#and she’s like not used to having to fight for his attention
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Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader
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Request:
This is kind of a weird req and I want to write something for it eventually but-
Fem! Reader who was frozen but eventually escapes and falls for the Ghoul and they fuck a couple times and for some reason she has symptoms of pregnancy and they're like what the fuck but it just turns out that she was pregnant before she was frozen and the Ghoul's reactions and whatever. Angst or fluff I don't really mind :)
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[MDNI, Angst, Smut, Fluff]
[ I don't usually do requests, but I wanted to help out a friend who believed they wouldn't be able to do justice to this prompt. It's sloppy, not perfect, but time is limited and I have other projects that need my attention so I hope this suffices. ]
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Freedom.
Freedom was sweet.
Freedom was bitter.
Since the moment you’d awoken in that Gods-forsaken cryo pod in that wasting away vault you’d known there was no other path except the path of freedom. Stepping over mummified corpses, fellow vault dwellers you presumed, you’d lead wobbly legs and a pounding heart to the entrance of the vault. It felt like yesterday you’d first set foot in there. In reality, you had no idea how many years had passed, but from the looks of the rusting walls and thick blanket of dust, it had been a while.
You took what you could, stuffing a stray children’s backpack you’d found along your scavenging mission, anything and everything that would be necessary for a journey into a land you used to call home. A small pocket knife was the best you could get and it wasn’t the perfect self-defense tool, but with no other choice there wasn’t much you could do but stuff it in the pocket of your suit and hope for a miracle if you ran into trouble.
And trouble you found.
Since your first step into the bone-dry, scalding hot, merciless wasteland, you’d found trouble in the shape of a deranged group of people hammering at the vault door with makeshift weapons. You might have been able to fight off one of them, you doubted given how dizzy and out-of-touch with reality you were, but there was a slim chance. Three of them though, all large burly men with enough scars to put a military general to shame? No, that was impossible. You ended up a writhing mess on the ground, face pushed into the cracked soil and screaming and kicking as you were being taunted and tied up like a good catch after a successful hunt. Trafficking, cannibalism, organ harvesting, death. A slew of words so vile they made your stomach churn and your eyes bulge out of your skull because who in their right mind said such things to an outnumbered, weak woman who pleaded in a broken voice and had tears staining her cheeks?
Then he appeared, your guardian angel.
A man so grotesque on the outside, so vicious and bitter and terrifying, and yet he was the one who shot your captors down. He was the one who cut your wrists and ankles free and helped you sit up as you heaved and choked and sobbed. He was the one who checked you over despite the visible revulsion on his gaunt face at the sight of your vault suit. He’d dragged you to your feet, forced some sense into you, given you a stern reality check of the world he came from and never really shooed you away when you’d started following him around like a lost pup.
You loved him since that day.
And maybe it wasn’t the good kind of love because he’d used you as a distraction for his enemies more than once and never shared his water with you even if you were on the brink of passing out from dehydration. But he also let you sit close to the fire at night, told you stories of his bounty hunts, taught you how to handle a gun and always kept you in his sights lest someone thought you were up for grabs. He was a cruel man, but he was also a kind man.
You never overstepped. Always following his every order, whether it was to hide, to strip bleeding men of their valuables, or to get him another drink when his feet were kicked high and he couldn’t be bothered to do so himself. Always pliant, always willing, no questions asked because you wanted to live despite the hellhole reality you were thrust in. Maybe that’s why he grew fond of you over time, you didn’t rebel against him and took what he gave you with a whisper of gratitude. A good dog, that’s how he saw you. He slowly softened for you, split your rations evenly when you sat down to eat, thrust the canteen in your hands when he noticed your lips were dry, and smushed his hat over your head when the sun was too awful and you were too delicate to withstand it.
Cooper Howard, that was his name, a man made ghoul by the sheer toxicity of the surface, a man who gave you enough scraps to keep your love for him flourishing but never progressed things beyond a one-sided infatuation.
That is until he was left struggling on the floor of an old abandoned farmhouse, a feral ghoul looming above him and pinning him in place and snapping its jaws at him as foul-smelling, viscous drool dribbled down its chin. His hunting knife was gripped tightly, but between keeping himself from being bitten to shreds and holding one of the ghoul’s hands at bay before it could sink into his side and tear at his gut, he was stuck.
When the shot rang out and the ghoul slumped against him lifelessly, he saw you. Holding his gun as you shook violently, about ready to piss yourself because you’d never killed anything remotely resembling a human in your life, eyes wide and lips trembling and knees buckling. Smoke leisurely rose from the tip of the barrel and as he pushed the corpse off himself you sunk to your arse and burst into a fit of haggard breaths and disturbed whines.
You didn’t resist when he picked you up with alien tenderness, didn’t protest when he stuffed you in an old rickety couch and crushed you beneath his weight with a handful of sweet praises. You didn’t pull away in disgust when his tongue pushed past your lips in search of your own, twirling, dancing, letting words spill without ever being spoken. He wasn’t gentle, since the moment you heard his belt unbuckling he was all pawing hands and chopped curses, fiddling with your clothes until his need became too much to bear and he simply ripped them off. He threw a weak promise to get you new ones, but you couldn't care less at that moment. High-pitched mewls and desperate grunts bounced off the walls as he took you on that couch, rutting into you like a man possessed and gripping onto you so firmly as if you’d come to your senses any moment now and run away from him.
A radstorm raged outside, clashing against the boarded-up windows as the pitter-patter of acid rain poured against the tin roof. You never even noticed, too drunk on the sloppy sounds coming from the slick mess of your conjoined bodies, on the verge of a climax so raw it would surely knock you out. Blunt fingernails sank in your supple thighs, scarred hips slammed into yours as he fucked you dumb into the couch. His mouth never left yours, whether it was to keep himself quiet in case too many loving words escaped or because he craved your taste like a rabid dog did blood, you didn’t know. When your ankles locked around his waist he snarled, whatever self-control he’d managed to scrape by completely dissipating as he drove himself deeper. The tip of his cock snapped against the barrier of your squishy cervix so deliciously and you screamed his name in desperation and he couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He released one of your hips to slide a hand between your bodies and drag his rough thumb over your swollen clit. Your back arched, eyes rolled back and mouth agape as you bombarded him with barely coherent sentences that he didn’t deserve. He clutched at your hair when you clamped down on him, milking him for everything he had while he rocked out his release with face stuffed in the crook of your neck.
Something in him changed after that night.
It might have been the unfathomably long time without a caring touch or him finally succumbing to the little voices in his head telling him what he held for you wasn’t simply fondness. He took you every chance he got. In a guest house, against the wall of a bar after one too many drinks, bent over on a chewed-up fence after scavenging another farmhouse. He was relentless and you loved that about him. You loved everything about him. Always needy and ready and he couldn’t ask for more because this was the closest he could get to expressing himself when it came to you.
Life was good.
Everything was perfect.
Until it wasn’t.
You wince as the needle prickles your skin before retracting back in the Pip-boy. The green screen whirls, loading up and analyzing your blood sample for a full body scan. You give the damn thing a few smacks when it freezes and stutters.
Now really wasn’t the time for technical difficulties.
“You okay?”
Apparently, no matter how hard you had tried to hide your bubbling panic, it was still evident enough for Cooper to notice. He’s looking at you with a hint of suspicion, attention averted from the steaming can of cram he’d been stuffing in his mouth.
“I’m good, no worries.” you muster up a weary smile and instinctively tuck the Pip-boy closer to your stomach.
When the Vault Boy pops up on the screen with all the information available regarding your condition, you tense up. Your fingers hesitate to turn the cog to the main body scan as doubts and confusion and raw, untamable fear chew at your sensitive stomach and tug you slowly towards the gates of insanity.
“Don’t look okay to me.” Cooper straightens from his slouched-over position over the measly fire and sets aside his food before clasping a hand over one of his thighs. “Was wrong? Was I too rough again?” there’s a teasing scowl brightening his usually stoic expression, he scoffs and shakes his head. “I told you t’ smack my shoulder when I get too loose, woman. You never listen.”
You want to cry and laugh, but you do neither.
“That’s not it, Cooper.”
“Then speak for fuck’s sake!” he grumbles and gestures to you with slight agitation.
You pay him no mind, having delved too deep in the premises of your mind on what you were supposed to do if you read that single life-changing word on the scan. With a huff and a mental pat on your back, you turned the cog and opened the main body scan.
“Pregnant.”
It made sense. It explained the morning sickness that you hid, being forced out of your sleep while Cooper snored lightly next to you, and carefully pulling away before rushing to a safe spot where you could empty your stomach without being seen. You never told him, just jammed RadAway after RadAway, hoping it was poisoning or maybe some sort of flu. When the cravings came, you started second-guessing. You never gave into them, throwing caps left and right for a slice of some nearly impossible-to-get delicacy was unthinkable, you had to survive and there was no room for luxury.
You failed to spot the rugged ghoul as he left his seat and crept closer, spurred by your awkward demeanor, until he was kneeling right next to you and silently sharing the sight of the green graph.
“What in the hell…”
You recoiled at his words, at his realization, and tried to cover the Pip-boy with your hand and hide the thunderous revelation of your condition.
He was having none of it.
He smacked your hand away and gripped your forearm so tight you shuddered, bringing it closer to his eyes as his face contorted.
“What the fuck does this mean?” he spits and looks at you with something vile in those whiskey-colored eyes you loved so much.
“I don’t – ” you swallow thickly, crumbling under his gaze and snuffing out the need to rip away from him and run. You meet his stare for a split second before turning away. “ – I haven’t…Not with anyone except you.”
Lightning strikes into his core and he pulls away like bitten by a snake.
“The hell you mean you haven’t fucked anyone ‘cept me?” he stands, intimidating and cold, berating you with just his visage and nothing more. “How the fuck did you get pregnant then?”
“I’ve been with you since the day I left the vault, you know this.” you reach out for him, desperate for some sort of comfort, desperate for him to calm down because you couldn’t mentally take on both him and the news. “Cooper, please.”
He shoots you down with a snarl and a spine-chilling glare.
“Don’t fucken’ touch me.”
He’s pacing, trotting around like a cornered animal, the spurs on his boots clinking, a sickening cacophony that roots you in place and keeps your mouth shut. You don’t know what to say, you’re not a liar, yet you wish this was some twisted joke and you could laugh it off and confirm it wasn’t real.
A hand is rubbing vigorously at his chin as he tries to think, but there’s nothing in his head except that one single word that means so much and makes absolutely no sense.
He knew you weren’t lying, he’d always kept you within arm’s length, there was no way for you to even sneak past him without being noticed.
It still hurt though, the image of you leaving because he was a rotten man who’d struck gold by finding you. He was no good for you, never would be, and it tore him to shreds because he knew all of this and still he kept you by his side and cocked his gun at anyone who tried to step too close.
Why wouldn’t you bed another man when he looked like a walking corpse and acted even worse? Why wouldn’t you ditch him to be with a nice bartender or a good-mannered farmboy who would treat you like a lady should be treated?
Why wouldn’t you cheat him out of the only happiness he had?
“Is not fucking possible, sweetheart.” he finally speaks, faltering at your audible sobs. The idea of you slipping past his fingers to sleep with someone else is pushed to the side by the absolutely pathetic sight of you curled up on the floor and crying.
Ghouls were sterile, all of them, 100%, there was no way for him to knock you up even if he wanted to. But the Pip-boy said otherwise and now he was left questioning the very foundation of his existence.
“I know that.” you sputter through choppy hiccups. “But you’re the only man I’ve been with...It doesn’t make fucking sense.” you clutch at your sides, waterfalls streaming down your cheeks and pooling under your chin, eyes distant and jittery. “What if it’s deformed because of the radiation? Or if it’s not even alive? Or – What am I supposed to do…”
His body moves despite his protests.
He kneels in front of you, encasing you between his thighs, his fingers twitching and rising as he drowns in the long-forgotten feeling of being presented with such news. His hands are shaking and he rests them over your shoulders and pretends he can’t feel his pulse rampaging in his throat.
“What do you wanna do?”
It’s such a simple question, but coming from him under such a premise makes your head spin and your heart stop.
“I – ” you press your forehead against the center of his collarbones, arms protectively curling over your belly because despite not showing there was someone in there. Someone precious. “ – I don’t know…I’d like to – I don’t know.”
You stop and start, cutting off words that you weren’t ready to tell him yet and he wasn’t ready to hear either. But life didn’t care if you were ready or not, things happened, consent or not, and now you were both stuck in a mess you’d unwittingly made all by yourselves. There was always the easy route – find a settlement, get to the doc, have it removed, done deal, easy peasy.
But did you really want that?
It wasn’t just your kid, it was his too and him not saying a word, not even mentioning discarding it made things so much harder.
No, he gave you a choice, he put everything in your hands and he was holding you while you fought a silent battle that would dictate the entirety of your future.
“I think – ”
“ – I ain’t goin’ fucken’ nowhere.” he slices through your hesitation like butter, body rigid and jaw clenched because for once he was trying to be a man and not a monster.
Maybe even a father.
You shatter in his arms like glass and he presses one of his palms against the back of your head while the other circles your waist and brings you closer.
“You’d stay?” you ask with such horror and disbelief that it clutches at his chest and he struggles to breathe. You’re no coward, despite how heavy the air feels, you look up at him and you’re so vulnerable and angelic that he forgets every setback that would come his way. “If I kept it…you’d stay?”
He can’t answer, the words refuse to form, but he holds your gaze with calm stability, a good masquerade to hide a mind that was racing and a heart that was pounding so heavily he felt his entire body pulsing. Instead, he leaned in and pressed his chapped lips against your forehead in a voiceless promise.
You suck in a breath like it’s your first and cling to the collar of his coat, disappearing in his form, hiding from the world that was so cruel yet gifted you with something so precious.
The Pip-boy is still lit and waiting, the scan bright and piercing. You skim over it absentmindedly, a simple curious flick, then look again and squint your eyes at the tiny text printed under your pregnancy announcement.
“Four months.”
You’d only been out of cryo for three…
He followed your wide-eyed stare, he was no fool, he could do basic math.
You’d been pregnant before meeting him, before leaving the vault, before the bombs.
You want to puke. You want to rip your skin off and bury yourself alive because for the love of God it couldn’t be just perfect, there had to be some sick underlying thing to ruin everything. It wasn’t his, he was right, ghouls couldn’t have children.
It wasn’t his child.
You look disgusted and utterly pained because the realization makes you mourn at the idea of carrying his baby. You wanted to, you’d give anything for it to be his and not some random bloke you couldn’t even remember the face of. You wanted it to be his…
You search his face for anger or disappointment or anything that would prepare you for what was to come. Why would he stay if the damn thing wasn’t even his? He had his own problems, his mission. You were just an obstacle that had nearly made him believe he was going to be a father and maybe it was his second chance at doing it right.
There was nothing though.
He simply blinked at you, lips parted as he formed a sentence that had you pledge yourself to him for as long as you stood and breathed.
“That don’t change a damn thing.”
Tag list: @bountydroid @v3lv3tf0x @silverose365
#cooper howard#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#fallout tv series#the ghoul fanfic#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul x you#the ghoul fallout#x reader
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wasted like all my potential * fem!driver
jury's out: everything officially fucking sucks
pairings: liam lawson x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver
notes: again i apologise for this taking so long apparently now that I'm kinda mentally no longer struggling with a 12k assignment, I've lost all feels to hurt rocky but no woRRIES IT'S COMING TO AN END SOON
(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)
(prev)
just another day listening to her team explaining another change to the car and another day where she hopes that it all works out in her favour.
she glances out the window of the meeting room, finding the usual corner that’s typically occupied by matt, still empty. she sinks in her seat and folds her arms over her chest as she desperately tries to dial herself back into the meeting.
she catches liam’s eye across the table, the kiwi lifting his eyebrows with a small nod to acknowledge her. she smiles tiredly at him before sucking in a deep breath and returning her gaze to the empty table in front of her.
it’s just another weekend where she tries to save both her and the team’s faces. how long can she keep up the act of having things together in front of the media?
something’s gotta give.
when the meeting ends, she simply picks herself up and is the first one out of the room. sebastian, who’d been sitting next to her, simply sighed to himself as she walked out.
it’s been so difficult to get a grasp of her lately. it’s not just something only he’s noticed, it’s happening to everybody else in the team. since they’d touched down at the airport for the race weekend, it’s even a miracle to get her attention for 5 minutes.
she’s always reserved or simply preferred her own company.
it’s apparent with every single person she interacts with. the girl used to be able to uphold a conversation by her talking alone, but now everything’s minimal. conversations never last more than a minute and she’s always found in her driver’s room by herself.
at first, he concluded that she was unhappy with him. which, would be perfectly fine, seeing the current state of her race weekends. he’s more shocked that she hasn’t blown up in front of him yet.
not a single scream, an utter of frustration… not even a tear shed in half a year and truthfully, it’s almost worrying.
“you’ve got to tell her before she finds out from elsewhere,” sebastian mutters, patting liam on the back as they leave the room. “she’ll be even angrier if it doesn’t come from you.”
“have you spoken to her lately? i don’t think i’ll even get a reaction out of her,” liam whispers back, pointing at the girl walking up the stairs by herself with her head hung low. “do you have any idea how difficult it is to speak to her?”
“yes,” sebastian says with a scowl, “i literally talk to her every weekend.”
liam gives him a knowing stare. “then you should know how unreachable she is nowadays.” he pushes sebastian in the direction of the stairs. “maybe you should speak with her first before i go in there.”
sebastian scoffs, stumbling forward. he turns around and stands next to liam again. “no way. you’re not sending me in there to fight a war by myself.”
“do i really have to? can’t she just find out like everybody else if it goes through?” liam scowls with a sarcastic laugh when sebastian nods.
sebastian pushes him forward. “go and tell her before the media gets a hold of these things and leaks it before you get the chance to break the news yourself,” sebastian says. “let’s not cause a commotion where it’s not needed.”
“fine,” liam mutters, stomping a foot on the ground. he fixes his team shirt and sucks in a deep breath, trying to rehearse his lines in his head. it’s one thing to get the courage to speak to her nowadays, but being the bearer of somewhat bad news is an entirely different situation.
he takes a step forward and looks back at sebastian, throwing him a mean glare. meanwhile, the older man just flashes him a bright smile and an encouraging nod.
he runs up the stairs and calls out to her. the girl stops and turns around. her straight face almost makes liam jump back, not expecting to be greeted so suddenly.
“yes?”
“i uh,” liam huffs and straightens his shirt, “i need to talk to you.”
she tilts her head, “is everything okay?”
liam smiles. seems like he’s caught her at a great time, which should make this slightly easier. “of course. i just need to tell you something; it’s important.”
“oh,” she raises her eyebrows and points down the hallway, “do you want to sit down and talk about it? that serious?”
he shakes his head. he just doesn’t want her to burst out at him. especially that he’s not one to know how to handle her if she breaks. “i can just tell you now,” he shrugs, making his way up the steps to meet her at the top. “but i want you to know that it’s nothing personal.”
nothing personal. so it has something to do with her? she feels her heart start to race in her chest and the room starts to spin. she bites down on her lip and starts to pick at the skin around her nails. “did i do something?”
“no,” liam shakes his head. “what? no, you didn’t do anything. is everything okay?”
she blinks, “yeah, why?”
liam sucks in a deep breath and eventually decides to brush it off. “well, i wanted to let you know that i’m getting offers from other teams for next season.”
he watches her expression change, contorting into an expression he’s not quite sure how to decipher it. so he quickly tries to undo it. “i haven’t signed anything yet. but you know… with the year we’re having, i want to keep my options open. i’ll tell you if something catches my eye.”
he stumbles back, not even realising that she’d made her way down to him, throwing her arms around him. “i’m so happy for you, liam. you deserve to have options.”
he looks down at her body, tightly clinging onto him. “really?”
“of course.” she takes a step back and pats his chest. “you’re the best teammate ever. any team would be lucky to have you as their driver.”
she climbs out of her car with a grumble, half annoyed and half amused. amused that her luck has continued its plummet with every weekend she spends in on a track.
she snarls down at her car as she tears her helmet off her head. “you’re a stupid car,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “you’ll never be anything like last year’s car. you suck.”
she is fully aware of how crazy she sounds, and looks, telling an inanimate object off. but as of late, it seems those are the only things she can vent to that won’t turn its back on her. the only thing that won’t retaliate when she needs to scream at it.
“if i could kick you, i would,” she mutters with a scowl. “i’d break you apart like a fucking lego set if it wouldn’t get me fired.”
she feels a tap on her shoulder, whirling around to find sebastian smiling at her and her phone held in the air.
“matt’s calling you.” she nods and reaches out for her phone but he pulls it back at the last second. “are you okay? i know quali wasn’t as good as we hoped for, but they’re looking into it to make the car better for tomorrow.”
“seb,” she sighs, shaking her head with a disappointed frown, “you say that every weekend we’re in here. are you not sick of saying that?”
he drops his hand. “well, one of us needs to keep our head up with this season we’re having.” he smiles slightly and offers her the ringing phone. “you shouldn’t let it get to you — you’re still a great driver.”
“that’s not what it feels like lately,” she mutters, grabbing her phone from sebastian. “i should be able to make a car work. it shouldn’t matter if it’s good or bad.” she glances down at her buzzing phone, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. she presses the decline button. “i’ll be at the media pen if you need me.”
she watches from the window in her driver’s room, her friends all gathered up, walking towards the gantries to exit the paddocks. they’re leaving to head for dinner without her after she’d refused their offer again.
oscar had approached her in the media pen to invite her out for dinner with them but she’d just not been feeling it. which would make this the 5th invitation that she’s rejected in 11 race weekends. oscar didn’t force her anymore; just simply shrugged and took her ‘no’ as it is.
which somehow made her feel even worse. which is even funnier, considering that just 2 races ago, she’d been wishing for her friends to invite her out after days in the paddocks. but there was something about her best friend taking her answer point blank without another word.
it feels so… isolating.
what if they’ve finally gotten tired of her rejection? what if they’re tired of her?
she whirls around to face her room. it’s messier than she’d usually keep it, her team shirts are lazily hung on the back of her chair and the sofa, her makeup is sprawled messily all over the table with a half-empty coffee cup that she had silently with sebastian for a strategy meeting.
the framed picture of her and sebastian is up on the wall again, with some attempt from sebastian to help her put it up again. she wishes that he’d never offered to help her put it back up. every time she looks at it, she remembers all her former glory and how far she’s fallen now.
and by meeting, she means that he spoke the entire time while she sat there nodding and smiling politely while thinking about how bad the car would be once she got in it.
and liam is leaving. well, he’s not technically leaving yet but seeing how their year keeps going down, it’s likely that he would. and she’s got a contract for another 3 years — where the hell is she going to go? nowhere because she has to stay here.
but everyone seems to be leaving her after her behaviour. but it’s hard to stop feeling this way.
how can she not feel this way?
if liam’s finished in the top 5 in the race and she’s out of the points, what does that mean for her? she’s just half the driver she was, she thinks.
she finds herself in the bar after feeling the need to be here. liam now holds the record for the highest finish for her team this season, after all. and she’s not about to be labelled a sore loser by not being here at all.
though she could almost predict being the talk of the town with her tucking herself in the corner of the club half the time they spent in there. people always find a way to vilify her actions anyway.
but in a way, she shouldn’t have come out of her hotel room. she shouldn’t have gone anywhere knowing her state of mind. she hasn’t had a drop of liquor in her system for a hot minute, but the minute she was reminded of its glorious taste, she couldn’t hold herself back.
she’s on her knees in the back alley of the club they’d dragged her to, hands planted on the gravel as she struggles to hold herself over the drainage. she takes deep breaths to steady herself, blinking in desperation to steady herself.
“fuck.” she shuts her eyes momentarily, taking another deep breath as she feels a sob and another urge to vomit. moreover, her chest hurts. could it be from drinking too much too fast or is it something deeper than that? she can never tell.
“hey, you’ve been– rocky?”
“don’t,” she sobs, holding a hand up quickly to stop whatever else could have come out of the man’s mouth. she balls her hands against the gravel, the pain of dragging her skin against the rough material doesn’t register, but it does cut into her skin. “whatever you’re going to say, keep it to yourself.”
she feels a warm hand rubbing circles on her back and suddenly there’s someone kneeling on the ground next to her. she feels her hair getting brushed back, held into a makeshift ponytail. “i won’t,” liam mutters, slouching slightly. “what do you need? a glass of water? do you need me to take you back to the hotel?”
she shakes her head as another heavy sigh passes her lips. “i don’t know.”
“i’m going to get you a glass of water from the club, okay?” liam hums, squeezing her hand. “please don’t go anywhere. i’ll only be away for a second, stay conscious.”
she nods through staggered breaths. her hair falls past her shoulders to cover her face and the warm hand on her back is replaced by the cold wind.
she grabs liam’s arm just before he gets up. “don’t tell anyone about this.” she turns slightly. her red eyes and puffed cheeks almost made liam want to stay and cradle her until she felt better then and there. “please.”
there’s something about seeing someone — her, specifically — get wasted. she’s always prided herself as someone who can take her liquor, so this was a whole new look that, honestly, he didn’t want to get used to.
how exactly do you try and relight the spark in someone who seems to dwindle away with every weekend that passes?
he doesn’t ever speak up, but he spends the most time with her out of everyone at this point in their lives. he knows; he notices. it’s hard not to when the tension in the air always seems so heavy.
liam nods. “of course.”
“i’m going to miss you,” she says with a frown, resting on her knees. she unzips the pet carrier and she cups kidnapper’s cheeks and tenderly pets his head. “i just need some time but i can’t take care of you right now.”
the cat simply tilts his head and tenderly lifts its head to rub the top of his head on her cheek. she wraps her arms around kidnapper and sighs.
she knew the day would come, sooner or later, that she couldn’t really take care of kidnapper. sure, he makes her apartment feel less isolated but it’s slowly becoming harder to take care of herself and the cat alike.
there are hours when it feels like a task to get herself out of bed for herself. much less for a cat that depends on her to be taken care of.
so she zips up the carrier and wipes her tears off her face. she composes herself before she forces herself to her feet. she knocks on the door and waits for an answer.
“must be someone we know if you’re not barking!” she hears logan laugh, followed by footsteps and then stubby’s loud footsteps against the hardwood flooring of his apartment.
the door opens, revealing logan in his pyjamas with a small grin. right by his feet is stubby, wagging his tail happily at her with a large smile and hopping on the spot at her sight and scent. “rocky,” he says in surprise with a small grin.
he wouldn’t have been so surprised if she’d been easier to reach lately. but in the passing weeks, it seems that she’s started to pull away from him and oscar.
it’s always a nice surprise when she shows up to his apartment unannounced. but with the familiar carrier by her feet, it makes him wonder what really brings her here. especially considering that she’s practically gone off the grid every single time they’re not in the paddocks for a race weekend.
she completely ignores their messages.
“what are you doing here?”
she had a whole speech prepared the entire time she walked over to his apartment building. a lie about needing him to take care of kidnapper for her while she spent the next couple of weeks in the states with matt.
but she ends up with, “i need someone to take care of kidnapper.”
“of course,” logan grins, tilting his head. “is everything okay? have you been crying?”
“watched a sad movie before coming here,” she forces a laugh out of herself, pointing at the carrier. “you don’t mind, do you? just a couple of weeks — i’m going out of town.”
she wasn’t expecting to make conversation with logan. in fact, that’s the entire reason she’d planned a speech prior to coming here with her cat in tow.
“we don’t mind,” he smiles. “arkansas with matt’s family, i suppose?”
she nods, “yeah.”
how exactly do you talk to your best friend who feels like she’s always a thousand miles away? “well, um,” logan hums, “do you want to come in for a drink? maybe a snack?”
she should accept the offer. “i’m leaving tonight, actually. i still have a lot of packing to do,” she feigns a frown, “maybe after i get back?”
logan nods with a grin. “sure. take care, dude, and have fun.”
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#sebastian vettel x reader#logan sargeant x reader#liam lawson x reader#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 grid x reader#f1 female driver#formula one x reader#fem!driver#f1 fem!driver#female driver#disneyprincemuke vr#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1#vettel reincarnate
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Steve had died in that interrogation room under Starcourt and now, he was stuck haunting Robin Buckley who might as well be his shortest heartbreak and long-lost twin.
The problem was she couldn't see or touch him.
No, she could hear him just fine, but physical contact was just impossible.
Steve, however, didn't care much so long as he had someone there to listen to his daily monologues. It was fun.
They bickered most of the time and while Robin always seemed sad that she couldn't hug him whenever he told her about his parents or how lonely he used to be before her, Steve was just happy with what he got.
Because even in death, he wasn't alone, and that was enough of a gift to him.
Then, the day his funeral was held, Steve was thankful that he had convinced Robin to attend considering it was how he reunited with the kids.
They all saw him.
A thing that Steve would never take for granted.
Robin didn't know what to do when they flocked around her and bombarded her with question after question, demanding to know why she was the one who got the privilege of being haunted by Steve.
"A privilege?" Robin burst into a laugh, giving them a ridiculous look.
"Of course, to think you've been haunted and actually having real conversations with a ghost every day is a revolutionary step into the spiritual science field," Dustin narrowed his eyes. "And I am very disappointed in you, Ms. Robin Buckley, for not telling me right away!"
"Just say you're jealous that Steve doesn't haunt you." Max rolled her eyes.
"You say it as if you're not jealous yourself!" Mike scowled at her.
"No, I'm not, you delusional nerd!" Max scowled back.
"Hey!"
"C'mon guys, don't fight," Lucas frowned and sighed in exasperation.
Noticing the odd looks from other people at the cemetery, Robin herded the kids into Steve's car that he had given her as a keepsake.
Once they were safely away from prying eyes, Robin clapped her hands to gather everyone's attention.
"Children!" She then continued under their curious gazes. "Steve-o here said he really appreciates that you munchkins care so much about him. But sadly, he can't leave my side. Like literally can't so if any of you want to see him, you can always seek me out whenever you see fit."
"Why are you saying all of this?" Mike squinted at her.
"Because Steve can't talk to us, obviously." Dustin responded haughtily, earning an eye roll from the other boy.
"Bingo!" Robin did a fist bump with Dustin.
Then, she held up a finger at them. "And before you ask, I can't see him. Or touch him."
She watched the kids look at the passenger seat before nodding at her.
It must be Steve who confirmed the truth, she thought.
As they went back to discussing Steve's incorporeal state, Robin had a feeling that she had unknowingly adopted a gaggle of troublesome ducklings who were going to give her grey hair very very soon.
"C'mon Robbie, it's a Halloween party," Steve begged. "Let's go have some fun! Don't your heart ache to watch your bestest friend rotting in sorrow while eating pumpkins?"
"First of all, I've never ever met anyone who uses 'heart' and 'ache' like that," Robin blew at her freshly painted nails.
"Well, now I'm your first. Didn't people always say special always come late?"
"I don't even want to correct you on all of that," Robin huffed quietly at Steve's goofy chuckle. "And no, Dingus, you don't eat pumpkins. Or if you do, I don't care."
"Please, Robbie, I just wanna have fun," Steve sighed dolefully. "It's been a long time ago since I went to a party." He sighed again and even sniffled a little.
When Robin groaned, a big grin stretched on his lips.
"Just this time." She narrowed her eyes at him, or precisely speaking, at the spot where she assumed he was sitting.
Sometimes, when she made a wrong guess, Steve would just move over to where her gaze stopped and continue talking her ears off.
"I promise you're gonna have so much fun, Robbie." Steve ruffled her hair even if his hand always passed right through her. It was still one of his hard-to-get-rid-of habits anyway.
By the time they arrived, the party was already full-blown and swarmed with people.
As Robin struggled her way through the crowd, Steve just walked beside her with barely any difficulties.
He bet she would curse him so much if she saw how comfortable he looked right now.
But then, his little moment of joy was cut short when he bumped into someone whose lips literally knocked against his.
As cliché as it might sound, he certainly felt the electricity running through his body from that single accidental kiss.
And belatedly, a realization dawned on him.
He had bumped right into someone.
He, a ghost, had bodily collided with a living human.
Shocked, Steve stepped back and was at a loss for what to do next.
Then, a shaky voice shook him out of his trance.
"Harrington?"
Staring into those scared Bambi's eyes, Steve clenched his jaw and forced himself to not panic.
"Munson."
#steve harrington#robin buckley#eddie munson#stobin#pre steddie#platonic soulmates stobin#soulmates steddie#soulmates whoes souls are connected so even death can’t do them apart#sionewrites#might have a part 2 if reactions are good#sorry it's not even halloween and i posted this lmao
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Jealousy~ (JSchitlin x Reader)
The current request I’m working on is kinda dark and I need a break from it for a moment so enjoy this smut with almost no plot.
Also, a side note- whether or not Schlatt is in a relationship is none of our business. If he is then I’m inexplicably happy for him, if not, then that’s (probably) his choice. As fans, I feel like we should just be happy for him, rather than push him towards something he doesn’t want or try to pressure him for information that doesn’t belong to us. ALSO, this isn’t meant to offend anyone, but Schlatt deserves all the privacy he wants. Don’t forget that creators are people too :)
Love you guys 🩵🩵
WARNINGS: Jealousy (obviously), mostly smut, porn with very little plot, fingering, ownership kink, let me know if I need to add more :)
—🩵—🩵—
She hated parties; hated them.
He knew this and he was well aware of why. With her history, it’s understandable why she hated being surrounded by drunk men. He knew she was beautiful and he knew that she had to deal with men (and women) flirting with her all of the time. He also knows that he has no right to be jealous, but currently that didn’t matter to him. His eyes were locked on Ted, who despite him only being six or seven inches taller than her, seemed to tower over her.
She awkwardly smiled when Ted leaned against the wall in front of her, grinning like a Cheshire Cat as he stared down at her. She was internally questioning why she agreed to come; she should’ve known that if her and Schlatt got separated that she’d have men approaching her. Her mind is drawn from her thoughts and frustrations at her best friend as Ted speaks.
“Hi there, Honey.” He hums, low voice melting the tension between them. It was her turn to speak and she struggled to decide whether to flirt back or not.
“Hi, Ted.” She whispers softly, a warm blush spreading across her cheeks. As Schlatt stood back and watched this interaction, he felt a jealous rage swelling in his chest. Before he knew what he was doing, his feet directed him in their direction.
“You look absolutely adorable in that pretty little skirt.” He drunkenly slurred and she could smell the alcohol rolling off of him. A warm blush warmed her cheeks, making Ted chuckle softly.
“Thanks…” She trailed off, a nervous insecurity swelling her chest. Ted moved just the slightest bit closer and she could feel the warmth rolling off of his body.
“Why so shy, (Y/N)?” His voice is low and gravelly as he speaks and she furrows her brows when she looks up at him.
“You know I’m not a big talker, Ted.” She mumbles softly, bowing her head slightly. His fingers snaked their way under her chin and tilted her head up to make her look at him.
“I bet I could make you one-“ His words are cut off when Schlatt clears his throat beside them and slips an arm around her waist, pulling her away from Ted. Ted opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it as soon as he sees the glint in Schlatt’s eyes. Grumbling under his breath, Ted rolled his eyes and glared at Schlatt.
“Why don’t you go get a drink, Toots? I need to talk to Teddy Boy.” He smiled down at her and as a soft blush spread across her cheeks. Nodding quickly, Schlatt grinned as he watched her scurry off towards the kitchen. Turning back to face Ted, he raises a brow. Ted stares right back at him, glare boring into him. “What in the hell is wrong with you, Ted?”
“What?” Ted snapped in return, shifting on his feet as he moved to rest his back fully against the wall.
“You know how I feel about her.”
“Well you better tell her. If you don’t take her, I will.” Ted grumbled drunkenly, pushing off of the wall. Schlatt had to fight every urge to launch himself at Ted, instead he focused his attention on her. His eyes found her cute little figure, head down and cheeks pink as she grabbed a beer for him through the crowd of people. Before he could even think about it, his feet were guiding him towards her. Snaking his right arm around her, she tensed for a moment.
“Easy there, Pumpkin, it’s just me.” He whispered to her and she audibly breathed out a warm sigh, looking up at him and smiling softly. His eyes ran over her face for a moment before he spoke again. “Can I talk to you upstairs?”
“Sure.” She hums, eyes soft and sweet; that was one of his favorite things about her- if he stared into her eyes, he could see into her soul. Her kindness and subtle purity making a warmth flood his gut every time he looked at her. He gently takes his hand in hers and guides her through the crowd and up the stairs. Once the two of them made it upstairs, he leads her into a room and leans his back against the door after he shuts it.
“Jay…?” She whispered and the way her voice sounded nearly made him snap right then and there, biting back a growl. He slowly took steps towards her, fully expecting her to walk backwards as she does with everyone else, but she just stood there and watched him. He only stopped when he could feel the warmth of her body radiating through the tiny gap between them. Lifting his hand, he slowly and gently ran his fingers over her collarbone.
“So fucking sweet, like candy…” He mumbled as his fingertips still carefully explored her skin, ghosting up the side of her neck. “So pure, like a pretty little angel…”
“Jay, I-“ She whispers out, but the words die on her tongue as his thumb runs across her lower lip.
“Open.” He stated simply, watching her mouth as her lips part and he slips his thumb into her mouth, watching the way her pretty eyes widen in surprise.
“Suck.” And she instantly did as he said, pulling a growl from deep within his chest.
“And oh God, you’re so damn obedient.” She stared up at him, shuffling in place to press her thighs together in hopes of relieving the ache that was spreading through her abdomen and leaking between her legs. Pulling his thumb from her mouth, he’s surprised to hear her whine softly. “Shh, shh.” He gently shushes her while his hand moved to the back of her scalp, tangling his hand in her hair.
“Please, Jay… Please.” She chokes out, their faces a few millimeters apart. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against hers as he whispers.
“My sweet, little, forbidden apple.” He hummed out, pressing a small kiss to the corner of her lips.
“So tempting in everything you do…” He mumbles, free hand traveling down her side to her hip. “From the way you move, to the way you speak… All the way to when you look at me. Mmm, the way you look up at me so innocently- makes it so hard not to grab your face and kiss you right there.”
He chuckled momentarily when he saw the subbed out expression gracing her face. Her hazy eyes, pupils blown wide, stared up at him with so much softness, swirling with passion and making him take in a sharp breath. Nudging his nose against her cheek, he whispered again, “All mine.”
“Jay…” She whined softly, pulling away to look up at him. Her pretty blue eyes flip between each of his eyes and her lips part to speak, “Why don’t you kiss me then?”
“Because if I kiss you…” He pauses a moment to try and gather his thoughts- the way she’s looking at him makes his brain turn to mush. “If I kiss you, I don’t know if I can stop.”
“Oh yeah?” She hums softly, still staring up at him with wide eyes. When he gives a small nod, she continues, “Who says I would want you to stop?”
Her words made a soft growl leave his lips and the two practically pounced at each other, their lips colliding, much like waves crashing upon shore in the middle of a violent storm. She laced her fingers into his hair and he wrapped his arms around her waist. Before the two even realized they were moving, her back was slammed against the wall, him holding a hand behind her head to carefully press her further against it for support. His tongue clashed with hers, setting a bright, vibrant fire in her chest. While their tongues mingled together, his left hand slid down her side and gripped her thigh, lifting it to rest on his hip.
“Tell me you want it, (Y/N). Tell me who you want.” His voice comes out in a shaky growl against her lips, words barely audible over the heavy thumping of her heart in her chest. Upon a lack of reply, he pulls away just enough to look into her pretty, bright eyes and a soft whine leaves her at the lack of touch. Her lips tried to chase his, but he moved the hand behind her head to carefully wrap around her neck. “Tell me.”
“You, Jay. Please, need you. Please.” Her voice cracks and her chest heaves as she struggles against his hold, desperate for any touch from him. A smirk crosses his lips as he leans down and kisses the side of her head.
“Good job, baby. I’m so proud of you.” His praise pulled the most lewd mewl from her lips and she struggled in his hold once more, hips incidentally grinding against his. “So impatient.” His words are teasing… mocking… But she doesn’t mind- in fact, the way she was nearly dripping down her thighs at his tone made her oh so aware of what he does to her. His lips ghost down the side of her neck and he gives a playful nip to her collarbone, pulling the prettiest little whimper from the back of her throat.
“Please, please, please…” She begs and pulls away just enough to see his eyes- heavy with love and deep with affection.
“Anything for you.” He whispers in return, fingertips sliding carefully up the thigh over his hip. Slipping under her skirt, he slowly worked the pad of his thumb in circles around her clit making her head fall forwards against his chest. “Does that feel good, honey?”
“So- so good.” She whimpered softly, her body quivering with each slow, deliberate stroke of his fingers. Gently he pushed aside her panties and sank just his middle finger into her, making her gasp and grip onto the sleeves of his shirt for dear life. He torturously worked his finger back and forth before adding another. The lewd mewl that left her lips made him grunt out a soft reply as he felt his cock twitch in his pants.
“It’s too much, Jay!” She squeaks out softly as she clenched around his fingers. Her body trembled in his arms as she quickly approached her orgasm.
“Yes you can, Angel. You’re gonna take it and I’m gonna be here to catch you when you fall apart.” He whispered softly in her ear, kissing her temple. Schlatt held her there against the wall, wrapping his free arm around her body and carefully holding her up and against him. His warmth made her feel safe, like a giant blanket protecting her from everything- he helped her just to… Feel.
“I- I’m gonna- I can’t- please don’t st-stop.” She choked out on a sob met somewhere in her voice with a moan.
“That’s it, baby. Let it all out. I know you’ve been neglected, my love. I’m here now. I’ve got you.” He praised her softly as her body twitched and her eyes closed tightly, basking in not just the glow of her orgasm, but the light of his love.
-A/N:- Pt. 2? I know it was a cheesy ending but the romantic in me couldn’t help it 😭
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Heya!!
So I'm a little obsessed with the secret relationship trope... i was wondering if you could do an Astarion x reader secret relationship but maybe during a fight, reader dies and has to be revivified? And Astarion freaks out, like he goes semiferal and histerical?
Maybe it could be during the fight with his siblings at camp so now Cazador knows he has someone he holds dear (even if Astarion doesn't want to admit it yet) which is what they were trying to avoid?
Thank you so much!!!!
🗒 ꒰⸝⸝₊ All I Want ❛ ✧
Featuring: Astarion x Reader
Not proofread!
# Notes: I'm not too good with drabbles but I rly like this idea so I decided to try! also no use of "y/n" because I'll be honest I'm not a fan of it lmao
It was his idea to keep the relationship a secret.
He knew how that sounded — like he was ashamed of his partner, like he didn't want anyone to know for the sake of his reputation. That wasn't true, and he assured them of it. It was simply a precaution, something to protect them both. Now that they arrived at Baldur's Gate and are closer to Cazador than ever, he couldn't take any chances. Not when it came to them, at least.
He wasn't used to this — caring about someone other than himself. It was always about his survival, but now he had someone else to worry about. Someone whose life was worth a lot more than his own. Someone he couldn't afford to lose.
So, he kept it a secret. It wasn't exactly easy to go about their day pretending to be nothing more than companions, friends at most. Ever since they got together, he realized just how starved he was for any kind of attention, any kind of affection. Having to refrain from touching them too much or being his usual, flirty self hasn't been a simple feat. But he knew how important it was that they kept things under wraps.
His feet were killing him after a long day of adventuring, from Wyrm's Crossing all the way to the Lower City. At least they managed to avoid some confrontation for today, so he had one less thing to complain about. They got settled in an inn and he managed to sneak out for a few seconds with his partner to at least get a good night's kiss. He wanted more, but knew that would have to suffice.
The others had already fallen asleep, but he remained tossing and turning. Something felt off. He wasn't sure what, but his nerves were on end, like his fight or flight response had picked up on something he himself hadn't yet. Perhaps that was for the best, as it allowed him to notice the sound of footsteps early enough to stand up and grab a dagger. His hand shook slightly, wrapped around the handle of the weapon as two familiar faces walked in. He felt sick. He knew what they were here to do.
"Get the hells away from me!" It wasn't quite a yell, but definitely loud enough to wake the others. He instinctively took a few steps back, trying to maintain a distance far enough to deceive his brain into believing that he was somewhat safe. "Peace, brother. We're here to take you home." Aurelia uttered somewhat gently, but it almost made him puke. Brother. Home. Just the notion of it made him dizzy with disgust. The Szarr Palace wasn't his home, and these goons were not his family — he was tired of playing along with this fucked up game of pretend.
It didn't take long for a fight to break out, despite his attempts at deception. He should've known Cazador wouldn't let him off easy. Karlach was the first to react, letting out a guttural scream of rage as she charged at Violet. The axe cut through flesh before the spawn could realize what was happening, getting stuck where it met bone. She screamed, but was soon silenced by another blow. While it was supposed to be lethal, she simply vanished into a cloud of black smoke instead of dropping dead on the ground.
Leon was next, aiming for the person who was closest to where he stood which, to Astarion's despair, happened to be his darling. The spawn's claws slashed their skin open, blood splattering on the floor as they yelped in pain. Astarion didn't think — he simply acted, pouncing on Leon only to drive his dagger through his heart one, two, three times, until he too vanished into thin air. He snapped his head back in their direction just in time to see Yousen sneaking up, grabbing them from behind and sinking his teeth into their neck. The scream, the way their eyes squeezed shut in agony and their hands clawed against the spawn holding them still was enough to make Astarion see red.
He hardly remembered moving. But he did remember the screams. Not from his darling, but from his brother, as he drove the dagger into the side of his neck and twisted it. He looked back at his lover again, but the dark cloud from Yousen obscured his vision. He didn't hear screaming anymore. Only his ears ringing slightly and the sound of laboured breathing from his companions.
When he could finally see again, he almost wished he couldn't. That'd be better than the sight of his beloved's body sprawled out on the floor atop a pool of blood, their empty, cold eyes gazing into his soul. He rushed to their side despite his shaking legs, stumbling on his way there until he fell to his knees beside them. He raised their head by the back of their neck, resting it on top of his thigh. He hardly realized he was hyperventilating, hands shaking violently as he cradled one of their cheeks in his palm. "No, no... You can't die. Wake up, damn it!" He choked out, his voice rising from a whisper full of disbelief to a screech of the utmost despair.
Karlach too rushed to their side, fumbling with her bag with quivering hands. "H-Hold on, soldier, I think..." She stuttered out nervously before cutting herself off as she pulled a scroll of revivify from the bag. She knelt next to the two and placed the parchment atop the corpse's chest. It glowed a bright white light, seemingly seeping into their skin. There was a deafening silence for a few seconds when suddenly, they woke up with a loud gasp, eyes widening as life was brought back into their being.
The pale elf didn't waste a second before pulling them into a hug, not minding the blood staining his clothes. He hid his face in the crook of their neck, only a small sob and whisper being heard from him. "Oh, thank the gods... Please, please never do that again..." He choked out before pulling away from the embrace, cupping their cheek and pressing his lips against theirs. He never felt that before. That immense sense of hopelessness, agony and grief. Not to this level, not of this kind — and he'd make sure he never felt it again.
However, as he pulled away from the kiss, he saw something in the distance. Aurelia, bleeding out on the ground, watching them seconds before she too vanished into the darkness. If he still had a heart, it would have skipped a beat out of sheer terror alone. Cazador knew. He knew about his spawn's newfound love. And Astarion would have to be a fool not to expect his master to take advantage of that fact.
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Painted Smile
Painted Smile VI
<- Previous Chapter
Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader
Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.
Notes: It's a long chapter because it's Alastor's Point of View from the beginning until the end of Chapter IV. There is dark theme here, like racism, blood, dark thoughts. But I guess you know about it, it is about Alastor's story ! Please enjoy and tell me your thoughts, if you like having a long chapter about Alastor's thoughts.
“ Do you promise to be a good boy bébé?”
Alastor smiled at his mother and nodded. He would always be good for his mother, even if he didn’t like what he was supposed to do. Today, his mother had invited an old friend of hers, someone she used to know before she married his father, and this woman would bring her child with her, hoping that they could play together. His mother was so excited.
He didn’t care about them, but if his mother was happy, he'd put on a show.
He went into his bedroom to be sure everything was clean, but mostly to be sure that his secrets were kept safe. He took his journal, where all of his thoughts were written down. He hid it under a pile of clothes, if his father were to fall upon it, it would be a disaster and frankly, he didn’t want to get into another beating.
He lifted his head up as he heard noises downstairs. So the parasites have finally come. He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled brightly. Easy. He tried different types of smiles before going downstairs quietly. He has learned not to make noises when he was walking, sometimes he could walk behind his fathers without him noticing.
And there you were. He tilted his head as he saw you took a photo and stared at it. You didn’t even sense him, you weren’t paying attention to what was going on around you. Your life must be so easy.
“ Do you not know that it is rather rude to touch others' belongings?”
He stopped himself from chuckling as you jumped, surprised. Heh, too easy.
“And it is rude to come unannounced behind a lady!”
A lady? His mother was a lady. Always proper, always smiling… You? You were… a naive, uninteresting girl so far. He did say to his mother that he would play nice… But he couldn’t help himself.
“ I see no lady.”
He wanted to laugh at your expression. How strange. You were giving him your reaction without faking it. In this house, everyone was faking it to make it out alive, even his Mother, faking a smile so his father could be “happy”. And when the emotion wasn't faked, it usually meant that problems were on their way. But you, you just expressed your expression out loud, without fearing it could put you in trouble. How strange.
He turned his head toward his mother who introduced you both. He was ready to go shake your hand but you came toward him and kissed him on both cheeks. The only person who kissed him like this was his mother. Who did you think you were ? His cheeks flushed with anger but he contained himself, not here, not in front of his mother… You wanted to play that game? Alright.
He waited for both of your mothers to go back in the kitchen before stepping closer to you, his face near yours. Hah, how you liked it when someone came too close toward you. He stared at your eyes, your eyes that seemed to say so many things, things he couldn’t comprehend, that he couldn’t grasp because he… he wasn't like you.
“ It’s rude to look at someone face this close!”
He almost coughed, you were the one who kissed him first but now HE was the one being rude? He easily made a lie saying he needed to be close to see. He saw your eyes relax and you almost seemed sorry. Were you watching him with pity? Oh no, he wouldn’t accept it. He’d prefer seeing you angry at him than watching him as if he was some kind of helpless kid who couldn’t fight for himself.
“ But now that I have seen you up close I can clearly say… I see no lady.”
He smiled when he saw your angry face.
----
Your parents were really curious about him. He didn’t really want to talk with them but he put on his mask and talked about school and other boring stuff. He almost lost his calm when he felt you kicked him in the shin. He stared at you as you were beaming with pride and joy because you were now the centre of attention. How naively cute.
His mother always told him to never hit a girl but… If it was an accident ? And you were the one to begin this war. He kicked you on the same spot you had kicked him. His smile widened when he saw you spilled your drink on the table. You were panicking so much and you had every reason to be.. if his father were to be here. He stared at you, drinking. You were a living experiment with your emotions shown so easily. You were still naive… But a tiny bit interesting.
He stood up from his chair when his mother invited you both to play outside. He walked in front of you but he was looking at your shadows which made it so easy to dodge your so-called kick. He looked at you with a beaming smile when he spotted your face. You seemed so surprised.. and a bit impressed.
“ So unladylike.”
He watched you as you stuck your tongue to him, he was sure you were thinking he couldn’t see you. How funny. He let you go toward the swing and watched you as you went higher and higher with each swing. He walked toward you as you closed your eyes and arched your back toward the ground. You seemed so light, like you could just fly at any moment. Now he was curious.
“Jump.”
You didn’t seem keen on jumping, saying things like you could hurt yourself or dirtying your dress. He kept his smile but felt kind of disappointed. Oh well, maybe you weren’t interested.
Or maybe you were!
He stared at you as you jumped when the swing was in its highest spot. He opened his mouth as he saw you, almost floating in the air, you seemed so free, so alive, so colourful, so… out of reach. He wanted to drag you down in hell with him. In his personal hell. In his life. Why were you so happy and he was–
“ Wow! Did you see that Alastor ! I did it ! Haha ! That was super amazing !” you laughed. He looked at you, you were looking at him like you wanted him to be proud of you. You were beaming, you were… cute. You just jumped off a swing because he dared you to do it and you did it. No question asked. Most of the people would have said they didn’t want to play with him and left. But you stayed. Strange…
He tried to suppress his laugh when you dared him to climb the tree. So easy. Once he climbed it he watched you. Now you were the one on the floor while he was near the sky. He looked at you as you watched him, impressed. It made him feel something so he decided to tease you once again.
“ I should thank you, now that I’m here, I don’t have to see your face.”
“ My face is pretty !”
Yes, it was.
“ Pretty ugly.”
“ Alastor !”
You played all afternoon, you always had another game to play, another riddle to solve. Your mind was always thinking about something new… But then you put your hand on his eyes and said that you had a great time with him. What kind of manipulative game was that? Saying a secret, trusting the other person to hold their tongue and never breathe a word of what you just said? How could you be so naive ? Life wasn’t fair. Sharing secrets would make you weak. Never reveal your scars, your secrets or your emotions.
He asked for another game, not wanting to see your face. Did you know that he could see everything in your eyes? Was that why you said your secret with a hand in front of his eyes, so he couldn’t see if you were in pain or happy?
He looked at you as you proposed a game of hide and seek. How cute. He would find you. He was a master of “hunting”. He closed his eyes and counted until fifty. He could already hear where you were going as you ran toward the forest. He smiled as he made you think he didn’t know where you were, he waited some time so you could be so sure of yourself you wouldn’t see him come.
And there you were.
“ Found you.”
You ran.
But what shocked him even further was that he couldn’t catch you. It was like you were flying through the grass, you weren’t watching where you were putting your feet while he was watching the floor, dodging the puddle of mudd, jumping over the branches that would have made him fall. He watched as you ran, he wanted to catch you. He didn’t know why, maybe to prove something to himself.
It seemed like it was time to say goodbye, he didn’t even see the time passing which was surprising, he always knew what time it was, knowing when his father would come back. You came toward him, you seemed sad.
“ Well.. Goodbye…”
Were you really sad ? How cute. But if it was the last time that he saw you, he would rather see you smile.. And , well , he wasn’t going to see you again right? He could tell you a secret. He covered your eyes.
“ I had fun and… you are pretty.”
He went to his mother as he watched you and your family leaving his house. When he went back home, his mother was watching him with an expectant smile. He tilted his hand, smiling at her, she seemed to have had a great afternoon, he was relieved.
“ Did you have a great time Alastor?”
He froze for a second. Did he? He stared at his hand, the hand that didn’t manage to catch you. Well, you were like a fresh breeze. Needed but short. He would have to live once again without feeling it.
“ Yes, I had a great time.”
—----
Alastor was doing his homework in the kitchen while his mother was cooking. Most of the time, his Father was away all week because he worked far from home, so his boss would give him a place to stay to avoid doing long travel. Which meant, when it was the weekend, his Father would do nothing but lay around in the house and if he had a bad week, well.. Let’s just say that his body remembered those days.
There, done!
He stood up from his chair, now that his homeworks was done, he could go and listen to his radio. He went to his bedroom and sat on his desk, listening to the radio until he heard noises downstairs. He didn’t remember his Mother telling him that they would have guests over… And then he heard them. Your footsteps. What was that feeling? His heart was beating louder as your footsteps were getting closer and closer.
He smirked when he heard his door open, did you really think you were being quiet ? He stayed silent waiting to feel you closer to him, and once he saw your shadow, he opened his mouth.
“ How rude, entering a boy’s bedroom without permission.”
“ I see no boy.”
He smiled as he approached his face towards yours making you blush. He didn’t know why, but he was… content seeing you in front of him with all of your emotions written across your face.
But he didn’t like this thought.
The fact that just your presence could make him feel things. You didn’t have the rights. That would mean that you had the upper hand on him, playing with him. No, you couldn’t know.
“ Why are you here?”
And there it was. You looked like a kicked puppy. He didn’t like it. He clearly didn’t like it. You were cute like this but he’d rather see you smiling even if he didn’t like what it made him feel. He suppressed his need to sigh at your face. You stuck your tongue at him, trying to hide the fact that he hurted you. You really were the cutest. Didn’t you see that he already saw your heartbroken expression? Seems like he needed to make things right. He touched your shoulder but you didn’t move. You were such an obstinate brat. He really was trying to be nice ! He sighed. Well…
He covered your eyes, smiling when he saw you flinching and spoke.
“ I didn’t expect…to be content to see you today.”
Your smile was really blinding. He wondered if you were aware of it? How could you smile so easily without fearing that you showed too much emotion? How could you trust him not to use the information you just told him with your smile: You liked being with him.
He was almost worried for your future. He looked at your hands as you raised it toward his face, clearly trying to cover his eyes. You really liked to touch him, didn’t you? He helped you as he took your hand and placed it in front of his eyes. Now what?
“ I wanted to see you too.” you confessed.
…
So that’s what it was.
He wanted to see you too.
How could you speak so freely? He took your hands off him and stared at you, maybe if he stared long enough in your eyes, he could get an answer. The only answer he got? He didn’t flinch when you kissed his cheeks not because he was scared but because didn’t feel the need to push you away. How strange…
He smirked as you told him about making him food. So you asked about him. You didn’t forget about him. Interesting..
He tilted his head as you ordered him to dance. He could dance, his Mother had teached him, he couldn’t wait but show you. He gave you a big smile and held his hand toward you but you went off script. You took his hand and just started to jump around, holding his hand. You encouraged him to do just like you but he was so confused. Was that dancing ? Maybe it was your way of dancing… Well, it was chaotically cute.. But let him show you how it’s done.
He took your hands and twirled you just like his Mother taught him. You seemed impressed once again, he really liked that. He didn’t know why but he wanted you to keep on watching him like this. You let go of his hand and walked toward his bed before throwing his pillow in his face. He didn’t expect it. He stared at your laughing face. You thought you were funny huh?
He took the pillow and ran toward you, pinning you on the floor and hitting you softly with his pillow. “ Rule number one, never drop your guard.” He hitted you with his pillow. “ Rule number two, I’m the strongest here.” he hitted you once again. “ Rule number three, give up.” He smiled as he watched you trying to sit up. You were really trying to get away ? He held the pillow above his head and then he saw it.
Your gaze fell on a bruise from his father. Ah, were you going to ask questions? What excuses should he invent this time? He tried to help his mother but failed? No, it was impossible. As he was swimming through his thoughts you took his hand, placed it on your eyes and began to talk. You talked and talked and talked, you really couldn’t stop huh?
But he listened.
To every word.
He stood up and helped you when he heard his mother calling you downstairs. He followed you to the sofa and sat down, listening to your mothers talking. Seemed like you weren’t as patient as him, he could already see boredom settling on your face. But then you ran off the living room saying stuff about a kitty. He smiled at the ladies and went outstairs, staring at you and the cat. This bloody cat who was always hissing at him…
Maybe if he stopped affraying it, the cat would calm down? Huh…
He came closer and as expected the cat began to hiss but then it hurted you. He stared at your bleeding hand and took it in his. You were trying so hard not to cry. Why? You’ve been showing him every single of your emotions since you have met, why would you hide something that he wanted to see? Why did you not want to share yourself with him? He didn’t remember the last time he or his Mother cried. What would you look like? Without even being aware he dug his nails in your cut making you scream. He stared at you, you didn’t seem angry at him, but confused.
“ Don’t be ashamed, you can cry. I… I think I want you to cry.” Now he was the one being confused. Why would he want to see you cry? Because that means you trusted him enough to show yourself at your weakest. You began to cry, louder than necessary for such a little cut. But he let you. You were crying in front of him without feeling ashamed. You trusted him not to hurt you even more. You were an open book for him, a book he wanted to keep on reading.
But he’d rather see you smile.
He opened his mouth, ready to make a joke but he froze once he heard his voice.
“Alastor.”
He kept you against him. He remembered his Father hitting him because he was crying, he needed to hide your tears from his Father. He didn’t deserve to see you in that state. He didn’t trust his Father and neither should you.
“ Why is this chick crying ? For God’s sake, what have you done boy?”
“ The cat scratched her.”
“ This stupid cat… I’ll shoot it next time.”
He stared as the man went inside the house. It was going to be a hard night… He didn’t want to explain everything to you about his Father, you didn’t need to know. All you needed to know was how to be safe from this man. He covered your eyes with his hand.
“ Never cry in front of this man.”
He didn’t let go of you until you nodded. Then he took you to his Mother so she could clean your cut. Better safe than sorry.
Before leaving you told him about the pizza that you made with your Mother. He sneaked with you to the kitchen, he knew that his Father would eat all of the food you made so he wanted to share it with you before it could be stolen from him. You were so eager for his feedback, he almost wanted to say it tasted bad but after what he did to your hand he decided to be honest and made the promise to cook you something next time. You beamed and kissed him on both cheeks before leaving with your Mother.
—--
He was so excited.
His Mother had told him that you would have a sleep over while his Father wasn’t home. It was perfect! He also had another game he wanted to play with you. His Mother had bought him a microphone thanks to his good grades at school. He wanted to do a radio broadcast with you. He wanted to share his dream with you just like you shared your emotions with him. He was in his bedroom, re-reading his note to be sure that everything was perfect. He asked his mother to do his hair like adults, so now his hair was slicked back. He looked at himself in the mirror. That would do.
“ Can I come in yet?” you asked, outside Alastor’s bedroom, waiting for him to open the door.
His grin got even bigger. He opened his bedroom door and stared at your outfit. You were cute, as always. You kissed him on both cheeks, like usual and he tugged you inside his now radio booth!
“ Welcome to my humble Radiobooth !” He said with glee as he shoved you on a chair. “ Welcome New Orleans to Alastor’s podcast ! Thank you for tuning in, today I’m thrilled to announce that I will not be alone, I am blessed with the best singer in all Lousianna !” he claimed and shoved the microphone to your face. You gave him a big smile and began to introduce yourself even saying he was the best radio host of all New Orleans. He couldn’t help giggling, you were playing your part perfectly. Maybe when he would have had his own radio station he would invite you as a very special guest.
He kept talking as you read the notes he had just given you, he kind of expected you to fumble but once again you surprised him. You were natural, talking about what was written on his notes but then you went off script and made him laugh. You were amazing.
He kept doing his part as the radio host, explaining about why your sleepover has to be delayed to this day. You didn’t ask much more information but was happy he punched the boy who badmouthed his mother. Calling her such a disgusting word…
You both kept playing, sometimes he would forget about your presence, but when he noticed that his voice was the only thing he could hear he would turn toward you, ordering you to talk. You had a pretty voice, why not use it?
Well, he didn’t expect you to raise your voice against him when he said he couldn’t understand people liking sweet things. You were so convinced that there was something wrong with him for not liking sweets. Well, shouldn’t you feel appreciated ? You were the sweetest thing he ever laid his eyes upon and he kept you by his side, didn’t he? He closed his eyes still smiling as you kept blablating with his Mother’s laugh echoing in his bedroom. He liked it. He really liked this moment, if he could, he would like to record this moment so he could play it again and again.
After his Mother’s departure he went toward the letter he wrote with questions for you. You thought the game was over? Think again.
He asked you many questions, well of course the questions weren’t from him, but from the audience ! You answered to all of them honestly and there came the last one. He took the letter and read it to you.
“ And now, our last question before our guest’s performance. What do you think about our dear radio host Alastor ?”
He could see your answer in your eyes before you even opened your mouth. He already knew what you were about to say. He already knew. But he was waiting eagerly so you could say those words he desperately needed to hear. Say it, say it, say it…
“ He is the best!”
Yes, and so were you.
And you needed to know it.
He tugged you downstairs saying you needed to sing or the broadcast couldn’t end. He sat in front of the piano as you were flustered with his microphone in your hands. He smiled at you and then closed his eyes. He wanted you to feel powerful. But first, he needed you to be less insecure about your abilities. So the first lesson would be: singing.
And sing you did. When you stopped being a coward and really sang like the singer that you were, he couldn't help but open his eyes to admire you. Even if some of the notes weren’t the best, you were giving it your all. You were giving him all of you at that moment.
He couldn’t be more proud.
You were the best.
He couldn’t stop himself from crushing you against him as he said goodbye to your audience. Everything was perfect, you were here, his mother too and there were smiles on every lips.
—--
“ We are still playing with Alastor! When we are finished, I will join you.” you said with a shy smile, holding a plushie. He was behind you, waiting for his Mother's command. Truthfully, he didn’t want you to go to sleep with his Mother right away. He still had other games he would like to play with you. As soon as his Mother accepted, you ran into his bedroom with him following you. You were on his bed with this…
“ What is it ?”
“ Well, first of all, it’s a He and he is a deer.”
He listened to your story. So you didn’t know how to swim, he would have to train you. You shouldn’t have so many weaknesses, it was dangerous. But then you started talking about how your deer plushie was protecting you. What were you saying, were you so tired that thinking was too difficult for you?
“ So, a deer saved your life from drowning…”
“ Yes, so my parents bought me this deer plushie so now, when I'm scared I can just squeeze him and feel safe!” you demonstrated your words by squeezing your plushie against you. “ Do you want to try it?”
Did he want to try to squeeze a plushie? Not really. Not at all.
“ How can he protect you?”
You rolled your eyes at him before pushing your plushie in his arms. You forced him to hug it, once you were satisfied, you nodded and looked at Alastor who was clearly confused. “ Now, squeeze him !”
Once again , you were looking at him with those eyes he couldn’t refuse anything. He suppressed a sigh and squeezed the deer against him and closed his eyes. It has your scent. He could feel himself relax. Yeah… It felt nice. If he were to hug you like this, would you also be this soft? He was getting taller than you, have you noticed it? Maybe one day, he would be able to hug you just like this plushie? Would you feel safe in his arms? Or would you try to run away?
“ Mister Deer could be our very first guest in our radio show?”
Our.
He opened his eyes, staring right in your soul. Ah, you were panicking. Did you think he didn’t like that you use “ our” instead of “ his” ? You were so cute!
“ I’d like that.” he whispered with a soft smile. “ Our first guest.”
You both laid on his bed, he still held the plushie against him. He really needed to find him a name, names are important. He listened to you blablating about how he was supposed to take care of the deer. It looked like a fawn for him but whatever.
“ Now that I have Mister Deer, who will protect you?” he asked, with no trace of fatigue on his face, he was used to not sleeping, because of nightmares or just because he needed to be aware of what his father’s doing in the house. You smiled tiredly at him, putting your head on his pillow.
“ Well, because you hold Mister Deer, it’s your job to protect me now.”
It was his job to protect you..? He would do it. He would protect your smile, he would protect your dazzling eyes that seemed to never lose their sparkes.
“ … So, do I need to hug you?”
“ M-maybe but…Do you want to …?”
Does he want to?
He covered your eyes with his hand. Within the next five minutes you were asleep, he took off his hand and stared at your face.
Did he want to hug you?
He looked at the fawn in his arms. You were cuter than your plushie, so that made you huggable. He touched your cheeks with his finger but you didn’t move. He nudged you with his feet but you stayed asleep. You must be feeling very safe to sleep like this. He would awake at any noise in the house.
Did he want to hug you?
He wasn’t touching you but he could feel your body warm from here. Were you too hot? Did he need to take off the blanket ? But maybe you liked being warm? You were so problematic, did you know that? He stared at the ceiling, he knew he wasn’t going to fall asleep soon…
Did he want to hug you?
He put the fawn between his body and yours, whispering in your ear. He hoped you would stay asleep, he didn’t want anyone to witness what he was going to say.
Did he want to hug you?
“ Yes, if you hug me back.”
—-----
He was blushing as his Mother was asking him if he slept well. She had a teasing glint in her eyes, she must have seen! When he woke up, he had you in his arms. He quietly left the bed, leaving the fawn with you.
“ Alastor, this was a very cute scene!”
He didn’t care if this was cute, it was embarrassing ! He hid his face in his Mother dress. Could she just forget about it?
“ Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.” she kissed the top of his head with a beaming smile. He smiled at her, his mother seemed happier since she found your mother back. He liked it. He decided to go back to his room to see if you awakened but what was surprising was that he saw you with his microphone, talking with the fawn. How could the fawn protect you, it looked like you were the one protecting it with the way you were holding it against you. You were so strange.
“ I knew you would play with it.” you blinked at him. He looked at your bed hair and couldn’t help but smile. You looked silly like this ! “ Eamon told me you were using the microphone.” You tilted your head.
“ Who ?”
“ Our deer. He needs a name, don’t you think?” he stroked your plushie’s head while mumbling “ even if he looks more like a fawn than a deer…”
“ He is a deer ! I’m sure you never saw one !” you huffed as you squeezed Eamon against your chest.
“ Actually, I did when Father took me hunting.” he tilted his head as he saw your horrified face. Why did you take a step back?
“ You killed a deer ?”
“ No, I saw one. And most of them have brown fur, not like ours who have a white one.” Why did you seem so confused?
“ But… Why is your father taking you with him.. to hunt..?” you asked, confused.
To kill of course.
But he couldn’t tell you that. His father wanted him to be a man, and man went hunting. His father showed him how to kill while threatening him.
If you don’t want to end up like this, shut your trap.
When he first went hunting , he was terrified but now, he would just stare at the dead animal wondering if he will be the target next time. So far, he was alive. How lucky ! But once again, he couldn’t tell you that, could he? Would you be worried for him?
“ It’s not for little girls, that’s for sure. You wouldn’t bear it.” He teased you.
“ Hey! I saw things too, I’m not a little girl!”
Did you? Were you like him? Did you see things that made you reconsider your morals? Did you see things that made you throw up? Did you see things that made you want to run away and never look back. Did you–
“ My father tried to eat my mother one day.”
…
Now, that was horrifying.
—--
You went downstairs to eat breakfast as he went to the bathroom to wash up. He stared at his body. The bruises were no longer on his body, that was nice. He went to the kitchen and sat next to you. Strange, you were looking at him like you knew something that he didn’t. Did his Mother tell you what happened ? No, she wouldn’t. So why–
“ Next time, we should have a sleepover at my house ! I could show you my room !” you smiled excitedly.
He tensed. He would love to go to your place, being able to see your house. How did you decorate your room? But he couldn’t leave his Mother alone with his Father. What if he decided to come back drunk and beat his mother while he was enjoying himself, free of worries, at your place. No, he couldn’t. He looked at you and there was the kicked puppy stare…
“ I… I don’t like leaving my mother alone at home.”
“ But we will choose a day where your father is home!” you nudged him, trying to coat him to come with you at your house. “ Please Alastor… I really want you to come.” you pleaded as you held his forearms with your small hands. “ You don’t want to..?”
I want to.
He bit his lips, he wanted but he couldn’t. Wasn’t it the meaning of his life? Wanting without having the power to be able to do what he wanted. Fortunately, his Mother had sensed his discomfort and she offered to come with him for your next sleepover.
He relaxed. Yes, like this, it would be perfect.
The day went on as you both “gossiped” as his Mother called it. But unfortunately, it was time for you to leave. You asked Eamon to take care of him and then you asked him to take care of Eamon. You were cute but as asked, he would take care of your Fawn.
—-------
He was in the forest with his Father, holding a rifle. It was a familiar feeling to hold the weapon in his little hand. He was used to it now. He was walking, alongside his father who was making so much noise, how could they hunt like this?
“ Here, be a useful brat, shoot it.”
He shot the partridges which fell down near him. Should he be afraid of himself ? He couldn’t feel anything as he watched the life leaving the animal’s eyes. It was almost boring, he was stronger so he won. It was that easy.
Would you be scared of him?
He stopped himself. You were the first real friend he has ever made. If you were to see him like this, would you be afraid of him? Would you let him explain? He turned his head toward his father as the man pointed to a deer not too far. He could shoot it. It would be easy.
But then he saw your face. He knew this deer wasn’t the one who saved you but this time, for you, he would not kill it. He knew you wouldn’t forgive him.
“Alastor, shoot it..!”
He just stared at the beautiful beast not too far from him. He stared into its eyes as the animal saw him before running off. How he envied the animal right now…
He heard his Father before feeling the punch in his face.
Ah, today it was going to be harder than usual.
“ You brat!”
A kick in his stomach.
He wondered if you were sleeping right now? You always fell asleep so easily, he was almost envious. Maybe next time, he’ll ask you how you manage to find the sweet relief of falling asleep.
“ How useless!”
Another kick in his stomach.
Ah, his Mother was going to be so sad once she saw him. Maybe his Father would let him wash himself up in the water?
“ You nigga !”
Aand there it was. That disgusting word. He felt his Father grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him toward their home. His Father threw him inside his bedroom, Alastor’s head hitting the wall.
Seemed like his mother was out buying groceries. Good, she wouldn’t have to see that. He stared at his Father, smiling. The man took off his belt and began to hit him on his back, forcing him to lay on his belly. Alastor stared in front of him and saw Eamon, staring back at him. He didn’t know why, but he moved. He stood up as his Father shouted at him to stay in his place. He took the plushie against him, keeping his back toward his Father but he stayed standing.
His father hit him on his back with his belt once again but Alastor didn’t fall on the ground. He crushed the plushie against him as he closed his eyes.
It was going to be over soon. He would see you this weekend, you would play together, you would show him your neighbourhood, you would give him something sweet to eat.
He opened his eyes and saw with sadness that Eamond was dirty with his own blood. He touched his nose, oh yes, his father did punch him in the forest. Aah, he needed to clean it before you came back.
His back felt wet and stinky. Was he sweating that much? Normally he could handle it better? He sniffed.
Ah, blood.
He didn’t remember when he passed out but when he woke up, Eamon was still in his arms.
“ ça va aller mon bébé, regarde Maman.”
He looked at his Mother, her smile wobbling. He just closed his eyes and squeezed Eamon, the plushie didn’t have your scent anymore, but it has his blood’s.
—---
He didn’t know why, but each week his Father would hit him with his belt on his torso or back even when his Mother was begging for him to stop. He had to go to school with bandages all over his body but his face. But he never cried, nor asked his Father to stop. He would just think that soon, you would come and the Hell he was living would come to a pause. Each time, he was thinking.
Next week.
But you never came.
It’s been almost a month. Did something happen to you? Were you sick? Maybe he could ask his Mother to see if you were okay? He was on his bed, clinging to Eamon, his back was hurting so much he almost wanted to bite off his hand from the pain.
But no, he just stared in the void, losing his smile. And then, a thought struck him.
Was killing a human any different than an animal?
His eyes widened, but before he could deepen his thoughts on the subject, he heard footsteps downstairs. Yours footsteps. It was you. He was sure of it. He heard the door smashed open, well, weren’t you full of energy today?
“ So unladylike. I could recognize your footsteps anywhere.”
He frowned when he didn’t hear any witty come back from you. Well?
“ I.. I made your favorite dish..” you whispered, your voice trembling with each word as you tried to speak out loud.Why did you sound like that? “ Can… Can I see you?”
You wanted to see his pathetic self right now? You really had a bad timing, you’ll have to work on it, really.
“ No.”
“ Please…” you begged, it sounded like you were crying, why were you crying?. “ I was so worried… My father told me what happened–”
“ What did he tell you?” His voice was colder than usual. He didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want anyone to know.
“ That… That you went hunting with your dad and–” you approached the bed and flinched when you felt his hand covering your eyes. So you were crying, he thought. He could feel your tears wetting the palms of his hands. “ Because of your father you- you have been hurt.” you cried, holding his wrist with one of your hands. “Alastor, I was so scared..!”
Me too, I was so scared.
“ Keep your eyes closed.”
He couldn't help himself. He hugged you. You were finally here. Hell was over for some time. He wanted to see you so bad. He wanted to see you…
“Yes, I wanted to see you.”
“ Are you hurting?”
“ No. Remember Rules number two: I’m the strongest here.”
He smiled as he heard you laugh. Yes, everything would turn out nicely. He just had to be more careful. To be more observant. He would be the strongest for you. You’ll never have to worry for him to the point of crying. Nobody would keep your friendship from you. He sighed in relief, you were here…
“ I want to see your face.”
Mhn.. Well, as long as it is just his face. He stepped back and smiled at you. You didn’t have to worry.
“ Be my guest.”
His smile widened when he saw your confused face. You must have thought he would have injuries on his face heh?
“ You said you wanted to see my face, not my injuries.” he smiled cunningly at you while holding Eamon against his chest.
“ Why do our deer have pink…red spots on him?” you tilted your head, stroking its fur.
Ah, right. His Mother had tried but she couldn’t wash all the blood he had lost on the fawn each week. Were you going to be upset ? He didn’t protect your fawn even though he told you he would take care of it. Were you going to be disappointed in him?
“ I’m sorry. I bled on him.”
He watched as you sat next to him and gently kissed his cheeks, resting your lips against his skin. Did you know it was the spot his father had punched weeks prior ? Of course, you wouldn’t know. He only could feel your lips, the pain in his back wasn’t there anymore. He squeezed your hand. He missed you… He missed this…
“ I missed you.” you both said.
He smiled softly, as you began to explain all the week he has missed. He felt his heart soared when you explained how you had made a scene so you could come and see him. He had to tease you, because if not, he felt like he would explode with happiness. You have missed him, his presence was something you wanted, he was important for you.
Unfortunately, you had to go.
Well, Hell is forever, right?
He went downstairs, keeping his hand around yours. You seemed so worried. He looked at you after your mother asked about his well being. Why were you so quiet ?
“ I promise, I’ll see you soon.”
“ You promise? How do I know if you are going to be sick, or injured once again?”
Oh that’s why.
You were so cute. Unfortunately, he couldn’t promise to never be injured again, he would be breaking his promise tonight. What kind of promise could he conjure that would make you both ties to each other forever.
“ Let’s make a deal.”
He approached his face close to yours and kissed your forehead. You blushed and he couldn’t feel bad about it, red suited you.
“ You always kiss me good morning, so now, I’ll kiss you goodbye. Now, you owe me a good morning kiss.” he smiled at you teasingly as he took a step back. “ Do we have a deal?”
Please, say yes.
“ Deal.”
He smiled, now he knew that even though he would suffer because of his father, you would always come back to him, healing him without being aware of it. You were his special.. Something. You were the one painting a true smile on his lips. You were his special person.
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hii! omg so i rlly love your writing its incredible. i have two requests but you can choose whichever one! the first one is an imagine w steve and the reader based off of call it what you want by taylor. orr a hurt/comfort imagine where the reader is basically comforting steve maybe aft he’s had a fight w his parents or something? again i rlly love your writing literally look forward for new writeups all the time!
at least we did one thing right
a/n: this one has been sitting in my inbox since forever and i managed to stir up this cute little thing. ciwyw is one of my favorite tracks of reputation and i can't wait to get the re-recording of this (hopefully soon!!!)
The party was in full swing, and by party you meant all of your close friends who are gathered in Steve’s living room and kitchen entertaining themselves while you and Steve hid away in his backyard like a routine.
His gaze flickered through the sliding doors, mock concern etched on his features as he mutters under his breath, “I swear to god, they better not pick the pineapple off the other slices.”
You turned your head to see what he was going on about, and sure enough the teenage boys were ravaging the kitchen like they hadn’t eaten in days. At this rate, they were like bottomless pits, and you weren’t quite sure how they were able to put away a portion of food without blinking.
Still, you snorted, swatting a hand over his thigh and garnering his attention back to you.
“They’re growing boys and their appetites are different from when they were twelve. We can order another if they’re still hungry.” You shrugged.
He shook his head, shifting to pull your legs over and across his lap.
“I ordered pineapple for you, and you should at least get to have one slice of it.” Steve insisted, though your orbs were too clouded with heart eyes to see the irritation he wore for the innocently selfish boys.
You pursed your lips into a tight smile, hooking your arm over his bicep, tugging yourself closer to him, “You’re so cute for someone who hogs all the blankets at night.”
He looked down at you, shaking his head with a mushy smile coming over him, “Hey you’re the one who likes the house freezing!”
Steve rumbles a string of laughter into the air, using his free arm that’s not being clung onto, to drape over your frame, practically wrenching your whole body onto his as you begin joining in the amusement. You give up on trying to get the upper-hand, letting yourself sit comfortably in his lap, your joined hands resting on either side of your bodies and you lean down to lay your head on his chest.
You snuggled deeper into the fabric of his shirt, inhaling the lingering scent of his cologne. It’s a simple pleasure of yours to be wrapped up in his arms, high above the whole scene, in your own little world like nothing else mattered.
“You’re my portable space heater, got all the warmth I need,” you declared, pressing kind kisses over his chest feeling his lips brush over your hairline.
Steve thought he must have done something right in this lifetime in order to give himself to you in a way he hadn’t given anyone else before. He doesn’t care that it’s simply you two sneaking away just to act like corny teenagers again. All of that fades into nothing when you look at him the way you do.
But before you could savor the moment, a familiar voice interrupted from above, followed by the squeak of rusty wheels gliding across the frame.
“Are you guys having fun out here without us!” Robin shouted, ringing out closer as she approached you both, but of course not without the presence of Eddie by her side.
You sat up, laughing, while Steve groaned and craned his neck to greet them. “You guys have to stop sneaking off to do whatever this is,” Eddie teased, gesturing between you both with a lighthearted smirk.
Steve grunted, “You’re just mad you don’t have a girlfriend to love on,” he shot back, pulling you down by the wrists to meet his lips in a messy kiss that left you giggling.
Eddie feigned revulsion and quickly retreated back inside, while Robin settled beside your bodies, her eyes twinkling with affection. “I still think you guys are adorable, even though this sneaking off thing is getting old.”
Robin had always been rooting for the two of you — there was just something about you both that made perfect sense, and when you finally bit the bullet, it was safe to say she was celebratory about the whole thing.
“We just don’t want to bore you guys with our public displays of affection,” you teased, sharing a knowing smile with Robin who threw her head back and laughed at all the times your friends would scold you both to cut out the lovey dovey acts.
Steve interjected, “Last time we cuddled on the couch you kicked us out of movie night…in my house!”
Robin rolled her eyes, pointing an accusing finger at him. “That’s because we could all smell the sexual tension between you guys. Seriously, just get it out of your systems before we get here.”
You slapped your hands over your flushed face, groaning behind them, “Noted. We’ll remember that for next time.” You promised, shaking your head.
Steve couldn’t contain his laughter, his eyes crinkling as he turned to his best friend with a pleading look. “Now, can you please leave and let me make out with my girlfriend in peace?”
She rose up out of the lounger with a grin, “If there’s one thing you guys did right, it’s each other… and I don’t mean sex!” With that she disappeared back inside, leaving you both to yourselves.
Steve gently pulled your hands away from your face, his soft smiling easing away any idling embarrassment that you knew was all in good fun. He brought your hands closer to his lips, spreading kisses across your knuckles that made your stomach flip with warmth.
“Well, at least did one thing right,” He murmured, raising his brows up at you as you blushed and nodded.
“We sure did.” You whispered, before cupping his cheeks and bringing yourself down to him.
Your eyes fluttered shut, closing the distance between your lips, fitting themselves together like a daydream. The jokers and the drama queens could take all the swings and call it whatever they wanted to — as long as you and Steve knew it was love.
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Guilty Pleasures ( chapter four )
18+ 5.2k homelander x plus size f!reader. office romance, stalking, voyeurism, office sex, cunnilingus, cream pie, breast play, flight sex, lite overstim, riding. nebulously takes place post s1. part 4/4. AO3 link. CH I CH 2 CH 3
Homelander takes what's his, and you get what's yours.
welcome to the final chapter! thanks so much for reading. i really enjoyed the dynamic between these two, and i hope you do, too. 🖤
Homelander doesn’t hold it against you that you take him up on his suggestion to be absent the following day. He leaves a little peace offering in your office to say as much: a mug for your collection that reads simply, You’ve Been Mugged. He adjusts it seven times on your desk before he finally leaves it alone, surveying your office a while before letting himself out.
The thugs he lasered down in the alley don’t garner much attention, but it’s enough to warrant a statement on the truth of what happened. With them dead, the truth becomes whatever he makes of it, and his truth is that two vagabonds were assaulting a cherished Vought employee before he put a stop to it.
It’s precisely the kind of hero story the public loves.
“I acted on instinct,” he tells the newscaster. He relives the moment as he tells it, recalls only to himself how fierce you had been. How determined you were that if you were going to die, you would die fighting. “They were going to hurt her. I like to believe any good citizen in my position would have done the same.”
Madelyn taught him that conviction without contrition would always read as arrogance, so he speaks firmly but with a furrow to his brow, and he closes his eyes when he inclines his head to accept praise. No matter how dead she is, her voice remains an echo in his mind: follow the script, and you’ll be fine.
They use his words to segue into a discussion of gun control, and Homelander’s mind drifts somewhere distant, hearing without listening to the petty squabbles of humans crying about their little toys and laws. He supposes this is how God feels when humans pray to Him over every minor inconvenience. Bored and painfully above it.
While it’s easy enough to keep himself distracted during business hours, Homelander’s life comes to an abrupt halt alongside the end of the working day. Like the equipment that broadcasts him, there’s little use for him once the cast and crew goes home. All around him the employees commiserate at the end of their work day and pass around invitations to the bar.
He receives none.
Not that he would accept them if he did.
Seeking both council and companionship, Homelander finds himself in Noir’s apartment, seated in the chair Noir keeps for him. It’s the only one the hero owns, what with his interior design being deeply steeped in westernized ninja nonsense. The place is half dojo, half living quarters.
He laments his situation to Noir, explaining his patience in courting you, the lengths he’s gone to endear himself to you on a personal level, and the bitter sting of your rejection.
“See her,” Noir writes in his sketchpad, sitting on the floor on the other side of the low table. “If glad to see her, good. If not–”
Homelander snorts at the series of knife sketches that follow. He has no doubt Noir would put an end to anyone for any reason Homelander gave. Simplicity has allowed Noir an unwavering loyalty to Vought, and as an extension, Homelander himself. Luckily for you, he has no interest in that happening.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Noir,” he muses, clapping his hands on his thighs before he stands up. “You’re right. I’ll go see her. Thanks, buddy.”
Noir offers two thumbs up. A true uproar of approval.
Under the cover of darkness, Homelander returns to your house, the flight path a familiar one now. He lands silently on your roof this time, cocking his head. He’s not confident he’ll be able to resist your siren pull if he approaches now. He folds his hands behind his back and peers through each layer between him and your bedroom, stopping when he can see you.
You’re nestled deep in the splay of your blankets, lips parted around shallow breaths. He bites his own bottom lip, remembering how badly he’d wanted to feel them. Taste them. He’s certain now that if he allowed himself to be close enough, he would. Denial, for as much as it stung in that moment, has only made him hungrier for you. Fuck, the way he’s craved you from the moment you first brushed him aside.
He watches you shift in your sleep and his eyes narrow, honing in on a familiar flash. His stomach flips–it’s his cape, the fabric pinned between your blanket and your body. You really are sleeping with it, the star spangled blue fabric tucked up under your chin. Do you smell him on it? Homelander groans softly. Like your underwear in his bedside drawer, you sleep with a trophy of your own.
“Fuck,” he says, aching. His heart, his mind, his cock–all of it at once a cacophony of vicious yearning and impatience. The urge to peel the roof like a sardine can and carve his way straight to you nearly knocks the wind out of him, has him preemptively reaching for the shingled surface.
Only the lingering wound to his ego gives him pause. He’s been bitten once, leaving him shy to instigate, but this revelation feels like progress. You’re aching for him as much as he is for you. He’s sure of that now. It’s time that he made you feel that ache. Feel his absence. Then you’ll realize the foolishness of your coy game.
Clenching his jaw defiantly, Homelander lifts up into the sky.
He’ll be benevolent when you come to your senses.
The next day, Homelander keeps himself scarce, preoccupied. Ashley is perkier than usual, thrilled–if not suspicious–with his easy participation in whatever inane business she brings to him. It helps distract him from the endless feeling of waiting that he’s enduring.
He sticks stubbornly to his schedule, fantasizing about the torment his avoidance has surely wrought. He’s tempted a time or two to break, but each time he remembers the mortified Oh! you uttered before he kissed you, he refocuses himself.
You’ll come.
Not before lunch, but that is the perfect opportunity for it. He makes himself more available then, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair.
No sign of you.
He gives you the benefit of the doubt. A meal to embolden you.
Then you’ll come.
He waits.
Lunch long since over.
He waits.
The day is winding down.
He’s fucking tired of waiting.
Where the hell are you? He’s given you the entirety of the day to seek him out, ample opportunity to come thank him for his gift, to address the aching thing ruminating between you. You’d be a fucking liar to say you don’t feel it, too. By midday, he’s seething with impatience and hurt. There’s no chance he’s going to let you stand him up.
It’s precisely the wrong time for Ashley to rear her head back up. “Okay! That’s that, now regarding the amnesty for–”
“Ashley!” He snaps, a harsh and throaty sound. “Would you shut the fuck up?”
She stops in her tracks, staring wide-eyed. Of course it was too good to be true.
Homelander all but leaps to his feet, pushing out of his chair so hard that it flips backwards and into the wall in a heavy clatter. She clutches her vPad to her chest and quickly back steps out of his way, watching in frightened bewilderment as he storms from the room, making a beeline towards your office.
He doesn’t bother knocking this time. Still, his restraint is undeniable when he pushes your door open. He barely catches himself from pushing the damn thing clean off the hinges.
Your head snaps up from your computer, eyes wide. He hears your heart jump and he savors the alarm that shoots through you. Payback for the awful misery you forced him to endure in the hours since he last saw you. Still, the sight of you disarms him. For all his seething anger, there is something small in him that retreats it when your eyes are on him.
There’s a heaviness to your gaze that his strength can do nothing to alleviate. No incredible feat of his can wrench away what it is he wants from you. What he needs. It’s something you have to give him willingly, and that alone is enough to temper his rage. The familiar fear that you won’t.
He marches to the front of your desk and levels an accusatory finger on you.
“You like me,” he hisses, bending to brace his opposite hand on your desk.
You blink owlishly, lips parted. That clearly wasn’t what you expected him to say. He’s not sure it’s what he meant to say. “Homelander–”
“No,” he says, voice pitched low, a warning. “No, no. No games, no workarounds. You like me. You do. And I like you. So,” he abandons his point to make a vague encompassing gesture, but he doesn’t know what to say next. He didn’t think this far ahead. All day he had practiced the calm benevolence he would show when you approached him, chastised and yearning. He has nothing to back up this frenzied play for.
You stand. Homelander rises to his full height with you, jutting his chin out. He watches you with all the wariness of a wounded predator as you circle around your desk, your hand gliding along the wood like you would flank a horse so as not to spook it.
He can’t determine the intent behind your gaze. He angles his body towards you, facing you head on. You look like yourself again, in your element and free from the fawn fear of the alley. He can’t entirely decide which way he prefers you. When you were in his arms, he was your hero. In your office, his position feels more precarious.
The silence stretches on for hours–or seconds, it’s impossible to say–before he can no longer stand it. Sucking in a breath, he–
You kiss him.
Homelander goes shock still, hyper aware of your lips pressed feather light to his, your breasts against his chest, your hand on his forearm. He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but he senses when you begin to pull away.
In a flash he cups your face in his hands and pulls you in deep, inhaling sharply, like he’s only just remembered how to breathe. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you as if he can trap you in the cycle of it. You don’t resist, you don’t tense. Instead, you sigh an angel’s breath against his lips. Only then does he break to look at you.
“I don’t understand,” he says, bewildered, flushed.
“I do like you,” you say, eyes glassy.
His brows pinch. “But… That night–”
“Wasn’t right,” you interrupt. “I wanted to kiss you, but not like that. Not then. Not because you saved me, not because I was in shock, not because of…” you rock your head side to side. “Whatever other bullshit… You let me down that night.”
“Let you down?” Homelander echoes, taken aback. “By saving your life?” He asks, his temper a perpetual simmer ready to flare. He’s immediately tempered by your hands taking his wrists, squeezing. You hold his gaze and your expression is gentle, but there is a firmness in your stare that he finds intoxicating. Not an ounce of fear, even when his anger emerges.
Good. You shouldn’t be afraid of him. He saved you.
“I was shaken. Badly. My date was an entitled asshole, those men, they tried to…” You shake your head, holding his hands to your face. “I didn’t need you to be a man. I needed you to be a hero. I wasn’t ready.”
A light in Homelander’s eyes flicks on. You just weren’t ready. He’d been right after all. He fixates on that, choosing to forgive you for that, at least.
“Well, why didn’t… You could have said something,” he says, feeling like a deflated hot air balloon, all slack expansion and heat with no purpose.
“I would have,” you say, your cheeks soft and round in his hands, lips slightly puckered from his hold on your face. “But you ran away.”
“What? I–” He laughs incredulously. “I did not run away.”
“Flew away,” you say, pushing in to kiss him again. He screws his eyes shut. Fuck, fuck. Oh fuck. He’s been dreaming of this, aching for it. To feel you against him, wanting him as much as he wants you. “Pretty fast, too. Looked like you shot straight up to the moon,” you say, breath hot and sweet on his lips.
“I…” He swallows, hands slipping down to either side of your neck, thumbs tilting your chin up. “I’m sorry. I wanted you,” he says, trailing his parted lips along your jaw, kissing and breathing you in the way he’s craved to. He can feel your skin growing hot against his lips, hear the uptick of your pulse as your heart begins to race.
“Do you still want me?” You ask, voice lower now. It sends a delicious hot pang all the way through him.
“You have no fucking idea,” he murmurs, nipping at the lobe of your ear, desperate to test the give of you under his teeth, the feel of your soft and yielding flesh branded into his memory the moment his lips touched your skin.
A knock snaps his attention away from you, but it isn’t at the door. He looks down and sees that it’s you knocking on your desk.
“So take me,” you say, voice laced with heat. His lips split into a wicked grin. He snatches the edge of your heavy wooden desk and effortlessly tips it backwards until everything slides off of it, clattering to the floor. He lifts you up, relishing your delighted little yelp, and places you down on the cleared surface like a doll, stepping in between your legs.
He kisses you again. Let me in, demands the press of his tongue. You yield to him, but it’s far from a surrender. Your tongue meets his eagerly, tasting him as much as he does you. Tasting you. That’s what he wants. He wants to map every inch of you with his tongue.
Homelander slips his hand between your legs, pushing your skirt up out of the way. He presses his fingers to the heat between your thighs, rubbing through the thin fabric of your panties. You sigh that same seraphic sound against his lips, slipping your hands up into his hair, already taking a handful of it to tug gently.
He breaks the kiss and takes his fingers from you after the barest tease of pleasure. The impatient sound you make goes straight to his cock, as does your flustered expression. He brings his fingers to his lips and drags his tongue over the leather of them, sliding them past his lips to give a quick suck. It’s not enough, too slight a hint of you. He needs more. You watch him with rapt attention, giving his hair a demanding little tug.
“You can pull as hard as you like,” he tells you with a smile, tilting his head against the grasp you have on his hair. “Tells me I’m doing a good job.”
“I’ll tell you when you’re doing a good job,” you rasp, giving his hair a sharp pull and then a downward push. That sends a shiver down his spine.
Fuck yes.
Homelander sinks down onto his knees, lifting each of your legs up over his shoulders. You give a little gasp when he yanks your ass to the edge of the desk, giddy with the way he manhandles you. He swallows, mouth dry, thirsty for the wet, heady smell of your pussy. He maneuvers his head under your skirt until he’s close enough to drag his tongue up the soft cotton of your panties. Your breath hitches and your grip in his hair tightens while you egg him on with sharp little rolls of your hips.
He closes his eyes, giving a rumbling moan for the taste of you, even through the fabric. He laps until the fabric is soaked, clinging to your skin, and he can feel your clit swollen and stiff on his tongue through your panties. He closes his mouth over it, sucking you through your underwear while you writhe above him, keeping yourself quiet.
That won’t do.
He wants to hear you.
He wants the whole fucking Tower to hear you.
Hooking the crotch of your panties with his finger, it only takes one sharp little tug to tear them, exposing you to him.
“Homelander,” you moan. The sound of it lances a spear of heat through him, leaves his cock throbbing needily in the rigid confines of his cup. He groans into you, rocking his hips against the empty air. The only proper answer is to dive in, to close his lips around your clit and finally suck the rich nectar of your cunt without the filter of fabric between you. You taste even better than you smell, like salt and sex and sweet ripe fruit. It overwhelms his senses immediately, his eyelids flickering.
The more he laps at you, the silkier your pussy becomes. Between circling your clit, he drives his tongue deep into you, drinking you down noisily and messily, a parched man gulping from an oasis. Your thick thighs are tight on either side of his head, your pulse pounding in his ears. He moans low and wicked for the taste and feel of you.
Your grip on his hair tightens sporadically, sharp little tugs that match the staccato cadence of your breaths. “F-fuck, your tongue feels-feels fucking unreal,” you moan, grinding down against it. The strength of it, the slight thrum of restrained power that courses through him, and the sheer relentlessness of his stamina is driving you wild against his mouth. “Fingers, use your fingers,” you tell him. He loves the rawness of your voice, the authority and desperation in your demand.
Removing one of his gloves, he moves his bare hand to the sweltering wetness of you, teasing his finger just below where his tongue is rubbing your clit. His index finger slips easily into the slick mess, and he savors the quiver of your velvet walls around it. He lets you ride his finger, stays all but still while you greedily bounce your hips, both hands fisted in his hair. You use him for your pleasure, and it makes him delirious with want.
Homelander's gaze flickers up. He peers through the layer of your skirt to catch a look at you, to watch you while you cannot watch him. You’re losing track of yourself, lips parted, eyes glazed with pleasure, shivering with each flick of his tongue and dive of his finger. Euphoria looks good on you.
Christ, he has been patient. He would chastise himself for waiting so long to touch you, to taste you, to feel you, but he can’t bring himself to. The wait gifted him with this exquisite hunger, and he proved something important; you both yearn for the other. You crave him. He can see it in your hazy eyes, taste it in the spill of your sweet cunt.
You belong to him. He needs only to take you.
One finger becomes two, and then three. Your heels dig into his shoulders and fuck yourself down on them, moaning recklessly now, not caring who hears you. It’s music to his ears.
“Fuck, Homelander, I-I’m coming, I’m-don’t stop, don’t stop,” you beg prettily. You don’t need to, but he enjoys the song anyway. He laps at your clit in quick upward pulls of his tongue, lips creating a seal around it. His brows furrow tightly, his own neglected arousal pounding through his body like a wardrum, but he doesn’t touch himself, too focused on you.
Your whole body locks up tight when you come, breath caught in your lungs, your clit fluttering delicately. He presses his tongue to it, savoring the taste of your euphoria, how it floods your system and changes the flavor of you. Your pleasure grows his hunger into something monstrous, something demanding, but there is satiation at least in bringing you this, in showing you all the things he will be for you.
You’ll never want for anyone–or anything– else ever again.
Homelander doesn’t stop. You begged him not to. He finger-fucks you through the aftershocks, lapping up every drop of your pleasure, stroking you inside and out while your cunt squeezes his fingers. He doesn’t stop until he feels you pushing him away, your sweet songbird moans sounding more like whimpers, oversensitized. He withdraws his fingers, giving one last noisy slurp before emerging from beneath your skirt. His face is shiny and wet with your slick, his pupils blown black. He's panting, looking every bit like a beast lifting its bloodied head from the belly of its kill.
Crawling up your body, still predator hungry, he rests his knee on the desk between your legs. He cups either side of your face, fingertips digging possessively into the back of your neck. He meets your eyes, pinning you with the intensity of his gaze, wordlessly drilling into your mind that this moment, this feeling, this tingling warmth in your body is him.
I did this to you, his expression reads. You’re on my lips, he says by pressing them to yours, kissing your own taste into your mouth, his body throbbing, desperate for an ounce of that same relief. You’re mine.
To his amazement, your eyes mirror his own savage hunger. You kiss him hard, shamelessly licking into his mouth, huffing shallow breaths from your nose. “Lie down,” you tell him, voice as sweet and coarse as raw sugar. “I’m going to ride you.”
Homelander doesn’t need to be told twice. Exhilarated, he rolls over, flipping you with him and steadying you above him in a fluid motion. The desk isn’t as long as he is tall, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already half suspended in the air with his own excitement, helping you with overly eager hands that fumble alongside yours with his belt, which falls to the ground with a distinct thud. He gives a little jump at the voracity you rip his zipper down with, grinning.
Together, you shuck his pants down to his thighs. You grip him through his red briefs, a fractured moan falling from his lips.
“Cute underwear,” you coo. His cheeks flush to almost the same shade. You flatten your palm over his cock and he bites back a whimper, teeth sinking into his tongue. You give a light squeeze, fingers curling around his cock through the fabric, and he lets out a rough breath. “You feel close,” you tell him, stroking him in a loose fist, your hand warm, the fabric soft.
He nods fervently, the friction and your voice already teetering him towards the edge. He makes a sound of both anguish and relief when you release him, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. You tug his underwear down, his cock bouncing free, engorged and dripping precome.
“Don’t move,” you tell him, bracing one hand on his chest and sliding forward, your other hand moving between your bodies to steady his cock against the rapturously hot press of your soaked cunt. His hands fly to your hips, fingertips biting into the softness of your body. You allow him that, focused entirely on the act of taking him into you. The fat head of his cock it slips inside, evoking a sweet little gasp from you, and Homelander fights not to slam in the rest of the way.
Both of your hands fall to his chest, your eyes meeting his. He holds your gaze, mouth twitching around silent sharp breaths. He watches you sink slowly down the length of him, engulfing him in such sublime rapture it’s a wonder he doesn’t come right then and there for the feel of you alone. His grip on your hips flexes and he gives a sharp little thrust up, forgetting himself to the divine feel of your pussy.
“I said don’t move,” you remind him breathlessly. God, you’re beautiful like this. The fluorescent light behind your head haloes you, giving you the look of a debauched angel he plucked from the heavens to have and keep as his own. He expects you to move, to bounce yourself on his cock like you did his mouth and his fingers. He wants to watch your tits bounce, see your face clearly when you come on his cock, but the only part of you that moves is your hand.
His gaze drops and quickly darkens, watching intently as you stroke your clit. The initial contact alone makes you jerk, makes your pussy spasm and squeeze him so good he almost chokes on it. Your only response is to sigh, tipping your head back and spreading your legs a little wider, taking him deeper. He wants so badly to fuck you, to slam you down and rail you until your desk cracks in half.
“Mmmm, fuck,” you moan, rubbing yourself in circles, the lewd noise of it loud and irresistible to his ears. “Fuck, fuck–ah, god,” you start to pant, head falling forward, brows tightly pinched. You’re so sensitive after the assault of his mouth, the flavor of you still fresh on his tongue. The faster your fingers move, the closer he feels you get, the clench around his cock steadily tightening. He wants to thrash, but you keep him pinned in place with your look of expectation and pleasure. You’re getting off on him as much as you are your own fingers, on the swell and throb of his cock inside you, on the sheer power you hold over a god.
You’re loud when you come, nails clawing into the chest of his suit. Homelander’s eyes roll back, lips parted on a soundless cry of his own. The spasming heat of your release is too much and he loses himself to it, eyes flaring up with crimson light as he comes with you, every shudder of your climax stroking and milking him of his own, flooding you with his own wet mess.
His restraint breaks with the dam and he sits up abruptly, startling a noise from you, which he swallows with a hard kiss, cupping the back of your head. He holds you still and he fucks you, lifting from the desk entirely so that he alone supports your weight, driving you deeper onto his cock. Your legs tighten on either side of him, shaking.
Out of his mind with pleasure, he tears your blouse open with his teeth, diving in close to lick, suck and bite at your chest. He buries his face between your breasts, holding you tightly as he fucks you both through your respective orgasms, the slap of flesh against flesh echoing obscenely in your office.
Hitching your legs properly around his waist, he bounces you on his cock until the pleasure borders on pain and a secondary shock rolls through him like another orgasm, stealing his breath. Only then does he finally slow, mouthing languidly at your chest until he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He moans against you, grinding to an eventual halt. You comb your fingers through his hair and goosebumps erupt across his body, which shivers in the euphoric aftermath.
He loses track of how long he stays suspended like that, lost to the overwhelm of sensation. Your legs go slack while his angles slightly upward, his face pressed to your chest, your head resting atop his. He nuzzles at you, bleary eyed and slack with pleasure. He kisses a trail up to your clavicle, your throat, your jaw, smiling in the loose, easy way that only a good fuck can never make him.
“Wow,” he says after a while, voice thoroughly frayed.
You giggle, groggily lifting your head. He adjusts until you can relax against his chest, fold your forearms across it and settling your chin atop them, admiring him. He touches your face with his ungloved hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb, then the curve of your bottom lip. His smile widens when you kiss the pad of his thumb.
“Wow indeed,” you say, swinging your legs lightly. “Can’t say I’ve ever been fucked mid-air.”
“One of the many benefits of dating me,” he purrs, caressing your cheek with his knuckles. He kisses you again, drifting slowly back down, unhurried.
Your brows lift lazily. “Who says we’re dating?” You ask, but your smile keeps his hackles from rising.
“Me,” he says, eyes crinkled at the corners. He lands gently on the desk, helping you to it. “You and I are officially going steady.”
You give a thoughtful hum, carefully untangling your limbs from his. You slide off of the desk while he puts himself back together, your knees trembling faintly. “Fairly sure asking someone out requires a question mark. You know. The asking part. You didn’t even buy me dinner.” You attempt to button up your shirt, but it’s obviously a lost cause.
He exhales a quiet laugh, pulling you back into his arms. “Well, I certainly ate.”
“God,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, but they don’t stray from him for long. There’s a sparkle to your gaze that he wants to capture in his palm and never set loose.
“Will you go out with me?” He asks, lips brushing yours.
“Mmmmmmmm….” You hum once more, drawing it out, feigning a great deliberation. “There’s something you should know first.”
He quirks a brow. “What’s that?”
“My guilty pleasure,” you say, nose bumping his.
Intrigued, he inclines his head to prompt you to continue. Can’t be worse than mine.
“Superheroes,” you say conspiratorially. “Can’t get enough of them. Loved them my whole life. Especially this one in particular…”
He breaks into a frayed, charmed laugh. “Let me guess, name starts with an H?”
You suck in a breath through your teeth, lips curved downward in a mock grimace, and nod subtly. “ Total fangirl. Embarrassing, right?”
Homelander shakes his head. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never felt guilty about pleasure. Where’s the harm in it?”
The harm inflicted on those thugs couldn’t count. They had it coming.
“Harm to my pride, my ego, my reputation,” you list, tapping his suit to punctuate each one. “I made a pretty big fuss about not liking you. I had myself convinced that my Homelander only existed in my fantasies, and you were just the guy who plays him.”
My Homelander. The words stir an unexpectedly sentimental surge of emotion that wells up from somewhere deep in his chest. He clears his throat lightly. “What’s the verdict now?”
You sweep him with an appraising gaze. “Still deliberating.”
He clicks his tongue, nodding. “I don’t suppose I could arrange a meeting with the jury?”
“They’re available for dinner tomorrow,” you say, the tilt of your lips sly.
“It’s a date,” he murmurs, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You kiss him, pressing your smile to his. He doubts he’ll ever tire of the softness of your lips, or the easy way you melt against him. He wraps his arms around you, content to let this moment pass only because he knows there will be more to come. He’s determined to make every one of them better than the last.
All of the pleasure, none of the guilt.
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IX. Flash of Blue
Author: @firelordsfirelady
Imagine: When Y/N—a princess of one of the Water Tribes—is told she’s leaving her tribe, she never expects that she’s to be betrothed to the Fire Lord’s son, nor was she prepared to be exiled the very day she arrived at the Fire Nation. With her life in the hands of her new fiancée, how will life change for the princess?
Pairing: Zuko x F!Reader
Trigger warnings: arranged marriage, feelings of fear, banishment, mentions of burns/abuse, frustration, violence, betrayal
Word Count: 870
Destined to be Yin and Yang
I own no rights to Avatar the Last Airbender or any of the characters/story.
Author’s Notes
The characters as all aged up so Zuko’s banishment happens when he’s 16
Keep in mind I am bringing a unique world with inspiration from ATLA in their characters, some of the events that happen, bending, etc. Not many things may align or occur with what happened in the show. It’s intended that way, so I hope you enjoy it regardless.
See Y/N’s inspiration here.
Zuko and I trained every day for the next week or so, but I found myself struggling to focus on fighting. Zuko had grown frustrated and told me to leave if I couldn’t focus, and that’s how I found myself one afternoon standing on the deck. I watched the endless horizon of the icy sea continue without much variation.
Something deep inside my being whispered to watch the horizon for something.
“Gets boring watching the horizon, right?” I turned to find Lieutenant Jee casually walking to stand next to me. “I don’t know why the Prince insists on this mission of finding the Avatar.” The lieutenant placed his hands on the railing as he spoke his next words bitterly. “Or why he insisted on dragging us all with him.”
“You shouldn’t speak about the Prince in such a manner.” My words were stern. “I understand you’re frustrated, but you truly have no idea how much the mission means to him.” I could feel his eyes staring at the side of my head before he let out a humorless laugh.
“I did not think you’d be the one to have a soft spot for the Prince,” Jee said and my cheeks felt hot at the accusation.
“I don’t have--” I opened my mouth to speak as a large bright beam of light lit the sky in the distance. The beam of light continued to light up the sky as Zuko came rushing over to the side of the boat. The blue light drew my attention like a moth to a flame as I was suddenly attempting to attack a stranger on a dock in a city up north. The world is void of light as I try to defend myself, but the stranger laughs as he sends a fireball my way. I collapse as the world went black as the fireball made contact with my body.
“The only settlement in that area is a small Water Tribe village in the Southern Pole territory.” When I came to, there was a damp cloth on my forehead and whispers of conversation in the room around me. “That’s where we need to go.”
“Where you think we’ll find the Avatar?” Another voice--Iroh’s--whispered.
“Yes.”
“Because of the light?” Iroh’s final question had Zuko go quiet for a moment.
“Do you think I am imagining things?” I recognized Zuko’s voice as he sounded hurt at Iroh’s statement, and Iroh sighed heavily.
“Sometimes, the light beams we see are nothing more than celestial glimmers in the cold winter sky.” I heard Iroh shift his weight in the chair beside me. “Sometimes, caring for those who care for us is the more important option.”
“I’m not worried about her, Uncle.” Zuko’s tone was harsh, and I let out a low groan I slowly opened my eyes to let them know I was awake. Zuko was standing over the desk in my room with a map sprawled out on the surface of it. Iroh sat beside me in the chair from my desk. A bucket of water sat beside Iroh with various rags neatly folded next to the bucket. “I’m sure that was the Avatar.”
“Take it easy, Y/N,” Iroh said as he shifted his attention to help me sit up in bed. “You gave us quite the scare.”
“Good. You’re awake.” Zuko’s voice was cold to me as he turned on his heel. “We will make haste for the Southern Water Tribe.” Without waiting for Iroh’s response, Zuko added. “Y/N, when we arrive, you need to stay on the ship. I don’t need any weaknesses when go to capture the Avatar.” With that, Zuko left the room and briskly walked away. I gave Iroh an encouraging smile and ushered him away as Zuko left.
“I’ll be okay.” Iroh gave me an apologetic smile as he left the room and closed the door behind him. A shaky breath left my lungs as I laid my head against the cool wall as I had to face reality once again.
It’s a coincidence that the beam of light was the same scenario as my dream. I ran a hand through my hair as I set the damp rag in the bucket by my bed. Something in my spirit was telling me that it wasn’t a coincidence that the beam happened as it did in my dream. I let this internal argument fill my head until I felt the familiar sensation of the anchor dropping.
Sneaking behind one of the crates on deck, I watched from a distance as the crew was lined up before Zuko. The Fire Prince slowly paced back and forth as he spoke to them in an authoritative tone.
“Our mission is to find the Avatar is vital to the future of the Fire Nation.” He stalked back down the line as he continued. “We will prove ourselves worthy to see our homes and our families again, or we will die trying.” Zuko paused to look at Iroh before turning to put on his Fire Nation helmet. The crew all followed suit and marched off the ship behind Zuko. I felt a pang in my heart at Zuko’s speech, but watched as they all marched off the ship.
Tag List @chevysstuffs @puttyly @ginger24880 @night-fall-moon @junieshohoho @0kauy @coolgirl458 @hypnoticbeing @angelruinz @preeyansha @playboygeniusphilanthropist @ssonniiu @chi-ara @hagridshaircare @dearstell @kyo-kyo1
#avatar imagine#zuko imagine#zuko x reader#avatar the last airbender#prince zuko#destined to be yin and yang
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can u write a fic of ivantill navigating their feelings after the kiss if they were both saved by the rebels
Till was annoyed. He was also feeling a lot of other things, undoubtedly, but annoyance was at the top of the list because why wouldn't they just let him see Ivan already?
"Can you please stop pacing?"
He paused mid-step and glanced over at Mizi.
"I just found out one of my friends who I honestly thought was dead has actually been alive this whole time and my other friend is currently being operated on after nearly giving his life to save me. Sorry if I'm a little antsy."
Mizi gave a small smile, undeterred by his bluntness as usual. Or what used to be usual. Till wasn't so sure what had or hadn't changed.
"He'll be okay, I promise." Even as she said it, her eyes were drawn to the closed door. They couldn't even hear anything through the thick metal. "You heard them; the wound was pretty minor. Just grazed his side."
Till pressed his lips into a thin line, hands curled into fists at his sides.
"Why did he do that?" he asked, barely louder than a whisper. Mizi stood up and crossed the hall, drawing him into a hug. He used to dream about this - having her undivided attention - but now it did little to ease the terrible pain in his chest.
Sniffing once, he hugged her tight. She didn't say anything, even as began to cry into her shoulder.
-
It was nearly two hours before the door opened and one of the healers - Mizi had introduced them but honestly Till couldn't remember her name; he had been kind of traumatized at the time, okay? - stepped out.
Till tried very hard not to focus on the blood staining the front of her shirt. "He's stable," she said.
"Okay, great." Till didn't even wait before trying to push past her; she didn't budge. "Come on! I just want to see him."
She smiled politely. "I didn't say you couldn't. Just try and be quiet, okay? He might be doze in and out, don't try to force him to stay awake."
Till pursed his lips. "I know," he grumbled. Mizi joined his side.
"Thank you," she said. With a shared nod, the healer left. Inside the room was the other healer; he quietly set a rag on Ivan's forehead before also leaving the room.
"He still has a slight fever," he explained. "If he asks, you can refresh the rag." He pointed to a bucket on the table with what Till could only hope was clean water.
Once he was gone, Till walked over to the bed and sat down. Mizi sat on the other side of the bed. Ivan hadn't stirred since they walked in.
He looked bad - terrible, even. His skin was even paler than usual, there was a bit of crusted blood still at the corner of his mouth, dark circles under his eyes.
But he was alive, and that was all that mattered.
"I'll just stay until he wakes up," Mizi said quietly, staring at him. "I just want to make sure he's okay."
Till had almost forgotten he wasn't the only one who had been wounded by what happened. He suddenly felt a little guilty.
"You don't have to leave," he said instead.
She smiled over at him; there was something about the look in her eyes that made Till feel exposed. He didn't like the feeling. "I think you two need to talk."
He didn't argue, even if the last thing he wanted to do right now was talk about what had happened. Any of it.
-
Ivan woke up about ten minutes later; he was groggy, as expected, voice hoarse and scratchy.
"Here." Till moved without even thinking, grabbing a cup he had noticed on the table a little earlier.
Ivan was too weak to even hold it. Till adapted quickly; he held the cup to his lips and tilted it back a little. Once Ivan was done, he set it aside again.
"So," he licked his lips. "I guess this isn't heaven, huh?"
Mizi laughed softly. "Not even close. But you're safe here, at least."
He sighed, groaning a little as he tried to sit up. Till moved quickly, gently grabbing his arm to help him. He wasn't even sure if he should be moving yet but he wasn't about to fight him; that just seemed like asking for even more trouble.
"I really expected to die up there," he said once he was settled, the rag fallen at his side. Till grabbed it, plopping it in the bucket for now.
Mizi pressed her lips together. "I think I'm going to go see if they have anything that'll be easy enough on your stomach," she said, gently touching Ivan's shoulder as she stood.
"I'm not hungry," he replied automatically.
She clicked her tongue. "Too bad; you need to eat to recover."
Without waiting for a reply, she swept around the bed and paused just long enough to squeeze Till's shoulder once before leaving the room.
The silence was almost suffocating.
"You weren't really choking me," Till blurted.
Ivan side-eyed him. "Of course not," he said slowly. "Did you really think I would?"
Till opened his mouth, closed it. "I'm not really sure of anything anymore," he admitted quietly.
"It was just a ploy," Ivan continued, looking away. "I don't know. I just needed them to believe it."
It was silent again for a few beats. Till stared at his hands.
"You could've killed me," he said eventually. "I didn't care."
He chanced a look; Ivan was still staring ahead at nothing, his mouth a tight line. "I would've never let that happen," he said and for a moment Till wasn't sure what he meant until - "I would've done anything to ensure your safety."
And that was the crux of it, huh?
Till thought of Ivan's hands around his throat, surprisingly gentle. He thought about his mouth. His lips. He had kissed Till like he was searching for something. Like he needed something.
"You kissed me," he said. It felt weird, finally saying the words.
Ivan snorted, shaking his head minutely. "I did." He side-eyed Till again. "I know it was selfish of me. I know."
"But if you could do it over again, would you still kiss me?"
Till wasn't even sure what had motivated him to ask. Ivan smiled; it was almost sad. "Probably."
He nodded. He wasn't upset. He wasn't even sure if he had been upset, in the moment, not for longer than a second. Mostly he had been confused.
But now that he had time to think on it, he wasn't so confused anymore.
"I never knew," he mused quietly. "I mean." He looked up, suddenly a little angry. "You never told me. You should've told me."
All that time he had been chasing after Mizi and a part of him had always known it was never going to happen. She had loved - she still did - love Sua.
Time wasted. He had never even considered...
"There was no reason to burden you with my own feelings," Ivan said evenly. "I'm selfish, maybe, but I didn't want to make things even more complicated for you."
Till breathed out through his nose. "You really think you were doing that for my sake?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice level. "You think you had the right to decide what was best for me?"
Ivan stared back at him, eyes as dark as ever. "I don't understand."
"You kept it from me," Till continued, pressing a hand to his chest, "because you were scared to say it. You were scared of how I would respond."
Ivan let out a humorless laugh. "We both know how you would've responded, Till." He sighed. "This is a pointless argument to have."
He still wasn't getting it. "No," he said, leaning closer. "We don't know how I would've responded because you never gave me the chance."
"Just like you gave the same chance to Mizi?" he shot back.
Till pressed his lips together. "That is not the same and you know it. Sua loved her back. It was different. I - " He paused, biting the inside of his cheek.
Suddenly the fight was drained out of him. Ivan eyed him warily.
"You what?" he asked, looking cautious and almost nervous. Till had never seen that expression on his face. He always looked so in control of everything. It was nice to be reminded he was really just human like the rest of them.
Till swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I think I could've liked you, Ivan. If only I had known."
Ivan stared at him like he wasn't really seeing him. "No," he said, too fast. He looked more scared, here, than he had up on that stage.
"Didn't factor that into your little plan, huh?" he asked; without asking, he pulled the rag out of the water and wrung it before leaning forward to gently scrub away the dried blood on his chin. "I don't think I ever really liked her, not in the way I thought I did."
Ivan was silent, his jaw clenched.
"I was just - I needed something. An escape. A dream. She was nice to me. Pretty..." Till sat back. "I think I just really wanted someone to care about me."
Ivan glanced at him briefly before looking away again.
"But this whole time I was blind to see I had that," Till felt his eyes burning. "Maybe you weren't as obvious about it, maybe you had your own way of showing it, but... that doesn't matter." He tossed the rag aside and reached for his hand; Ivan stiffened as he grabbed it but didn't pull away. "I would like to have a second chance."
Ivan stared at their hands. "You don't owe me this," he said, voice still carefully even.
"I'm not offering anything because I feel like endowed to you," he squeezed his hand, hard. "You know me well enough to know I wouldn't do that. Now stop fighting me on this and look at me."
Ivan lifted his head.
"Thank you, Ivan," he said, staring into his eyes - dark, yes, but warm, comforting and familiar - "for caring about me, even when I couldn't see it."
Ivan opened his mouth, closed it. He squeezed his hand back. If Till didn't know better, he would even say he was blushing a little.
Maybe he would always have a bit of regret for not really seeing Ivan earlier. Maybe Ivan would apologize many more times for kissing him without permission. Maybe he would try to apologize for hurting Till, even if he didn't. Not really. All the pain he had felt - the real pain - was cured the moment he had known he would be okay. Maybe they would still struggle a lot, have bad and good days, but maybe that was okay.
#alnst#ivantill#alien stage#ivantill fic#alnst till#alnst ivan#alnst mizi#mywriting#hope u enjoy anon!#ivantill requests/prompts are open to all btw#they rly help motivate me soooo
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Radioapple/Appleradio Secret Marriage au part 3:
(No one asked for this but I got a lot of time on my hands.)
When Alastor returned after 7 damn years, Vox could've sworn he'd mellowed out somehow – gotten soft around the edges in the years they hadn't fought like mortal enemies.
Well, not mortal enemies per se. More like the desperate attempt to gain the others attention which succeeded most of the time.
But anyways, Vox could practically smell the emotion on him and it didn't suit Alastor. It didn't suit his Alastor. Alastor was his enemy, the man who never hesitated to kill and humiliate others for entertainment. The man who had a reputation for being unpredictable and murderous.
He could see the way he'd look at the wannabe demon Charlie or the cowardly King of Hell who was shorter than two egg bois stacked on top each other. He saw the light in Alastor's eyes and it unsettled him. The way it somewhat resembled the look in Alastor's eyes before their falling out.
It was a certain softness which was obvious, especially when you're so used to seeing a cold expression with a manic smile. The expression he had looking at Lucifer was a soft grin, the emotion in his eyes which Vox couldn't quite put his finger on but he craved it. He craved to have Alastor looking at him in that exact way with the exact angle his eyes would curl at to the lack of teeth in the smile and even to the way his ears would twitch subtly when Lucifer looked back.
And it enraged Vox to see him like that for someone else. Even more so when he'd see that Lucifer seemed even more soft for Alastor. His gaze infinitely bright and his smile carefree as ever, as if he didn't care for pride in that moment and all that mattered was the red deer infront of him. The way his smile would stay consistent as he'd stare at Alastor with genuine happiness, as if just being able to look at him was something worth more than Hell itself.
And his anger, his rage, reached endless amounts when he saw them treating Charlie as if she was their child. Yes, she was Lucifer's but that certainly did not warrant Alastor making her pancakes every morning and asking how her day went and combing through her unruffled hair and telling stories and even helping her pick out dresses. Alastor shouldn't be treating them like that. And he certainly shouldn't be ignoring Vox as if he didn't exist.
He wanted Alastor to fight him, glare with hatred, anything but indifference. Anything but confusion with a question, "Who are you, again?" He would've accepted anything at that point, even his usual shit-eating triumphant grin that he'd wear when looking at Vox. As if he'd won a battle that hadn't even started.
He didn't like how Alastor had almost forgotten his own rival. He didn't like how Alastor and Lucifer would have subtle gestures for each other; holding a door open, pulling a chair out for the other and even helping each other if their outfit was in some way dishevelled. He especially hated how Lucifer would deliberately ruin his own tie, just to go to Alastor and have him help. And it didn't help how Alastor would let his guard down around Lucifer, almost forgetting that Vox was always watching. And Alastor's shadow was never nearly as affectionate with Vox as it was with Lucifer.
Everything was ticking him off. And it didn't help when Val tried to offer 'relieving him' or when Vel made an offhanded remark about him being sexually-frustrated and pissy about the lack of attention from his dear rival. And he almost felt the urge to just storm over there and break them up when he'd seen Lucifer leaning in to kiss Alastor, only to realise that Vox was watching and hastily pull away.
He hated how he wasn't in Lucifer's place.
(Lucifer tops in this au btw-)
👀
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Little Dove
Media - House Of The Dragon
Character - Aegon Targaryen
Couple - Aegon X Reader
Reader - Y/n Targaryen (Sister of Ageon, Helena & Aemond)
Rating - Flirty
Word Count - 1495
Warning - Mentions of Abuse and SA
Aegon had been drinking so much that it seemed like a bright idea to take his little sister, who had rarely left the Red Keep before, for a stroll down the street of silk. The street was busy with people going about their business many not even looking twice to see the prince as him coming around was a fairly common occurrence, "So little dove finally left the nest. Thanks to the better brother. I'm talking of course about myself." he slurried a foul smell of alcohol wafting off of Aegon. Drunk men were everywhere, so Aegon's demeanour didn't attract much attention,
Y/n chuckled as she walked the street of silk with her eldest brother, she wore a beautiful black and green gown as she held his arm partly guiding his drunk steps down the cobbles, she was very used to having to go out and fetch her older brother from whatever pit of sin he ended up in, "Aegon what are you talking about?"
Aegon stumbled, "Isn't it obvious? I deserve you much more than Aemond does. I am the heir to the throne. He is just a second son. A spare." he grumbled, "I can be so much kinder to you than Aemond ever could."
"I do not doubt you would be kinder Aegon. But it's been agreed since the moment I was born, you are the heir to be king when father passes, you married haelena the first daughter. Then Aemond and I are to marry as the second son and second daughter, the two spares it is simply the way of it. Father and mother agreed,"
"But I could be much greater to you, little dove." Aegon leaned in closer, brushing his cheek against her. "Married or not, I can make you so much happier than Aemond can." Aegon grinned playfully, "You would be happier with me. I would make you so much happier than anyone ever could."
"I do not doubt you would, but there are things we cannot change, besides don't you love your wife and children?"
Aegon sighed and looked down at the cobbles. "You know mother forced me to marry her. And my children are a chore, you are the only one I care about."
"Aegon, that's very sweet and yes I do wish things had been different but these are the cards that have even dealt. We must learn to make the most of it. You know I will always be nearby, you and aemond are brothers you cannot allow this to come between you"
Aegon's expression sobered up a little. "You are right... you are right, little dove. I know. I know we have to play our cards right. I just... I wish things were different. That we had a chance to be together. But you're right that nothing can change the way it is. But I will always protect you, little dove. No one can harm you, no ever shall. Not as long as I breathe."
"thank you big brother" she cooed kissing his cheek
Aegon leaned his head against her. He was more affectionate to her than he had been to his wife at her best, or to anyone at their best really. Aegon seemed pleased to hear her call him 'big brother'. He was fond of that title. "So, little dove. Are you excited to be married?"
"... Honestly?"
"Of course, Are you not excited to be married?" Aegon frowned a bit, then he looked back at you, his expression solemn.
"Not really..."
Aegon stopped walking and looked at her. He squinted his eyes, and his lips curled into a frown. Aegon tilted his head and placed a hand on her shoulder. "What is wrong, little dove? What are you not saying?" His tone was concerned and gentle.
"... aemond frightens me sometimes. He says thinks, does things, they frighten me that's all, but in sure I'll grow accustomed once we're married"
Those words shook Aegon to his bone. "Does he... hurt you?" His eyes widened. "Has he hurt you since the betrothal? Or done anything to scare you?"
"no he hasn't... Hurt me exactly he just scares me, he often tells me of frightening tales, of fights that end in bloodshed, makes me watch him in the practice yard against the poor squire boys, often threatens to take me riding on vahgar with him." She explained, "the other night he... I shouldn't speak I'll of him,"
Aegon's expression hardened. He hated it when his little sister was treated in such a way that she was frightened by anyone. Aemond did nothing to ease Y/n's fears, only made them grow worse. Aegon felt protective of her. "No, little dove, you must. What did he do that night?"
"he wanted a kiss before he left my chamber, I was feeling tired so I politely declined said I'd give him two kisses the next day but he got angry with me tried to pin me on the bed and take the kisses I owed him when I pushed him away he forced me against the wall and took far more then kisses as a punishment he said"
And he was furious. "He did what? Did he... take... take liberties with you?"
she nodded sheepishly
"I want to know one thing and one thing only, little dove. Do you want to marry this man? This creature that calls himself our brother?"
"I do not... But father insists mother says it is no matter what he had done as my flower was long plucked anyway"
"I don't care what father says. I don't care what mother says." He paused again, and when he continued his voice was as cold as ice. "And I don't care what he says. I will not allow this. I cannot allow for you to be married to a man who you do not want. You are not his flower who has been plucked already. You are our family, and you will not marry a man who has used you."
"but if we are to follow the rule that no man who has used me can marry me... That would also mean you couldn't marry me" she giggled hugging his arm,
there was a slight smirk on his lips. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, "Oh, and why is that, little dove? Have I taken liberties with you that I don't know about?"
"It's strange... What you boys do and don't remember, do you really not recall what you use to do to me Aegon while we snuck around the red keep, when we made little blanket forts, when we used to... Kiss and touch in what's children should not" she reminds,
Aegon felt a weird sense of pride. Of course, he did remember those evenings. How could he not? It had been one of the most pleasurable memories of his life. “You are right, little dove."
"you hang your head as if in shame of those days? Do you regret our nights snuck away in blanket forts Aegon?"
"I certainly do not regret them, little dove. But... I suppose I am ashamed of what happened, or at least how wrong they are." He paused again, shaking his head. "I suppose I had forgotten that you looked fondly on those days. I had always thought they were a shameful memory for both of us."
"I recall no shame from that time. I was happy as we're you"
Aegon's lips turned up into a sad but genuine smile at the realization that she also had enjoyed that time as well. It was good to know that he hadn't been the only one, and that she had also felt pleased with it. "I suppose I was. Happy I mean. It's just that... as we got older, so did the guilt I felt. I always thought of those times as being so wrong and I felt horrible for it..."
"why? I wanted to play as badly as you did, never once did I deny you, I am sorry if I make you feel guilty for such things I do not think them horrible or wrong merely sweet experiments that I hold dear. And I'm sure if we were to make a blanket forts big enough for us both I'd be more then happy to continue our games "She smiled kissing his cheek
"My, my, little dove, are you suggesting what I think you are?"
she giggled "Depend what you think I am?"
"Are you suggesting that despite your impending marriage, you would like us to resume our... blanket fort games?" He looked at you, and his expression was almost bashful.
"mhm".she nodded
"And what if I said yes?"
"then I suppose we'd need to find somewhere to cuddle"
Aegon's lips curved into a smile. “Indeed we do little dove,” he smirked grabbing her hand and tugging her though the streets so they could find an inn for the evening to enjoy their time alone,
#house targaryen#house of targaryen#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd fanfiction#hotd fandom#hotd smut#hotd fanfic#hotd aegon#hotd imagine#house of the dragon season 2#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon aegon#house of the dragon aegon targaryen#aegon smut#king aegon#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen#aegon x reader#aegon the second#aegon targaryen
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Gator Tillman x Stripper!Reader
18+ Only! Minors DNI!
CW: Porn w/plot. AFAB!Reader. No use of Y/N. Pet names. Subby!Pathetic!Gator. Gator is lovesick. Mentions of past infidelity (no sex beforehand, but visits the reader on the regular). Girlfriend/ex-girlfriend talk. Oral (m receiving). Unprotected p in v. Creampie. Cocky!Gator at the end. Basically two toxic people.
WC: 4.7K (Oops!)
It had been a very productive night at The Tender Trap. You were just finishing up another set under the rush of the pink and red neon lights, gathering the falling tips by the bucket load as he walked in.
Looking as forlorn as ever, head hung low, his usually slicked back hair falling in and around his face and what looked to be a bruise forming under his eye.
You knew the look all too well. He ordered a beer at the bar and took his usual seat in the back taking up the entire bench, stretching his legs out still in uniform sans his kevlar and service weapon. For someone who liked to stay low key, he sure didn't know how to act the part.
You watched from the corner of your eye as his eyes trailed over you. Taking your time to slowly retreat into the dressing room, swaying your hips not bothering to cover your bare chest as you go.
You enjoyed making him wait, only making him more anxious and grumpy, all worked up just that way you liked.
As you sat at your small station reapplying your lipstick, one of the other girls walked in throwing a smirk your way.
“Your boy's out there looking for you.” She snickered.
“He's not my boy.” Replying flatly.
“You tell him that?” Laughing out, as you caught her reflection behind you.
No. You didn't have to tell him.
Gator Tillman only came around when he was fighting with his girlfriend though it seemed to be getting more frequent. You knew all the juicy, sorted details.
Finally emerging from the back, he was nursing his beer looking at the stage with his head tilted slightly, showing signs of boredom, thumb nail slowly peeling the label on his bottle.
Spotting you, his back stiffened sitting up a little straighter making your grin grow a little wider as you passed other patrons and ogling men vying for your attention.
His eyes remained steady on the stage as you sauntered over, trying to stay aloof as if he weren't here just to see you, pointedly avoiding your sultry gaze.
“Took you long enough,” he sassed, taking another swig of his beer as you sat down.
“Oh, I'm sorry Tillman. Did I keep you waiting?” Sassing right back. “Didn't even realize you were here.” Clicking your tongue.
“Nah, sweetheart, not at all. Enjoyin’ the view, drinkin’ a beer. What more could a guy ask for?” He grinned into the bottle, still looking away from you.
Your hand glides across the top of the padded bench seat, hand grasping his thigh making him choke on his next swig, quickly pulling the bottle from his lips wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
The glare he sent your way only made you giggle before you spoke.
“What're you in for tonight? Need a chat…” your fingertips tiptoed up the expanse of his thigh, watching as his breath hitched. “Or a little something more?” Licking your lips in anticipation of the inevitable answer.
He pushed your hand away, setting the beer down.
“Can we at least go to the back before ya’ start gettin' all handsy?” He hissed out, finally looking at you.
You scoff, rolling your eyes.
“What’s your problem? Not like your girlfriend or daddy would ever set foot in here.” Getting up as you spoke.
He lightly grabbed your wrist, preventing you from leaving his space.
“Don't. It's just… ya’ know how it is.” Deflecting. His go to before you can get him relaxed.
“No, I don’t know. But,” sighing and melting into his touch. “Come on, you can tell me about it.”
His hand trailed down, gripping yours, letting you pull him up as his large fingers wrap around yours. You'd thought numerous times about how they might feel wrapped around your neck or stuffed inside your greedy cunt.
He held tight, following you into the back, watching the way your ass looked in nothing but the thong you wore, thighs pushed out with the way your tights were digging into the plush of them. He was already hard, anticipation thrumming through him as you led him down the small hall to a private room.
It was a revolving cycle. He'd either fight with his girlfriend or on some occasions, his dad, and come find you. You were a stress relief, a way to blow off steam without any judgment.
Yeah, you might cost him an arm and a leg but you were worth it.
You stopped momentarily, whispering something to the bouncer he couldn't quite discern over the thumping base and loud music this close to the stage. The guy nodded, as you looked back and began to lead him once more, taking him down a hall where the music began to fade.
“Want another beer before we get started?” Calling over your shoulder, an almost predatory toothy grin thrown his way.
“Nah,” answering quickly. It was always the same. He wasn't interested in drinks or waiting any longer.
You enter the very last room at the end of the hall. The same red walls as the club with a small couch situated at the far end and a pole in the middle. The music was filtering in through speakers hung in the corners.
He continued past you making his way over to the couch as you locked the door. Much like in the bar, he took up most of the space. Wide and domineering.
“You never answered me out there. What're you in for tonight?” Taking long, slow strides toward him.
“I don't really wanna talk tonight.” He huffed out, as you stopped short in front of him standing between his legs.
“Someone's really grumpy.” Tilting your head, hands slowly moving up his chest to his shoulders moving your face close to his, nails digging slightly into the leather of his jacket as you trailed small kisses across his jaw.
You pulled back, gripping his chin forcefully making him look up at you.
“That little girlfriend of yours piss you off that bad?” You chuckled, but he found no amusement in your words, moving out of your grasp with a pout. You found him adorable when he was pissed.
“Poor baby,” you tsked. Pushing up and away from him. Giving him a nice sway of your hips as you walked toward the pole, gripping it and spinning back around.
“Now, Gator, how long have we done this little number? Huh? You still trying to play coy?” You began dancing to the rhythm of the music filling the room as he watched you but stayed silent.
“I know when something is bothering you.” You spoke as you continued to dance. He had to adjust himself, cock now straining the constricting fabric of his cargos, almost painfully.
“If you don't tell me now, you know it'll just eat away at you. You can't even have any proper fun.” Dropping to the floor, crawling toward him at an agonizing pace, never taking your eyes off of him.
You slowly sat in between his legs, hands splayed on either side of his thighs so close to his length, he let out a shuttering breath as you began to lightly outline his cock with your fingertip, feeling it kick up beneath your touch.
Your number one rule was that you never fucked a client. No matter what. Each time you saw him, it became harder and harder not to give in. The way he would fall apart for you drove you absolutely crazy. He was pathetic, in all the best ways.
You laid your head on his thigh, looking up at him through your lashes.
“Gator, baby, tell me what's wrong. You'll feel so much better once you get it off your chest.” Your fake pout and doe eyes were too much.
“Fine. Fuck!” He threw his head back, exasperated because this little game you played wouldn't end until you got what you wanted.
“We fought. Again. We… I… broke up with her.” He sighed, unwilling to meet your gaze.
“Oh.” You lifted your head at that, standing to straddle his lap, legs on either side of his. Shifting to accommodate your frame as you sat down, immediately grinding your hips into his.
“Yeah…” coming out all breathy, as he hesitantly placed his hands on your hips.
“Poor baby,” continuing to move your hips across his lap, his cock hard against you with each pass and swirl igniting something within your own core.
“She… she wanted to get married and I didn't. It would have never worked out. She's just so different from… me.” What he had wanted to say was you. In the back of his mind, he knew this little thing between the two of would never really work out either. He was infatuated with the thought of you. Outside of the club he didn't know anything about you.
“That's such a shame.” Your own words coming out a little breathy, leaning close to his ear, lips pressing right under his jaw. You knew you shouldn't but you pressed in further lips sucking lightly, testing his reaction. When a small whimper escaped him, you only sucked harder, leaving a small mark behind.
His cock twitched, hips bucking up as he pressed you further down searching for more friction, blunt fingertips digging into your soft flesh. You had to bite your lower lip, suppressing a moan before it slipped out. It would be too easy to slip him out of his pants and slide down his shaft, feeling your own wetness pooling in your skimpy thongs, sticking to your folds.
Something, if you admitted to yourself, you'd also thought about numerous times. You'd heard the rumors. You'd felt his cock and knew it was big.
“You like that, Gator? Want me to mark you up? Let that little girlfriend and daddy know what you really like? What you've been up to?” You licked his pulse point, debating on sinking your teeth into his bared throat.
“Yeah.” He huffed out.
“Oh, Gator.” You pulled back, taking a hard look into his eyes. Glossed over, pupils taking over his mossy irises, now almost black.
“You'd regret it in the morning. I'm sure she'd see you and cry and you'll apologize and she'll take you back.” You chuckled, pushing off his chest slightly but he had a firm grip on your hips.
“I won't regret it.” He gritted out, nose to nose with you, lips daring to ghost over yours. “Don't you see what you do to me? I'd let you do anything to me.” Bucking his hips again for emphasis.
You'd done this cat and mouse a dozen times, always ending the same. You'd dance for him, grind on his cock all the while letting his hands roam over your hips and thighs, and even that was pushing it while trying to maintain a level of professionalism. But you always made it fun. He could vent while you'd take his mind off of whatever was bothering him, making him cum in his pants and sending him home.
“I know you would.” Taking his hands and shoving them off your waist. “But I have a rule and I'm not about to break it for you.”
Standing and striding back over to the pole, leaving his mouth gaping to stare after you.
“Why not?” He asks earnestly. As you begin to sway with the song, his eyes suddenly drifting down your hips and legs as if mesmerized by the small movements.
“You know I don't fuck clients. Period.” You shrug, turning back to him. “Even if you are a newly single man, if that's even true.”
He tilts his head for a moment, regarding you.
“You don't think I see the way ya’ look for me in the crowd when you're dancin’ up there? Or try to hold back those moans when you're back here alone with me?” He quickly rose, closing the distance between the two of you, suddenly nose to nose with him again.
“Darlin’ I think,” nose nudging yours. “You want me as bad as I want you. Tell me I'm wrong.” Hands finding your sides once more, bringing you flush to him.
Your hands found their way to his chest, to steady yourself, knees almost going weak at his insinuations. Had you been too distracted letting your facade slip? Had he seen right through you? You weren't sure but he seemed to be quickly gaining the upper hand, which simply would not do.
“Gator, baby, I think you're sadly mistaken. I try to make everyone feel like they're the only ones in the room. It's part of the show.” It slightly gnawed at you, watching the way he deflated at your words, lips pouted and eyes down turned, so utterly pathetic when he's sad.
“Go sit on the couch.” Patting his chest as he stepped away, giving yourself a reprieve in the process.
He sighed behind you, plopping back down on the faux leather seat sinking further into the cushion as you wandered back over taking up residency in his lap once more, facing away from him this time.
You swirled your hips, cock pressed hard against your ass.
“Little help?” Looking over your shoulder at him, wiggling your back. His fingers skimmed up, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin, as he untied your top.
Lifting it above your head, you rose back up, throwing it across the room and turned back around to face him planting your knees on either side of him. Tits now eye level with him but he was looking up at you instead, making your cheeks heat. Why the fuck was he looking at you like that?
You sat back in his lap, hands roaming up the expanse of his clothed abdomen and chest as you leaned back into him, lips grazing his ear as you spoke.
“Okay Gator, maybe I have thought about you and what this big, fat cock could do to my pussy.” Grabbing his bulge for emphasis, squeezing him through his pants as he released a breathy moan.
“So, I-I was right?” You pulled back to look at him, shit eating grin across his face, eyebrow raised in your direction.
“Don't get cocky, or I'll stop this before we even get started.” Quickly shooting back, as he nodded.
“Good boy.” Hands gliding up under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders, as he helped you pull it off and toss it somewhere across the room. “Now, lay back and relax.”
Some shitty country song was playing but you found your rhythm anyway, grinding against him. His eyes drifted to your breasts, down to where your clothed pussy rubbed against his cock.
“You fucking anybody on the side or was it just virgin Mary?”
He looked a little surprised by your question.
“Just her, but uh, it's been a while.” Sheepishly answering, cheeks suddenly tinged the prettiest shade of pink.
“Ok, good. I don't have any condoms, unless you brought one?” He shook his head. “I'm clean and on the pill. If you still want to do this.”
“Fuck yeah.” He nodded enthusiastically before you grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at you.
“Undo your belt and pants. I want to see what I'm working with.” He didn't need to be told twice, hands quickly going to work, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free, laying between the two of you. He was much bigger than you initially anticipated. Eyes going a little wide with surprise.
He was long, and thick with a ruddy tip, already leaking a pearly bead at the slit. You licked your lips and looked back up to his smug face.
“Ya’ okay darlin’?” Finding a little humor in your sudden stupor.
Quickly flipping your demeanor smirking up at him, devilish glint in your eye as you moved from his lap to the floor settling between his thighs.
“It's a lot bigger than I expected, Gator. I'm not sure you'll fit.” Looking up through your lashes at him, laying it on nice and thick.
“Fuck, y-ya’ don't think so? My gi… my ex always said it hurt too much. Couldn't get more than half before she was cryin’.” You could imagine. His poor little girlfriend didn't realize what she was getting into with him.
You were anything but a good girl, moving closer to his raging erection and pursing your lips letting saliva pool before spitting it onto his shaft.
“Fuck!” He hissed out looking down at you with hooded eyes, as you gingerly wrapped your hand around him letting your thumb swirl at his head collecting his precum before spreading it down his cock and back up.
He squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head back onto the couch. If he was this far gone from just a touch you weren't sure he would make it to the big finale.
“Eyes on me, big boy.” Squeezing at the base, eliciting his attention as he looked back to you.
“That's it. Couldn't let you miss this.” Saying with a salacious grin before sticking your tongue out to lick from his girthy base all the way up to his tip. The way he whimpered caught you off guard, sending a fresh wave of arousal straight to your already soaked cunt.
Your eyes never left his as you closed your lips around his leaking head, swirling your tongue and humming around the taste of him.
“Mmmm, Gator you taste so good. Did… what's her name ever do this for you?” You asked, it suddenly occurred to you that he'd never said her name out loud.
He shook his head, swallowing thickly, “No. She thought it was too…” trailing off.
“Too what? Dirty?” Kitten licking at his head before finally taking him fully into your mouth, surprising him as his hips bucked up, shoving him further down your throat, making you gag momentarily, before relaxing taking him a little further.
“Oh fuck… shit… that's… goddamn you're a dirty fuckin' girl.” He gritted out, eyes rolling back, all semblance of composure now gone as you began to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks with your hand stroking what your mouth couldn't fit.
“Wait… wait… slow down,” he suddenly huffed out. Trying to catch his breath, as you stilled and pulled off with a slick pop.
“Too much?” Looking back up at him with doe eyes and lips glistening with his arousal.
“Fuck… just fuck me… please?” He sounded pathetic; brow pinched with frustration at his pleading words. “I've thought about this for way too long. I want yo-your pussy.”
“What a needy baby.” Standing back up and planting yourself back on his lap. Just a thin layer of fabric separating the two of you now as you straddled his cock, feeling the heat of him pressed against you.
He leaned in, lips searching for yours, but you pulled back, hands on his chest holding him there.
“No kissing.”
“You'll fuck me raw but draw the line at kissin’?” Confusion flashing across his features.
“Yeah Tillman, I can't have you falling in love with me. This is a one time thing.” You giggled, pulling his hands up and placing them on your breasts as you began to move your hips, dick catching your clit, eliciting a moan from your lips but you didn't hold back this time letting it escape.
“Ya’ sound so pretty. Can I?” You looked back at him as he nodded toward your boobs still held in his hands.
“Can you what? Use your big words.”
“Can I suck your tits? They're so perfect an’ pretty. You're so fuckin' pretty.” Watching the way he kneaded them between his calloused hands as he spoke.
“Go ahead.” He quickly ducked his head, hand trailing to your lower back pressing you further into him as he sucked one of pert nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue before lightly biting, making you arch into him before he switched to the other side giving it the same attention.
While he was mildly distracted, you took the opportunity to reach down and slide your panties to the side exposing you fully to him, grinding down once more. He popped off, almost breathless looking down between the two of you.
Wasting no time, you raised yourself up, guiding him to your entrance, letting his tip catch slightly looking him in the eye. You both looked a little desperate.
“You sure you want to fuck me, Gator? This dirty, little stripper? You could go back to your girlfriend right now.” The last part came out a little breathy when you sank down a fraction, but it was enough to slightly short circuit your brain.
“Please.” Slipped past his lips so quietly, if you hadn't been looking directly at him you would have missed it.
You watched his eyes roll back, as you began to slide down his aching cock, moans from both of you filled the air. Inch by inch, you took him further than he had imagined anyone could. If you weren't so soaked and horny you knew it would be a stretch for you.
His hands found your waist, grip tight as he dug into your supple flesh as you continued to sink further onto him.
As you neared the base, his girth began splitting you open in the best possible way as you stilled your movements, giving yourself a moment to adjust.
He refused to open his eyes, as good as it felt, he was afraid if he looked at the way your pussy had engulfed him, he'd burst right then and there.
You saw the way he held an almost pained expression. His jaw was slack, breathing heavily, already absolutely wrecked.
Moving your hips back up, removing him almost entirely, cock head staying buried in your tight heat, you swirled your hips slightly before working back down.
“Oh my God! Fuck!” He all but cried out, whimpering when you took him a little deeper this time, halting when his cock all but nudged at your cervix.
“Fuck! You're so deep!” You moaned out, grabbing his hand, pressing it to your lower abdomen. “Bet you can feel yourself in there? Huh?”
“Jesus Christ!” He hissed, finally looking down to where the two of you connected.
“No, just me, Gator.” You laughed, pushing his hand away, as you started bouncing lightly at first. His cock massaging your inner walls with each delicious up and down motion.
The way your walls were sucking him in, constricting around him with each pass he wasn't going to last long. Luckily, neither were you. You'd worked both of yourselves up into a fevered frenzy, ready to combust.
His cock was brushing that spot deep within you as you slowed down your movements. Grinding more than a bounce, the patch of hair at the base of his cock catching your clit with each pass igniting that spark in your lower belly. You closed your eyes, letting the feeling take over.
“You want me to cum all over your cock?” You rushed out, hand snaking up, pulling at the locks at the back of his head.
“Yes! Oh, fuck!” He whined out, not sure where his eyes should land, switching between your blissed out face, bouncing tits and back to where your pussy was staking claim to his dick. He was ruined.
Your moans grew louder as you neared your impending release, no longer able to stifle them as you continued to ride him.
His grip on you getting harsher with each passing second, sure to leave finger shaped bruises behind as he grew more desperate.
You felt that white hot heat pooling in your lower belly, as his cock continued to prod up against that spot along your frontal wall that made you see stars. You worked your pelvis a little more back and forth, feeling it again and again with each grind.
“Ahhh! Fuck! Gator, I'm… I'm…” You couldn't get the words out before you started to come undone. Your cunt clamped down around him, practically strangling his cock as he held tight to you, holding your hips steady as he began to fuck up into your tight heat, working you through your release and chasing his own.
Your fingernails dug into his shoulders, as you continued to moan and writhe atop him, trying not to collapse, as he used you like his own personal fuck toy.
A few more sloppy thrusts and he pulled you down on him, crying out as he practically impaled you on his length. He felt his balls tighten while letting out a guttural moan as his release spilled into your tight channel, a few more weak thrusts and he dropped his hands.
Too spent, you didn't move right away as you both sat there, chests heaving, trying to catch your breath.
“Shit,” you growled, knocking you both from a peaceful afterglow. You were seven minutes over his time and lucky that no one had started looking for you yet.
You peeled yourself away from him, hissing as he slipped out of you and pulled your thong back into place.
“Why the rush darlin’?” He asked, adjusting himself back into his pants and sitting up.
“You're over your paid time with me, Gator. This isn't a fucking hangout. Let's go.” Finding his jacket on the floor and tossing it directly at his chest as you pulled your top back on.
You reached for the handle once he had straightened himself up, throwing his jacket back over his shoulders.
“Hey, wait.” He called out before you turned the knob. “You goin’ back to work?”
“After that?” You snorted at the absurdity of it. If you didn't get to the dressing room, he'd be dripping down your leg. “Hell no, I've made enough tonight. I'm going home.”
“Yeah, that's good.” Nodding his head. “Ya’ need a ride?” Looking at you a little hopeful after what had just transpired.
“Gator Tillman, such a gentleman?” You chuckled. “Look, we don't have to do this. It was just sex, that you practically paid for. I'm not your girlfriend, I'm just a good time.” You winked at him, turning the handle but before you could open the door, he was behind you, arm outstretched above your head, palm pressed heavy into the wood.
You looked back at him, wondering if you'd suddenly said something wrong but that shit eating grin was back as he looked down his nose at you, eyes full of mischief.
“Thought I'd try to be nice, instead of just suggestin’ I could take you somewhere and bend you over the bed of my truck. But ya’ don't seem to like nice.” His words traveling straight to your core.
“Good to see that cocky demeanor is still intact, Tillman, but I told you this was a one time thing.” You smirked, pushing at his chest enough to get the door open and slip out, leaving him a little stunned. He watched you disappear down the hall, sighing as he made his way back to the front to pay the rest of his tab.
Once you made it to the dressing room you didn't bother cleaning up, pulling off your tights and throwing on some shorts and a tank top while haphazardly tossing your belongings back into your bag as you quickly exited the back.
You knew you'd fucked up. That lovesick look in his eye told you everything. You could eat this man alive, and he would smile while letting you. All without knowing your real name.
But it's just a little fun, right? What's a little more? You'd already broken your first rule, why not make the most of it?
Pleased to see you'd made it outside first, you propped yourself up against the wall close to the alley and lit a cigarette watching the front.
He finally stepped out, keys in his hand walking over to his truck. When he turned his back, that's when you finally spoke.
“Hey, Tillman!” He quickly turned; eyes wide as you strode up to him. “You still offering that ride?”
Tagging some mooties that might be interested: @hellfirenacht @thecreelhouse @xxbimbobunnyxx
#gator tillman smut#gator tillman x you#gator tillman x stripper!reader#gator tillman fic#gator tillman x female reader#gator tillman#joe keery#gator tillman x y/n#gator tillman x reader smut#🐊#fargo s5#fargo season 5#joe keery smut
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wash day
sully kids x mom reader
The navi had many years of doing daily life and personal upkeep of themselves. There also seem to be some a day when there will be no task done, and it will become wash day for hair and redoing braids or making new styles. Well now that the day has come for omatacayia clan, as it was time to wash hair after a month's months of braids, along with just a day of fun between family and friends.
y/n " come on kids were are all heading to the lake and waterfall today"
neteyam " wash day"
y/n " yes wash day but we always have a way of make it fun"
kiri " can spider come with us"
tuk " doesn't he wash his hair more then us"
y/n " yes as he human but he can still come with us to have his hair wash and new style of hair as well"
kiri " yes I have been wishing to try a new style of hair on him"
lo'ak " don't be making my bro looking like a fool"
kiri " I will never do that to spider you idiot"
lo'ak "hey I'm just trying to help"
y/n " come on you two stop fighting let get going"
kids " yes mom" the kids had ran and gather spider as the family, had went to the water for wash day. You are near the waterfall with tuk after, unbraiding her braids with some combs you had.
y/n " now that all your braids are done we are good"
tuk " yes"
kiri " mama can we use your comb to help undo spider locks"
y/n " here honey use this one as it will help more if you need help call me"
kiri " yes mama"
spider " thank you auntie" kiri and spider had sat down as they started undoing spider locks, as you stood in there water. You had used a wooden bowl and soon poured some water, over tuk heading making her laugh.
tuk " can I wash my hair mama"
y/n " yes you can honey just use this bowl or duck under the water"
tuk " yes mama"
kiri " okay all done"
y/n " I always forget how long your kids hair might be after being, in braids for so long" the three kids had laughed as they looked at each other their hair is very long, when it was out in braids.
????? " cannonball" soon a loud splash had been heard getting everyone attention, they all turn their heads to see lo'ak soon pop up from under the water.
lo'ak " hey everyone"
????? " lo'ak" you soon looked up to see neteyam standing on ledge as he looked down at his brother and soon you.
neteyam " hey mama"
y/n " hello my son well it seems like I might have my answer to way, you are here my boy"
lo'ak " I thought it will be fun"
y/n " I can see that neteyam you can do the same as your brother if you wish" Neteyam had nodded his head and soon dove off the cliff into the water. very graceful getting claps from his siblings.
lo'ak " show off"
neteyam " love you to baby bro" neteyam soon splashed lo'ak with the water, making lo'ak laugh as he soon did the same to neteyam. The rest of the kids soon joined their brother in the water fight. The kids were having a good time, while your unbraided your hair while, using the waterfall to wash your hair.
???? " hey everyone" the group had looked up to see Jake, neytiri, and tsu'tey, norm standing at the water edge. It seems like they got done of what they need to, and came to join the group of wash day. They soon joined the kids and you in the water as they, had their hair unbraided.
y/n " well come join us" the group had joined the kids and you in the water, they kids hair had been washed with some stuff that neytiri had given you and brought. Along with later being used for the adults hair later on after the kids, had their hair washed and wash out with water.
later on
y/n " hey kiri will you love some help with you hair"
kiri " yes mama"
y/n " okay come here and I will help you" kiri help as you help braid some of her hair while she did the rest, you had made sure to brush out her hair os they were no tangles in them.
neytiri " ma y/n do you have any beads tuk will love some in her hair"
y/n " yes over here"
tuk " wow there are so many colors"
y/n " you can pick from any of them sweetie" tuk and neytiri had sat a few feet from you and kiri, then there were the boys.
Jake " hey boys what do you think about some of have a brand new hair cut"
lo'ak " what"
Jake " yeah I use to have a whole different hairstyle when I was younger it was very cool, and I think it will look good on you"
neteyam " that sounds interesting"
y/n " you didn't keep that hairstyle until neytiri braided your hair"
Jake " fine you have a pint there"
neytiri " I think braids will suit you all best"
y/n " yes I have to agree as well"
Jake " then we can of that" the boys had their hair braided and it had come out good.
y/n " see now all of you kids are looking good and brand new as well"
kids " thank you mama"
y/n " anytime my loves"
Jake " now you kids can run off and be with your cousin for the rest of the day"
kids " thanks dad" the kids had ran off with spider as you soon sat under a tree with your spouses. The day had ended well after a good wash day, everyone had a new hairstyle to them that will last them a good moment of time until the next wash day comes around. Jake even made sure to get in some family photos like all the other times, for a good family memory as everyone could look back on past and everyone growing up as well.
#avatar 2#atwow#avatar#avatar x reader#avatar x y/n#neytiri x reader#jake x reader#avatar the way of water#sully family x reader#neytiri#Jake sully#jake sully x y/n#avatar twow#jake sully x you#jake sully avatar#jake sully x reader#jake x reader x neytiri#jake x neytiri#jake x y/n#neytiri x jake#neytiri x you#neytiri x y/n#avatar x you#avatar x fem reader#avatar x human reader#navi x reader#navi x human#atwow x you#atwow x y/n#atwow x reader
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Kiss Me You Animal Masterlist
There was something different about this girl from the surface. Zylia Shelley was unlike anything anyone had ever met. Pink eyes, skin and hair devoid of color, and a peculiar appetite. She caught the attention of a certain Ghoul, and not in the way either one would like.
Cooper Howard did not want to care for anyone after losing his family. He has spent two hundred years alone, and he will spend the next two hundreds alone too. So when he gets this weird girl dumped on him, he is not a bit happy about it.
The two outcasts strike up an unusual partnership that slowly morphs into some form of caring for the other person. No, they will not say they are in love.
~
Ongoing~ Updated on Fridays (Last Update: Friday April 26th, 2024)
~
Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Zylia “The Freak” Shelley
Chapter One: Ten Thousand Candles
Cooper is not too sure if he is impressed or fed up with this new girl. Probably both.
Chapter Two: My Thriller Scandal (May 3rd, 2024)
He has decided that he is equally impressed and pissed at Zylia as she proves to be a formidable opponent.
Chapter Three: Take A Bite (May 10th, 2024)
When it comes to his cold, undead, somehow beating heart, Cooper goes back and forth on whether or not to use it on Zylia.
Chapter Four: Home Is Your Teeth Sink (May 17th, 2024)
After two hundred years, Cooper thought he had seen it all. But he has no clue what fresh hell Zylia is up to.
Chapter Five: Take You In Real Slow (May 24th, 2024)
Finding an unlikely companion, Cooper can not help but to be amazed by the woman before him.
Chapter Six: Connect With The Sound (May 31st, 2024)
More tales and old wounds are brought to light around a campfire, and there is something interesting enough for Zylia to want to stick around with him.
Chapter Seven: Connect With My Body (June 7th, 2024)
Raiders, fiends, other ghouls, other humans; there is no shortage of people who would look to do harm to someone as rare as Zylia or as common and grotesque as Cooper. Does not mean that either one should be used to this sort of treatment.
Chapter Eight: My Tongue and Smoke (June 14th, 2024)
A budding partnership is born, and the two mutants realize the same thing at the same time; they are not as alone as they thought.
Chapter Nine: Something Darker On Your Mind (June 21st, 2024)
Cooper would argue that he does not have a soft side anymore. And even if you see him helping Zylia in a time of need, no you did not.
Chapter Ten: Teeth Are Where Your Heart Was (June 28th, 2024)
There is something so intimate about sitting on the same abandoned couch in the middle of the desert with a fire blazing ahead.
Chapter Eleven: Don’t Ever Let Me Go (July 5th, 2024)
Zylia has an epiphany. Cooper has a realization. Neither one of them get that the other person is going through the same thing.
Chapter Twelve: Tear Right Through Me (July 12th, 2024)
How far are you willing to go for someone that you care for?
Chapter Thirteen: Welcome You To Try (July 19th, 2024)
Such tender moments are not common in the Wastelands. You have to hold them tight and not let go when you do have them.
Chapter Fourteen: Kiss Me, Kiss Me (July 26th, 2024)
Time to put those old cowboy skills to work.
Chapter Fifteen: I Wanna See Your Teeth (August 2nd, 2024)
While Cooper is busy finding out how to get her back, Zylia is fighting as much as she can with what little she has left.
Chapter Sixteen: Kiss Me You Animal (August 9th, 2024)
One final showdown. One final goodbye. One final kiss.
Main Masterlist: Here
Fallout Masterlist: Here
#rebelliousstories#writing#cooper the ghoul howard#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard imagine#cooper howard#cooper howard x oc#the ghoul imagine#the ghoul fallout#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul#the ghoul x oc#fallout imagine#fallout#Kiss Me You Animal series
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Bloody Beetle | Part Ten
Summary: buckle up folks, it's the final showdown
Pairing: Steven x reader, Marc x reader, Harrow x reader, Layla x reader
Word Count: 5.6k
Warnings: fighting, deaths...
A/N: as always spelling and grammar are not my strongest skills so please be kind :)
Part Nine | Series Masterlist
- - - - -
Layla’s POV
She wants to stop you from surrendering yourself, she knows it’s dangerous.
But she also knows neither of you have time to think of another plan.
As soon as you step out from behind the wall she wastes no time in sneaking over to where Osiris’ avatar is and pulls him to safety.
“Hey! hey, hey…” She says as she tries to keep him upright and conscious. “How do we stop Ammit?!”
“This chamber is our most powerful place.” He wheezes. “From here we need to imprision Ammit in a mortal form.”
“A body instead of a statue. She’d be vulnerable… okay, how do we do it?”
“We need more avatars than we have left…” he says before collapsing to the ground.
“No, no no!” Layla tries to wake him, but when she checks his pulse she realises he’s gone. She thinks for a moment, pondering her options. Reluctantly she summons Taweret and agrees to be her temporary avatar.
“I am so thrilled! We are gonna have so much fun together.” Taweret says excitedly. “I have a fabulous costume in mind.”
The sound of Harrow’s shout bounces off the walls, getting Layla’s attention. She peers around to watch.
Harrow is stood in front of you protectively, talking to Ammit. Almost pleading with her.
“What could she possibly do in the future that is so bad that she deserves this?”
“She will be the one to kill you.”
Ammit’s reply sends the room silent. A few disciples spare glances at each other but no one dares make a sound. Layla notices the heartbreak on Harrow’s face.
She watches as you try to stand, try to reason with Harrow, convince him Ammit is lying.
She watches as Harrow turns to you, and reaches out to help you up from the floor.
She watches as he drives a dagger deep into your stomach and she has to fight with herself not to run over and kill Harrow herself. She knows with Ammit behind him he is too powerful for her to fight alone.
She watches as everyone just steps over you, leaving you to die. Not a single one of them even pausing for a moment to consider helping you.
As soon as they’re out she runs to you, calling your name. You manage to roll over and look at her and she sees the moment the last bit of life leaves you. Your body going still, eyes glassing over as you lay limp on the ground. She crouches next to you, checking and double checking for a pulse. Begging you to wake up, to not leave her alone.
But that’s what she is now… Alone…
Marc is dead. You are dead. Without anyone to help her, she’s sure she will be next.
— — — —
Y/N’s POV
“Where am I?” You ask aloud, glancing at the bright white nothingness around you. “Steven? Marc? Anyone?”
“Y/N Y/L/N.” A voice calls from everywhere at once.
“Hello?” You respond.
“I am Osiris, god of the underworld.”
“…okay…”
“I have granted you resurrection but I ask something of you in return… Become my avatar.”
“Uh, look I don't think I'm really the person to be asking. I don't know how to be an avatar, I don't even really know what it means… I just know that Marc said it’s bad. Like being a slave? And I really don't want that-”
“You won’t be a slave, you will be powerful.”
“I’m sorry, but my answer is no. And if that means you have to send me back to the Duat then… I accept my fate.”
“I admire your honesty and bravery Y/N. But we need more avatars than we have left if we are to defeat Ammit.” Osiris speaks calm but firm. “Take the powers that come with being my avatar, use them to defeat Ammit and when the job is done I will take them back from you. I will expect nothing more from you. You may continue to live your life free from any burden.”
“So just like, a temporary deal? Right?”
“Yes.”
“And once Ammit is dealt with, I can just be normal again?”
“Yes.” Osiris pauses. “Do you accept?”
“I do.”
— — — —
You gasp as you sit bolt upright on the cold stone floor of the pyramid, making Layla jump.
“Y/N?!” She says, grabbing your arms to ground you as you flail around in a panic. “I got, I got you.”
You take deep breaths, clutching your hands to your stomach. You lift your shirt and watch in shock as the wound from the dagger closes itself, leaving you fully healed. Any weakness left from Harrow’s staff is gone too. You feel amazing.
“What… what just happened?” Layla says, wiping tears from her face and staring at your stomach. She helps you up off the floor. “You were dead!”
“Osiris healed me.” You say, in shock yourself. Then you notice Layla’s outfit. Her mundane clothes from before gone, replaced with a gold and white Egyptian armour. “What are you wearing?”
“Taweret chose it.” She says before explaining how she agreed to be her temporary avatar. You in turn explained the deal Osiris offered you.
“Well, you look badass.” You say and she laughs. “Wait, if I’m an avatar too now, does that mean I get a costume too?”
A bright light swirls around you and when it disappears you’ve changed. No more blood soaked clothes. Instead you're wearing green armour, similar to Layla’s, with white and gold fabric wrapped around your body. Attached to your back is a long golden staff with a hooked end.
You look down at your clothes in amazement, then up at Layla. The two of you look at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. You don't really know why you're laughing, but after the stress of the last few days it feels like a welcome break.
“So, what do we do now?” You says once you composed yourself. Layla sighs, shaking her head.
“I guess, we try to save the world.”
— — — —
The two of you head outside. To your surprise the sky is as dark as night, even though you're pretty sure it’s still daytime. The sky is filled with purple lights, flying up from across the city and towards the other side of the pyramid where Ammit is.
“She’s consuming souls.” Layla says as you watch horrified. The more lights she swallows the bigger she grows. She’s already almost the same size as the pyramid.
“How are we supposed to stop her?!” You ask, looking around frantically. You look up at the top of the pyramid. Harrow is up there, a purple glowing light surrounds him as he chants in a language you don't recognise.
Before you can say anything, someone flies up to the pyramid and begins to fight Harrow. You recognise the person to be the same as the action figure you found in the museum, dressed head toe in white.
“Who is that?” You ask Layla, turning her attention to the scene on the pyramid.
“Marc?” She gasps before turning to you. “Did Osiris resurrect him too?”
“I- I don't know. Maybe? I didn’t see him after we made it through the gates-”
You stop talking suddenly when you notice Khonshu appear next to Ammit. He goes to hit her with his staff but she reaches out a scaly hand and stops him. They begin to fight as Harrow and Marc fly though the air toward the town, still fighting each other. Khonshu manages to knock Ammit over and she comes crashing down near near you. The force of her slamming into the pyramid sends a cloud of dust and sand over you and Layla.
“Little bugs.” Khonshu says when he notices he almost flattened the two of you. “Go! Help Marc.”
Layla rolls her eyes at him as she wipes dust from her clothes before turning to you and nodding. You run away from the pyramid in the direction that Marc and Harrow had gone.
The streets are chaos. Everywhere you look Ammit’s disciples are grabbing people, judging their scales. You watch as Bobbi grabs someone. They begin to shake then fall to the floor as a purple light emerges from them and flies up into the sky. Those who aren’t distracted staring at the dark sky are running, screaming, from the disciples. As you begin fighting off disciples you notice Marc laying on the ground on the other side of the town square, Harrow stood over him with his cane pointed down at him. It starts to glow purple.
Layla swoops in just in time and knocks Harrow away. He fires purple light from his cane at Layla, but she reflects it with the golden armoured wings attached to her arms and it bounces back at Harrow. It sends him flying backwards into a crowd of people.
You knock out the guy you're fighting and run over to Marc. His face now uncovered and he spots you over Layla’s shoulder as he’s hugging her. As you get closer his clothes change to a white three piece suit.
“Y/N!” Steven’s voice calls happily as he hugs you tightly. His hand finds the crook attached to your back. “Oh my God, that- that’s Osiris’ crook! Oh that’s bloody brilliant that! Wow!”
“Steven I know this is a massive deal for you but we have to stop Harrow.” You say, smiling at him.
“Right yeah, sorry you just- you look amazing!” He smiles, turning to Layla. “You both do.”
You hear a scream and turn to see a woman with two young children being cornered by a group of disciples.
“I’ll go. You two get Harrow.” You say and Steven places a kiss on your cheek before he and Layla run into the crowd and begin fighting.
You run the other way, grabbing the crook and using it to pull the first bad guy away. You swing him round and send him crashing into the side of a nearby building. The others turn on you, but you effortlessly manage to dodge their attacks and one by one knock them all out. You help the mother and her children find somewhere safe to hide before turning your attention back to the others just in time to see Harrow fighting Marc.
“You need only remove one weed from the garden. You!” He says, purple light blasting from his cane at Marc.
Marc grabs one of his crescent moon shaped blades but Harrow uses the power from his cane to control Marc’s hand. Layla runs toward them but Harrow sends the blade flying at her and it pins her arm to the side of the truck, before sending a huge blast of power at Marc, forcing him down on his back. On a building above them you see Ammit has also overpowered Khonshu, pinning him down with his own staff.
Harrow advances towards Marc and you run, throwing yourself in between them.
“STOP!” You shout and Harrow looks at you like he’s just seen a ghost.
“Y/N..?” He says breathlessly. “You’re-”
“Alive? Yeah, I was surprised too.” You say sarcastically. “Why are you doing this? You told me you wanted to stop her!”
“That was before…”
“Before what?”
“Before I knew you would betray me!” He shouts, hitting you with a flash of power from his cane. It knocks you flying out of the way, rolling across the dusty ground. You feel like the wind has been knocked from you as you lay on the ground trying to get your breath back. Harrow advances on Marc again, raising his cane and slamming it into his chest. Purple light streams up through the cane, killing him slowly.
“NO!” You scream, scrambling to try to get up but a heavy boot comes down on your back. Bobbi stands over you, keeping you down, forcing you to watch. You look over at Layla, she’s surrounded by disciples, using her golden armoured wings to deflect the bullets being fired at her.
Marc turns his head to look at you before his eyes turn white.
You can’t really describe what happened next. Something takes over Marc and sends him into a killing frenzy. He’s unstoppable as he takes on multiple disciples at once, slaughtering each one without breaking a sweat. He turns to you and you feel Bobbi remove her foot from your back. She backs away but Marc throws a blade at her and it lodges itself in her forehead, killing her instantly. He locks eyes with you and you don't recognise him at all. That’s not Marc anymore, and it definitely isn’t Steven. He winks at you before taking on Harrow. It doesn’t take long for him to overpower him. Its only as he’s about to kill him that he freezes, his posture changing. He drops Harrow’s unconscious body and looks around in horror at the war zone around him.
“That wasn’t you, was it Steven?” He says and his suit changes. “Not a chance mate.”
He looks at you and you get up, dusting yourself down as you make your way over to him.
“Are you alright?” He asks, placing his hands on your face and checking you over.
“I’m fine, I’m more worried about you.” You reply.
“Marc?” Layla calls, freeing herself from where Harrow had trapped her. Steven changes back to Marc. “What the hell was that?”
“I blacked out.” He says. He looks genuinely worried.
A rumbling from the building next to you draws your attention to Ammit dragging Khonshu away.
“Get Harrow!” Layla says “I know how to stop Ammit.”
— — — —
Marc carries Harrow and you both follow Layla back to the tomb in the pyramid. Once inside Marc throws Harrow down on one of the stones.
“The power of the room will help us bind Ammit to Harrow’s body.” Layla explains. “Quick grab my hand so we can start the spell.”
Marc takes Layla’s hand and you take Marc’s. The three of you start chanting the spell in an ancient language, the words must be given to you by the gods because you have no idea what you're actually saying. A circle of light fills the tomb, surrounding the three of you and Harrow. Purple light descends down into Harrow’s body as the spell works. Harrow gasps awake, his wild eyes looking at the three of you.
“You can never contain me!” Ammit speaks through him. “I’ll never stop!”
“Do the honours, little bug.” Khonshu appears next to you and hands you the same dagger Harrow had earlier used to kill you. “Finish it! Leave neither of them alive.”
You look at the dagger, still stained with your own blood and feel anger boil inside you. You step up to Harrow, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him up to face you. His bright blue eyes stare into your own.
“Do it.” He croaks. He looks utterly defeated, ready to accept his fate.
You lift the dagger high, ready to plunge. Then you hear Ammit’s words from earlier.
‘She will be the one to kill you.’
You hesitate, thinking over those words. If you kill him now that means she was right about you.
“While he lives, so does she.” Khonshu’s words ring in your ears.
While Harrow lives, so does Ammit. Trapped in a mortal body.
“I said I wouldn’t kill you and I meant it.” You drop Harrow back down on the stone and throw the dagger to the floor. “There are worse fates than death.”
You turn your back and walk away.
“Weak little bug.” Khonshu mocks but you ignore him.
Layla takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“I have to finish this.” Marc says suddenly, taking one of his blades and readying himself to stab Harrow. “If not I’ll never be free.”
“Marc!” Layla shouts. “You have a choice. You are free!”
“The choice is vengeance! We cannot take the chance that Ammit finds a way out. She will kill again.”
“Now you sound just like her.” Marc says, throwing his blade away. “You want them dead, do it yourself. Now release us!”
“As you wish.” Khonshu says before disappearing.
Marc’s suit starts to disappear, a bright white light shines out of his chest and fills the room. For a moment you’re blinded, and when the light fades you find Marc on his knees. His normal clothes have returned. You and Layla go to him, crouching beside him.
“Marc? Are you okay?” Layla asks, full of concern. He looks at her and nods.
“He’s gone.” He smiles. “Thank you for stopping me.”
“What do we with him?” You ask, looking over at Harrow still laying on the stone.
“Lock him up.” Marc replies. “He’s killed so many people there’s no chance he’ll never ever be released. He’ll be locked away until the day he dies. And then Ammit will be gone too.”
You can hear Harrow incoherently babbling away to himself, and you feel a sort of sadness creep in.
“You did the right thing Y/N.” Layla says, noticing the frown on your face.
“Then why do I feel so… weird?”
“Love…” Steven’s voice instantly makes you feel a bit calmer and he places his hands gently on your face, forcing you to look away from Harrow. “Hey, look at me… You died today. And then you came back. And then you helped save the world from a giant crocodile lady.” He says making you laugh. “That’s a lot to take in. You're allowed to feel weird. In fact I’d be worried if you felt normal after all that.”
“I know he did some really awful things but I- I almost kind of feel sorry for him. Is that wrong?” You admit and Steven smiles lovingly.
“That just proves even more that Ammit’s scales were wrong about you. You are a good person with a kind heart. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”
He moves his hands to hold yours and you give him a small smile.
“Thank you.” You share a kiss, before remembering Layla is currently watching you kiss her ex husband. You pull away, giving her an awkward smile. “We should probably get going.”
“Yeah…” Steven laughs, picking up on the awkwardness of the situation. “Back to good old London town. Get this guy put away… behind bars… where he belongs…”
“Guys it’s fine.” Layla says, laughing at Steven’s awkward rambling. “I’m really happy for you.”
“Are you sure?” Marc’s voice again. He walks closer to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I know I wasn’t the best husband. You deserved so much more.”
“It’s okay Marc, honestly. We’re better as friends.” She smiles a genuine smile at him. “Besides, I’ve decided I’m staying here in Egypt.”
“What?” You say, moving to join them. “You’re not coming with us?”
“While we were fighting out there, a young girl asked me if I was an Egyptian superhero and it made me realise, we didn’t have anything like that. But now we do. I’m going to stay here and work with Taweret to give more young Egyptian girls someone to look up to.” She smiles. “Plus, England is too cold anyway.”
“You got that right.” You laugh as you give her a tight hug. “you are gonna be the most badass superhero ever. But I’m gonna miss you.”
“You too.” She says and turns to Marc. “Look after her, or you’ll have me to deal with.”
“Yes ma’am.”
— — — —
Some Time Later
You headed back to England with Marc and Steven taking turns to take the body. Though you knew Steven best, the more time you spent with Marc the more you enjoyed his company too.
Ammit’s presence in Harrow’s body meant he became more and more mentally unstable. He spent a lot of time rambling incoherently and occasionally Ammit would takeover, shouting about how she would escape and make everyone pay. Because of this, Harrow was admitted to Sienkiewicz Psychiatric Hospital in London.
A few days after Harrow was committed, you went to visit him. You don't know why, you just felt like you needed to be sure he was safely locked away. When the nurses first brought you to him, you almost didn’t recognise him. He was sat in a wheelchair, his ankles restrained to it. He looked lost, vulnerable. It made a part of you feel quite sad.
“Hi Arthur.” You say quietly. He looks up at you blankly.
“He’s on quite strong medication, so he may not talk very much.” The nurse explains and you nod. “I’ll just be on the other side of the room, shout if you need me.”
“Thanks.” You reply, watching her as she goes to sit with another patient on the far side of the room. You sit down at the table opposite Arthur. “How are you doing? Have you settled in here?” You ask but get no response. You start to feel awkward. You look around the room, trying to think of something to say. You glance down at the table and see paper with some lines painted randomly on it. “Did you paint that?” Harrow looks down at it and nods. “You enjoy painting?” He nods again. “How about we do some together.”
You grab two more pieces of paper, putting one in front go Harrow and the other in front of yourself, and you start to paint. Harrow joins in and the two of you sit quietly together making your own little pictures.
When your picture is done you show Harrow and he smiles at the simple flower you have painted. He shows you his, just a triangle.
“It’s good.” You smile.
“It’s a pyramid. Like the ones they have in Egypt.” He says, slowly sounding more like himself. “Have you ever been?”
“To Egypt?” You ask and he nods. “Yeah I’ve been, with you. You took me there, remember?”
He stares at you for a long moment, a flicker of something like hurt flashes on his face, and then he goes blank again. You try to make more conversation, but he doesn’t say much after that.
Not long after the nurse comes back and tells you visiting time is over. You slide your flower painting across the table to Harrow.
“You can keep this.” You say smiling. “Goodbye Arthur.”
You get up and start to walk away.
“Y/N!” He calls, making you stop and turn back. “I’m really sorry I killed you.”
You didn’t say anything back, you just nod at him as the nurse leads you out.
As you sign yourself out the nurse speaks to you.
“That is the most alert and talkative we’ve seen him since he arrived. You must be someone important to him.”
Her words replayed through your head for the rest of the day and that night as you sat down to eat dinner with Steven you told him about it.
“I’ve been thinking, I might go back and see him again.”
“Really?” Steven asks. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“You didn’t see him today Steven, he’s different. The dangerous man that we knew is gone. Now he just seems so… lost. I guess a part of me feels responsible for that.”
“Love…” Steven sighs, putting down his food to fully concentrate on you. “Harrow is where he is now because of the things HE did. The choices HE made. You gave him plenty of chances, even after he murdered you!” He reaches across the table to hold your hands. “Listen, Marc wants me to tell you not to go but I know that will make you want to do it even more.” He says and you laugh, nodding. “If this is something you really want to do, if it makes you feel better, then I think you should do it. Just, please be careful.”
“I will.”
The following week you head back to the hospital and do some more painting with Arthur. It soon became a regular thing. The more you visited the more chatty he became. He started to tell you about life in hospital, sharing stories about the other patients and in turn you told him about your life. Although he initially looked hurt to find out you and Steven were now dating, ultimately he said he was happy to see you happy.
If you hadn’t known him before, you wouldn’t guess this was once the leader of a cult intent on releasing a dangerous Egyptian goddess into the world. You’d never guess how much damage he had caused just weeks ago. And you’d certainly never guess that dangerous Egyptian goddess was now trapped inside him. There were hints occasionally that Ammit was trying to take over, to shout abuse at you, but Harrow always made sure she couldn’t hurt you.
You didn’t talk about what happened in Egypt, you didn’t want to drag it all up again. He wasn’t the same person now anyway. And at least he’d apologised to you. Instead you chose to give him a fresh start, and just enjoy your weekly visits talking and painting with Arthur Harrow.
—
—
—
—
—
Epilogue
One morning you woke up to a voice in your head.
Osiris’ voice.
“The deal is done. I release you from your duty.”
“What?”
“Ammit had been defeated.”
“Yeah, but that was weeks ago.” You say, not understanding why he’s waited till now to talk to you. “We imprisoned her in Arthur Harrow’s body and they’re both locked up.”
“I release you from your duty.” He repeats and you feel a strange sensation move through your body. Then nothing.
“Osiris?” You call out, but no reply. “Well that was weird…”
“You alright love?” Steven asks as he comes into the bedroom and hands you a cup of coffee.
“Osiris just released me.” You say confused as Steven sits on the bed next to you.
“Well that’s a good thing innit?” He replies with a smile.
“Yeah, definitely. It’s just… why now? Why this exact moment instead of when we bound Ammit or when her and Harrow were first locked away? What’s so special about this morning?”
“Osiris is a busy guy, maybe he didn’t have time until now. Or maybe you're just thinking into it too much…”
“I just think it’s a bit odd that’s all.”
“That’s the gods for ya, all a bit odd. I don't think us humans are supposed to understand ‘em.”
“You’re probably right.” You say before taking a sip of your coffee. “Anyway, where did you disappear to this morning?”
“What do you mean?” Steven asks blankly.
“I woke up in the early hours and you were gone.”
“I don't remember going anywhere… Marc?” He shifts and Marc speaks “Don't look at me. I thought we were sleeping all night.”
“Do you need the restraints back on the bed?”
“Only if you want them back” Marc says flirtatiously, flashing you a mischievous grin. He shifts again and Steven comes back. “Oy, back off you.” He says to Marc before focusing on you. "I probably just went to get water and don't remember. Don't worry about it.” He kisses you on the forehead. “Right, I’ve gotta get to work, laters gators.”
“Laters.” You laugh, and blow him a kiss. He mimes catching it and putting it in his pocket before leaving.
You decide to put the Osiris thing out of your head. Steven’s right, there’s no point trying to understand the mind of a god. You finish your coffee before you get out of bed and get ready for the day.
In the afternoon you head to the hospital as usual, and are surprised to see police cars parked outside the building. As soon as you step inside the nurse you’ve become used to seeing comes over to you.
“Y/N, please come with me.” She says, leading you into a small side room with a police officer inside.
“Is everything alright?”
“Please take a seat.” The officer says and gestures to the chairs. You sit down in one, the nurse sits next to you.
“What’s going on?” You ask, getting nervous.
“Miss Y/L/N, earlier this morning someone came into the hospital, murdered three members of staff and left with Arthur Harrow.”
“What?! Who?”
“We don't know yet. The CCTV cameras were damaged. All we have is a few eye witnesses who say they saw a smartly dressed man wearing a flat cap wheeling Harrow out of the building.” The officer explains, and you feel your heart start to race. If Harrow is out then Ammit could escape. The nurse notices your breathing has picked up and reached over to hold your hand. “I’m sorry, I understand this must be distressing. Harrow is your friend, correct?”
“Uh… yeah…” you reply, trying to focus on what the officer is saying and not the panic running around your head.
“According to the sign in sheets you’re the only regular visitor he has. Do you have any idea of who could have done this? Or why they would have done this?”
You search your brain for any options. The only people who really know who he is are yourself, Marc, Steven and Layla. You definitely didn’t do it. Marc and Steven wouldn’t have done it, and you can’t imagine Layla would have. You realise the officer is still looking at you for an answer.
“No, no sorry. I- I don't think he has anyone else.”
“Here, take my card. If you think of anything give me a call.” The officer hands you a small business card and the nurse leads you back out the room.
“Are you going to be okay? I know you’re quite close to him.” She asks, noticing how shook up you are she places a gentle hand on your arm. “Do you want me to call someone to pick you up?”
“I’ll be fine, thank you though.” You smile at her as you reach the door out the building. “You have my number, will you please let me know if there’s any news?”
“Of course. Take care Y/N.”
You head outside, and cross the street to where there’s a small park. You find an empty bench and sit for a moment to process the news and what that could mean. Who could have known Harrow was there? Who could have wanted him out? Maybe there’s another Ammit fanatic out there who wants her released?
A shudder goes down your spine at the thought of her getting out.
You take your phone from your pocket and phone Steven. It rings out. You roll your eyes and try Marc’s number instead, incase he’s got the body right now. They have separate phones and refuse to answer each other’s if it rings. His goes straight to voicemail. That’s unusual. You check the time, 4pm. Steven will probably be getting ready to leave work.
Needing to talk to someone you FaceTime Layla, she picks up almost straight away.
“Y/N! Hey!” She says happily, her smile drops when she see’s your face. “What’s wrong?”
“Hey, uh… sorry to call I just, I need to talk to someone and Steven and Marc aren’t answering and no one else will understand-”
“Y/N, you don't need to apologise. What’s happened?”
“Harrow’s gone.” You blurt out and she stares through the phone at you. “Someone took him from the hospital this morning, they don't know who did it and they have no idea where he is. I’m scared, Layla.”
“Hey, alright, it’s going to be alright.” She says, though her voice has a hint of panic. “And you can’t get through to Marc?”
“His phone is off. I think Steven will be leaving work soon.”
“Okay, you head over to find him. I’ll keep trying his phone.” She says and you nod. “Y/N?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s gonna be okay.” She says and you get the feeling she’s trying reassure herself as much as she is you. You nod and she hangs up the phone before you start walking toward the road, looking for a taxi.
In the distance you see a white limo heading towards you. Usually you’d think nothing of it. You see a lot of different vehicles in London. But something about this one got your attention. The personalised number plate.
‘SPKTR’
You can’t help but stare at it as it gets closer to you. Something in your gut telling you to run.
The car slows down as it gets closer to you and you can just about make out though the windows that the driver is wearing a flat cap. The limo pulls over and stops next to you. The driver gets out and you stare at him confused.
“Marc…?” It’s definitely Marc’s body, but the expression isn’t Marc or Steven. It’s the same one you recognise from Egypt. The one who so easily fought and killed all Harrow’s disciples. Another alter?
“Hola, mi amor.”
He winks at you as he walks around the front of the car, past you and opens the door at the back of the limo for you. He gestures for you to get in. You hesitantly walk to where the door is and peer in. You have to slam your hand over your mouth to stop a scream from escaping.
There on the back seat is Harrow, a bullet hole in his forehead.
You back away but the driver pushes you inside and slams the door closed. You scramble to get out, to get away from the corpse, but the door is locked. You bang against the door, screaming for someone to let you out and then you hear a voice from inside the limo.
“Hello little bug.”
A/N: Thank you so so so much for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed this series as much as I loved writing it. please feel free to comment or send me an ask, I would love to hear your thoughts :)
Taglist : @sleepylunarwolf / @ahookedheroespureheart / @sleepyamaya / @spicydonut25 / @kult6 / @uncle-eggy / @malaanii/ @toracainz / @pinkiestwinkie / @galacticstxrdust / @mateihavenoidea / @xmariakx / @oscarissac2099 / @whycantwebefriendz / @parkeepingparker / @scoliobean
#moon knight#Steven Grant x reader#Marc Spector x reader#moon knight x reader#layla el faouly x reader#layla el faouly#Steven grant#marc spector#khonshu x reader#osiris#Arthur Harrow#arthur harrow x reader#ammit
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