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party-hearses · 10 months

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relax, baby | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x f!reader (NO USE OF Y/N)

rating: explicit, 18+ MDNI

wordcount: 5k

summary: joel is full of surprises at work.

series warnings/tags: pwp, explicit smut, v fingering, brief oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, pet names (princess, baby), language, no cordyceps outbreak, lmk if i’m forgetting anything. honestly, this is just filth.

author's note: i wrote this instead of doing homework. my smut abilities are a little rusty, so here’s my attempt at getting them working again. feedback and reblogs are appreciated if you enjoy! <3

“‘Sposed to be a scorcher today.”

“‘Sposed to be a scorcher every fucking day,” you mumble into the receipt book splayed open in front of you.

He isn’t wrong, of course. Just irritating. The Texas summer heat is unrelenting at best, but it’s not anything new.

“What was that, princess?”

You grimace at the nickname. Stupid fucking Joel Miller, your brother’s boss, taunting you while he rummages through the filing cabinet shoved into the corner of the room opposite you.

Your boss, now, too. Sort of.

“Nothin’.”

“S’what I thought.” He pulls his body up to its full height, having found what he was searching for. He holds the file of paperwork in his hands like a prize, slamming the drawer of the unit shut. “You’re lucky to have AC in here, princesa. Not like the rest of the guys, out there in the sun.”

You roll your eyes skyward at the jab. It hadn’t taken long for you to be branded with different variations of the nickname, which, much to your chagrin, isn’t even inventive. The names the guys call you usually revolve around your new position as “office admin” (a made up term), and the considerable comfort (if it could be called that) it offers. Low hanging fruit, in your opinion.

Your brother tells you to laugh it off, to take it as a compliment. A means of being accepted. It’s not worth the argument about power dynamics and the stigma of being a woman in a male dominated profession, especially for a temporary position, so you do your best to ignore it. It’s not like your brother would understand your points, anyway.

“You’re the boss, Joel. You don’t have to be — out there.” You wave your hand at the window, grimy with dust and…grime. Unknown construction grime. Men, you shudder.

“Oh, yeah? Guess I could just post up in here all day with you, huh?” He’s looking at you now, hands on his hips, smirk pulled across his mouth. He grips the file in his hand against his waist, strong fingers nearly crumpling it in half.

He’s irritating, but fuck, if he isn’t gorgeous. All taut muscles, graying scruff, and big, sad, brown eyes. It’s hard to keep your own eyes off him regularly, but it’s an exercise in futility the rare times you’re alone with him.

But you shrug, coolly, playing off the damning attraction you feel towards him. “I don’t care what you do, Miller.”

“Yeah?” he breathes, and he’s there, across the desk from you, palms planted face-down on the cool wood, chin dipped.

You swallow hard, meeting his smoldering eyes. It’s impossible not to notice his tee shirt, Miller Construction scrawled across the left breast, pulling against his chest and biceps. He’s so fucking big.

“You should care, sweetheart, ‘cause you run—” He leans in closer.

“—the whole—” Closer still.

“—fucking—”

You can smell the cedar and sawdust on him. The distinctly masculine scent. it makes your head swim.

“—office,” He finishes, inches away from your face.

Your eyes widen.

“I mean- uh, well, of cou-“ you stutter, but he’s laughing, pulling away.

Narrowing your eyes, you slam the receipt book shut. “Shouldn’t you be at a different site? Not here, bothering me?”

He grins, still chuckling lowly, permanently-tousled curls begging to be pulled.

“You tell me,” he says, gesturing to the now-closed notebook with his chiseled jaw. “You’re my keeper, ain’t ya?”

This fucking guy.

You blow the air out of your cheeks, exasperated.

“I am not,” you say slowly, through gritted teeth, “your keeper. I am helping you out by cleaning up your books and organizing some schedules, while I’m home for the summer. As a favor to my brother.”

He tilts his head, grin giving way to a sly smile. Saying nothing.

“Wouldn’t be working in a fucking trailer for anyone else,” you grumble pointedly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I am payin’ ya, though.”

Joel tosses the file in front of you and drags a chair from the other side of the room — other side of the trailer — to a stop in front of the desk you’re seated at. He plants himself in it, kicking his feet up on the top of the desk.

“For real?” you cry, throwing your hands above your shoulders.

He laughs. He fucking laughs.

“Take it easy, princess. If I’m the boss, and I’m kickin’ back, why are you so high strung?”

Your brow furrows, but you don’t respond.

This strange, almost playful Joel is under your skin more than usual. It might be the heat (you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it), or the clusterfuck of receipts you should be reconciling (that he gave you at the last minute) — but you suspect the annoyance comes from his newfound interest in teasing you.

You suddenly miss the silent, brooding Joel Miller. The one who left you alone to do your work.

“I’m trying to help you,” you finally spit.

“You can help me by relaxin’, darlin’.” His voice is suddenly low, a deep timbre that vibrates your bones. “Do I need to help you do that?”

His words shoot straight to your cunt.

Instinctually, you press your thighs together, squirming in your seat.

It’s been too long since you’ve been touched, since you’ve been handled properly — the only viable hook-up options in your hometown being the losers you’d gone to high school with, which made them, well…not viable options.

Your body betrays you, need building low in your belly, and of course Joel notices the way you shift in the chair.

The entire tone of the room shifts, if you’re being honest.

“Oh,” his eyes as dark as his voice now, “you do need my help.”

You freeze. Everything in his voice spells t-r-o-u-b-l-e.

“No,” you squeak, “I- I-“

“You, what, baby?” It’s a taunting lilt now, and you feel like every nerve ending you have is melting straight off your body. He quirks his brow at you.

Baby, baby, baby, echoing in your ears.

He raises his body out of the chair, squaring his broad shoulders, and you think your heart might stop.

Making his way around the desk, hands ghosting the edges of the worn wood, his eyes burn into yours.

“So lucky all my guys are out at other sites, baby.” He’s whispering now, dragging his knuckle across your cheek, closer than he’s ever been to you. Looking down at you from his towering height. “So I can help you relax.”

There are stars in your eyes. You don’t even like this man, but his hands on you feel so good.

It’s surreal. You’re just a deer caught in the headlights, looking up at him with your big doe-eyes.

Prey.

You’re sure he’ll pull away again, laugh at you — laugh at the way your pulse picks up under his touch. How it beats against your skin like a bass drum.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he twists his wrist to cup your jaw, strong fingers digging into your flesh. Your lips part involuntarily, a quiet moan escaping.

“Wanna fuck you, princess.” His words are sticky honey in your ears, the nickname hot on his tongue. “Been wantin’ to fuck you.”

All you can do is nod. You’re done for. Putty in his hands, now.

“Can I do that? Fuck you?” He drops to a crouch in front of you, sliding his hand down your flushed skin to your throat, angling his fingers, the delicate webbing between his index finger and thumb pressed right to the base of your neck. He squeezes so so so gently — just enough to make you chase his touch.

“Yes.”

His eyes are black, pupils blown out in arousal. “You’ll be good for me?”

“I’ll be good for you,” you repeat obediently. Quietly. Only for him.

It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of the words leaving your mouth.

He crashes his mouth into yours, taking, taking, taking. Massaging your bottom lip with his scorching tongue, he begs for entrance — and you know in this moment, you will never deny him a single thing.

He licks into you with such a feverish intensity that you have to throw your arms around his shoulders just to remain steady. This action seems to spur him on, as he slides both his hands around your hips, one pulling you closer to him while the other crawls up to cradle the base of your skull, fingers threaded into your hair. He’s crouched over you entirely, nearly dragging you off the office chair. Your own fingers dig into the shoulders of his shirt, his thick muscles dragging you closer and closer to him.

Small in his hands, he breaks his mouth from yours only to haul you up and around, pressing your belly against the desk, your arms jelly as they brace against the sturdiness of the wood. He pulls your shirt up and over your shoulders from the back, peppering kissing up the exposed flesh of your spine, before discarding the garment on the floor. Your bra is next, and he wastes no time in chucking it too, to the floor and using his big hands to cup your pert tits from behind. His whole body is pressed against yours, the buckle of his belt scraping against the small of your back.

“Knew you’d have perfect tits,” he growls, next to your ear. His fingers expertly roll your nipples, massaging them into tight points. It makes you want to cry out. He licks a broad stripe up your throat, nipping the skin just above your shoulder, and this time, you do cry out.

“Be loud for me, baby. Wanna make you feel good.”

“What if s-someone hea-“ you start nervously, your voice shaking as much as your limbs.

Bracing his mouth against yours again, tongue forcing its way in to explore every inch, he cuts off the question you were going to ask.

Ignores the question.

He moves his mouth down your neck again, fingers still kneading against your nipples. Your eyes flick to the deadbolt of the door anxiously, but an extra-hard pinch pulls your focus back as you moan involuntarily. Loudly.

Obviously enjoying himself, he drops one hand to your tummy, sliding it over your soft skin to the band of your shorts.

“Gonna take these off now, okay, baby?” he asks between kisses and nips against your flesh, peppered with goosebumps.

You nod hurriedly. Need thrums in your ears, washes everything except his voice out.

His hand still cupping your breast joins the other in unbuttoning your shorts, and they’re off in record time. They fall to your feet, and you kick them off haphazardly, not caring where they end up.

The only thing separating Joel from you now is your panties, black and lacy and soaked.

You recognize, dismayed, that he still has all of his clothes on, but he’s too busy with his hands on you to notice.

He turns you around to face him, stepping back just enough to rake his eyes over every inch of you. You steady yourself on the edge of the desk with your hands, the hard corner biting into the soft flesh of the backs of your thighs.

“Fu-u-u-ck.” He lets out a low whistle, and for a brief second, you want to cover your body with your arms, slink away shyly.

But he has his hand cupped around your sex lightning fast, and he groans, low and primal.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, baby. Soakin’ through your panties.”

He ducks against your neck again, landing kisses down the length of it, but going further this time, down your breast to take your nipple into his mouth. He suckles gently, hand moving back and forth over the white heat of your cunt, and you arch your back against him. Your body filled with a furious tension, tight as a bowstring.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Take y-your shirt off,” you demand suddenly, your hands scrambling for purchase on the the scratchy material.

He pulls back from you, and you’re left panting, three quarters naked. Nipples impossibly hard from both his mouth and the air conditioning, and you can tell he’s inconvenienced to be pulled away from them.

But he acquiesces, shucking his shirt off quickly, desperate to lave his tongue over your flesh again.

You take him in in the entirety that he’s allowed you — strong but soft, body molded by years of manual labor, rough hands desperate to be stroking you.

Not allowing you too much time, he resumes his stance in a hurry, splaying his hands across your back, nibbling lightly at the supple flesh of your breasts. He runs his tongue over the heavy curve of it, before dragging it across the plane of your chest to the opposite side, taking your other nipple into the heat of his mouth.

Keening under his touch, you mewl his name. Desperate.

“I know, baby. I know.” It’s muffled against the weight of your breast. His teeth just grazing the tender flesh.

He brings one hand around to the front of your panties again, teasing the band stretched over the place your thigh meets your pelvis with his calloused fingertips. The bite of them scrape a heavenly sting against your softness.

You rock your hips up into his palm, begging. Please, please, please. He chuckles lowly against your skin, still biting gently at your nipple, your knuckles white on the edge of the desk.

He breaks his mouth off of you, looking up to meet your eyes through his long, dark lashes.

There’s still one of his hands steady on your back, and combined with the way he’s got himself pressed against you, you’re sure he’s the only reason you’re somewhat vertical right now. The bones in your legs threaten to give out the more attention he pays your body. He ruts his erect length against your thigh.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?”

“Want it so bad,” you echo — his plaything.

“Should’ve asked me a long time ago. Teasin’ me constantly. Makin’ me fuck my fist at night like a teenage boy.” He straightens his body, allowing his thumb to dance over your clit through the material of your panties, but refusing to make direct contact. Making you chase the feeling with your hips.

The notion that he’s ever thought of you in that way makes your cunt tingle.

“Need it, Joel.”

You don’t have the words to tell him how long you’ve thought about him, how even though he pisses you off, you’ve wanted him to fuck you over this very desk since you started working for him. How it’s been too long since you’ve been touched and now you think you’re ruined in the most delectable way.

With a dark smile against your skin, he finally moves his hand over just enough, sliding four fingers down the front of your panties, thumb still on the outside, and fists the thin material. It rips down the seams, and in one smooth motion, he pulls the ruined lace from your body.

You gasp, cold air hitting your cunt.

He takes the destroyed scrap of material and palms his hard cock through his jeans, rubbing the lace against the front of himself. It’s obscene, and you can’t take your eyes off it.

Fighting to catch your breath, overwhelmed by his touch, you watch as he pulls back to shove what used to be your panties in his front pocket before unbuckling his belt, snapping it quickly out of the loops, hands flying then to unbutton and unzip his jeans. He finally shoves them down to knees, the length of them bunching up over his work boots.

Left in his boxers, you can see the thick outline of his cock, and he’s huge.

You had expected him to be big — like, look at him — but it’s more than you could have fathomed.

Your eyes drag from the heavy bulge back up to his face, and he must clock the apprehension in your eyes, because he extends his hand to your cheek, cupping it tenderly.

“Promise I’ll make it feel good. Won’t put it in until you’re ready.”

His hands are large enough over your face that his thumb traces the outline of your parted lips. Without thinking, you open further to accept it inside, swirling your scorching tongue around the digit.

His eyes darken further, though you didn’t know it possible.

“Oh, baby. Baby.”

His head falls back, jaw slack, enjoying the sensation of your mouth on him.

With his other hand, he slides his fingers through your swollen, dripping folds, gathering your slick on the rough tips. He circles your hole with his middle finger, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing, needing.

“This okay?” he asks quietly, and you pause, meeting his gaze with your own. As calm and collected as he looks, his voice shakes just enough to tell you that he’s rehearsed this scene in his head so many times.

You don’t really know how you got here, if you’re being honest, but…

“Want you so bad, Joel,” you whisper, thoughts hazy, pupils blown out.

“Gonna fuck you ‘til all you can say is my name,” he whispers back gruffly.

It makes your cunt clench, his finger still poised there. Your chest rises and falls with ragged breath, anticipating. You can’t imagine how fucked-out you look right now, but based on the way he’s drinking you in, he loves it.

He finally presses his single finger inside of you, groaning at the warmth.

“So tight for me, princesa.”

The nickname hits differently this time — intimate. Filthy. Filling you with desperation.

You cry out at the stretch, his hands so much bigger than your own. One finger of his is the size of two of yours, and you’ve never felt so full. You snake your arms around his shoulders, letting him hold you up, his other hand falling from your cheek to resume it’s place at the small of your back, as he slowly starts a rhythm of fucking into you. His palm stutters against your clit, and you can feel your slick dripping down onto it.

It’s so much.

Your senses are overloaded with him, and he hasn’t even put his cock in you, yet.

He does, however, nudge a second finger at your entrance, and it’s enough to make you drop your forehead onto his broad shoulder, his muscles rippling as his wrist and fingers move against you.

You press your open mouth into his shoulder, muffling your cries.

Sliding his ring finger in beside the other, he scissors them, stretching you open, open, open, while at the same time he performs a much more precise ministration on your clit, rubbing small circles that make you squeeze your eyes shut. Chests pressed flush against one another, he buries his face in the length of your hair.

Despite the air conditioner, the room is humid with body heat, and sweat starts to collect at your temples. Every inch of your skin is flushed, Joel breathing heavily next to your ear.

“Want you to come for me, baby. Can’t fuck you right ‘til you come for me.”

You lean further into his body, under the trance of the rhythm of his fingers. He drags his free hand up the length of your back to wrap around your hair, gently pulling your head back to look into your eyes.

“uh-uh, baby. Wanna see you. Don’t hide.”

Your cheeks flush crimson, your eyes half-lidded, lips kiss-swollen. Seeing the way he studies you, the tip of his tongue resting on the pillow of his top lip, his fingers so big inside of you — your orgasm approaches quickly, your hips working with his hand to get you there.

Your breathing starts to stutter, and his eyes are on fire watching you. Memorizing every movement you make, how he’s taken you apart at the seams. He speeds up the movement of his thumb, just slightly, but it’s enough to tip you over the edge.

Convulsing around his thick fingers, you cry out, loud, loud, loud. The deadbolt on the door a distant memory.

In fact, you dare someone to walk in. To fuck with Joel Miller taking what he needs from you. They’d never recover.

“Yes, baby. Look so fuckin’ beautiful coming all over my fingers,” he growls, fucking you through the electric waves rolling through your body, tugging your hair harder.

He’s kissing you again, swallowing your remaining moans into his mouth, and you feel like you’ll never recover. You may never walk again — and it’s just his fingers.

Sliding his fingers out of your pulsing pussy, he drags them over to your hip, your own slick smeared across your abdomen. He drops his other hand to your other hip, and before you know what’s happening, he’s lifting you up on top of the desk. On top of the files, and receipts, and work you’d just been doing.

If he doesn’t care, then neither do you.

Obediently leaning back on your elbows, he sets you far enough back that he can hook his hands under your knees to pull them closer to you, your tennis shoes dangling between you. It makes you giggle, which makes him smirk.

But it’s only a second before he’s pushing your knees back again, opening you up to him. His eyes drop to your glistening pussy, pink and swollen from his fingers.

“Fuck, baby. Don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ to see this little pussy,” he hisses, before dropping his head to lick a hot stripe up your wet center.

“Holy shit, Joel,” you breathe, “that feels so good.”

He licks his lips, your sweetness shiny on his beard. “Next time I’ll make you come with just my mouth, baby. Need’ta fuck you, now.” His voice is low, but the promise of next time wraps itself around your chest and squeezes.

You bite your lip, nodding, watching him through your lashes.

He gently sets your legs down enough that your feet drop to the top of the desk, but he keeps one hand on your thigh to keep you open for him — exposed.

“Won’t ever get tired of lookin’ at that pussy, baby,” he coos, “so keep it open for me.”

You’ve never been talked to this way before, and it sets your skin alight. Never been handled this way before.

You’re so fucked.

With his free hand he shoves his boxers down, his hard cock bobbing back up against the dark hair trailing below his bellybutton with a wet thwack. All of the blood you have left in your body rushes to your cunt (you’re sure most of it was there already), and your mouth pops open involuntarily.

You know you’re staring, but you can’t help it. He’s so. fucking. big.

“Will it…um, will-“ you stammer, gaze dragging up his body to his face.

He crowds you, a deep hunger in his eyes, hard cock in his fist. Poised at your entrance, pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Know you can take it, baby,” he growls.

“Okay,” you whimper, warmth blooming across your chest.

He slides his empty hand under your thigh, caressing the skin gently — a stark contrast from the way he’s gripping his cock with his other hand. It feels reassuring, almost tender.

“Ready?”

You mewl, scooting your ass an inch or so forward to egg him on. He grips your thigh, his large hand spreading all the way beneath it.

He presses into you slowly — excruciatingly slowly — but it’s enough to make you drop your head back and whine at the delicious stretch. He keeps his hand at the base of his cock, and you’re not sure if it’s for your benefit or his.

His eyes are glued to where he’s breached your entrance, watching you stretch to accommodate his girth, and it takes his breath away.

“Fuck, princess. So tight. So fuckin’ perfect for me,” he grunts, but it’s gentle, as if he’s in awe of you.

The sting of it gives way to furious pleasure, and you want him to move faster as he gives you more of himself.

“Joel,” you whisper, face to the ceiling, “faster, please.”

He grunts again, but feeds more of his cock into your hole, sliding his palm around the curve of your thigh to rub your clit. It send electric shocks through your limbs, your pussy clenching around him at the sudden pleasure radiating from your center.

Your knees are still pressed into your chest, folded practically in half, and he keeps going, and going, and going, until his pelvis is pressed flush to yours, bottoming out inside of you.

He stills, breathing ragged, to grip your jaw and bring your head down, saying through clenched teeth, “Lookit, baby. Lookit that. You took all’f me. The whole fuckin’ thing. I want you t’see.”

Your eyes, half-lidded, gaze at where he disappears into you, your aching lips strained against him.

“Made for me,” he says, and you can tell how much he’s restraining himself by the way he ticks his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut.

Thinking about anything but how fucking good your pussy feels wrapped around him.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, “Joel, please.” You lift both your feet off the desk, wrapping them around his waist in an effort to pull him in closer — to make him move faster.

“Baby,” it’s his turn to drop his head back, snarling at your tightness. But he gives you what you need, rocking his hips into you finally.

Pleasure swirls in your core, and you know it won’t take long. He’s still rubbing your clit, but the movements are erratic and messy, his focus on how good you feel on him. His other hand inches up your side, grabbing at your breast, anchoring himself to you while the bottom half of his body thrusts in and out of you expertly.

You’re both dewy with sweat, and as you’re lost in the way he moves against you, feeling the tip of him bumping up into the furthest depths of you, he leans forward and licks up a stray bead of perspiration rolling down your neck.

The eroticism of it makes your whole body shudder, and he gasps at the way your body reacts to him.

“Not gonna last long, princess. Feels too good,” he manages to spit out, subconsciously increasing his speed drilling into you. He can’t believe he has you open so wide, taking all of him.

He knew the moment he saw you that you were made to take his cock.

“Gonna come, Joel.”

“Come for me, baby. Gimme one more,” he encourages huskily, opening his eyes to watch you raise your hips to meet his every thrust.

Knowing that he’s watching you drags you higher and higher until the tension of your body snaps, soaking his abdomen with your release.

His hips stutter against you, and he stills as your cunt tightens even more around him, your walls fluttering against every inch of him. His thumb, still grazing your clit, presses into it firmly, making your toes curl.

“Joel,” you drag his name out in a harsh whisper, fireworks bursting behind your eyes. It’s never been like this. You can’t go back to it not being like this.

He’s right — it doesn’t take long, you whimpering his name pushing him past the point of no return, and he spills inside of you, his cock pumping every drop he has.

Your legs tighten around him, holding him in place as he slams both palms down on either side of you on the desk, a deep growl emitting from his chest. His tousled hair hangs in front of his eyes, his neck and chest flushed red.

“Fuuuuck.” He mumbles, sliding his cock out of you so, so slowly. As if he doesn’t want to pull out ever.

You release your legs just enough to let him step back, but as you go to close your legs, his spend dripping out of your stretched open pussy, he grabs your thigh and wrenches it back open.

“Waitaminute,” he grunts, and you can feel his other hand searching for something across the top of the desk, scrambling through the files and papers you had neatly stacked.

Busy trying to catch your breath, you don’t notice when he brings his phone to the front of you, opening his camera and snapping a photo of him dripping out of you.

“Joel! Ohmygod!” you giggle, as he smirks at you. Your cheeks flush deeper at the idea of him keeping that photo, of even wanting that photo, and you bat his hand away and close your legs quickly.

“I’ll delete it if’ya want,” he offers, but you both know that not what you want.

You hum teasingly.

“S’what I thought,” he says, running a gentle hand over your now-closed knees. “‘Sides, gotta keep something to remind you that you’re mine.” His hand follows the curves of your body to your tits, and he tweaks your nipple one final time.

Leaning in to kiss you, his tongue warm in your mouth, he whispers against you, “Better put your panties on, princess. Gotta keep it all inside you.” Prying your legs apart again just enough to slide his palm through them, he cups your sex with his large hand.

“You tore ‘em to pieces,” you whisper back, a dark smile on your lips. “Pretty sure what’s left of them is in the pocket of your jeans.”

“Mmm, you’re right. Guess I’ll have to fill you up again and find a way to make sure you can keep it in.”

Electricity shoots through you, and you miss his hand as soon as he pulls it away to drag his boxers and jeans up.

You drop your legs, despite how much they’re shaking, and pick up your clothes scattered across the room. Once you’re dressed (as much as you can be without panties), you stretch up on your tiptoes to kiss him again, while he does what he can to tame his hair with his fingers. It makes you laugh, and he matches it warmly. He kisses you again and again.

��Why don’t you, uh, take the rest of the day off? Done plenty of work here. I can clean up,” he smirks at you, nodding his head to the messy desk, where you’re pretty sure some of his cum had slipped out.

“Gee, thanks, boss. Can’t wait to get back to it Monday.” You wink at him, pulling your body away and picking your bag up from the coat rack next to the door. Hand on the doorknob, you glance back at him, a smirk of your own on your face.

“Oh, and because you didn’t ask — I am on birth control.”

His eyes widen in surprise, but you laugh and close the door behind you, headed home.

You don’t even know how fucked you are, yet.

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stories-and-chaos · 3 months

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Shrike pt 2

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” I did my best for an ace x ace relationship, based on personal experience. Both parties are moderately sex favorable since writing from my own experience is easiest, so I’m not sure if this counts as QPR. Written mostly in spite over all the Alastor smut. And overly innocent reader inserts. I don’t mind some smut but c’mon people.]

[Part 2/2 Word count 6520/12026]

[cw: blood, gore, violence, attempted sexual assault, fluff]

———————

You woke up. Had it been just a nightmare? You reached for Alastor next to you but your hand hit stone. Not even the sheets on your bed; stone. You bolted upright, eyes snapping open. You saw a vibrant red sky and a myriad of unfamiliar buildings. All the architecture had spikes or teeth or eyes incorporated. A sign nearby proclaimed Welcome to Hell! It’s terrible here!

Not a nightmare. You were dead, shot moments after Alastor. At least you took out the bastard that killed him. You hadn’t been a religious person but tracked you would end up here. If there was any mercy in the afterlife, you would find your husband nearby.

Of course he wouldn’t be. You were in Hell and it’s terrible here. You did see a number of…creatures around. Mostly humanoid but with additional features. Fur, feathers, tails, extra eyes, tentacles, scales, gears, wires, horns, flames. All that and more. Were these devils?

As you stood up you caught a glimpse of your own arm. Your taloned hands were red, before abruptly changing to a pale white on your upper arms. From what you could see of your shoulders they were covered in black feathers. Your legs were similar, red at the heeled feet that changed to white above the knee. You couldn’t tell what your torso looked like; you were wearing a silver dress with vermilion threads woven along the length. It looked like your favorite show outfit, just in a different color.

You steadied yourself, already missing Alastor’s presence. You felt a rustling sensation on your back; did you have something stuck there? Reaching back you found feathers. As you tried to brush them away, the odd sensation of something touching your hair made you jump.

Were those… your feathers? You walked along the street and got a look at yourself in a shop window. Sprouting from your back were wings, mostly black feathers with a white patch. Your face now had an avian look but was still recognizable as yours. It was mostly bright white with with a black mask over your eyes. Your hair was now a gleaming grey, with a red hat pinned on. To complete the look, you had a feathered tail sprouting above your buttocks.

You recognized the bird you resembled. The loggerhead shrike, the butcher-bird.

“Well lookie here, we got us a brand new little birdie.” A shark-like man slinked up to you. “A cute one too. Why don’t you come with us like a good birdie, we’ll treat you real nice.” He grinned, showing serrated teeth. Other creatures joined him with equally sadistic expressions.

Of course you had scum like this to deal with. You were in Hell and it’s terrible here. “Out of my way, lowlife. I don’t have time to deal with you.” You pushed him away with the back of your hand to walk past.

“It wasn’t a question bitch. You’re coming with us.” A clammy hand grabbed your wrist. Before you could even really think about it, you were swinging your other arm at him. You were suddenly holding a stiletto blade which you jabbed into his forearm. Black blood spurted out when you removed your blade.

You spun away as the shark shrieked. Now you had a stiletto in each hand. Your feathers were bristling, your wings spreading behind you. “Back OFF!” Your high pitched voice, louder than it ever was when you were alive, made all of them flinch. On instinct you hopped a bit and a flap of your wings slammed the hapless creatures into buildings from the downdraft.

It propelled you to the rooftops. Not ready to take full flight yet, you landed. The demons below were writhing in agony. You took another look at your hands, this time with almost delicate looking blades in your palms. “Ah, mais oui, a gal can get used to this.”

————

It took you five years to find Alastor. As it happened Hell, even just the Pride Ring where Sinners like yourself could be, was a very big place. But if you were here, able to survive, your husband had to be as well. You made a living (ha!) the same as before, singing for your supper. You had no interest in being an Overlord, but you did get a reputation for swift retribution to those that crossed you. Demons who tried to violate your boundaries quickly found out your stilettos were unending, razor sharp, and accurate. Whether they were alive to tell the tale depending on if they were smart enough to back away.

You got the nickname of “Singing Shrike” in Pentagram City. It suited you fine. Especially since you hoped Alastor would recognize it.

You survived the annual exterminations and steadily worked your way through the city. There were so many different districts and the population was ever changing. At least one area you didn’t have to explore was the Red Light District. You doubted death would change Alastor’s indifference to those activities.

When the radios started broadcasting tormented screams, you were surprised as any other demon. Not disturbed though, it was Hell and you’d heard similar ones in life. But the fact they went out over the radio made you wonder…

The broadcasts continued on as Overlords disappeared throughout the city. Then one day: “Salutations Sinners and welcome to the broadcast! I’m Alastor the Radio Demon, I’m so glad you’re all tuning in. I’d like to thank you all for listening to the previews of this broadcast’s main segment, ‘Overlords Overthrown.’ Without further ado, I’d like to present our newest participant!”

You almost couldn’t believe your ears. But there was no mistaking that voice or that demeanor. Of course your Alastor would be the “Radio Demon.” Now that you knew he was active in Hell, you just had to find him.

He would be at a broadcast tower right now. With a few strong flaps you launched into the red sky. There were multiple possibilities but if you had to guess, it would be the tallest one. It was near Cannibal Town, an area you hadn’t been to before. It was on the other side of the city and even with wings you took awhile to get there.

As you got close, you saw a tall lean demon exiting the station. He was a vibrant red from the tips of his ears to the hems of his well tailored suit. From above, you couldn’t see his face but his gait was all too familiar. It had to be him.

And to clinch it, another demon emerged from a nearby café. As blonde and as curvy as she had been in real life, Mimzy. You didn’t realize she was in Hell too. “Alastor, a fabulous show as usual, you never disappoint, doll face.”

He gave his theatrical laugh. “Ha ha! As you know, anything worth doing is worth doing well!” His voice sounded like it was still coming over a radio.

You landed a few yards in front of them, finally getting a good look at the male demon’s face. The features were sharper and his grin was filled with pointed teeth but that was your husband. His hairstyle was vastly different from life and he had tiny antlers peeking out from the red mop.

“Y/N? Cher?” The radio crackle on his voice disappeared for a moment.

“Alastor,” you breathed, but unable to get out more than that. In an instant he was sweeping you into his arms in a bridal carry, spinning joyfully.

“Ma cher, I never thought I’d see you again. The worst part of Hell has been knowing I left you alone.”

You couldn’t help but tear up. “Alastor, I’m so sorry about that night. If I hadn’t distracted you… maybe we’d still be alive.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I never blamed you Y/N. But this isn’t the proper place for a reunion between husband and wife.” To your surprise, green edged black energy enveloped you both. You could still feel Alastor’s arms around you but the rest of your senses disappeared. “Just a moment my dear, we’ll be home soon,” his voice echoed around you.

The darkness fell away, revealing a room inspired by your home in life. One jarring difference was a missing wall that instead led into a bayou. He kept you in his arms as he settled onto a couch. The familiar surroundings and relief at finding him proved to be too much. Face buried in his red jacket, you collapsed into tears.

Alastor held you as he had many times before. He knew the best thing was for you to let it all out and to be ready with a handkerchief when you needed it. Which he was, holding his out when you finally raised your head. You dabbed at your eyes carefully. He chuckled, “Well my dear, at least you don’t have to worry about ruining your makeup with your new look.”

You laughed despite yourself. “That is a relief. One less thing to worry about.” You leaned back into his embrace, unconsciously wrapping your wings around you both. His head whipped back and forth, taking in this new development.

“Sorry ma cher, should I put them down?”

“Hmm, I believe they’re fine. It was simply unexpected. It’s…actually pleasant for you to be wrapped around me for once.”

“It can’t be any more unexpected than being whisked away in shadows. Any other gal would have jumped out of her skin cher. Or feathers for that matter.”

That was enough to get the two of you talking about the last five years. You learned about how he started taking out Overlords for the pure challenge and entertainment of it. The result was he was becoming an Overlord, specifically of the area next to Cannibal Town. He demonstrated some of what his shadows could do for you.

For your part you told him the rest of what happened that final night. When he learned you killed the man who shot him within moments, his gleeful smile nearly split his face in two. “That’s my darling wife,” he praised you. Your exploration of the city and the reputation you had garnered seemed to pale in comparison to what Alastor had been up to. Nonetheless he listened in fascination. Evidently the perspective of the city you brought him was something he could use in his upcoming plans. You showed him what you had learned of the wind you controlled and the stilettos you produced from nothingness.

Soon the two of you were preparing dinner together. Jambalaya, it really was a favorite of his. He assured you the meat hadn’t come from Cannibal Town; while he indulged he wasn’t about to make you eat it as well.

You didn’t have any nightclothes with you, but this was your husband. He’d seen you in all states of dress and cleanliness. So you undressed, keeping just the dress slip on. Alastor stripped off his suit down to his drawers. The bed was a replica of what you had shared in life and you settled into it with him as naturally as before. The main differences were his claws brushing your feathers and your wing covering you both.

Sighing deeply, Alastor pressed his lips against against your hair. “Thank you for finding me, cher.” You couldn’t help but smile at how his words matched your wedding night. Relaxing into sleep, you murmured “I’ll always find you cher.”

Mimzy was the only demon you encountered that had known you both in life. Those familiar with Alastor or yourself in Hell were flabbergasted seeing you stroll together. Since you once again moved into his home most of the gawkers had experience with your husband.

Seeing a strange demon on his arm turned heads; first that the untouchable Radio Demon had a girl, second that she was happy holding her own with the Radio Demon. When you ventured to your old haunts the reaction were similar. The Singing Shrike was allowing anyone to touch her without ending up impaled and that the Shrike had a beau.

One of few that wasn’t terribly surprised was Rosie, the cheerful Overlord of Cannibal Town. Alastor brought you around to her Emporium, introducing you as his “darling life and death partner, Y/N.” Her blank black eyes widened in realization as her toothy smile grew.

You got along fabulously with Rosie, much better than your acquaintances when you were alive. Maybe because you felt freer in Hell, maybe because she never once questioned your relationship with Alastor. According to the residents in her district she was very perceptive about matters of the heart. Whatever the reason, you enjoyed relaxing and performing in Cannibal Town. It turned out you were fond of pinkie fingers; many times you’d be listening to Alastor’s broadcast while enjoying a cup of tea and your gruesome snack.

Power plays in the city came and went. You avoided the annual exterminations together. Not that they mattered much, there was always more Sinners dying. Some tried and succeeded in gaining a foothold and eventually a base of power in the city. Others…well they tried.

You still weren’t interested in being an Overlord yourself. Alastor wasn’t really either truth be told. It just sort of happened, with the deal making and killing various powerful demons. You both built alliances and rivalries over time, with the two states changing within moments on occasion.

One demon in particular became a pain in both your sides. Vox arrived in Hell a few decades after you and Alastor. The television headed demon was originally cordial with Alastor and charming to you. Alastor, despite not caring for technology developed after his death, recognized Vox’s ability and had a measure of respect for him. You found him amusing, so long as he understood your relationship with Alastor was non negotiable. As time passed, Alastor and Vox’s opinions of each other shifted. What started as friendly banter turned into hostile bickering and then outright violence. The first time they tussled, they both backed down when they realized how even the match was.

You of course helped your husband retreat. A newly dead creature, Valentino, assisted Vox. You hated him on sight; both of you were defending your counterparts when he started flirting with you, so blatantly that even you realized it. The scum blew a cloud of red smoke in your direction. A flicker of couple feathers summoned a harsh gust, destroying the smoke and tearing the hat and tinted glasses off his bug head. You followed up with a stiletto flying through the air, aimed to graze his coat directly over his groin. It tore a chunk of the fur lining off as it whizzed past, impaling the ground next to Vox’s head.

After that, hostilities between the four of you only increased. Valentino never approached you alone; maybe he found out what shrikes did to the bugs they killed. Vox, on the other hand, started making passes at you whenever he could. He knew very well how long lasting your relationship with Alastor was. He also knew how disinterested you were in anything approaching sex. It seemed he was trying to seduce you purely to make Alastor retaliate.

Your husband, although he seethed in private, never did. He didn’t have to after all. The day you had enough, you grabbed Vox’s tie with a smile. Thrilled that he finally wore you down, Vox didn’t notice you setting your feet. He towered over you and like so many others didn’t realize how strong you were. So when you spun and flipped him into the ground, he was surprised enough that his screen went blank. By the time his face returned, a dozen of your blades materialized to pin his clothes to the ground. You used the hilt of another to crack his screen.

“If you ever try that again, I’ll fill you with so many holes that every demon in the city will be able to use you as a power outlet.” You pressed a toe against his neck. “Do I make myself clear?” He couldn’t actually move his head but Vox made his face bob up and down on the screen. “Lovely.”

There was an uneasy stalemate for years. It wasn’t until after the turn of the century that Alastor and Vox clashed again. Maybe it was the influence of that aggressive new girl Velvette that prompted it, but Vox started going after your husband again. A fight as big as their first major match erupted one day. Predictably, the two were equally wounded. Unpredictably, you couldn’t locate Alastor after he retreated into his shadows.

You knew he wasn’t double dead. The two of you had created charms for each other that would let you know if the other died. With how uncertain the afterlife could be, it was one source of comfort. So the music note finial on your hat pin imbued with a bit of his shadows gave you that good news at least.

But you couldn’t find him. What could possibly have happened? Days stretched into months and years with no clue. The Vees (the trio called themselves now) were happy to flaunt Alastor’s absence, both to Hell and you in particular. You found yourself checking on that bit of shadow often, just as reassurance.

Seven years later, you had stepped up as Overlord in Alastor’s loose territory. The broadcast station became a recording studio under you, Songbird Studios. That was when you caught a glimpse of one of Vox’s shows. You were heading back after finishing a deal with a promising new voice when you heard “So the Radio Demon is back in town, why’s he hanging around, what does that mean for your family?” You glared at the screen. He was at Charlie Morningstar’s new venture, the Hazbin Hotel.

Furiously, leapt to the sky. Demons were knocked to the ground in your wake but you had more important things on your mind. The hotel itself was just outside the city proper. As you approached it, all the lights in Pentagram City blinked out. The hotel was unaffected and you could see a small broadcast tower with an ON AIR sign attached to the building. You could have burst into his studio. But the downside of being an Overlord is you had people to look after now. At least I know where you are cher, you thought, changing course for home.

It took a few weeks to get everything set up. You didn’t want everything to fall apart in what could be an extended absence. So you ensured both the studio and your territory would be fine with minimal input for at least a couple months.

Then you couldn’t wait any longer. But even as a demon you were a lady. Decorum then. So you entered through the front door. The slightly dilapidated building was contrasted by the sunny voice saying “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

From the opposite direction you heard a familiar world weary voice. “Y/N! The fuck are you doing here?” Husk yelled upon seeing you. “Oh, do you know each other?” The chipper young woman introduced herself as Charlie Morningstar, the hotel owner.

“Wonderful to meet you Charlie. My name is Y/N and yes, Husk and I have known each other for a long time.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet one of your friends, Husk!”

“Ah, actually Charlie-“ he started to say but you hopped up on a barstool and gave the former Overlord a broad smile. “Husk dear, I feel parched. I don’t suppose you have some good whiskey here?” The poor man took the hint and shut his mouth. He poured you a drink while Charlie bounced away, saying she’d let you two catch up.

“Soooo, listened to any good radio shows lately?” Husk’s ears twitched in agitation at your question.

“Just the one,” he replied while wiping down glasses. “Look, Y/N, you’re not gonna…” he trailed off, not even sure how to continue. Despite having made a deal with Alastor and interacting with you both regularly, he’d never seen you two fight.

“Alors pas! I’m not here to make any trouble bon ami. But after seven years I deserve a little fun, yes?” Any response he would have made was cut off by Alastor himself coming downstairs. He froze at the bottom as he saw who was at the bar.

One of the demons in the parlor popped up. “Something wrong smiles? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or some tits,” the white spidery demon said suggestively. You finished your drink before hopping down.

“Alastor, ma cher! I’ve been so worried!” Another demon, a black snake also perked up and the two men looked back and forth between you two.

“Actually, she’s Alastor’s wife,” Husk informed everyone present as you trotted up to him. Predictably, the unfamiliar demons in earshot all yelled, “His WIFE?”

The last few feet you used your breezes to give you a foothold off the ground. Alastor had been taller than you in life and his elongated demonic form towered over you. With practice you’d figured this technique out. It was useful not only in a fight but to put yourself at eye level with others.

His smile never faded but you could tell he was nervous. “Y/N, cher…I…” he fell silent as you hooked a talon under his chin. “Seven years you’ve been gone darling. And nothing when you got back? Ma cher, you are in trouble.”

His ears flicked nervously as you propelled yourself slightly higher than him. You kept your talon in place. “Shall we discuss this elsewhere Alastor?” His hand shook slightly as he took yours. “Of course my dear, let's go somewhere with less of an audience.”

You hand in his arm, he led you to his suite. In the foyer you could hear “awww, they’re so cute! how the fuck is tall dark and spooky married? well…likely one proposssed and the other sssaid yesss-, not what I meant buddy, hey don’t look at me I ain’t their chaperone.”

Once in his room (which had the same house/bayou motif as your home) you hugged him tightly around the waist. His arms were frozen in surprise above you; it wasn’t in your nature to be this forward and spontaneous with physical touch. “Cher, I-“

“Shut up Alastor.” You dug your talons in just enough to give a bite to your words. “I’m angry with you and I missed you and I’ve been so worried and the only reason I knew you were here was because of that pissing contest you got into the other day. So shut up until I’m ready cher.” One of his hands lowered to your shoulder and patted a silent yes.

It was a few moments before you spoke again. “Take me to the couch and start explaining darling.” You could feel the amusement and relief from his posture as he scooped you up.

“Where should I start cher?”

“That fight seven years ago. You and Vox got into a fight, you went into your shadow, then nothing. I knew you were alive but I couldn’t find you. I said I’d always find you.”

“You did find me my dear. As to what occurred…” he explained how a third party had interfered with the fight, injuring both him and Vox. How that third party had followed his weakened shadow, cornering him. How he’d been forced into a deal with that third party. Who that party was and what little of the deal he could tell you.

“Well shit. And your being here has something to do with the deal?” He nodded. “Why didn’t you come home though?! Even after the deal was struck, at least I could have been there for you!”

“Y/N, I’d just been trapped like I’d done to so many others. They played me and I danced right along. How could I bear to face you then?”

“Mais la, cher! I wouldn’t have cared.” You sighed and leaned back to look at him. “C’est la mort. We’re together again now and I’m not letting you go it alone again.” He blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that. “I haven’t just been pining all this time you know. Someone had to take over your territory and I wasn’t about to let one of those bratty Vees have it.”

He brought your hand to his cheek and nuzzled it affectionately. “My dear shrike, you never disappoint.”

“I’m sure the young Miss Morningstar would welcome some more protection for the hotel. And it seems the place is lacking in entertainment.”

“Right you are on both counts my dear!” He sounded back to his old chipper self. “Shall we introduce you to this delightful collection of misfits and reassure them you haven’t flayed me alive?”

“One more thing.” He cocked an eyebrow in question. “May I kiss you first?” His smile softened as he nodded. You kissed him deeper than usual, stroking his hair as you did so. Alastor’s long arms wrapped around your back as he accepted the kiss. “Much better,” you said as you pulled back.

“I’d rather not go seven years between kisses my dear, but that was a nice reintroduction.” With that he escorted you back downstairs. You hadn’t been gone long and even if you had, Alastor’s unknown wife showing up to berate him was too good to miss.

Once again he introduced you as “darling life and death partner, Y/N.” Charlie, ever the bubbly hostess immediately shook your hand before introducing the residents. To no surprise Alastor had brought Niffty here to do the housekeeping. “Y/N!” She shrieked in a pure moment of Niffty mania and dashing around you. “I’ve missed you too ma petite!”

“So uhhhhh, how long you two been together?” The lanky spider called Angel Dust asked as Alastor helped you to a seat.

“Hmmm… how long has it been cher?” Alastor mused aloud.

“We did stop counting after the first fifty years or so but I believe it’s been nearly a century since the wedding.” Jaws dropped at your statement. Alastor kissed your knuckles gently. “And my dear husband is just as charming and gallant as ever.”

“Wow, that’s incredible! It’s so sweet you’ve been a couple for this long! How did the two of you meet anyway?” Charlie, in all her sweetness, asked innocently.

“It’s a tad embarrassing, but we killed a man together.” You could almost hear something pop in Charlie’s brain. Her girlfriend, Vaggie, looked thrilled.

“Yes indeedy! Some ne’er-do-well attacked her on her walk home. When I arrived to assist, the lout was distracted enough that Y/N was able to stab him in the eye. Why, I’d never seen anything quite so beautiful as such a lovely little thing jamming her hat pin into her assailant! I quickly finished dispatching the man before escorting her the rest of the way home.”

You looked at him with affection. “That led to him walking with me in the evening and one thing led to another until here we are!” Vaggie’s eye was shining, Charlie was frozen, the rest of the group could only blink in shock. “Husk, why are you so surprised, I thought we’d told you before!”

“About the attack, yeah, not that you killed him.”

“I would have thought that was implied, my good man,” your husband said dryly.

“Okay okay, murder as a date night activity aside,” Angel said, gesturing with his top set of arms. “Back to the important things. Ain’t Al…do ya…have ya ever…” not quite able to find the words he formed a circle with one hand. He inserted the pointer finger of another into it, making a back and forth motion. Both you and Alastor tilted your heads in confusion, not recognizing the gesture. “Aw geez there’s two a’ him and they’re married. D’you two fuck?”

“Ooooh! Is that what that means?” You experimented making the same gesture. “Now I get it! This finger is the penis and this is the vagina!”

“Hmm,” Alastor inspected your hands. “Shouldn’t this hand make more of an oval shape then?” He squished your hand slightly to elongate the shape. “I think it’s easier to just make a circle darling. And I suppose it could be other orifices.”

“But do you two have sssex?” Sir Pentious interjected, bringing things back to the original question.

“Of course we do!” Alastor chirped. Angel looked equally horrified and amused, Charlie was still frozen, the rest just looked stunned. “How?!” Angel finally asked, fighting back laughter.

“Infrequently and with great vigor,” you replied in a cheerful, succinct manner. Husk pulled his ears down groaning, “I don’t need to hear this, this is like hearing my parents behind the door.”

“Okay, I think that’s enough about Alastor and Y/N’s sex life!” Vaggie halted anything else you and your husband might have said. “Are you going to move in too Y/N?”

“That was the idea if you’ll have me. It seems like this place could use some entertainment and more security.”

“And my dear Y/N is a dab hand at both! She isn’t called the Singing Shrike for nothing.”

“Of course we’ll have you!” Charlie finally snapped out of her daze at the thought of a new resident. “Everyone’s welcome at the Hazbin Hotel!”

Moving into Alastor’s hotel suite was fairly simple. You grabbed a few items from home and made sure your subordinates knew how to reach you in an emergency. It would have felt like a bit of a vacation with the lack of Overlord responsibilities. But the updated extermination schedule did cast a pall over things.

After Charlie’s disastrous audience with Heaven, you and Alastor decided on your plans. He would work with Charlie to get support in exchange for a deal with him. Meanwhile you would head to your territory.

Fortunately everything looked in order when you arrived. Proper delegation had its perks. You requested everyone’s presence at one of the theaters. Most of the Sinners that followed you were some sort of forest creature; birds, rabbits, foxes, lizards, and the occasional deer. The majority were musicians or actors, performers of a multitude of genres. They were fiercely defensive, hurt one and the rest would destroy the offender.

Explaining the situation, you asked for volunteers. This wasn’t a turf war over home ground and you weren’t about to order anyone. Surprisingly, almost all you followers were ready to go. Maybe it wasn’t so surprising, almost everyone in Hell had beef with angels.

You appointed two of the strongest to stay back, along with half of the volunteers. If something happened to you or Alastor, you wouldn’t put it past those brats from the Vees to attempt a takeover. All of the demons you brought had flight abilities, which meant your songbirds could handle the aerial combat. Your contingent arrived just after the cannibals and Carmine’s weapon delivery.

“Ah there’s my darling and her flock!” You landed next to Alastor and Rosie, giving your friend a hug as you did. “Y/N! I was surprised you weren’t with your hubby but I see you’ve been busy too!”

“We have a lot to do and less time to do it, we can be attached at the hip after the fight,” you said as Alastor took your hand.

“Well I’m glad to see my favorite pair of aces back together. Let’s get all these fine demons settled, hm?” With your territories being neighbors, there was familiarity and even a few friends between the cannibals and your songbirds.

—————

Extermination Day. It didn’t matter how ready the defenders of Hell were, it was time. Almost everyone was in battle gear. You had traded in your sparkly flapper dress for a more practical A-line that reached your knees. You’d attempted a suit but the trousers just felt wrong. So a silvery grey dress with vibrant red pinstripes. The hem had long black points all along it, evocative of your blades. Since your summoned weaponry wouldn’t hurt an angel you had a rapier and half a dozen stilettos that would.

Alastor had requested a custom piece from Carmilla, a hat pin made of angelic steel. The finial had a spray of red feathers and he’d imbued it with a fragment of shadow. In return, you’d given him cufflinks shaped like vibrant red eyes. Of course they had a touch of your winds, not only to let him know you were okay but for you to track him if need be.

All too soon, the sky opened up and the exorcists spewed into Hell. At Vaggie’s war cry you and your followers took to the air. You looked for Alastor and saw him atop the hotel. No changes to his outfit, he looked impeccable as ever. His maniacal laugh echoed in the air as his shield formed an orb around the battle.

You and your flock were tasked with knocking angels out of the sky. Some did this by stooping like hawks, others used the angels own weapons to injure their wings. Your wind magick sent them tumbling into each other. Any that got too close to you were impaled or found you making the most of your momentum to fling them to the ground, mimicking how shrikes gave their prey whiplash.

A loud crack, golden light spreading through the black orb, and Alastor’s shield fell. He’d suspected that might happen and was ready to take Adam on. You didn’t concern yourself about their fight, even when your husband’s form grew. What did concern you was the slice of angelic power that dispersed it. Another swipe from Adam had Alastor flying across the rooftop.

“ALASTOR!” If all of Hell didn’t hear you then clearly they weren’t listening. No no no no not again I won’t lose him again. You stabbed the angel you were fighting in the throat and propelled yourself to his side. You landed protectively over his curled body. For the first time in decades you let your true form show.

Your wings turned metallic, silver and gold, and grew twice their size. They gained an art deco appearance but were as functional as ever. Your face became more avian. You had a hooked beak and your red limbs glowed as your talons sharpened. Dozens of your blades danced in the air around you and your husband.

“Back OFF!” You screeched at the angel’s leader. Wind kicked up by your voice tore at his clothes and wings.

“The fuck are you supposed to be crazy bitch?!” He launched a bolt of light at you; you parried it with stilettos but it was a near thing and it took out a third of what you had summoned.

“Y/N. His wife, you limp dicked bastard.” You launched the rest of your blades at him; they formed a rope like column that battered at him. You knew they wouldn’t be able to hurt him but you were looking for an opening with your rapier.

He fired wildly, yelling “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fucking bitch!” You moved to strike when three stray bolts peppered you. Two hit a wing, one your shoulder. With a screech you missed the opportunity and fell next to Alastor.

Suddenly your husband grabbed your arm. “Have to disagree with you there!” He said in a singsong. He made sure his grip on you was secure. “Radio’s not dead, but it is ending this broadcast.” His shadows wrapped around you both. As you were swept away you heard Adam say “Bye bitches!”

A tiny part of you felt bad, leaving everyone like that. The majority was grateful you and Alastor were alive. You were used to traveling in his shadow by now, so the sensory deprivation didn’t bother you like it once had.

But the loss of direction was unusual. “Alastor…?”

A moment passed. “I’m here cher.” He sounded in pain.

“Where are we going?” you managed to ask. You weren’t in great shape either honestly.

Another long moment. “I don’t know.” A shudder from the darkness around you. “I just had to get us away.” As much as you wanted to know what was happening beyond the shadow, you didn’t try to get out. You weren’t sure you’d be able to right now. Even if you did, you might just damage Alastor more.

Then a gold light showed even through the magick shadow. Immediately you were falling, still wrapped in darkness. You could feel Alastor’s desperation as the shadows stretched, trying to find…something! Some purchase or anchor to stop the fall. He managed to latch on a couple of times but couldn’t get a good enough grip. The last desperate grasp broke you both out of the darkness.

You found yourself falling down a chasm, pieces of the hotel falling with you. Alastor’s arms wrapped around you, his eyes shut tight as he braced for impact. Fuck! You struggled to flap your wings. The injured one didn’t work right. The other strained to support you both, unable to manage more than slowing the fall.

Wind! Come on come on! You focused, creating a cushion of swirling air around you. Just in time, it dampened the impact, turning a fatal fall into a bruising one.

The two of you landed in a parody of your sleeping positions. “Ow,” you said once you had enough air in your lungs.

Alastor couldn’t respond for a moment. “Ow indeed cher.” He winced as he sat up. “You saved us though my dear.” He helped you sit up slowly.

“Third time’s the charm.” At his quizzical look you clarified, “I couldn’t save you when you were shot or in that fight with Vox. But I managed it finally.”

“Saving it for when it counts cher.” The two of you could hear echoes from the battle above. A voice roaring “GO HOME” was followed by the specks of retreating angels and the portal to heaven closing.

“That sounded like Lucifer,” you mused.

“Ugh, the pipsqueak couldn’t be on time to defend his own realm?” He struggled up to his feet and held a hand out to help you. You used his support to steady yourself but mostly got up on your own power.

It took some effort but he located his broadcast tower crumpled in the bottom of the chasm. One emotional crisis later, while you examined the wreckage, he was a bit more composed. You found the last aid box and the pair of you patched each other up.

“We’ll get you out of the deal ma cher. And the one who holds your strings will find out what happens to those who come between us.”

Alastor’s smile turned vicious. “I’m not dying for anyone but you darling.” He grasped your chin to keep your gazes locked. “And don’t you dare think of doing otherwise.”

Your own lips stretched into a crazed grin. “That’s the spirit cher.” Laughing, he kissed your knuckles before pulling you both into his shadows to inform the rest of your survival.

A/N: This is all the main story for this fic I have until Season 2. I have a few one shots in mind, since there’s a century of potential content along with inserts into some episodes. I really hope this was validating for my fellow acespec Alastor fans. It definitely was for me. I know people are welcome to ship and be thirsty for characters as they like. But we seldomly get an asexual character, much less one that isn’t an emotionless robot.

In any case, thanks for reading! I’ve got a Helluva Boss AU that’s 27k words and counting if anyone needs more of my rambling stories. Smut content is clearly labeled and will be in contained portions as much as possible to limit the squick.

@edgyboi10000 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @deafsignifcantother @whitewolfsoldat @ch3sire-blu3

Part 1

#hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #fanfic #asexual alastor #asexual #acespec #ace representation #fluff #asexual reader #reader insert

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michelletsw · 9 months

Text

Cute thoughts

Romantic/crush writings not in a relationship

Gn reader (I don't have favoritism shush/j)

What if,

Grim got upset one night since you bought the wrong brand of tuna so he locked you out unable to get back inside, the ghosts finding it funny so the goof around helping grim leaving you locked outside for the night.

Ace

You sneak inside and get in his room quietly you see he has extra blankets on his bed and his blankets on the floor with a futon he's siting on his floor playing on his phone already in his pjs "why's your stuff on the ground?" Asking genuinely confused "just shut up and take the bed" he plugs in his phone and sets up where he'll be sleeping. "Your sleeping in your uniform?" He asks confused "I wasn't planing on it but I couldn't change before grim started throwing a fit" ace stands up and walk to his dresser he throws a shirt and sweat pants at you then lays down on the futon "bathrooms right there" you change and come back seeing the lights turned off and him falling asleep you lay down on the bed "thank you" you hear a sigh from him "don't mention it.." you fall asleep and his bed is way more comfortable then the one in ramshackle, that was the best you slept in awhile.

Deuce

Quietly and carefully you sneak inside and make your way to deuces room slipping in "what sleeping arrangements did you want to do?" You can see a soft pink on his cheek as he talks but trys to play it cool. Sitting on the ground he rolls out a futon "oh, ill take the futon it's your room after all" he looks at you confused "you sure I don't mind plus you had to deal with all this in the first place." He stands up already in his pjs and grabs the extra blankets for the closet "it's your room after all and you answered my distress call" laughing slightly from the situation. He places the extra blankets on the futon "I guess you wouldn't have pjs huh.." still in your uniform you sigh "no not really" fixing up the sheets as you talk, deuce goes to his dresser and opens the drawer and grabs one of his shirts and sweatpants "you can barrow these if you'd like" he seems a little embarrassed from the idea but still offers, you take them and go change in the bathroom once your done he's laying down on the futon asleep with his blankets and the extras on his bed for you, you lay down and get comfortable "thank you" he doesn't answer but it's still a sweet gesture.

Epel

One of the seven must be looking out for you since you got in through the window and into his room safe and didn't get caught. you see a futon on the ground next to his bed thats neatly made "you don't have pjs?" He sighs "I don't know if my clothes will fit you.." he's quieter with the second sentence, you sigh and start to ramble about grim but eventually get back to what your wearing "these are fine" you take off the jacket outerwear and are left with the simple white button up and your bottoms, "thank you for doing this really sleeping outsidewith nothing dosent seem that "fun"" you say trying to lighten the night some, while taking off your shoes "it's whatever just be quite so we don't get caught im surprisedwe didnt already but, the bathrooms over there" he lays down and trys to sleep, so you do the same the futon is still surprisingly more comfortable then the bed at ramshackle.. which seems a little unfair but atleast you have this now.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x y/n #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #ace x y/n #ace trapolla #ace x reader #deuce x y/n #deuce spade #deuce x reader #epel x y/n #epel felmier #epel x reader #twisted wonderland gn #twisted wonderland x gn reader #romantic #twisted wonderland fluff #fluff

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eserveofficial · 30 days

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 1 year

Text

Where I Belong Series

Summary: Let’s get small glimpses of Eddie, Salem and Fox’s daily lives. No order required, read it as you wish.

Pairings: Eddie Kingston x Fox (reader), Salem (daughter)

When Fox starts doubting her self worth, Salem comes to the rescue and tell Eddie what is really going on in the Kingston’s household.

Tag: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @eddie-kingstons-wifey

Salem knew you would never tell what was going on to Eddie, that’s why she decided to take matters into her own hands.

She peeked out her bedroom window to make sure you weren’t home yet before taking the steps down to her father’s “man cave” in the basement.

Eddie was lifting some weights when Salem sat on his armchair and turned off the stereo.

“Girl, I was listening to that!”

“We need to talk” Salem crossed her arms in front of her chest as she stared at her father’s sweaty face.

“And what is so important to say that you dragged your 17-year-old ass down here to turn off my music when I finally gathered the courage to work out this week?”

“Your wife”

“What about your mom?”

“Did you know she set up an appointment with a plastic surgeon for next Thursday?”

Eddie almost choked on his water after hearing Salem’s question. “No, I did not. Why would your mom hide that from me? That makes no sense- Hang on, how the fuck do you know that?”

“I heard her on the phone yesterday morning”

“Girl, what did I tell you about eavesdropping?”

“Don’t get caught” Salem stated nonchalantly “Which I didn’t”

“Yeah, that too. But don’t do it in the family, damn it!”

“So you don’t want to know why mom called the plastic surgeon then?” Your daughter threw the bait and watched the curiosity slowly creeping into Eddie’s features.

He sighed heavily and dropped the dumbbell on the floor before sitting down on the weight bench. “Shoot”

“She wants to put on silicone. She thinks she looks unattractive and a new set of boobs will somehow make her feel better about herself again. It’s a bunch of bullshit if you ask me, it’s all that old hag’s fault! We ran into Mrs. Davis at the grocery store last week and the woman kept whining about how her husband had found himself a young mistress with a brand new set of tiddies. She then told Mom she couldn’t understand how Mom could trust you since you’re on the road all the time, and I quote, ‘with all of those young women with perky breasts, generous backsides, and thin waists. Honestly, darling, we both know your husband is quite a man - even with his rough manners - it’s the thug appeal as some people call it. Frankly, it baffles me how you’re still together, and faithfully I hope, after all these years!’. Needless to say that the old bitch’s words got into mom’s head”

“That dusty old slut had the nerve to say that to your mom? What the fuck is her problem?! My wife is gorgeous! She needs no plastic surgery! I swear to god If I see that woman…I’ll smack her on sight!”

“No wonder Mr. Davis got a new mistress, that woman is insufferable! She’s determined to make everyone’s life a living hell, Dad. She convinced Mrs. Ashton to file for divorce!”

Eddie’s eyes widened in shock. Pamela Ashton was the mother of Salem’s childhood best friend: Lily. You and Eddie have known Pamela and Benny for over 20 years now, their marriage was stable and happy, with 2 kids and a successful business. Eddie can’t remember ever hearing them fighting; both Pam and Benny had talked with Eddie many times in the past in regards to his marriage. They always counseled him and put some sense back into his head after his nerves got the best out of him and he said something stupid to you. Benny was the one who helped Eddie set up the surprise second marriage proposal at Luigi’s restaurant, and Pam was responsible to convince you to go there and listen to him. Eddie knew how much they loved each other and therefore knew they would be the last couple on earth to file for divorce.

“Why did Pam file for divorce?”

“Because Mrs. Devil pulled the same stunt she did with Mom! Except she didn’t hold back because Mrs. Ashton was alone. She was using Mr. Ashton’s new secretary as her excuse. Lily tried to convince her mom to not listen to that old bitch but she had poisoned Mrs. Ashton’s mind already”

“But why did she believe it?! Benny loves her, he’s crazy for her! He wouldn’t have an affair, that’s bullshit!” Eddie threw the empty water bottle into the trash can as Salem sighed.

“You men don’t understand, do you? You guys get old and you get praised for it! People say you look more attractive, more appealing, more charming. Aging wears men so well, your wrinkles are a signature of attractiveness but it’s not the same for women! God forbid if we ever age! People expect us to look 23 even when we reach 54. We have to battle time, wrinkles, and aging, we’re not allowed to have a natural body or be happy with how it looks because guess what? Women are supposed to look fit as fuck 24/7, even after they gave birth. We’re supposed to meet stupid beauty standards because otherwise we’re taught that we’ll get dumped and replaced like a used rag if we don’t! There’ll always be someone prettier, younger, sexier, hotter that we have to constantly overcome to still be considered good enough of a woman. That’s why Mrs. Ashton filed for divorce because she couldn’t stand the thought of her husband of over 20 years replacing her with a younger woman. After all, Mrs. Ashton already wore her best years with her husband” Salem stood up from the armchair and walked closer to the stairs before looking back at her father “That’s why mom is looking for plastic surgery, dad. Because the idea of losing you is too much for her to bear. She’s scared that your love for her has died along with her youth. You don’t notice it, but she’s been on the edge for weeks now. Look, Dad, I know you don’t mean it, ok…but you take Mom for granted, you always have, and there comes a time when a person can’t take it anymore. Sometimes we just want to be valued by the person we love. Sometimes we just want to be seen for who we are and who we became over time”.

Salem watched as tears rolled down Eddie’s face, he sniffled once and nodded “Thank you for telling me, chickadee”

“No problem. Just don’t make me regret it, old man” She teased with a sad smile “I’m going to Lily’s for the night, gonna sleep there, ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure” Eddie stood up from the weight bench and laid a kiss on Salem’s hair “Be careful, and text me when you get there. I love you”

“I love you too, Dad”.

It was past 8 pm when you got home, the lights were off and you frowned at the quietness as you closed the front door.

“Sae? Eddie?” You called but didn’t get a response. Checking your phone to see if there were any missing calls, you found there was only one unread text from Salem:

Sae 👶: At Lily’s, gonna sleep here. Already told Dad and he gave the ok. See ya tomorrow. Love you xo.

You tossed your coat on the couch with a loud sigh “Looks like I’m alone again…As always”.

Of your daughter’s whereabouts you knew of, but your husband was nowhere to be found. Eddie didn’t pick up his phone nor answer your texts, he had nothing planned with either Mox or Monkey. Ruby also didn’t hear from him, and you knew it because you had called all of them on the way home, like a desperate wife trying to track down her cheating husband.

“I sound like a fucking fool. What a dumbass you are, Y/N. Really, how blind can you be?!” Murmuring to yourself you made your way up the stairs to your bedroom, only stopping by the hallway to retrieve a picture of you and Eddie from your dating era. You couldn’t help but smile at the picture.

Mox had taken it after your first double date, Eddie was sitting on the pull-out trunk of Moxley’s truck with you standing between his legs, he hugged you tightly from behind, chin resting on your shoulder with a big smile on his face. He had given you his denim jacket because you forgot your coat at his place. His hands rested on your hips, and you also had a huge smile on your face. Eddie had placed his white bandana on your head because he claimed you looked “extra cute" with it, but deep down you knew it was because this was his way of letting everyone know you were with him.

You both looked happy, incredibly happy, young, and free, with a fresh relationship and completely in love. It was then that you wondered when it had all changed. When did you become the distrustful wife and Eddie became the careless husband?

A single tear dropped on the picture frame’s glass, smudging the background of your love story. Your head lifted at the scent of cinnamon vanilla as you entered your bedroom.

“What’s going on?” You asked meekly, once your eyes spotted the several candles lighting up the bedroom. Eddie was dressed in one of his baggy dark jeans and a blue and white striped button-up shirt, holding a bouquet of red roses.

“Why are you crying, fox? What happened?” He quickly walked towards you. Eddie’s hand cupped your cheek and worry set upon his green eyes “You’re ok?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking…”

“Thinking about what, foxy?”

“I…I don’t know” You whispered back “What’s all this about?”

Eddie knew better than to push you to say something you weren't prepared to speak of yet, so he brushed the subject to the side before smiling softly “It’s been ages since we had some time for ourselves as a couple, so I thought why not enjoy it? Chickadee is gonna be at Lily’s until tomorrow, and I wanna enjoy the night with my beautiful wife. We deserve to have our time as a couple too, and not just as our daughter’s parents”.

You smiled and took the large bouquet in your hands “They’re beautiful, thank you”

“You’re beautiful! You’re still as gorgeous as the day we first met. And I’m even more madly in love with you now than I was when Mox took this picture” Eddie pulled the picture frame away from your grasp and placed it on top of the dresser.

“It’s always been you, fox. You were the woman I chose back then, you are the woman I choose today, and you will be the woman I’ll choose tomorrow. You’re my forever, the woman I fell in love with, the woman who taught me so much, the woman who gave me a child, a family, the only woman I’ll always want, always choose, always need, it’s you. No matter where we are or how old we are, it’ll always be you. Not even the hot nurses from the nursing home will be able to replace you, and even when they change my diapers I’ll tell them to not look too much because all of that belongs to you” Eddie joked making you chuckle against his lips “You’re so ridiculous”

He kissed you slowly, the type of kiss you hadn’t shared in months. Slow, passionate, needy, addicting.

“Salem told you about the doctor, didn’t she? I suspected she was listening to the call, she’s not as slick as she thinks” You asked once Eddie pulled back to caress your face.

“Yeah, she did. And no, that’s not the reason why I’m doing this. Chickadee told me a few things that made me realize how I was treating you, and that’s not what I want you to think, that I don’t appreciate you, love you, or don’t feel attracted to you because trust me, that’s not it! You’re a beautiful woman and you do turn me on, foxy!”

“You don't want me to have new boobs then?”

“Depends. If you want to put them on because you want them and it will make you happy then yes, I do want you to put them on. But if you’re doing it for me or because of what that old bitch said to you, then no, I don’t want you to put it on. You’re gorgeous, perfect, hot as fuck, and I love you like this, with the that body you have. But if you want to put on some new titties because it’ll make you happy and feel better about yourself, I fully support you. We’ll go to the doctor’s appointment together and see what he has to say”

“But you don’t mind if I don’t do it?”

“No, foxy. I don’t mind it at all! I love what you have, I’m more than happy with it. Completely satisfied” Eddie’s hands cupped your breasts through your shirt “I love the feeling of my natural babies over here” He squeezed your breasts “My fox is so perfect. Fuck, baby, I’m getting hard just from thinking about the things I want to do with you”

You smiled widely, placing the bouquet on the dresser by the picture frame before leaning forward and nibbling Eddie’s sensitive jawline “So what are you waiting for, Kingston?”

“Oh foxy, foxy” Eddie purred before pushing you down on the bed.

#where i belong series #eddie kingston x reader #eddie kingston imagine #eddie kingston fanfiction #eddie kingston #masochist writes

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tehriel · 6 months

Note

eeee yes wonderful!!!

when you get the chance, i have a request for daddy!aether and/or top!swiss/reader, with a dash of praise~

ty!! you’re amazing <33333

Thank you for the request!!

Tags: that good pasta

I am a little on the demi side so hard kinks and especially power play is hard for me to write about but here is a top!swiss the best I can~ you will see the saucy version below and the spicier version on AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49764631/chapters/129237049 If anyone else has a request for me~~ I go for scenarios, feelings, vibes, some days I go full ace with no real warning, so yeah give me things I can play with in most moods :3

I hope you enjoy it~

“Whatcha reading, ______?” Swiss slithered into your nook in the ministry library, and the charming bastard reclined on your desk, grinning at you. The library liked dark woods and the scent of paper; the stained glass windows kept you warm as you sunned yourself against Autumn’s early chill.

“I’m studying for my next sermon, but I’m pretty sure you already knew that,” you gave him a sidelong look.

He only grinned wider with too many teeth, as he did when he was about to bring chaos.

Your tail flickered in his direction. He was a handsome shit. He had dark grey blemishless skin and scruffy cheeks, and he wore a half knot of dreads, leaving the rest to frame his chest. He looked like a trickster god. Eyes black peeled and waiting for the next opening to run with. “What do you want, Swiss?”

“Can’t a pack-mate check on his favourite cardinal?”

Not when a certain pack-mate had the glint in his eye that he usually did. “How are you causing upheaval today?”

“Up-upheaval? Me?” He gripped his chest as if wounded.

You arched a brow. Did you really have to explain yourself? He was the loudest of your pack, the most animated when speaking, and always had a story of how he had gotten up to absolutely no good in hell. Known to have stolen from the princes, known to have taken Mammon’s wife in Mammon’s own bed—known for that grin and all it might entail.

“Right, maybe that is on brand, but I promised I’m on my best behaviour,” he showed all ten of his clawed fingers defensively. “I was just wondering if you wanted dinner with me tonight—alright, maybe there is some ‘upheaval’ on my mind—I have procured a large amount of hard liquor, and I’ve been hanging out to watch this movie Sodo said was funny, uh, ‘Velocipastor’.”

“You have to know Sodo has no fucking taste in movies.”

“Hence the alcohol,” he nodded and grinned, “Meal’s on me; I’m cooking.”

“So there will be reapers in my food again?”

“Naw, that was an honest mistake… I thought, ‘It’s the mortal plane, how fucking hot can it be’?”

You grimaced. “I’m sorry, my love, I would and maybe next week… no, it’s gotta be the week after because of ritual Saturday… then there’s…” you shook your head. “Autumn,” you shrugged, “so fucking busy.” You sunk at your desk.

“Ah, I know,” he sighed dramatically. The guy knew how to mope gorgeously. “I’ve missed you in my bed,” he pouted.

He’d be the death of you. “I have learnt that Sodo is very good for venting frustrations out on.”

“I have more than frustration for you, Sweetheart.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” you cracked a smile.

He grinned right alongside you until it fell, “I didn’t see you at breakfast, ______, you’ve been eating, right?”

“Yeah,” you waved off.

Dark lids fluttered a blunt blink.

“I’m a big ghoul, Swiss.”

“Sometimes a fucking wonder about that,” he muttered and stole a chaste kiss, brushing the rough of his cheek against yours. “I’ll see you later, hm? Don’t stress about the sermon; yours are always the best.”

“Not biased at all?”

“No, it’s true, I fall asleep in the other ones or try to choke myself to death or…”

You chuckled; you’d seen him do that with his guitar strap. “You aren’t choking yourself for death, you fucking monster.”

“Ah, but you know the French, huh? La petite mort?”

You shook your head.

“Perhaps ask Rain,” he winked and sauntered away.

“I love you, Swiss,” you called.

“Right back at you, Sweetheart,” he responded.

You would ask Rain about ‘La petite mort’, passing him in the hallway. The question left him stammering and blushing hard. Ah, Swiss; ever sewing little seeds of chaos in his wake.

***

“Sweetheart?”

You jolted awake from your desk, “Fuck! Papa, sorry… is it time for the ritual? I’ve… I’ve got most of it done—I just need to… to… Ah, Swiss…” your shoulders relaxed. The dread-head ghoul stood in your office with a ceramic bowl in his hand. You peered out the window behind you and rubbed the drool from your face. It was dark; last you checked, it had been five, the day had left you behind, and it was then eight forty. You had to have a desk-shaped imprint on your face. You groaned. You still had a day before the sermon. “Thanks for waking me, hun—was there something you needed?” you blinked at your writing, trying to make sense of the papers on your desks again.

“You weren’t at dinner, ______,” his tone was something you’d never heard from him. Low, on the edge of dangerous. “I haven’t seen you in the dining hall for the past week and a half.”

“I’ve just been busy; I grab from the kitchen… usually… sorry I haven’t been about to see you much, my love.”

“When was the last time you ate?” His voice, again, was dark.

A sudden chill ran up your arms. “Uh.. we’re ghouls, so it’s not a big deal…”

“_______,” he warned.

“Yesterday, what’s gotten into you, Swiss?”

Dark eyes narrowed. He wasn’t grinning. He stepped closer and shifted the papers from your desk with a swift sweep of his arm.

“What the fuck? Swiss,” you growled, standing.

“Sit.” He snarled in a way that tore through you, placing the bowl where your papers had been.

“Swiss…” You didn’t sit. You stood back, ready to collect your papers from the ground.

The other ghoul was quicker. He shoved you back down in your chair. You hadn’t seen him move like that since the last time the clergy went to holy war years ago. “Eat,” he commanded.

“What the fuck, Swiss?” you hissed up at him.

“I’m not playing here, Sweetheart.”

“And you think I am?” You spat.

“Your research isn’t going anywhere; you can get on your knees and pick them up after. For now, eat.”

Your nose wrinkled in a snarl, but you couldn’t deny you were hungry. The bowl was filled with a Mountain’s worth of pasta. The noodles looked handmade. He’d made it for you. “Fine,” you muttered. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“Evidently I do,” he growled, perched on your desk to watch you.

You studied Swiss for a while; you hadn’t known him to be so dominant. You had no idea what had gotten into him. You supposed you should eat anyway. You approached the food with the fork and messily ate some—ghouls were not known for their table manners. Hell left you with little to no etiquette, as etiquette was for the privileged, minor demons gorged on what they could fucking get. You moaned around a mouthful of pasta. Swiss was getting good with his cooking.

“I know it’s fucking good,” he growled from your side, sitting taller and looking down on you from your desk.

You were suddenly self-conscious about your eating, self-conscious in a way no ghoul generally was. Swiss was watching you. Watching the sauce dribble your chin. Eyes devouring how much you could fit in your mouth and the way you swallowed what he had made for you.

“Uh-Swiss, hun.”

“No speaking, let me enjoy this.”

What the fuck was happening? Was he getting off on you enjoying the food he’d made for you? You gave him an incredulous look.

“I like filling your belly in any way I can, _____,” his voice was gravel, and he was dead serious.

You couldn’t look at him and couldn’t seem to stop eating either. For one, the pasta had the perfect bouncy texture, and the sauce had to be made from scratch. And secondly, your hunger crashed in on you all at once—you had forgotten what it was to be hungry for a moment. Much to Swiss’s approval, you cleaned the bowl.

“Good bean for finishing, ______.”

“I’m sorry, what the fuck?” You scoffed.

“Don’t pretend me treating you like this doesn’t make you wet, Sweetheart, we’re ghouls—I can smell it on you.”

You frowned. Just as you had forgotten to hunger, you had forgotten to want. Ghouls could barely keep their hands off each other and the clergy, and it had been… at least a month since you had anyone. Oh, shit, he wasn’t wrong. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”

“Sweetheart…” Swiss began, stepping from the table and gently placing the empty plate on the floorboards and out of his warpath. “You’ve been away from my bed for too long, and you haven’t been looking after yourself—I’m afraid I will have to punish you.”

You scanned over the trickster’s face, and you couldn’t find a joke there. You swallowed. “Swiss?”

“On the desk, facing me. Now.”

#the band ghost #swissarmy ghoul #swiss ghost #swiss ghoul #swiss x reader #ghost fanfiction

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opossum-rights · 2 years

Text

Eyes on the Back of your Head

Rook Hunt x GnReader 2.3k Words

You feel like you’ve been going crazy lately, you can never shake off the feeling that you’re being watched. Little do you know it’s not just a feeling.

Warning: Pure cringe from several months ago that I dug up

Being a magic-less student in an institute designed to educate the best sorcerers in the land caused you to build quite a name for yourself. Those who didn't already know of you as the black sheep of NRC thought of you as the go-to remedy for the overblot crisis. Even now as things seemed relatively calm, you held somewhat of a celebrity status.

Wherever you went there was always someone's eyes on you; during lunch you could feel them on the back of your head as you half listened to whatever Epel and Jack were chatting about, walking through campus to your next class you tried to ignore them by busying yourself with mediating some little argument Ace and Deuce were having, even when visiting your friends in their dorms you would insist on moving to their rooms, not being rid of them until the door clicked shut.

It was beginning to get tiring; you never got this much attention back in your own world.

Even if Ramshackle was a poor excuse for a living situation, with walls that did nothing to keep the cold out at night and floorboards that would creek if so much as a mouse ran across, you found yourself releasing all the tension from the day as soon as you caught sight of it. That was, until a couple nights ago.

Homework done, chores taken care of, you felt like you could finally breathe. That's when you felt the familiar feeling of being watched. Looking over a shoulder, Grim was snoring away on the old couch as he always did when you brought out schoolwork.

It could've been the ghosts, but they haven't been around lately. It was pretty late, perhaps it's just Malleus waiting outside for you or one of the first years stopping by. Although, both of those occurrences follow up a text or warning of some kind. If it was one of them, though, you figured they wouldn't want to be held waiting.

You let out sigh and make your way to the main doors, creaking open no matter how careful you try to be with them for the sake of Grim's nape time. There's no one around. Not in the vast yard or down the path leading to the rest of campus.

"Weird, guess I’m starting to get used to how weird this place is," You mutter, thinking that if there was someone outside that they would take the hint of you going back in and show themselves.

But you stood outside for a couple minutes, thinking how weird it is that the feeling seems to be coming from inside.

The feeling eventually faded away and you were able to get to sleep at a reasonable time.

•••

The next night wasn't free from any strange occurrences either. Like the last, you got the intense feeling of being watched inside your home. Grim must notice it this time as well, being quieter than usual with his fur standing on end.

He got the more expensive brand of tuna that night to try and lighten the mood, and like usual, food proved to be the most reliable tool you had to deal with him. With Grim chatting away with his mouth full in the common room, you take the empty packages back to the kitchen to dispose of them.

Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, you lean on the counter and watch as the trees disappear in the night, starting from the back and slowly making its way towards you until you see nothing but the thin crack in the window.

That's strange, you could have sworn that wasn't there before. The window was right above the sink, so you spent a lot of time gazing out of it as you mindlessly washed the dishes.

It was a pretty long one to, not something you could easily overlook. You lean closer and gently scratch the glass to see if which side of the window it's on, only for it to catch onto your finger.

Oh, you think to yourself, that's not a crack, silly, it's a strand of hair. You immediately cringe back and shack your hand to get it off. You could tell it wasn't Grim's, and it surely wasn't yours.

The blond strand falls to the ground and lands in the space under the cupboard full of dust. You grab the water and quickly make your way back to the common room, taking the empty bowl from Grim who's too busy falling into a food coma after his meal to notice the look of unease on your face.

Not wanting to get close to the window, or the kitchen in general, you place the bowl on an end table in the entrance of the room, scoop your cat up, and speed walk upstairs and into your room.

You deposit Grim on the bed, go over to the windows, and pull the curtains close with such force that you almost think they won't be able to handle it.

Making your way to the door you lock it and rattle the knob for a while to make sure it's working, then unlock it to do it again.

Even after the feeling fades and you're settled under the covers, Grim close to your side, you can't relax enough to sleep.

•••

The next day Epel mentions your shabby appearance at lunch, saying that Vil would throw a fit if he showed up to class looking like that. It makes sense, you stumbled through putting on your uniform this morning and the bags under your eyes don't help.

"I've just been a bit stressed lately. Haven't been getting much sleep cause of it, you know?" You try your best to send him a nonchalant smile.

"If you want something to help with that, I'm sure we could find something back in my dorm room. Vil's always giving me these creams to try, and I haven't even opened half of them," You accept his offer, wanting an excuse not to go back to Ramshackle when the day ends.

•••

You manage to avoid running into Vil as you made your way through Pomefiore, thankfully as he's started to take you under his wing in the same vein as Epel since his overblot. Feeling the calmest you've had in a while, you take a seat on his bed with Grim sitting in your arms as Epel rummages around in a drawer.

"Here's some stress relief stuff for your skin, not know how helpful it's gonna be with what you're dealing with, but it smells nice at least," He hands you a good-sized bottle of lotion which you gratefully accept.

"I'm sure it'll work fine. I'm already feeling better being able to hang out with you," A small blush spreads across his face as you rub a dollop of the lotion into your arm, taking a sniff. It's nice, has a sort of pine smell.

You chat for a while about Epel's upcoming magift game; he beams when you promise to be there, not mentioning that Leona would give you a hard time if you didn't. When Grim starts complaining that he's hungry, Epel offers to walk you back to the mirror. You're having a nice time, despite how weird things have been lately.

•••

All good things must come to an end, you suppose.

As the three of you pass a tree in the courtyard, something, or someone, jumps from a branch and lands right Infront of your path. You let out a little yell and stumble backwards, losing your footing and about to fall flat on your back, but the person from the tree quickly surges forward and grabs your arm to pull you back up.

"My my, caught you off guard, did I? To be expected from a hunter such as moi!" Rook apologizes for startling you, not letting his grip on your arm up even after you regain your balance.

Epel taps on your shoulder and hand you back the lotion, which must have been dropped during your scare. Rook moves his hand from your arm to his chin, giving you a once over as a questioning look shows on his face.

"Forgive me for saying, but has something been bothering you mon ami?" He glances at the bottle in your hand and messy uniform before moving back to your face.

"They've just been tired lately, gave them some stuff for it. I'm actually taking them back to the mirror right now," Epel states as he shifts back to your side, which you're thankful for, a bit too tired to deal with the eccentric blonde.

"Ah, Is that so? Well, then I wish you both a good evening, au revoir!" Rook steps aside as you and Epel pass. You can feel him staring as your back, a familiar feeling that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand.

•••

That night all you grab for dinner is a bag of chips, finding you're not that hungry and preferring to spend as little time as possible in the kitchen. As usual, the feeling of eyes sitting somewhere you can't see returns.

Earlier than usual you take Grim to bed, following your routine from the previous night. You stand Infront of the mirror in the bedroom and rub in some of Epel's lotion on the tensest parts of your face. You close your eyes, breath in and out, until you feel as relaxed as you can.

It was a nice day earlier, but now you can hear the wind howl past, pushing against the walls making a creaking sound that's a little too similar to the floor makes. As a result, you are too scared to sleep.

You feel crazy.

There hasn't been any concrete proof that anything strange is happening. Sure, there was the hair, but it's an old house, and it might've blown in from somewhere. The feeling, you're just not used to the attention and decidedly do not like it.

The creaking, from the wind outside. The wind that's apparently targeting the lower floor. It sounds like it's right under you. That shouldn't be possible, the way the dorm is built you should be right above the middle of the common room, not even close enough to the side walls.

Focusing more on the creaking under you, it comes to mind that it's louder than the noises coming from the walls. Despite the cold you can feel yourself sweat. The creaking moves, your eyes widen. It's on the stairs now, there's no denying that it's the floorboards now.

Each stair creaks under the weight of whoever's in your home, now settling on the second floor.

You try to keep your breath steady. It moves closer, they are in no rush.

You feel your body tremble. It stops outside your door.

You feel tears fall down your face.

There is no more creaking that night

•••

In the morning you try to go about things as usual to not upset Grim. You put off leaving the room until he falls after jumping to reach the knob, complaining about being hungry as usual. You hold your breath as you move downstairs, constantly checking over your shoulder.

Nothing is there. Despite your heart stopping every time you glimpse your own shadow, you desperately want to leave. You grab Grim, who grumbles that it's too early to leave yet. You don't look back as you close the doors behind you.

•••

"Are you sure you're okay, you look worse than yesterday," Epel looks concerned. The bags under your eyes are worse now, the area having a puffy look from your crying. You completely forgot some parts of your usual uniform, and you've been jumping at the slightest sound.

You feel bad for making him worry, confessing that you think someone broke into your dorm last night. He jumps up, immediately checking to see if you're visibly hurt. You look too shaken up to be joking.

"Come on, we need to get Crewel, or Crowly, or someone!" He starts to set off, but you quickly grab his hand, begging him to sit back down. You're not even a hundred percent sure that there was someone in the first place. You tell him that with exams coming up you don't want to bother the staff. He looks into your eyes, tearing up and despite, and sits back down.

He's not letting it go completely though, declaring that you're spending the night in his dorm, you're not going back to Ramshackle until him and some of the others check it out. You slump in your seat and nod.

•••

With exams many of the Pomefiore students are in the library or in their rooms studying, leaving you and Epel alone in the kitchen. You didn't stop at Ramshackle after classes, so all you have with you is your school bag, with your gym uniform as something to sleep in.

Grim was shipped off with Ace and Deuce, Epel saying that Vil banned any type of animal that sheds and that you two needed to study for a class you only had with him. They reluctantly agreed, you feel bad for Riddle already.

The air is tense, neither of you wanting to start the talk that needs to be had. Instead, you make uncomfortable small talk about how you're going to explain your sleepover to Vil. The conversation dies out, with Epel excusing himself to the restroom.

You're left alone. What are you doing?

You're getting Epel all worried for no reason and taking his attention away from studying. You feel shame rise in your chest, but feel a chill rise up your back. You look behind you, but there's no one there. The longer you sit here the worse the feeling gets.

You figure Epel wouldn't mind if you just went to wait for him in his room and quickly stand and grab your bag without pushing back your chair. As you move towards the dorm rooms, you hear the sound of a chair being set back into place and hitting a table. You speed up.

You look behind you, but nothing's there. You start to panic. The picture-perfect hallways make you confused, not knowing if you're by the first-year rooms or somewhere else. You swore Epel's room was this way, you can't afford to get it wrong.

Finally, you find his door. Wasting no time in rushing in, you turn and slam it shut. You try to control your breathing as you wait. You feel the blood leave your face as you turn and see bows and arrows hung on the wall. You know exactly who's room this is.

A pair of arms circles around your waist, keeping your from moving as if you could find the courage to in the first place. You feel his breath on the back of your neck.

"Mon ami, you gave a great chase! Truly reminiscent of a panicked little rabbit," Rook buries his face in your hair, smelling it as he rubs his thumbs on your stomach.

You feel sick.

"How sorry I am for your current state. That rotting building you call home didn't make it easy for me, but that matters not, as we're finally together!" He rocks you back and forth.

You feel his mouth by your ear, a tongue moving around the shell.

"Now that you’re here, we can discuss our happily ever after."

#twisted wonderland #twst #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #yandere #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst rook

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razorblade180 · 2 years

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Car Date

V2 outfit Weiss:*opens door* Poor people are weird!

Yang:I take offense, but what’s up?

Weiss:So Jaune pissed me off last and ended up ruining my lunch. As an apology he offered to not only pay for my food but also treat me for today out in town.

Yang:Sounds like a date.

Weiss:Yeah he’s not fucking slick but I’m cut off and he actually felt bad so I was like “Sure, whatever. I better like the food.”

Yang:Reasonable request, go on.

Weiss:Today I decided I’m going to be on my best behavior and not give him a hard time. He dressed casually, I’m clearly looking nice as you can see. Now…I wasn’t expecting gourmet from him. My bar was a sit down restaurant.

Yang:Fast Food?

Weiss:Fucking….Fast Food.

Yang:*nods* On brand but hey, burgers are filling.

Weiss:.That’s what he said! They’re also too greasy and not always put together. I almost wanted to hope out of his car-

Yang:Jaune drives?

Weiss:Yes! He actually pulled up near the gate and picked me up, opening the door and everything. It earned him enough points for me to not walk out the car.

Yang:Plus you’re starving and would be walking all the way back in heels.

Weiss:Fact. So I suck it up-

Yang:Pfft-

Weiss:No, grow up for like three minutes. I…endure the thought of Fast Food and I’m ready to get out of the car, but then he pulls into Drive-Thru.

Yang:Okay that’s not the strongest move on his part.

Weiss:That’s what I was thinking! I took the time to get dressed and ready and I don’t even go into a restaurant!? I was getting livid, but still hungry. I ordered my number 3, he asked for ice cream but their machine was broken so he just gets his number 5 and I’m ready to be driven back. Can you guess what he does?

Yang:We’ll as you implied, I’m poor, your rich, and I already know Jaune isn’t a dumbass. He drove to a nicer spot while keeping a budget.

Weiss:He told me his car is 1000 times cleaner than sitting inside. Plus it’s noisy in there, so he ends up driving over to this little park that had a duck pond and he put his car in this nice little spot away from other cars. I could see the sun and civilians in the distance and it was already past noon so sky is getting a little red too. Now I’m thinking…. “Okay~ not bad.”

Yang:As you should. Go on.

Weiss:I thought we were going to eat at park bench, but instead he rolls up his windows and turns on AC. He taught me how to move the move the seats back so we could have more room to eat in the car. Now we have no bugs or people to deal with, he had hand sanitizer in the glove compartment, and he let me plug my scroll in to play whatever music I wanted.

Yang:*smiles* Thoughts?

Weiss:…

Weiss:I have never had a more relaxing lunch in my life! In a car of all places! The food wasn’t terrible either!

Yang:Duh. I doubt he would’ve let you ordered something shitty.

Weiss:We literally just ate, talked, and went back and forth with the playlist. *smiles*…..Why the fuck was that so great!?

Yang:All for the valued price of 15 dollars I bet. You thought you needed lots of money for a quality experience?

Weiss:No but I never thought sitting in a parked car with Fast Food would become a core memory!

Yang:Now he’s the real question. Do you want to do it again, or do you want to do it again with him?

Weiss:….

Yang:AAAAAYYYEEE!!! This is how it starts!

Weiss:Shut up! No it isn’t!

Yang:Did you try only eating the fries in front of him to avoid looking like a starved beast?

Weiss:Perhaps.

Yang:Did you want to try his food?

Weiss:Only because I was hungry and curious!

Yang:The scent of being in Jaune’s passenger seat, can you still smell it? Did you hate it?

Weiss:…..*crimson* THIS IS A PROBLEM.

Yang:Aaaaa! *hugs Weiss* Look at you! I look forward to your growth and development!

Weiss:I just wanted a free meal! Not a genuine human connection!

Yang:Man gave you food for the stomach and the soul.

Weiss:Shut. Up. *hugs back*

#rwby #weiss schnee #whiteknightmonth #yang xiao long #rwby whiteknight

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eserveuniverse · 9 months

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vajazzly · 9 months

Text

ok while summer came early chapter five is (still, im sorry, i KNOW) in the works ive been messing around with some b-sides, so, have some 18-year-old wolfstar being..... them.

(for the full experience please queue up chicago by sufjan stevens and press play at the line "the opening notes start to play")

Remus nods off twice at the diner in Toledo despite the cocktail of adderall and caffeine he’s been mainlining for the past few days, so Sirius is at the wheel when they finally pass the sign welcoming them to Chicago, which is really kind of anticlimactic - Remus is sound asleep with his head pressed awkwardly against the window and the sign is nothing special, plain green with nothing to distinguish it from all the other nondescript signs that came before it. Sirius lets himself bask in the moment anyway. Traffic is backed up for god knows how many miles, their AC is halfway to broken and he sweat through his t-shirt two hours ago, the highway is, honestly, particularly ugly - but they’re here. Chicago.

He manages to prod Remus awake after a respectable ten minutes of grumbling, but once he’s awake he sits up, too fast and banging his head on the roof of the car, rubbing at it while he stares out the window, blinking, turning back to Sirius with an eyebrow raised and a shit-eating grin.

“Oh no, it’s hideous.”

“Shut up! It’s - grab the CD, fucker!”

“The CD?”

“Yes, the fucking CD!”

“What CD?

“The - the fucking CD! The CD!”

“Oh, the CD?”

It occurs to Sirius then that Remus is fucking with him, which he thinks is a sign he needs to get them to the new apartment as soon as possible so they can both get some sleep. Remus laughs and rifles through the glove compartment as he groans and complains and rolls down the window to flip off a minivan that tries to cut him off, shouting garbled nonsense as they speed off - traffic is inexplicably going faster as they approach downtown, and really that doesn’t make any sense and it means Sirius is shouting at Remus to hurry the fuck up, no, not that song, keep skipping, for God’s sake -

The opening notes start to play just as the skyscrapers of downtown come into view, and then Remus is cranking the stereo up as loud as it’ll go and craning his neck to stare out the window with his jaw hanging wide and Sirius is trying to do the same while also making sure they don’t crash and die on I-90, and it’s not really the best view and it’s still too fucking hot and Sirius hasn’t slept in two days, but all the same he opens his mouth as the opening lyrics start to play and something intangible clicks into place.

I fell in love again

All things go, all things go

Remus rolls down his window and the wind whips at their hair, blowing all the strays that have fallen out of Sirius’s ponytail directly into his eyes and he almost tells Remus to roll it back up, you fucking fuck - but then Remus is sticking his head out with that brilliant toothy smile of his, belting the lyrics -

Drove to Chicago,

All things know, all things know

Everything they own is stuffed into every nook and cranny of the Forester Remus bought five days ago off of some elderly woman in Jersey, and they made a thing of it, just the other day on their last night in Alphard’s apartment, deleting all the phone numbers of all their friends and teachers and social workers in New York until only three remained - each other, Marlene, and Dorcas, whoever they turn out to be, faceless names they’ll be sharing a kitchen, a TV, a brand new life with. It’s exhilarating. Untethered, unmoored except for each other, Sirius has never felt safer, more alive, more free - like New York was dead weight he’s been dragging around that’s suddenly been lifted off, and he imagines for a moment that the sweat on his back is the imprint it’s left, soon to fade into nothing.

There’s a lot to worry about once they reach the new apartment. Bills, and jobs, and shaping themselves into something more - something that’ll last. There’s a ring on Remus’s finger, a cheap, tarnished thing he nicked from a thrift store when the clerk wasn’t looking. It’s not the real thing, not quite yet, but it is a promise, a future, a clear path forward into the unknown, together. All they need, really.

#fic: summer came early #snip snip #ive been thinking abt summer came early wolfstar a lot recently and this is what came out #bon appetit ig?

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eserve-hyderabad · 4 months

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durgapraneeth · 4 months

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eserveofficial · 9 months

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LG AC Service Center Near Lb Nagar Hyderabad

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