, "i like you a lot, spencer. why do you think i'm always fixing your tie?"
"why do you think my tie is always loose?" he quipped back, small smirk forming on his face, causing you to playfully hit him.
"you little player," you giggled, your tone teasing as you beamed up at him, "well, are you gonna ask me out?" you asked, removing your hands from his to cross it across your chest.
"w-well, yeah, i was getting to it," he breathed out nervously, "would you like to get dinner with me sometime?"
"with the guy who just ruined my dress?" you replied, eyebrows raised but instantly feeling bad when you watched the color drain from his face, "spence, that's a joke, of course i want to get dinner with you."
"cool," he breathed out, face returning to its full color and a deep shade of red, "cool, cool, cool,"
#asked & answered#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x self insert#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#dr spencer reid#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfic
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what about aemond x niece reader but aegon has always been in love with her? she is betrothed to aemond and they’ve always had a thing for the other but aegon has been head over heels for her since he can remember 👀
Always the last
Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x niece!reader, Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader
Summary: The firstborn son, always the last. It was like a mockery of the gods. To give him birthright but take away the one he wanted more than anything in the world.
Words: 1k
Themes: angst, no comfort, basically aegon is obsessed with reader, kind of self harm? (too much alcohol to silence pain), addictions
Warnings: delulu fanon aegon, kind of self harm? (too much alcohol to silence pain), addictions, incest (it's targaryens so obviously)
Author's note: I'm back, and I hope for longer. At first, it was supposed to be a more aemond x reader, but I changed my mind, and it ended up as angst from aegon's perspective. I'm sucker for my delulu fanon aegon. if you want more, my asks are open!!
Aegon knew he shouldn't get his hopes up. The life he imagined with his niece by his side was simply not going to happen.
He didn't deserve her. And even if it were otherwise, nothing would come of it. He had already been married to Helaena for years.
It just didn't make sense, and Aegon was well aware of that. So why did it hurt him so much? Why then, when he heard his father's decision about the betrothals of Aemond and his niece, did Aegon feel as if his life had just been put to rest? Why did it hurt so much? The knowledge that it would be Aemond who would be able to watch her sleep blissfully, hug her, kiss her, and spend the rest of his life with her didn't allow him to function.
He is the first-born son, and yet always the last.
So he turned to drinking and whoring. Aegon was never a serious man. He was always more interested in pleasure than any duty and this time was no different either. He didn't want to think anymore.
He didn't want to think about her, so to silence those disturbing thoughts, he would get drunk to the point of unconsciousness, unable to get her out of his head.
He would do anything to forget, to silence the pain and the voice that reminded him that it should have been him all along.
Aegon drank day and night with no desire to stop it. In every spare moment, all he could think about was his niece. The girl whose smile could light up the darkest corner and whose touch made his heart beat faster.
He knew it was wrong. He knew he should forget her. After all, she was his brother's betrothed. But there was nothing he could do about it.
No matter how much he tried to push away thoughts of her, no matter how much he tried to hide his feelings, he couldn't.
He couldn't forget the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed or the way her hair fell around her face like a waterfall. He couldn't forget her scent and the smile that made his heart flutter. He couldn't forget the way her hand felt in his, or the way her fingers traced patterns on his skin. Even if it was years ago when they were children. When life was easier.
He couldn't forget her. He was completely and utterly infatuated.
And it was killing him.
Every time he saw her with his brother, every time he saw them laughing and joking together, it felt like a dagger in his heart. He knew he should be happy for Aemond, but he couldn't. He was too consumed with jealousy, too consumed with the thought that she should be his betrothed and not his brother's.
He knew it was selfish and even unreasonable. But he couldn't help it.
He couldn't bear the thought of her being with someone else. Not when he had wanted her so much for so long. Not when he had spent years admiring her from afar, unable to do anything but dream of what might have been if things had turned out differently.
No amount of alcohol could erase his memories, no amount of pleasure could dull the pain in his heart.
She was always there, on the edges of his mind, tormenting him with her sweetness, beauty and innocence.
The pain in Aegon's heart only grew when he saw them together.
The sight of Aemond's eyes brightening as he looked at her, the way he leaned in to listen closely every time she spoke, the small smile that appeared on his lips when she laughed, all of it made Aegon's insides twist into a knot.
He felt as if a cold, strong hand was squeezing his heart and squeezing it tighter and tighter with each passing moment.
He tried to look away, to divert his attention, but he couldn't. His eyes always returned to them, drawn to their sight like a moth to a flame. He tried to tell himself that he should be happy for Aemond, that he should be happy that his brother had found someone to make him happy, but he couldn't.
He was filled with a burning jealousy from which he could not shake.
He couldn't stand it.
He couldn't look at them together, see the happiness on their faces, the warmth in Aemond's gaze. It was like a thousand needles piercing his heart with every passing second. He wanted to scream, tear them apart, take her away from her brother, and claim her as his own. He wanted to sink his face into her hair and inhale her scent, to wrap his arms around her and never let her go.
But he couldn't.
He couldn't do any of those things. He was trapped, watching from the sidelines as Aemond, his younger brother, his other son, always the more loved one, was now the one who could be with her. The one who could hold her hand, kiss her, and share her life. Aegon could only stare at it, feeling the bitter taste of jealousy on his tongue.
She was like a drug, an addiction he couldn't shake off. Every time he saw her, his heart sped up, his palms sweated, and his throat tightened.
And every time she smiled at Aemond, her eyes shining with affection, his heart broke all over again.
He knew that Aemond deserved someone like her in his life. But he couldn't help it. Jealousy was consuming him. It was destroying him.
Aegon knew he was not the right choice for her. He was too weak, too selfish, too impulsive.
He was a drunkard, a lustful man, one who lacked discipline and self-control. He would disappoint her, hurt her, and ultimately break her heart.
But that didn't stop him from wanting her, from lusting after her like a drug. Every thought of her filled his mind, every memory of her haunted his dreams.
She was like a bright, shining candle in a dark, cold world, and he was drawn to her more and more because he couldn't have her.
He was the firstborn son, the eldest, the one who was supposed to get everything.
And yet he was always the last. Last in his father's eyes, last in his mother's heart and now last in the race to her heart.
It was like a cruel joke, a mockery of the gods, that they had given him the birthright but taken away the one thing he wanted, the one person he wanted more than anything.
#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd fanfic#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen#hotd aegon#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#send me asks#aegon targaryen#aegon x reader#hotd imagine
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Simon Riley is (not so) secretly a huge sap | Part 2
(A/N)- FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF. and a little angst but mostly so much sweetness that it’ll raise your blood sugar. i banged this out in one sitting with no breaks so if it seems incorrect or weird then no it isn’t. i’m sleep deprived and v lonely i hope u understand. That being said enjoy my little goobers! MWAH
You love Simon’s tattoos. You trace them with your fingers whenever you get the chance, kiss the ones on his chest and shoulders whenever he huddles close to you in bed. You even managed to convince him to let you color in part of his sleeve once, provided you used washable markers. He lets you doodle on him too, if you like. You have to use black pen, though- he’s got a theme going, don’t you know.
Sometimes, when curiosity strikes you, you’ll point to a particular one, ask how he got it and why. His answers range from profound and emotional to “Eh, I thought it’d look cool. And I was right.” These ones are your personal favorites, the ones that are only there to fill out the tapestry on his skin. Like the small, quarter-sized ones hidden on the inside of his wrist, all grouped together; A bucket hat, a baseball cap and a little bar of soap. The symbol for TF141 on his bicep. Barbed wire, chains, and swirling flames that seemed to leap off his skin, even in black and white. A ballistic missile with a shark face painted on it, which- and even he would admit this- was a bit of an impulse decision, and kind of clashed with the rest of his sleeve, even though it still looked good.
There are ones you know not to bring up. Ones that clearly have dark memories attached, his own twisted way of explaining why he was who he was, ensuring he never forgot. It wasn’t healthy to have permanent reminders of his perceived failures etched into his flesh. He knew that now, but they still held sentimental value, however strange that may have sounded. A cockroach on his shoulder, dog tags. A rifle, helmet and boots, all stood up together. A date written above three skulls, side by side, one of them far too small. You didn’t ask about these.
It’s because of this that, when he brings you a gift one day, its importance isn’t clear right away.
You’d been together a while. It wasn’t a birthday or an anniversary, nothing too special. Still, hed gotten you something anyway
“Oh. Almost forgot…”
He was fresh out of the shower when he remembered, wearing a pair of sweats and little else. He spent some time digging through plastic bags in order to find it. “Popped by the shops and saw it sittin’ there. Thought it’d look nice on ya, an’ I had the cash on me, so…” he had explained with a shrug.
Despite his feigned nonchalance, you had known him long enough to tell that he was nervous about your possible reaction to his present. A bit unusual for him, but not strange, per se. When he handed you a small, rectangular box with shiny gold lettering on it- the name of some company or other, but you couldn’t read the font- you took it happily.
You thanked him even before you knew what it was, which he teased you for just before pressing a kiss to your forehead and telling you to open it.
It ended up being a cuff bracelet. In your preferred metal, of course. Simon remembered little things like that. It fit perfectly, and it was made to look like a key had been bent and wrapped around your wrist. It looked pretty sweet, actually, and your eyes were bright as you put it on and thanked him once more.
You could tell that there was something you weren’t putting together, though. The way he was looking at you, holding his breath and searching for a reaction of some kind. You fiddled with your new key bracelet and glanced around, but you couldn’t figure out what he was waiting for.
“…What’s happening right now? Is there, like. Something else, or-?”
He rolled his eyes then, giving a quiet chuckle. “Bloody hell. You’re lucky you’re cute, you lil’ idiot.” He teased, though there was nothing but soft affection behind his words.
“And you’re lucky you’re handsome, you big jerk,” You replied, your tone exactly the same and your smile never faltering. “Now, will you please tell me what i’m not getting?”
He was tense and silent as he nodded and took your arm, the one you had placed the bracelet on. He directed your hand to his chest and guided you to press your palm flat against the skin there. That was when you looked down and put two and two together.
It was one of the oldest tattoos he had, judging by the fading and quality, though it still looked just as good as all the others.
A shiny metal lock, just off center and resting right over his heart.
Lock tattoo. Key bracelet. Blushing, fidgety boyfriend that looked like he was going to sink into the floor at any moment.
Ohhhh my god.
For a second, you stood there, too stunned to say anything. You kept your hand on his chest and used your free one to cover your mouth, your eyes wide as you looked from him, to the bracelet and back again.
“I kept the receipt.” He muttered.
That snapped you out of your trance, and you immediately shook your head as you began to tear up.
“Simon…it’s beautiful. This is- I don’t even know what to say, it’s just-“ You choked out. You leaned forward and hugged him then, your grip tight and your head resting where your hand had been just moments ago. Thanks to your new closeness, you could actually hear his heart beating now. Much faster than normal, but beginning to slow down now as he wrapped his arms around you in return.
Simon was many things, but a poet wasn’t one of them. He didn’t even want to attempt to tell you just how significant this gesture was to him, not with words anyway. He didn’t even think he could if he tried, if he was honest with himself. But he didn’t have to. You understood. You were always good like that. His sweet, wonderful partner that not only filled a hole in him he never knew he had, but also helped patch up the old ones with soft touches and encouraging words.
“Thank you, Simon.” You whispered. He could feel your lips moving and your warm breath ghosting across his skin as you remained latched onto him, refusing to let go anytime soon. Not that he minded. He rested his chin atop your head, closing his eyes and savoring your presence just like he always did. When his voice eventually returned, it came out impossibly soft.
“No, thank you.”
#call of duty#cod mwii#cod x you#ghost x reader#simon ghost x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost mwii#ghost mw2#fanfic#x reader#my writing
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1k challenge request- what is Ghost like on vacation? NSFW always preferred lol
Ghostie on vacation? Vacation?!? Yes, please. Funny enough, Ghost is currently on vacation in Ink & Needle, and that boy is being naughty in that AU. But that’s not what we’re talking about here. Thanks for sending this in! I hope you enjoy it (and the steamy bits).
Most of these are gn!reader with one or two exceptions!
Word Count: 729
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // 1k follower event masterlist
Do y’all remember the bit of banter between Soap, Ghost, and Laswell in MW3? And Ghost replies “why not both?” when it comes to whether they prefer the beach or snow. To me, that means Ghost is down for anything. He’ll take a road trip or a week-long stay in Bali. Man just loves a good vacation.
On that note, when Ghost and Soap were being a bit cheeky about the “tan lines around the eyes,” he insinuates he wears the mask, but I don’t believe that. When Simon isn’t in the field, he’s not going to wear his mask, especially on vacation. He’d stick out like a sore thumb.
If Simon is taking a vacation with his S/O, he’s really down for anything. It can be simple and romantic. It could be camping. Hell, you could drag him to Disneyworld and he’d probably still enjoy himself.
However, he’s very much controlling when it comes to traveling. He’s the Dad in this scenario. He packs in advance, he wakes up way too early to go to the airport, he checks to make sure the plane is actually at the gate, he keeps the schedule, and Simon isn’t necessarily going to just “go with the flow” in the moment. Simon is the one holding the passports and tickets. God help you if you try to seize them from him.
No mask. Period. And no work. Simon isn’t taking phone calls, emails, or anything else. Price can deal with any shenanigans on his own.
Terrible about putting on sunscreen. You’re always making sure he’s protecting his skin.
Most of the spending money is spent on feeding Simon. Dude is a brick wall and he’s always eating. And when he’s not eating something, he’s buying you whatever you want.
If the vacation requires driving, Simon prefers taking his own vehicle or renting one. He doesn’t skimp here. Simon will select a reputable rental car company and select something roomy.
Holds you accountable on everything, but is also incredibly indulgent. You might complain that something is expensive and you won’t get it, and Simon will say good on you for sticking to your guns, but he’ll also just fucking buy it anyway because he can’t help seeing you smile.
Vacations (or rather holidays) are Simon’s one opportunity to forget everything. He can spend time with you completely uninterrupted. No life shit. No work shit. Just you and him.
Enjoys the outdoors but is also down for exploring cities, walking through museums, and trying new things. Simon is open to exploring a culture he’s never interacted with before, especially if he’s doing it with you.
Likes to travel and go on vacation during off-seasons. Simon isn’t a fan of crowds and it’s not from an anxiety standpoint. That military training is hard to dislodge, and he’s often overly aware of potential threats in a crowd.
Has a terrible sweet tooth. Simon will eat more desserts than actual food if you’re not watching him.
Loves long road trips because he enjoys all the lazy blow jobs you give him while in the car. Sometimes he has to pull over and just have his way with you.
Basically, you and Simon are fucking regardless of where you are.
Going on a destination vacation to a beachy oasis? Simon is fucking you in the cabana, in the hotel room, in the private pool, under a waterfall. Sometimes it might be lazy and slow, and sometimes he’s just chasing his own end and needs to be inside you.
Camping? That tent is seeing some action. You’re little spoon. Simon is big spoon. And he probably has his cock buried deep inside you, rocking his hips lazily while is hand is playing with other parts of you.
But he’s smart not to fuck out in the wilderness. Bug bites are the fucking worse.
In the cabin in the Pacific Northwest? He’s fucking you by the fire while it rains outside.
Simon’s intimacy and romantic side really flourishes during this time. Because there are no outside distractions, he’s able to put his entire focus on you. Along with the sex, Simon is simply an attentive partner. While he’s here to enjoy himself, he is also highly aware of your needs.
Hates when the two of you have to go back to the real world. Would rather disappear with you forever.
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Werewolf!best friend x reader - first date, friends to lovers, anal sex, public environment (no one's watching tho)
You and your werewolf!best friend finally decide to go on a date, pressed by your mutual friends who were so fucking tired of the goo-goo eyes you would throw at one another and the wasted sexual tension constantly buzzing between the two of you. Everyone had long picked up on your feelings except you oblivious dumbasses.
Together you decide to go to a cute small café that has just recently opened and that you both wanted to try out. You chat over the food and fall into a banter just as usual, with only the occasional more suggestive teasing to disrupt the norm. But other than that, it's like hanging out as friends, like you've done for years. You promise to take it slow, agreeing on the fact that going from best friends to whatever this is is a big step that deserves the appropriate time to get accustomed to and that you're both willing to just let things evolve as naturally as possible. The truth is that you're both still a bit uncertain of what the other truly feels and so you're hesitant to really take the plunge and admit just how in love you are with each other.
However...
You can't help but notice the way his attentive eyes keep lingering onto your lips as you talk, more than he has ever done before. Not to talk about the way his gaze also seems to fall to your cleavage whenever he thinks you're not looking. You can't really blame him, you decided to wear your best sundress for this special occasion on purpose, after all. You really wanted him to look, to show him what he's been missing out on for years.
Your eyes have been roaming too, attracted to his long sleek snout, his broad shoulders, his sculpted pecks covered by all that thick fur, fantasising about burying your hands in it, fingers tangling in his curls as you share a heated kiss or possibly something more...
When your eyes meet again, it's like you both know what the other's thinking. Without even the need to utter a single word, you both stand up and leave the café in a rush.
You end up in the nearby woods, doing exactly what you promised not to do so early on. Your chest is pressed against the trunk of a tall tree, your ass in the air, your sundress rolled over your back and tightly held by his paw as he snaps his hips against your ass cheeks and humps you like an animal.
It was inevitable, really. Too much pent up tension, too many years spent pining after the other without saying anything or acting on your ever growing feelings. You couldn't wait any longer, no matter your stupid promises.
"I've been jacking off to sleep every night thinking about this-" he huffs in between thrusts, "...about fucking your perfect ass against a tree-"
You moan in response, too lost to the pleasure to admit that you've been doing the same. You've hung out so many times in this same part of the woods, it was only a matter of time before you'd use this spot to fuck, away from prying eyes - even your friends'.
Your knees start to buckle under you, weakened by the force of his thrusts as well as the overwhelming warmth coiling in your belly and threatening to snap at any moment. He notices it and pushes his hips into your ass so hard that you collide against the tree, his body spooning yours and his paw moving between your cheek and the hard surface of the trunk to prevent you from getting scratched. His other paw rests on your hip to keep the dress from rolling back down while he keeps on ravaging you relentlessly.
You feel his wet snout press against the boiling skin of your neck and you tip your head its way, leaning into its soothing warmth.
"I love you, y/n-" he rasps in your ear, his shallow and hot breath hitting your skin in sharp puffs. "Love you so fucking much-"
You're a bubbling mess, tears prickling your eyes and whimpers falling from your lips non-stop. He pounds even harder and faster and deeper inside you, possibly chasing his looming orgasm. You try to crane your neck enough to press your lips on his nose in a clumsy kiss and despite the fog clouding your mind, you eventually manage to moan out just as you fall over the edge: "Love you too-!"
It's only when he hears you saying it back that his hips start to falter and he spills his load inside you, his strong arms coming to encircle your waist and pull your feet off the ground from the impetus of his deep final thrusts.
His quick breath fans the hair at the nape of your neck as he slowly pulls you back on the ground, while you both still tremble in ecstacy. You feel his arms squeeze around you, engulfing you in a tight and fluffy embrace.
"You really love me?" You hear him whisper against your neck, a vulnerable edge now audible in his tone. You can recognize your sweet and loving best friend, so different from the animal that has just ravaged you. You nod softly in response, a lazy smile blooming on your face. "I do. I love you."
He carefully turns you around in his embrace, his beamy eyes meeting yours and making your stomach flutter. His nose boops gently against your own, causing your smile to widen and a soft chuckle to leave your lips. "You love me, you love me, you love me-!" he starts to chant euphorically, licking your face all over as he whines and whimpers like a happy puppy.
🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me
#werewolf x human#werewolf x reader#werewolf smut#werewolf#werewolves#monster lover#monsters#exophilia#monster love#terato#monster fucker#monster x human#monster kink#monster boyfriend#teratophillia#monster smut#monster x reader#monster fuqqer#tw monsterfucking#monster imagine#monster scenario#terato x reader#teratosnack
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hi! 30. “You’re definitely your mother/father’s child.” with Matthew Tkachuk please
The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far || Matthew Tkachuk
Prompt: 30. “You’re definitely your father’s child.”
WC: 1.2k
A/N: I told y’all I would work on my requests.
Warnings: children fighting (but it’s all in good fun. )
Summary: Off season meant that your husband was home every day, which provides a break for you and time with their dad for the kids. The same kids that idolize their father so in hindsight, perhaps you should have seen this coming. After all, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
It was no secret that the off-season was your favorite part of the year. You loved to watch your husband do something that he loved and enjoyed and ever since your children got old enough to bring to their father’s games, hockey had become special to everyone in the house. The off-season is special in a different way. Matthew was at home and even though he trained five days out of the week, he was still mostly at home spending time with you and your two kids.
It was nice to wake up in the morning and have Matthew beside you and every morning it felt like you were falling in love with your family all over again when your son and daughter would sneak into the room and cuddle against you and Matthew. You would always take a minute to watch fondly as your husband squeezed both of the kids to his chest before you left the comfort of your bed to make breakfast.
The afternoons were always spent outside. You soaked up the Summer sun as you sat on one of the patio chairs drinking sweet iced tea and watching as Matthew and your children ran around playing.
Today was no different. You relaxed as you watched Matthew run around the backyard with the kids. You couldn’t make out what game it was and suspected that it was one that the kids had made up. It didn’t matter much to you, just as long as no one was getting hurt and they got their energy out. At the ages of six and four, your daughter and son, respectively, had more energy in them than anyone else you knew.
You laughed as you watched your son, Link, screech as Matthew threw him over his shoulder and took off running. The screeching quickly turned into loud laughter not just from your son but your husband too. Your daughter, Maxie, giggled hysterically as she chased her father and brother.
It didn’t take long for her to catch up to them, after all, Matthew was running slower than usual so she had a chance.
“Run!” Matthew called out loudly as he set Link down. “Save yourself!”
Maxie who had wrapped herself around her dad’s legs looked at her younger brother's small frame as he ran in the other direction. You winced, already knowing what was likely to happen. Your daughter was highly competitive, a trait she likely inherited from her father, and she wasn’t one to go easy on anyone if she wanted to win. Not even her brother. Especially not her brother.
You fought the urge to get up from your set and get involved before things got out of hand. You reminded yourself that Matthew was home and that you could take a step back from being the disciplinary one.
It was just last week that you were talking to Matthew’s mom when she told stories about Matthew and his siblings when they were younger. When you mentioned your worries about your own kids fighting she eased your thoughts, assuring you that siblings fight, especially when their last name happens to be Tkachuk.
It was as you were thinking back on the conversation that you heard a thud followed by a cry. Your eyes landed on your children tangled together on the grass. You didn’t see what had happened but with the way Maxie was nearly sitting on top of her brother, you realized that she probably tackled Link to the ground. Your daughter still had a hard time understanding how rough she could be with her brother, not yet understanding how even though they were two years apart, four and six was still a significant difference.
You were about to get up when Matthew came walking up to the kids. You bit your lip to hold back the laugh that wanted to escape. You couldn’t remember the last time that Matthew looked so serious or when that look was directed at his kids, the same kids that he claimed were “perfect little angels.”
He plucked Maxie off of her brother as if it was nothing and set her on her feet and with a disappointed frown said, “I know you want to play but you need to realize that your brother is still a lot smaller than you and you shouldn’t be so rough with him.”
“Daddy-“ Maxie tried, looking up at Matthew with round eyes that were his exact replica. You could see it in the way she was behaving. She had no idea what to do or say because her dad was never the one to scold her. If it was you you would be on the receiving end of her sassy attitude that she reserved just for you.
“Your brother deserves an apology,” Matthew said as he helped Link stand up. Your son was still sniffling and his face was red. He wasn’t seriously hurt and was likely crying from the shock of being hit so hard.
Your daughter crossed her arms and looked at her brother. It was like looking at a smaller version of your husband as she frowned and shook her head. “If he didn’t want to get hit he shouldn’t have been in my way.”
This time you couldn't hold back the snort that left you at her words. You could have sworn you heard Matthew say something just like that before. Neither your daughter nor Maxie looked at you but your son did. His red tear-stained broke your heart and you leaned forward and opened your arms for him. He wasted no time in running into your arms.
You wrapped your arms around him and ignored the snot and tears he got on your shoulder.
“It’s time for you to cool down,” Matthew said.
“But-“
“Go to your room until you figure out how to apologize,” Matthew said, his voice stern.
Maxie huffed in frustration but didn’t argue. Matthew followed behind her and when she walked through the back door, ignoring both you and Link, Matthew stopped. He watched from beside you as she disappeared into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom.
Finally turning to you he let out an exasperated sigh, “What do I do now?”
You were combing your fingers through your son’s curls when you shrugged, “Wait for her to come out and apologize. It won’t take her long, she’ll get hungry soon.”
Matthew groaned, sitting in the seat across from you. He raked his own fingers through his short hair. Now that everything had finally calmed down and Link was no longer crying you finally let yourself appreciate just how amusing this whole thing was.
“What’s so funny?” Matthew asked, looking confused and exhausted, as if dealing with his troublesome daughter was going to take years off of his life.
“You do realize that she’s exactly like you, right?” You said in between giggles.
Matthew rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, flashing the gap between his teeth and making your heart beat a little bit faster than normal.
“In that case, we’re in trouble for the rest of our lives.” He chuckled.
Link finally pulled back from you to look at Matthew and then at you. His face had gone back to its normal color and you wiped away the tears and snot from his face. His curls were everywhere and his wide eyes met yours as he asked softly, “What about me?”
You flicked your eyes over to your husband briefly before looking back down at your son. He wasn’t like Matthew when it came to his mannerisms but your little boy loved fiercely, and as much as a four-year-old could. He was Matthew’s twin in everything but roughness.
You pushed his curls to the side and kissed his forehead, “you’re definitely your father’s child.”
#my writing#matthew tkachuk#matthew tkachuk x reader#Matthew tkachuk imagines#nhl imagines#dad!tkachuck#sunny’s hockey dad au
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Bite Me - Q. Hughes
hockey masterlist | g's graduation celly
synopsis: When one of Quinn's teammates asks if their sister could stay with him to bounce back after a break-up, Quinn said yes. But six months later, Quinn feels like he has met his matched. Or when Quinn Hughes falls for his roommate, who happens to be his teammate's sister.
word count: 2.3k
warnings: smut mentioned! friends with benefits situation, Boeser!Reader, nudity, cursing.
Quinn Hughes thought of himself as being a “good guy”. He held doors open for people, swapped seats on airlines when asked, donated money to various charities, and spent time, when he could, coaching the Canucks Youth Team. He was a good guy and an even better teammate and captain.
He prided himself on being the one on the team the guys could go to when they needed advice or just someone to sit and listen to them rant. He would give his teammate the shirt off his back if one of them asked. So when Brock Boeser, Quinn’s best friend, asked if his younger sister could crash with him for a few days, Quinn said yes without even really thinking it through.
“It’ll be a few days,” Brock assured Quinn as he brought in one of her suitcases, “Her dick head ex cheated on her and threw all her shit in the driveway. She was gonna spring for a hotel, but I couldn’t let her do that. I’d let her stay at mine, but we’re remod-”
“Don’t worry about it, man,” Quinn assured his winger, “I know you’d do the same if it was one of my brother’s. She can crash here as long as she needs.”
“She swears it’ll only be a few days.”
But a few days turned into a few weeks, and a few weeks into a few months. Now it's been six months and Y/N Boeser has become Quinn’s official unofficial roommate. And he hated it.
Quinn didn’t want a roommate, nor did he need one. He actually loved coming home to a quiet apartment after weeks on the road. He liked the solitude of being able to hide away from the cameras and the press in his face and following his every move. He liked to be able to walk around damn near naked and not have to worry about being walked in on. But having a roommate, all those privileges had been taken away.
“Quintin! You parked in my fucking spot!” Y/N yelled as she slammed the front door shut. Quinn smirked to himself, as he finished mixing around the vegetables in the pan. He knew exactly what he did and he knew it was going to piss you off. Quinn had two parking spots, one for himself and one for a guest (which had become Y/N as of late), and he decided that tonight, he was going to forget his driver’s ed training and park in the middle of the two spots.
“Quintin,” Y/N groaned, coming into the kitchen, setting down her bags from work. Quinn looked over his shoulder, trying his hardest to fight the urge to stare at your breasts.
Yes, Quinn hated having a roommate, but it did come with its own perks. Such as, his roommate was very, very attractive.
“Oh hey sweetheart,” Quinn smirked, “Did I miss something?”
Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms across her chest, pushing her tits up even more in the tight tanktop she was wearing, “You know what you fucking did, you parking in the middle of the spots again!”
"Oh, I did?" He feigned innocence, "Well, maybe if you didn't leave all your damn shoes by the fucking door!"
"It was one pair! One pair, Quintin!"
"Quit calling me Quintin!"
Y/N groaned and grabbed her bag, stomping her way out of the kitchen. Quinn turned back towards the dinner he was cooking, his mood sour. He had such a good day too. Practice went smoothly, Toch only yelled at them for an hour instead of two. Things were finally starting to take a turn after a losing streak that put everyone on edge. Quinn felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, his first season as captain after a disappointing season. He had to prove himself, he had to prove that he was worthy of the captain spot.
Oh, and waking up with Y/N’s mouth wrapped around his cock was an added bonus.
Quinn hated to admit it out loud, it made him feel dirty and wrong about it, but there was nothing dirty and wrong about it. It seemed to have happened naturally, the tension between them building since the moment Quinn first saw Y/N. He had done his best to ignore her for the first week she was occupying his guest room. She had just been broken up with in a horrible way, and was trying to pick up the pieces of a shattered years-long relationship. But then she started to come out of her room, and she was like a storm, Quinn had no idea how to brace for.
She was sassy, and smart, and beautiful, and stubborn, and messy, and so fucking sexy when she was pissed off about something work or at Quinn for parking over the line of his parking spot.
It was bound to happen, the tension and animosity growing between them as the days went by. It turned into more than Quinn bitching about the shoes by the front door, which he had repeatedly told her to stop leaving them there. It turned into her bitching at Quinn for leaving dirty plates in the sink. Then it was Quinn bitching about how she would take the full garbage bag out of the can and leave it by the front door (in her defense, the dumpster was in the alley behind the building and Quinn didn’t feel very comfortable with her taking it out late at night). Then it was Y/N bitching about Quinn leaving his travel bag, unpacked, in the laundry room between roadies.
The final straw for both of them was when they both came home, unsatisfied in different ways. Quinn had come home from a long roadie, the majority of them being losses. All he wanted to do was take a bath and relax and regroup for the next series ahead. Y/N, had come home from yet another shitty date. She insisted that her date didn’t need to walk her to the door, but he wanted to make sure she got in safely, or so he said. Quinn could hear her fake laughter from the other side of the door, as he stood at the kitchen counter, waiting for the tea kettle to whistle.
“I had a good time,” She said, “Thanks for walking me back.”
“No problem,” A male’s voice sounded out, “Ya know. . . this doesn’t have to end here.”
Quinn grimaced. It didn’t take a genius to know that Y/N wasn’t interested.
“I uh. . . I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Quinn could almost picture her nervously pushing her hair behind her ear, “I’ll give you a call.”
“C’mon,” The guy was sounding desperate, “We both want to end the night right.”
It was silent for a moment, and for some odd reason, anger flowed through Quinn’s body. Was the guy kissing her? Was she seriously considering letting him in? Quinn had never brought it up, but he assumed that Y/N wasn’t having people over. Not that she couldn’t, he guessed, it was her place too. But for some reason, the idea of her having a man in her bed pissed him off.
“You’re right,” Y/N sighed. Quinn’s body seemed to move on it’s own accord as he walked over to the front door, his hand wrapping around the knob, “I better go see if my vibrator is charged. Night, Marcus!”
Quinn jumped back startled as the front door was pushed open and Y/N charged in. He could see the confused face of the man, Marcus, behind the door as it slammed in his face. Y/N groaned as she kicked off her shoes and tossed her purse on the couch. Quinn wanted so badly to make a comment about her shoes, but instead he said;
“You have a vibrator?”
Y/N looked at him, one eyebrow raised, “I am not a 16 year old. Of course I have a vibrator. Almost every woman has one.”
“You use it?”
“Yes, perv,” Y/N scoffed, and reached for her purse, “Boe said you were quiet, but I didn’t know quiet meant stalker. Night.”
Quinn blinked several times as she walked down towards her room. His mind, again, thinking of other things to say, like apologizing for asking her such a vulnerable question, but instead, once again he blurted the wrong thing.
“I don’t want you having sex in my house.”
Y/N paused in her walk, holding still for a moment and turning around to face him, “Excuse me?”
“I don’t want you having sex in my house,” Quinn stood firm on what he said, even though he regretted it the second he said it. Even though her name wasn’t on the lease, she was still living and paying rent (Quinn told her several times her money was useless, but she cried and told him she had to contribute somehow).
“I am not.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Mhm,” Quinn nodded. It was silent again as the two of them stared each other down, tension thick in the air like smoke.
“Need anything else?” Y/N asked, breaking the silence. She folded her arms under her chest, pushing her breasts up in the tight black dress she was wearing. Quinn gulped, taking in her appearance; short, tight black dress, black leather jacket, black heels that made her legs look like they went on for miles. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, a dainty good chain around her neck. Quinn gulped, thinking and praying of anything that would keep the blood from rushing south.
“Nope,” He shook his head.
“Good,” Y/N responded, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to end my night right.” Quinn felt his boxers grow tighter as she turned on her heel, and walked down to her door. She stopped just before going inside her room, “Ya know, a gentleman would ask if I need help.”
Quinn watched as her eyes seemed to turn a shade darker and looked him over from head to toe. In two quick strides, Quinn was pushing her against her door, his lips on hers. Her hands were in his hair, pulling on the locks she told him not to cut. His hands roamed her body, pulling her as close to him as she could possibly get. He shamelessly rutted her hips against her, his cock begging for release from his pants.
“If I fuck you, will you stop leaving your shoes by the door?” Quinn mumbled, his lips leaving a trail of searing hot kisses on her skin.
“If you do a good job, I might consider it.”
From that night, their friends with benefits relationship blossomed. One would think with the among of orgasms they gave each other, that the animosity would be nearly nonexistent. But it only seemed to up the ante between them. The fights were louder, the pranks were almost near nuclear, and the sex. . . the sex was downright rough and dirty. It almost became part of Quinn’s pregame ritual, to fuck Y/N or jerk off to a video of her.
Y/N clenched her jaw as she threw her dirty work clothes into the hamper, getting ready to shower the day off. She grabbed her speaker, making sure to turn it up loud enough to annoy Quinn down in the kitchen. He hated her taste in music, and she was well aware of it, always taking the aux cord from her when they would drive to Roger’s. Quinn also liked to eat his dinner in silence, claiming it was one of the only times of his day he had to himself.
Smiling, she turned on Taylor Swift, letting the bass hit her ears as she stepped into the hot stream of her shower.
Quinn was mid bite when the all too familiar intro to “SLUT!” started playing. He groaned, slamming his fork down, “One dinner. One fucking dinner in peace.” He pushed his chair away, storming down the hallway towards Y/N’s room. He wasn’t surprised to find her bedroom door unlocked, almost as if she was expecting him. He was about to push the door open, when he heard another all too familiar sound coming from the other side, the blood in his body rushing south. He smirked, imagining how deep her fingers were inside of her to get that kind of reaction.
Quinn could tell she was getting close by the way her moans got higher pitched. He knew now was the time to strike. Pushing the door open, he walked right over to her shower and yanked back the curtain.
“Quintin!” Y/N squealed, pulling her hands away from her core and covering her chest, “What the fuck!?”
"Don't be shy, sweetheart," He smirked, looking up and down her soaking wet body. He licked his lips, and she scoffed, turning away from him, "Oh come on, it's not like I haven't seen it before. Turn back around, lemme see the girls again."
"Oh bite me, Hughes!" Y/N turned the shower head towards him, affectively soaking him. Quinn turned his body away from the water stream that was not only soaking his t-shirt and shorts, but the floor.
"No," Quinn grunted and grabbed the shower head, turning it back towards her, "You'd enjoy it too much."
Y/N looked over at him, "You're all wet."
"That makes two of us now, huh," Quinn shot her that megawatt smile. Y/N rolled her eyes and snatched the shower curtain from his hand.
"You just lost your invite!"
my requests are open!! :)
#quinn hughes imagine#Quinn hughes fan fic#Quinn hughes fan fiction#Quinn hughes x reader#Quinn hughes x oc#qh43#hockey imagine#hockey fan fic#hockey fan fiction
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all this time i had headcanoned that neuvi kept an eye on younger wrio with the intention to take care of him and you're telling me it's true? sobbing.
i can't stop thinking about how it probably hurt neuvi so much to issue that sentence to someone so young and so hurt. even furina left the trial and was unable to keep her act. how gut-wrenching it must have been, especially with wrio admitting his crime and accepting punishment so easily. that ammount of resignation in, basically, a kid... it can only come from a place of so much pain. the chance to rewrite his own story and making the fortress his home truly meant so much to wrio. but i also think for someone like neuvillette, who is characterised for his immense love and compassion towards others, it must have been cause for great turmoil to know what was to come, and that the sentence he was issuing was just an extension of that kid's already hard life. the ammount of guilt in his heart versus the impartiality required of him as a tool of justice; in a way, a reiteration of the question that has haunted him throughout his long journey as fontaine's iudex: "is this what justice means to you? answer me, neuvillette!".
no wonder wrio is so fond of the melusines, too. we already knew from his own character story that they were the ones helping him when he spent time in the streets, but to know he wouldn't have made it without that help... of course he cherishes them so much, of course he holds sigewinne in such good esteem - who was likely the closest to a familiar embrace during those harsh days. i find it rather wholesome that wrio doesn't know it was neuvi's doing, too. neuvi was almost his guardian angel, and i'm sure the melusines were also happy to finally be able to do something for a human in need.
i had always wondered if neuvillete's help with giving wriothesley his duke title came from a place of wanting to fix what felt wrong so long ago during that trial because it felt deliberate, like the good deed of someone who intentionally kept an eye for the other and was proud of their journey. having sigewinne confirm neuvi's concern and curiosity with wrio's experience in the fortress is very dear to me. it reminds me of how genuinely happy neuvillette was when he noticed wrio's vision the day he gave wriothesley his title, like a silent aknowledgement of how far wrio had come and the good man he had become. you cannot tell me neuvi wasn't filled with pride seeing that former small hurt kid become someone so genuinely good-hearted, doing something as great as reforming meropide. maybe even relief, seeing things had turned out well for him despite his disturbing past and neuvi's own hand in his fate, in such a heartbreaking way.
their relationship has always been so intriguing to me because there's so many layers of complex feelings throughout their timeline. i find that most people ignore neuvi's struggles with his own 'humanity' and the constant theme of heart versus judgement, and how it likely played a role in his interest in wrio as well as their later nurtured friendship. but i also find wrio's reluctance in accepting neuvi's concern for him quite telling. he's reserved and we don't really get any insight besides what he tells sigewinne and his almost dismissive response, but i am so sure he feels grateful for neuvillette's unconditional support. neuvillette almost filled the empty place wrio's family left behind. not in a literal way, but how he kept an eye out for wrio is akin to how he keeps an eye out for the melusines. and can we talk about how neuvi was likely the first 'human' (in his own perception at the time) or older adult to be consistent in his life? i cannot imagine the weight such 'simple' things like consistency and unconditional love - and i mean this in an all-encompassing way - have for someone with the family-related trauma wriothesley has. wriothesley says it himself, his childhood has left permanent wounds in him, one of which is not being able to trust others. but to be able to find such reliability in someone else, that may also be healing to his inner child. they're very dear to me!!
#i'm relishing with the leaks#also wrio taller than neuvi confirmed!!! he's a samsung packed fridge two doors and all#wriothesley#neuvillette#sigewinne#genshin impact#genshin leaks#genshin thoughts
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“wishing Paul had more of a reaction to Alice” anon, hello !!
it’s not outright or super obvious, but Paul is upset about it!! i have overanalyzed Not Your Seed to hell and back, for writing reasons & just for fun, so i have a lot of thoughts about it !!
the number is primarily about Alice & Bill’s relationship, and after the scene, things have to move quickly just for pacing, but I spent a few of my watches focusing on Paul, and i love Jon’s background acting so much
of course a lot of this comes from filling in blanks with your own hcs, views or interpretations, but this one’s mine:
Paul spends most of the beginning of Not Your Seed focused on getting him and Bill out of there before they get infected too. He looks scared when he looks at Alice, but because she’s an alien, not because Alice is dead. I think at this point, he’s distancing himself, putting up this barrier and telling himself (and Bill) that this isn’t Alice, because she’s singing and dancing and she is a threat.
But then the bridge happens !!
The spotlight falls on Alice, Bill is slightly illuminated but not upfront because this is an emotional thing for Alice (or, Not-Alice). You can see Paul holding himself as he backs out of the light, like he’s trying to comfort himself.
This is the big moment, right? “Why does it hurt to love you?” This is a huge moment, what real, human Alice has probably been thinking for years since the divorce. Even thought they’re being manipulated by this alien hivemind, those are real thoughts and feelings from Alice herself.
So then the lights come back up, and Bill at this point is numb. You can see it in his face, in the way he’s halfheartedly moving, the fact that he’s no longer trying to get Alice to break out of it. He knows his daughter is dead, he knows it’s his fault, he knows he’s let her down far too many times, and he can’t do it anymore.
Paul though. He is gripping his arms when the lights come back up, and he is visibly upset now. He stands next to Bill and they both step back as infected!Alice and the other two approach them, singing, and if you look at Paul, you can see how upset he is.
[This small part here is my favourite part of his acting in this number]
HE LEANS DOWN !! Paul is stepping away from her, but he looks into singing Alice’s eyes and leans down, like he’s looking for her !! He’s trying to see Alice, through this fucked up infection !!
He’s processed now that that was Bill’s daughter. That was Alice.
That was the little girl he used to babysit who would make him watch disney movies. That was the preteen who was moody and took advantage of his & Bill’s willingness to make her happy and not upset her. That was the teenager who still texted him sometimes, just to check in. He knew her. He cared about her. And now she was actually gone.
The bridge helped him realize that, & that’s why it’s probably my favourite part of the song (putting aside my personal relation to the lyrics), it is SO impactful, to the audience and the story. It makes it so, to Paul, instead of just to the plot, that is another person Paul has lost because of this.
It is unfortunate that you have to look so closely for these hints, but hey, Bill tries to kill himself afterwards, then dies, and then Paul gets knocked out by the fuckin military, so it makes sense, especially for an under 2 hours long musical. An upside though, is that looking so closely to notice these things gives you so much more appreciation for the wonderful actors and their talent !!
~~~
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husk x reader. requested by @jazziesanura. husk might be part feline, but his bird-like traits affect him too. so when the object of his affection is around, ever so occasionally, he finds himself singing.
featuring: 1.2k of pure fluff and a bashful husk being a gentleman.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
There were countless reasons you liked to linger in the lobby rather than up in your room, despite the chance of being enlisted in any number of tasks by the owner of the Hazbin Hotel. You’d hung more celebratory banners than you cared to count, but still, you often spent your time curled up on one of the lobby sofas with a book or one of Charlie’s latest art projects in your lap.
Sometimes the reason you preferred it was the endless entertainment provided by Niffty’s endless war on bugs.
Sometimes it was that Angel would grace you with his presence before work and you’d find yourselves swapping overly salacious stories that would make the spider demon cackle with joy.
Occasionally Pentious would slither downstairs in order to introduce you to his latest complicated creation, and sometimes his little eggs would find themselves in a turf war with Razzle and Dazzle and you’d be in tears trying not to laugh as you separated them.
But – even though you wouldn’t admit it aloud – there really was one real reason you liked to stay in the lobby.
Because every now and then, if you were lucky…
Husk would sing.
When the bar was empty and the other guests and staff were elsewhere, occasionally you’d hear the soft tenor of Husk’s voice ebb out to fill the space between you. He never sang very loud, just a soft crooning to himself as he polished glassware or wiped down the polished wood in front of him. It would just barely reach your ears, but it relaxed you and filled you with the most addictive feeling of butterflies all at the same time.
The strangest thing about it was, whenever you asked those who also spent time alone with him, no one else had ever noticed him sing.
“What song is that?”
You’d broken your own rule about interrupting him, and you cursed yourself silently as Husk stopped mid-lyric, letting out a small ‘wrrr’ of surprise as he looked up. He looked startled, even embarrassed by the question, pale pink blooming across his muzzle.
You grimaced apologetically as you stood up. “Sorry.”
“S’okay,” he replies gruffly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Still, you notice his tail twitch almost warily behind him.
“It’s nice,” you continue gently. When his brows furrow you explain, “The song. It’s pretty.”
“Oh.” Husk clears his throat, setting the glass he was holding down on the counter. “You, uh… you want a drink?”
“Sure.”
***
Your smile is softened by the alcohol buzzing in your brain, and you lean your temple on your hand. Husk’s own lips are tilted in a similar smile as he pours the two of you fresh glasses of something he calls a ‘rusty nail’. It burns pleasantly down your throat and against your lips, and Husk hums approvingly as you toss back half the glass.
“Gotta say, sweetness, I never figured you’d be able to handle the booze as well as you do.” he notes, pouring the dregs from the shaker into your glass. “’s impressive.”
“’s not all I can handle,” you reply without thinking, and your face burns.
Husk blinks at you, eyes wide, for a moment before he coughs a laugh, shaking his head. His voice lowers and softens when he speaks next, and it send the warmth from your cheeks down to pool in your stomach. “I don’t doubt it.”
He holds your gaze for a long moment, an amused tilt to his lips, before you glance away again to take another sip of your drink. You clear your throat, trying to find a way to change the subject. You couldn’t let yourself focus on the way his expression, his tone of voice, was making you feel.
“So, uh… you gonna tell me what that song was?”
Husk glances down at the bar, rubbing a paw through the fur of his neck. “’s nothing. Just an old… ‘s nothing.”
“I liked it,” you tell him gently, your glass held just below your lips. “I always like it when you sing.”
Husk grimaces bashfully. “You hear that?”
You nod, still smiling. Maybe it’s the alcohol that loosens your tongue, maybe it’s the way that even though his tone is embarrassed, his eyes are watching your every reaction so carefully. Maybe it’s just being with him but you simply admit: “It’s my favorite thing.”
Hush flushes, dithering uncertainly for a moment before he meets your eye again. He studies your face, your expression, and your sincerity before he throws back the rest of his drink and sets the glass back on the counter. Husk rounds the bar and with a moment of hesitation, holds out a paw to you.
“C’mon.”
You raise a brow but take it, letting him pull you gently off the bar stool and lead you towards the middle of the lobby. He turns to face you, your hand still enclosed in his. His other hand comes up to hover near your waist and those butterflies swirl inside you again dizzyingly.
“…Can I?”
You nod slowly, confused, and a thrill runs through you as he touches your hip. His hand smooths over it to let his claws curl carefully against the sliver of skin between your shirt and the waistband of your jeans, and you release a shaking breath. He gives you a small, bashful smile, stepping closer to you, and his smile widens slightly despite himself when your breath catches.
“Relax,” he tells you softly, and when your free hand comes up to rest on his shoulder, he leads you into a slow, surprisingly graceful movement that’s something akin to a waltz.
His body is warm against yours and your fingers curl in the soft fur on his bicep, threading carefully through the silky hair. He hums a quiet tune for a few moments, leading you along with it, and you find yourself settling into his embrace as he begins to sing.
“I ran around with my own little crowd,
The usual laughs, not often but loud.
And in the world that I knew,
I didn’t know about you.”
His voice is honeyed and warm in your ear, his touch tingling against your back and against your palm. You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue, feeling as though you’ve been dipped directly into the melted caramel of his sweet tenor.
“Chasing after the rain
On the merry-go-round.
Just taking my fun
Where it could be found.
And yet what else could I do?
I didn’t know about you.”
You hesitate for a moment before releasing his hand to wrap your arms around his neck, letting your fingers twine in the fur at the back of his head. Husk’s hands take hold of your hips, sliding around to interlock against the small of your back. You hear him swallow, his voice shaking slightly as he begins the next verse.
“Darling, now I know,
I had the loneliest yesterday,
Everyday in your arms
I know for once in my life I’m living.
Had a good time every time I went out,
Romance was a thing I kidded about.
How could I know about love?
I didn’t know about you.”
Husk pulls back slightly, meeting your gaze with hooded eyes. The two of you are just swaying now, locked together in an embrace you never want to end. There’s an almost rueful curve to his lips.
“I didn’t know about you.”
.
Author's note: for those interested, the song is I Didn't Know About You by Duke Ellington. If you would like to hear a masculine voice singing it (although sadly not Husk's), I'd personally recommend Seth MacFarlane's version. It's absolutely beautiful.
#husk#husk x reader#hazbin husk#hazbin hotel husk#husk posting#hazbin husk x reader#husk fluff#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#my fic#husk fic
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Text
Here For You
Lucien x Archeron!Reader
Summary: Lucien finds you Under the Mountain
Warnings: angst, smut, mentions of non/dubiously concensual sex, nothing explicit and not with Lucien
Note: This was going to be a part of Before & After and kinda took on a life of its own oops. It's that same reader though
Word Count: 1.6k
You suppose that you should be glad that you were here and not locked in the dungeon like Feyre was. If she was still alive. And part of you was, at least there was a bed and a fire. But the reason you were here outweighed the luxuries you had.
You were being used as a plaything. You weren't sure how Amarantha decided which male spent the night with you, but it didn't really matter. Some of them were kind, spending the night sitting in the chair by the fireplace. But most of them weren't. And the ones who weren't, the ones who spent the night in your bed... You'd rather not think about them. You almost wish you had the luxury of fae wine so you didn't have to remember it.
You pace in front of the fire, trying to keep the anxious anticipation from overcoming you. It wouldn't do you any good. The door opens, and you press your hands into your skirts to hide their shaking, looking at the floor. The male says your name and you sway on your feet, not believing it's him. Perhaps your mind is playing tricks on you, or this is some sort of magic, a cruel trick. He crosses the room and pulls you into his arms, steadying you. He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb along your jaw, under your chin, gently tilting your head up to look at him. It's really him. Lucien. You lean into his touch, tears running down your cheeks. He brushes your tears away.
"Lucien... Luc… How are you here? I thought... I didn't think..."
"I managed to convince the male who was supposed to be here tonight to let me take his place." You cling to him, burying your face in his chest.
"How?"
"It doesn't matter. I had to see you."
You nod. "Not much longer now until Feyre's first task... Any idea what it might be?"
"No. Nobody knows."
"Can we sit?"
"Of course." He picks you up, walking over to the chair by the fire and sitting, setting you on his lap. You lean your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He plays with your hair, and you sigh contentedly. It has been far too long since anyone has touched you with so much care and compassion. With love.
"I need you to promise me something."
"Anything."
"If Feyre..." You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "If Feyre dies... I don't know what will happen to me. Amarantha may just kill me. But if she doesn't. If she decides to keep me as a plaything for others to use… I want you to kill me.”
He whispers your name, a pained look on his face.
“Lucien, please. I can't live the rest of my life like this. I can't. I'm not strong enough.”
“I can't do that…”
You look up at him, eyes bright with tears. The sight breaks his heart.
“Please.”
He relents, nodding. “I promise.”
He prays to the Mother and whatever gods may be listening that he won't have to. But he knows one thing for certain, if he does have to kill you, he’ll follow close behind, hoping that wherever your souls end up you can be happy together. You brush your thumb across his cheek, catching a stray tear.
“I don't think it will come to that. I think Feyre can do it. But I wanted to have a back up plan, just in case.”
“I… Understand.”
“Luc… look at me, please.”
He looks down at you, and your eyes meet. You can see everything he's feeling, all the pain, the fear, but most of all, you see the love shining through all of it.
“I love you, Lucien. With all of my heart. And I am so sorry that I have to ask so much of you.”
“I love you too.” You lean up and kiss him. One of his hands finds its way into your hair, holding you to him. After a moment, you pull back to breathe.
“I want you.”
“You have me. I'm right here.”
Your cheeks flush. “No. I want you.”
You see it as realization dawns in his eyes.
“That's not why I came here. I just wanted to see you. Hold you.”
“I know. That's part of why I want you. Because you care about me and how I feel. About what I want. About my desires. If you don't want… We can just sit like this. This is more than enough. More than I ever thought I'd get to experience with you again.”
He just stares at you a moment before standing suddenly, causing you to squeal and wrap your arms around his neck. He carries you over to the bed, gingerly setting you amongst the pillows.
“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, sitting next to you, brushing his hand across your ribs.
“Yes. I want you. I choose you.” He leans down to kiss you, his hand trailing from your ribs to your waist.
“As long as this is what you want. If you change your mind. If you want me to stop. At any point. I don't care when, promise you'll tell me?” He shifts so he's kneeling between your thighs, sliding his hands to your hips.
“I promise.”
“Good.” He leans down to kiss you, his hands tugging your dress up so it pools at your waist. He trails his hands back down to your hips, savoring the way the soft flesh feels, before hooking his fingers into your underwear and pulling them down, tossing them aside. He trails kisses up the inside of one thigh and then the other, smiling at the soft whine that you make. He does it once more, breathing in the scent of your arousal. Finally, when you open your mouth, ready to beg for him to put his mouth where you want it, he spreads your legs, licking up your center to your clit. You let out a breathy moan, hands tangling in his long hair, as his tongue circles the bundle of nerves. He slides a finger into you, curling it up into that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.
Before long, he's adding in another finger, his free hand reaching up to grope at your covered breasts. You let out a loud moan, tugging on his hair, so close to falling over that edge. He flicks his tongue across your clit just right and you fall over the edge, climaxing. He presses wet kisses to your thigh, fingers still going as you come down from your high, enjoying the way you pull his hair so hard it almost hurts. He pulls his fingers out, chuckling at your needy whine, sucking them into his mouth and licking them clean. He grabs your wrists, squeezing them gently to get you to release your grip on his hair so he can sit up.
He looks into your eyes, looking for any sign that you want him to stop. You speak, as if you had read his mind.
“Luc, I want you. I need you. Please.” You sit up, reaching for the buckle of his belt. He lets you, pulling his shirt off as you undo his trousers. He stands, pulling them down his thighs, kicking off his boots with them, and as he does you pull your dress off over your head, tossing it so it lands in a heap on the floor.
You lay back against the pillows, spreading your legs for him, and he pauses for a moment, taking in the sight, before climbing back onto the bed and settling between your thighs. You tense briefly, but he's watching you closely enough to notice the movement. “Do we need to stop?”
“I… I don't want to.” He cups your cheek and you lean into the touch, closing your eyes.
“I know, Love. I know.” You take a deep breath and blow it out, frustrated at how unfair it all is. “Can we try a different way? Maybe if you sit up against the headboard?” He does as you ask, his hands finding a place on your waist as you straddle his hips. You let out a breath, visibly relaxing.
“Better?”
“Yes.” You grind down on him, smiling at the way he moans, eyes fluttering shut. You do it again and he curses. You don't have enough patience for much more teasing though, your hand reaching between your bodies to stroke his hard cock, lining it up with your entrance. You both moan together at the way he feels stretching you. You lean your forehead against his, just enjoying the way he's filling you up.
After a moment, you start to move, letting out a low keening moan. Lucien thrusts up into you, looking into your eyes. One of your hands tangles into the hair at the top of his neck, the other pulling one of his hands from its grip on your waist, intertwining your fingers. You both pick up the pace, moaning at the way your pussy clenches around him.
His hand still on your waist trails down between your bodies to circle your clit. He's getting close, and he wants you to find your release at the same time he does. You kiss him, putting all of your love for him into it. He climaxes shortly after, taking you with him. You all but collapse against his chest, breathing heavy, body tired after two orgasms.
He slowly, carefully lays down without pulling out, wanting to keep your bodies joined as closely together as possible, pulling the blankets over you. You press kisses to his neck and shoulder, smiling when he kisses the top of your head. He traces his fingers up and down your spine, the action lulling you to sleep.
“Sleep now, Love. I'll be here to keep you safe.”
A/N: Showing my baby Lucien the love he deserves. I'll eventually post more Before & After, but I also have another thing I started writing with the intent of it being for that that has taken on a life of its own that I'll post when it's done. As per usual, requests are open! I have a couple prompt posts I reblogged and I'd love to get a couple of those!
divider is by @tsunami-of-tears
#lucien x reader#lucien vanserra x reader#lucien vanserra x you#lucien vanserra#lucien acotar#acotar#acotar fic#acotar fanfiction#acotar imagine#acotar x reader#acotar x you#maasverse#fanfiction#imagine
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