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hazelfoureyes · 1 month

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The SafeWord is RadioApple (part 3)

Alastor x Lucifer

part 2 male reader is coming, this was mostly written though so I wanted to get it out; reader referred to with they/them pronouns

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱

Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱

Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱✨NEW✨

Flint and steel

You made it very clear the two demons had to get along when it came to whatever you three were doing. Which they did! …A great job at pretending to do! They could’ve probably kept it up, until Lucifer tried to humiliate Alastor at a party. Luci says Alastor doesn’t know how to satisfy you? Well Alastor is happy to show him otherwise. Too bad you’re not there….

「Warnings/Promises: DomAlastor x SubLucifer, Reader is not there when it happens, GN reader, choking, hands free ejaculation, anal, bondage?, praise kink, begging, Luci the cocksleeve, Luci the pretty little bird, Alastor tops in every sense, angelic blood kink?, biting, scratching, tentacles briefly penetrate, In every universe Angel appears when he’s not supposed to, Anal Smut sponsored by Ozzie’s Lube; Keep your lust ring happy©」

Minors DNI 👮 ✋

Alastor explained the best he could, that he had wanted to humiliate Lucifer and got a little carried away. In his defence, he had genuinely forgotten he had spoken to Charlie.

“Would I have stayed otherwise?” He asked.

That wasn’t the point.

“I don’t mind your unfounded rivalry. But if you drag this,” you gestured to all three of you, “into it again, we’re gonna have a different conversation.”

His hair bristled. Lucifer opened his mouth, ready to say something mocking, but you cut him off, “That goes for you too. Enough.”

Lucifer pouted, it seemed wholly unfair he be lumped together with Alastor for anything.

Well, not anything. He was finding situations he was quite alright with having Alastor join.

“Peace. Give me peace. Can you do that? Just dial back this bullshit?”

No. “Of course. I’ll be the perfect gentleman as always.”

Absolutely not. “Not a problem! I literally did nothing wrong, so, haha, super easy.”

“Fair enough, Luci.”

Alastor’s edges sharpened. Nothing? He’d been canoodling you in every public space the hotel had.

His body relaxed again. Ah, he understood. Alastor was, to his distress, bothered watching Lucifer make public displays of affection with you. It sent out a message to others that Alastor was being undermined in an established relationship since one knew the details, or that perhaps things had ended already and no one had been informed. That was how it could be interpreted. If direct attacks were not acceptable, then he’d just have to make a louder message.

Alastor’s smile unnerved you. You knew well enough to read his subtle changes in facial expression.

But even with your skill in knowing Alastor better than most, you hadn’t noticed the change in him immediately. It was small at first. A hand on your hip when you were standing side by side. Quite nice.

Pressing into the side of you when sitting on the sofa. Lovely.

A kiss good morning in front of the others. You’d woken up in the same bed, already said good morning. Okay… strange. But appreciated.

Pulling you into his lap in the lobby. “Alastor. An innocent look if he ever could make one. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged, “What ever do you mean?” His smile widened.

How could you complain?

“You’re unusually physical.”

Hands rubbed at your hips, making you nearly jump from his lap, “You don’t like it?”

He knew very well you liked it. He could tell by how much hungrier you were becoming at night. Lucifer now a nearly daily interloper, helping Alastor unravel you under the canopy of his bed.

And it was true. Suddenly having both men showering you in physical affection was creating a new problem entirely.

Alastor’s mouth on your mouth, fingers on your body. Lucifer’s hips snapping against yours, claws gently scratching down your back. You fell asleep satiated and woke up hungry.

What you didn’t see, brain fogged with the stimulation, was how both men glared at each over of your body.

How when you entered a room they were in, Alastor would use his shadows to reach you before Lucifer could. No, you didn’t notice how suddenly Lucifer was always flagging you down and pulling you away from Alastor to discuss hotel topics.

You were quite impressed, a week of peaceful days and lustful nights, not a jab or barb to be seen.

For you, that is. Alastor would spin his mic too quickly, knocking off Lucifer’s hat. At least once his shadow tendrils outright tripped the king of hell as he descended the stairs. Luckily no one of importance was around to witness the brief and only mildly destructive battle that followed.

Not that Lucifer was an innocent party in any of it. He dropped the lobby chandelier on Alastor. Charlie is convinced there's something wrong with the bolts anchoring it to the ceiling now.

When he saw Alastor was just behind him to enter a room, he opened his wings, knocking Alastor backward.

Their favorite form of competition though remained you. Who could illicit the deepest moans? Who made your eyes roll back the most?

Something imperceptible to them, that you were well aware of, was how every night they inched closer and closer. While before you had an expanse of bed to explore between the two, by the end of the week you could barely roll over without brushing against one of them.

You felt quite accomplished. No brawls (that you witnessed), no overly cruel comments (within your earshot), no power plays (that you could perceive).

You said as much to them, everyone gathered in the common area around the bar in celebration of the 100th guest to move in. A modest party, most residents weary of being caught in the crosshairs of Alastor’s and Lucifer’s bickering.

“A toast. To… common ground?” You smirked, happily the thing shared between the two.

“To shared interests.” Alastor offered.

Lucifer, rarely one to drink, eagerly rose his drink, “To my Kitten!”

Alastor’s glass shattered in his fist. “Oops. Husk?”

It should have been an omen to you. But you laughed it off, a little broken glass wasn’t so bad considering the alternative; them choking each other out on the bedroom floor.

Perhaps the week's events had you too relaxed, quickly finding yourself drunker than you could recall in recent memory. You weren’t alone though. Lucifer’s tongue felt numb in his mouth, the effects of three apple martinis. And while Alastor was a little past tipsy, it was hard to tell with him. He was managing to keep his composure for the sake of one upping Lucifer.

Angel approached both men, “I don’t know which one of yous is the top in this fucked triangle but y’all okay with me takin’ them to their room? They are wasted.”

Alastor opened his mouth, but Lucifer spoke quicker, “Not at all! Thank you Angie.”

Alastor’s head whipped around to face Lucifer, “You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

“Ha! Said the man who broadcasts his across the Pride Ring. Not that anyone listens to that trash.” Lucifer inspected his fingernails, pretending to not care.

“Very funny coming from you. The tacky circus master who can’t even keep hell safe.” A tinge of static broke through.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed.

The sound of stations flipping through an AM radio frequency, Alastor’s annoyance clicking through his speech, “Now that I think about it, you can’t keep much of anything at all. Where is your estranged wife, anyway?”

Horns materialized, breath fiery, “You wanna talk about relationships? You needed to tap me in to satisfy your woman.”

All anyone saw was Alastor grab the lapels of Lucifer’s jacket and yank them half way down his arms before both men descended into a pool of shadow that then disappeared entirely.

Lucifer stumbled back from Alastor, struggling to free his arms in the makeshift restraints Alastor had made. His jacket was folded down to his elbows, too tight to roll off and too far down to slip back up. “Just admit it. She needed me because you can’t meet her needs. Your relationship is incomplete without me!”

Alastor’s hands were on his neck before Lucifer could react. Squeezing, Lucifer gasped, eyes immediately losing focus.

His tail wound onto Alastor’s thigh, spade tip tapping twice.

Like a dog trained to a dinner bell, Alastor instinctually loosened his grip, his face not hiding his dismay. Lucifer moaned at the lighter pressure.

No, it wasn’t supposed to end up like this. He had other plans for how to dominate over Lucifer.

Shadow tendrils burst from the floor and tossed Lucifer to the bed, arms still trapped on either side of his chest.

“It seems you need some correcting on how well I can satisfy. Quality over quantity, my liege.” He loosened his bowtie. “And a reminder on who pulls the strings. You were allowed into my bed by me.” His hands came to Lucifer’s hips pulling him up onto his lap, back still on the bed as his bottom settled onto Alastor’s crotch. “You were allowed to enjoy my darling’s company by me.” Alastor leaned forward to hover over Lucifer.

The king of hell was flush from a combination of alcohol and shock, eyes glossy and big. His chest heaved slightly with every breath, mouth hanging open. Alastor brought a hand back to his neck, “Everything you cherish with your kitten was granted to you by me.” His hand began to squeeze, Lucifer’s tail returning to twirl around his thigh.

And there it was. Perhaps the most delicious sight Lucifer could offer Alastor; absolute surrender. Eyes closed, Lucifer fought the urge to roll against Alastor with his hips.

Yes, he hated the radio demon. But, well, hate was so close to passion. And passion could be enthralling. Lucifer had never been choked in a setting that wasn’t literal danger. He imagined for a moment how you felt, how you looked at him when Alastor fucked you while gripping your neck. It looked like it felt good. He wanted to feel it, too.

But he couldn’t possibly ask. Alastor would laugh and say no. Lucifer wasn’t sure his pride could survive that.

Alastor had been trying to find ways to soften his approach to Lucifer, knowing very well that if he could endear himself to the devil like he had Charlie he could increase his influence seven fold.

This wasn’t quite what he had in mind. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to toss him to the bed, it was a strange reaction to Lucifer’s insolence and moan. How many had heard the great corruptor moan like a bitch? How many had pinned him down beneath them? His cock was twitching to life in his lap as he stared down at Lucifer.

It was not what he had planned, but it could be just as effective. More so, even.

Lucifer stared at the back of his eyelids. Alastor stared at Lucifer. Both men made a silent decision.

Alastor’s hand tightened a little more, Lucifer grinding his ass against the other. Replying in kind, the radio demon leaned further over Lucifer, folding the smaller man in half as he ground down into him.

Lucifer didn’t attempt to stifle his moan, hands flexing where they were stuck, wishing desperately to hold onto Alastor’s arm that was gently increasing pressure still.

Every roll of his hips made Alastor’s breath hitch, the reality of who he was going to fuck into his mattress catching a fire in his veins.

Tap tap went his spade tipped tail on the inside of Alastor’s thigh.

“Open your eyes, your majesty.” Alastor leaned down, nose touching nose.

Lucifer opened one eye first, then the other. His pupils were blown. Alastor pressed his erection down against Luci’s own, making the other man clench his teeth.

“Were you listening?” He asked Luci.

A grin, “No.”

Alastor growled, hands both going to Lucifer’s pants, pulling them and the ducky boxers down to his shoes before peeling everything off and letting them fall to the floor.

Luci’s cock slapped up against his stomach, leaking already. He glared, hearing the radio demon laugh.

“You were listening a little, I think.” His hand touched the sticky clear liquid, a strand following his finger as he pulled it back.

“Are you going to take off my jacket?” Luci wiggled.

“Hmm, no.”

He threw his head back, blonde hair losing its usual coiffed shape.

Alastor slotted himself again between Luci’s thighs and began to unbutton the other man’s shirt. “There’s been something on my mind for awhile now.” He said, opening the shirt and revealing his pale chest. “Do you still taste like an angel?” His teeth sank into the shoulder muscle, Luci’s knees coming up and wrapping around his waist.

Dizzying, the rush of pure angelic blood into his mouth made Alastor weak. Golden liquid, sweet as honey and aromatic like fresh sage, dripped down Luci’s skin. The pain was light, Luci’s body thrusting into the empty space between their bodies.

“Touch me,” Luci meant to make it a command but it came out more of a plea.

He briefly considered saying no again, but let his hand wrap around Lucifer’s cock. He didn’t move though, instead letting Luci thrust in and out of his fist.

Alastor was aware how vocal Lucifer was, but he was a little surprised the normally difficult man didn’t even try to hide how good Alastor was making him feel.

Luci was sighing, body unable to stop itself from pushing up and into the warm hand he had been offered. The tongue lapping at his shoulder, Alastor hungry for him, was making him glow. He always enjoyed feeling wanted, being praised, and no praise was better than seeing Alastor’s demonic deer antlers grow above him.

Another bite, higher up now on his neck. Before, just working his shaft inside Alastor’s hand, he now was dragging the head of his dick inside of the grip. Sticky and wet, Alastor’s fingers providing ridges that bumped over his erection.

His own fingers were gripping the blankets, unable to do much else.

With a snap and a small puff of smoke, Lucifer took to the task of preparing himself for Alastor with a small bottle of lubricant. Freshly lubed fingers shifting under his body and stretching down to reach his hole. His thrusting slowed, focus now on prodding gently into himself. The other demon hadn’t noticed, attention devoted to lapping up every errand drop of blood.

With his arms restrained he couldn’t reach well, only a knuckle of his middle finger making any headway.

“I can’t reach.” He whined. Alastor perked up, looking at his face and then down between his legs.

“Ah,” he stared, Lucifer’s finger pathetically entering himself an inch or so. “When did you get lube?” Luci didn’t reply. “Hand it here.”

Lucifer looked a little surprised, which insulted Alastor. “I’m not a monster. I fully intended to prepare you.”

When all Luci did was squint, Alastor shrugged, leaning back over and licking at the dripping blood. He felt Luci’s body jump, one of his summoned tentacles now pressing cautiously into him.

Lucifer helped along the stretching, fingers rubbing the thick lube along the tendril as it pushed in an inch and pulled back a half, in two inches, back one.

This was progressing much better now. Luci’s hands relaxed back at his sides, eyes closing as he tried to let his muscles go slack. Deep breath in, deeper breath out.

Alastor listened and felt the smaller of the two funnelling all of his energy into easing his hole open.

“All this effort for little ole me?” He nipped Luci’s skin, no blood, just for fun.

Lucifer hissed, “This has literally nothing to do with you.”

“Funny, feels like it does.” He tightened his hand around Luci’s jumping cock.

“It’s the alcohol.” A blush he could feel radiating off his face spread from ear to ear. His mind kept flashing back to you. Would Alastor make him moan his name like you did? A prayer into the sheets? A twitch. Alastor’s body always seemed to know exactly where to go on yours. With a little practice, could he be brought to pleasured tears too? Luci moaned into Alastor’s shoulder.

“More,” this time it was a command, and one Aastor was happy to oblige, living shadow pushing deeper into Luci’s body. A groan, long and loud. The burning stretch made his dick weep into Alastor’s hand and onto his stomach.

Was it enough? Ozzie’s advice echoed in his head, “Better to prepare than tear!” a slogan his branded lubricant proudly declared.

His hips began moving again, every thrust up into Alastor’s hand met with a down thrust onto the tendril. Alastor’s hot breath over his neck, clawed hand on his member, tendrils deep in his ass. He felt like he was being swallowed whole by the deer demon, and it felt heavenly. Did heaven know such sensations? How could he suggest Alastor has the 8th sin?

Alastor was patient, uncharacteristically some would say, sighing into Luci’s skin as his angelic blood moistened his chin and lips. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? He had been within biting distance for weeks now. If he had done this while they were mingling around and in you, it could have been seen as a part of the sex. He lowered, pulling Luci’s vest and shirt open wider so he could sink his teeth just above his nipple. Luci gasped, another moan following it.

The tail around his leg tightened, slithering up to his still clothed erection.

“Were you going to get naked or just fuck me through your pants?” Luci felt he was ready, hole soft and pliant.

A hum into his chest, “Was that an option?”

“Fuck you.”

“That is the topic of discussion, sire.”

Sire

Luci whined, eyes rolling side to side, “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

Alastor laughed, “You’re full of jokes tonight. Actually funny ones for once, too.” With the speed of a man with nowhere to be, Alastor leaned up and settled onto his legs. Belt undone and pulled off. Button, zipper, he sat up to drop his pants and underwear. Luci craned his neck up trying to watch, face still pink.

His hand came out and motioned to Luci to hand it to him. The small bottle of lube rolled from Luci’s fingers and down to Alastor’s knee.

Alastor poured a generous amount onto his manhood, hand pumping it along his shaft and reddening head. Luci’s heart was pounding, arms tugging at the jacket that kept him bound. He considered going full demon and ripping the jacket to pieces.

But then his eyes darted down, feeling pressure and heat as Alastor was lining himself up.

Alastor met Luci’s eyes, an unspoken, ‘ready?’

“Go ahead, Allie.”

With no cup to shatter, Alastor’s hands pulled Luci’s legs up and open by the ankles and snapped his hips with one motion into the devil’s slick ass.

Luci yelped, eyes watering. “Asshole!” He cried.

“Much better.” Alastor pulled out nearly entirely before thrusting back in. His eyes clenched, even with the prep he found Lucifer to be nearly painfully tight and insufferably hot. He stopped moving for a second, trying to let Lucifer adjust.

Luci was pouting, fingers wiggling. “Release my arms.”

“No.”

He tried to kick Alastor, but the grip on his ankles was too firm. Alastor began to move again, dragging himself out to the head and then thrusting back in. A different sensation than he was used to, but not a new one.

Lucifer was whining, every thrust back making the king of hell release a pitiful noise. Alastor looked down to the tail on his thigh before picking up his pace.

He dropped Luci’s legs, hands taking his thighs.

“Slower.” Luci groaned, “Slow down.” Alastor stopped, staring at Lucifer. He brought his foot up and pressed it under Alastor’s chin, “I didn’t say stop.”

Insolence.

Alastor rolled his hips forward, so slow and so slight Lucifer’s own hips began to thrust back onto him.

“Just do it right for fuck’s sake” Luci was getting annoyed. He wanted to be fucked, not fucked with. Could the two not be separated from each other?

“You’ve forgotten your manners,” Alastor felt the pull of his body to move, to thrust, to feel that cycle of pleasure let him relax into a simpler mental space. But, well, where was the fun in just chasing physical pleasure? He had the king of hell whimpering in front of him. In that exact moment, he was at the top of the food chain in hell. He wasn’t ready to tumble off that precarious point just yet.

Luci bit his lip, blood dripping down his chin, “Please.”

Alastor bent down to lick the liquid gold from his king’s neck and followed the trail up to Lucifer’s mouth, “Please what?” Taking the opportunity, Lucifer captured Alastor’s mouth with his. At first, Alastor stilled. Sex was one thing, but kissing was an entirely different beast.

But then the blood found it’s way into his mouth, and he pushed his tongue against Luci’s. A fight for dominance like always, both men seeking to feel more than the other. Luci clenched, making himself whine into Alastor. Legs lifting up to wrap around Alastor’s waist, Luci used the other man as an anchor to pull himself on and off Alastor’s too gentle cock. If his arms were free, he’d grip those tall and expressive ears on Alastor’s head.

He found a pace that suited him, refusing to beg.

How was Lucifer still managing to take control? Even bound and receiving, he was the one in charge. Alastor had to tear his body from the sweet taste of Luci’s kiss and reclaim the lead, cock more deeply entering Luci now.

Luci didn’t need deep, he just needed to feel that pressure and pull at his still tight ring of muscle, g-spot not far past his entrance. He knew exactly what he needed and felt allowing Alastor to do anything else was just a waste of time.

But you never seemed to fight or argue. You just relaxed under Alastor. If you were there, you’d stroke Luci’s hair and tell him how pretty he looked on his back.

He decided to stop trying to get the best of Alastor, and let Alastor show him exactly what he promised; how well he could satisfy.

Legs hooked, Luci let his body be rocked on the bed with Alastor’s direction. It’d been so long since he felt so full.

Alastor felt Lucifer relax, soften. He heard his breath start to become heavy and loud. Looking between them, he watched the other’s dick grow harder still.

“Good boy,” he offered. Luci whimpered, twitching around Alastor. Oh, of course. A praise kink. Alastor managed to stop the laugh bubbling in his chest, willing to meet Luci somewhat halfway.

Could he praise the man he was hoping to choke to death not that long ago?

A test, dipping his toes into the water. “You look divine with your legs open, your majesty.”

Luci moaned, erection hopping up.

“And you sound delicious,” Alastor let a hand run down Luci’s chest, small beads of yellow blood forming in the wake of his claws. A hiss, Lucifer’s stomach muscles tightened from the combination of sweet words and painful scratch.

Alastor began to pick up his pace, resting his weight on his hands at either side of Luci’s head to angle himself. He adjusted his hips slightly until Lucifer jumped, eyes rolling back.

Mounting pleasure brought sweat to Luci’s brow, his sounds becoming harsher, raspier. “I’m close, I need your hand.”

Alastor tutted, “You don’t need anything.”

Tears streaked Luci’s cheek, “Are you fucking serious? Do you- ungh,” a moan, a swear, “Fuck. I’ll beg.”

The deer demon, tall and imposing over Lucifer, wanted nothing more than to make the King beg. “No begging yet. You don’t need anything else to orgasm than what I’m giving you now”

A slight panic, Luci crying at what he was sure was just another act of cruelty. But as Alastor moved in him, swollen head rutting against his prostate, he felt his orgasm building to an unstoppable place. Alastor was mindful, only entering enough to keep Luci going.

Claws gripped the blankets, Luci’s hips instinctively thrusting into the air, he fought the urge to hold his breath. “Say it,” fast and low.

Alastor cocked his head, not sure what Luci was asking for. A deep blush took over the entirety of his pale face, “Tell me I can— nngh,”

“Ah,” Alastor giggled, “Cum, Lucifer.”

Alastor slowed his hips, a moan escaping as Luci’s balls and asshole tightened and trembled.

Luci came over his stomach and chest, waves of pleasure racking his body.

It was a sight Alastor was admiring; sweaty and bloody and shaking. It looked like Lucifer was melting. His smile widened, eyes darkening as he picked up his thrusts.

“W-wait,” Lucifer’s legs tightened around Alastor.

Alastor dropped to his elbows, chasing his own high now. Eyes open and flitting around the image beneath him. Flush cheeks, sweaty skin, Lucifer was panting and moaning. No double tap yet.

“You sound like a bitch in heat, your majesty.”

Lucifer’s face screwed up, body overstimulated and sensitive.

“Now, you can beg.” Alastor sat back up, pulling Lucifer’s ass into his lap and thrusting up, dick buried to the hilt as he let Luci’s soft walls massage at his member.

Luci’s hands tensed, looking up his body to where they both connected, Alastor’s cock bulging his lower stomach, “For what?”

“For me.”

Alastor’s face was covered by shadow, eyes glowing red down at Lucifer. Tears still drying, eyes watery, Lucifer shook, “Please,” he felt embarrassed, somehow even more naked than nude. Alastor was still nearly fully dressed, a fact Luci’s mind was just registering. “Please cum, Alastor.”

His head fell forward, eyes wide and smile shaking. The King of Hell, the greatest of the sins, was begging for Alastor to dirty him. Alastor had done it, euphoria flooded his brain. His nails cut into the soft flesh of Luci’s ass as he pounded into the smaller demon.

Lucifer was gasping and grunting, softening cock rolling around in his own seed. He just wanted Alastor to cum and let his body rest, “Cum already, please cum inside me. Please, Plea—,” Luci was being used as a toy, just a cock sleeve for Alastor and he liked it.

He felt Alastor’s cock grow inside him before his hips slammed into him once, twice, three times then bury himself as deeply as he could. Luci felt the warmth spreading in spurts, Alastor still rocking slightly without withdrawing any. He couldn’t see the other demon’s face, red and black hair shrouding the expression Luci so desperately wanted to watch.

Lucifer’s body went limp, Alastor pulling out already half soft and sitting back on his legs.

Pitiful. Soft and leaking, if Lucifer was a king Alastor felt like a God.

Finally, Alastor felt like he’d bested Lucifer, truly topping the most powerful demon in his own domain.

Meanwhile, Lucifer didn’t care. He felt closer to you, feeling Alastor’s cum drip out was a shared experience. He wanted to see you, to nuzzle into your neck. The only way to enhance his afterglow was to have it reflected off your smile.

Alastor was undoing his shirt when the door creaked open.

“So did you get the venom out of your system or…?” You slurred, “My bed is too empty. Can’t sleep.”

Alastor’s head near snapped with how quickly he turned, Luci propping up on his elbows and leaning around Alastor to stare wide eyed.

Alastor considered launching himself directly into the sun. Lucifer wondered if he opened his wings fast enough if he could launch Alastor directly into the sun.

“They uh—- tried to cuddle but I didn’t wanna die so I brought them here… maybe— maybe a worse idea.” Angel was slowly closing the door. “You should really lock these doors.”

Unholy fire singed Angels face before shadows slammed the door shut with such forced the walls shook.

You curled up beside Lucifer, nuzzling into his neck, “Pretty baby Luci. You’re like a fancy little bird.” In your foggy state of consciousness, you were immensely proud of how the two had taken your request so seriously.

Alastor’s hand came to cover his face, watching through his fingers as Lucifer looked lovingly at you, who was already half asleep.

“Under the covers, dear,” he gestured at you, “You, shower.”

Lucifer nodded and began wiggling down the bed so he could stand, you rolled until you hit pillows. You both in unison sighing, “Clean sheets.”

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

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theoldsports · 5 months

Text

Moody.

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 3.3k words

depression, arguing, manipulation/toxic marriage, fucking each other over, possessiveness. it’s tamer than some of my others in an objective sense, but emphasizes dark thoughts and internal monologue.

requests always open! thanks for your kindnesses. i think this one is more experimental than the others. the objective here was to show how both of them mimic regular human feelings because they know they should, but it’s a poor pantomime. two sickos with nothing else but each other <3 i think i am going to call these works the Truculent series.

Coriolanus grew cold fast and did not tolerate heat well. He only slept only in his underclothes and wore heavy layers at the first sight of winter. His alarmingly fair complexion meant excessive sun wasn’t in the cards. In spite of his name, his scrappy build wasn’t meant to cut through harsh January terrain either. His nails chipped at labor, and his mind grew uneasy at laziness.

The world was tough on Coriolanus and he was tough right back on the word.

There was little Coriolanus was designed to do. Many people were strong, or smart, or wealthy, or drop-dead-gorgeous, or violent, or talented. There was something about every person Coriolanus could think of that made them stand out. He could easily categorized people by them. Here was the group of people known for their beautiful voices; here, those who could benchpress four-hundred pounds… Coriolanus could not be quantified like that.

Coriolanus Snow had to take what was left, like a runt. He was only good at two things: enduring and controlling. Since those were the only options leftover for him, Coriolanus became the best at them both. When, like Coriolanus, one has been gifted such shitty talents and nothing else, they have to figure out how to use them well enough to win against everyone with a better gift. Eventually, he realized his talents were not the ability to endure and the ability to control, but actually the ability to win. Eventually, he won so much, Coriolanus forgot there was ever a time when he lost (most days).

(The days he didn’t forget were the Bad Days).

Coriolanus felt like he couldn’t get out of bed on the Bad Days when the crushing weight of his failures and his ego landed across his chest. He told himself he was done with love after Lucy Gray. Disgusting Lucy Gray, a name he never wanted to even think again. He thought he would marry someone he hated and be done with love.

But junkies and addicts quit every Monday anyway.

Once he found [Y/N] again after their childhood together, there was no quitting. He knew it was bad for him, so he married what was bad for him to make sure he had an endless supply. How he hated that familiar feeling of obsession, the feeling of being so desperate that he had to rely on something other than himself. Somehow, he would have to sustain the feeling without losing his girl like an idiot. Marriage was likely the thing to steel their attempt at a bond.

Upon waking up to the alarm that morning, Coriolanus knew this was one of those Bad Days. Maybe it was the weather, the stress of Games. First year as head Gamemaker had almost driven Coriolanus mad under the pressure to succeed. He reached over to turn off the clock that buzzed painfully at six in the morning every day ending with a Y.

“Coryo…” [Y/N] mumbled, hearing him stir beside her. The sound must have woken her. She tossed an arm over his chest.

“‘Mornin’, Darling,” Coriolanus replied, wishing he were dead.

[Y/N] immediately picked up on the flatness of his tone, but she knew better than to push him too far. “All good?” She asked.

Coriolanus grumbled passively. He rarely did anything passively. Coriolanus grabbed the hand over his chest and dragged it up to the side of his face to rest it there, but only after he had kissed [Y/N] palm.

“You’re affectionate this morning.”

“I just missed you. I’ve been busy.” He said dismissively, pressing his face further into her hand.

“Well, thanks, dear, but don’t you have work?” [Y/N] asked. She propped her chin up on his shoulder to stare at him inquisitively. This attitude was odd. First thing in the morning during Games seasons, she got a kiss on the forehead and then Coriolanus was gone for a run and a shower and out til nightfall, barring special occasions.

“Don’t you?”

“Not til early evening today. Normally, you’re up and out of here first thing on a Tuesday morning,” [Y/N] told him, as she rubbed from his cheek to the side of his throat gently. She dragged her hand up his face to rest on his worried forehead. “You sick, or something?”

“No.” Coriolanus replied weakly. He closed his eyes again. He couldn’t face the legendary blunder he had made at work. Coriolanus had allowed his aides to code the program for the arena wrong. The open water was nowhere near as deep as was needed for the aquatic muttations. It was causing all sorts of trouble. The Games would end too fast if he didn’t do something, yet the stress of thinking of reaching across the nightstand for his Communicuff was paralyzing.

“You sure? You don’t feel feverish,” She confirmed. [Y/N] sat up to press her lips to his forehead just in case her cold hands had misread his temperature. “I can call the doctor, though.”

“[Y/N], stop. I’m fine.” Coriolanus lied harshly. He tried to sit up, but his psychological anguish made him feel like vomiting.

“Call in. Stay here.” She suggested, watching his weak movement to sit up.

“I’m head Gamemaker, I don’t get to call in. I need to go for a run’n I’ll be fine.”

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow. “So you aren’t currently fine? Because you said—“

“I know what the fuck I said, okay?” Coriolanus barked. “Wanna recap anything else, or can I go?”

Sharply, [Y/N] scooted away from him to the other side of the bed. His moods were hardly predictable. She sighed. “Fine,” She said, averting her eyes to her hands like a scolded girl. “I was merely concerned that you—“

Coriolanus scoffed at her and shakily stood up from the bed. He quickly stepped into the closet and stepped joggers and a wifebeater. [Y/N] hoped he would grab a jacket as well; the weather was much too cold for mid summer. The Capitol itself got disproportionately cold often. She didn’t say anything out loud, though. “Get off my ass. Can’t you sit there and be grateful for once? With all that I do for you?Fucking hell.” Coriolanus said. He did not so much as look back at her as he stormed out of the bedroom.

[Y/N] could not understand what she had done wrong. The only things she had were provided through Coriolanus or simply the man himself. Once Coriolanus was presumed out of earshot, [Y/N] dropped her head into her hands and cried. Not tears of frustration or anger, but tears of self-pity that her one lifeline had yelled at her like that.

—

By the time Coriolanus returned from his run, it appeared his wife had gone out for the day. Strange since she usually capitalized on the extra sleep if she was not working downtown with Capitol News until evening shift. Since their reckless young adulthood of media stunts, Coriolanus had watched [Y/N] grow a stifling love for spectacle. With his support and their shared deranged name recognition, she had quickly risen from an editor, to a correspondent (brief. He had helped her but her way up and out of that position) to Associate Head of Programming for Capitol News. It helped to have his wife steer both their media narratives from the inside.

Except for when she was mad at him.

Coriolanus wiped the sweat off his brow in the shower as he thought. There was no doubt in his mind that [Y/N] was going to run some sort of primetime bulletin that made him look a fool during his Games coverage that night. It was bad enough that Lucky Flickerman was beginning to look like botox had gotten better of him, in addition to Coriolanus’ own fuck up with the muttations. Fact of the matter was that viewership was down and [Y/N] was going to make it worse. She was going to make his Bad Day worse and he knew it.

He could feel his heart rate racing as he stood under the shower’s cold stream. His equally cold blue eyes glanced across the bathroom at the clock. Six-fifty AM. Realistically, he need to be into the Gameroom by no later than eight-thirty, but it frustrated him to be in later than eight. In roughly an hour, how could he perform the maximum amount of damage control? Coriolanus’ head began to ache at the thought.

She had never run that harsh of a piece on him before, but it was a Bad Day, and no doubt she was angry with him for his attitude. [Y/N] was capable of a great many horrible things. Wouldn’t Coriolanus himself want to sting somebody back who he had known was pissy with him?

When he exited the shower, Coriolanus rushed to dress himself. [Y/N] said she wasn’t working until late. But where, then, had she gone? With all the thinking about his own feelings, he hadn’t considered that conundrum.

—

Coriolanus called her secretary, a boring woman with a name neither man nor wife could recall. According to that woman, [Y/N] had not gone early to work. He rang Tigris. Tigris said [Y/N] had not been over unless she was lying which Coriolanus wouldn’t put past her. The Plinths swear they had not encountered her.

Coriolanus stared down at his datapad of phone numbers. He refrained from calling all of their friends because he didn’t want to to exude the panic he was starting to feel for letting his wife run away. None of her belongings seemed out of place. Her suitcase was present in the back of their closet. Still, Coriolanus was terrified in the back of his mind that his wife had finally left him. A year and half was a dreadful lifespan for a marriage in his opinion. [Y/N] was not getting away that easily.

However, his watch told him it was eight and the Games weren’t going to run themselves.

Throughout the day, Coriolanus could not get his heart rate to settle. It made him feel ill. So ill, in fact, that he couldn’t keep down most of breakfast, or all of lunch. He skipped dinner all together. Who was [Y/N] to up and leave him like that?

The slight rational segment of his brain told him to walk it back, but the rest of his brain paid no mind. Coriolanus had nothing going for him other than gut instincts and his gut instincts now were implying something was fundamentally wrong.

Coriolanus’ decision-making was way off of its game at work. Coriolanus, for ratings, could not allow the Hunger Games to end on a Tuesday night. Somehow, he would have to create obstacles to last the four remaining tributes til Friday. He didn’t much like those odds. He was going to cave and hand in his resignation before the end of the day, he was certain.

Though, at eight in the evening, the primetime announcement or chiron that Coriolanus was a shitty husband or a murderer never cut through his broadcast to make his Day irreparably Bad. Nor did it at eight-thirty, or even nine. Coriolanus felt shaky. Maybe with relief for his reputation, maybe because he had nothing in his system.

If nothing had aired at Coriolanus’ expense on TV, had something happened to [Y/N] while he was on his run, or later? Was this some rebel attempt to bring the head Gamemaker to his knees? An attempt from a bitter rival to play games with him? Coriolanus frowned. Many things could have happened to his wife between six in the morning and nine at night. Coriolanus could barely stand up as it was. He clocked out and summoned his driver as quick as he could.

The second Coriolanus’ key entered the lock, he started shouting with the energy he had left. The door had yet to even close behind him. “[Y/N]! [Y/N], my love! Are you here?” Coriolanus pushed open every cabinet and closet on his way to the bedroom. Empty. He checked the closet - her suitcase remained. Coriolanus had called her office on his way home. She had not shown up for work. Unheard of.

Coriolanus ran through every room of the townhouse shouting [Y/N]’s name over and over until he felt hoarse. He could only imagine what the neighbors thought. Then he saw the attic door open.

The door remained open, but the stairs to the attic had snapped back up halfway and gotten jammed. “Coryo!” He heard [Y/N] yell faintly from upstairs.

“Darling, are you… in the attic?” Coriolanus shouted back cautiously under the open door. He watched as [Y/N]’s tearstained face peered around the edges of the attic door. It was really her. Not a Jabberjay, not a setup. Coriolanus exhaled for what felt like the first time all day. “Let me come up. I’ll come to you. Hold on!” Coriolanus’ finally left behind the Bad Day as he leapt into action. Protecting his wife was his job before Gamemaker, or any other obligation. Anyone in the Capitol would remember their vows, or her smashing cake into his face much to his dismay. Marriage was socially his most binding contract of all. Coriolanus did not take contractional obligations lightly.

Coriolanus had not realized that his wife was so delicate and helpless as to get stuck in the attic. She needed him more than he thought. His heart swelled with pride. Coriolanus grabbed a broomstick and hooked the hinge in the stairs. He yanked with all his strength until the ladder descended. Quickly, he dropped a large sack of rice from the kitchen counter over the bottom step in hopes it would weight the stairs down and he took off up them.

“[Y/N], are you alright?” Coriolanus asked, popping his head through the attic door

There on the unfinished attic floor sat [Y/N], bundled up in her thin teddy she had been wearing when Coriolanus left. She had only that and a too-short blanket Tigris had crocheted as a child. There was very little in the attic at all. Some of the Grandma’am’s belongings in clear glass bins and whatever surviving relics had carried on from their post-war childhoods.

It was clear [Y/N] had been crying. “I thought you would come back.” She sniffled.

Coriolanus urgently climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and sat carefully down beside [Y/N], wrapping her in his long arms possessively. “I thought something happened to you,” Also, that you tried to leave me. “You’re freezing… How long have you been up here?”

“Since you went on your run.”

“Shit… All that time?”

[Y/N] thought her tears had long since stopped, but seeing Coriolanus appear upset about ignoring her all day made her want his attention more. She wanted him to feel bad.

The tears started flowing the second his arms were looped around her waist. [Y/N] rested her head on Coriolanus’s shoulder heavily. “Coryo, you just left. I come up here all the time to think and I didn’t think it would—“

The blonde man’s heart softened at the sight of her. “Darling, Darling, shh, don’t cry,” Coriolanus combed his hand through sobbing [Y/N]’s hair. “You’re okay. I’m here now.”

Coriolanus felt like he was able to play the role of comforter and protector nobly tonight in a way he had recently felt inadequate at. With ease, he draped her legs across his lap and adjusted her arms around his neck so that her body was completely supported by his. She clung to him like a desperate child. The skin-to-skin contact was most appreciated by Coriolanus after the Day he’d had. Coriolanus excitedly drew a breathe from her neck, taking in her scent.

[Y/N] sobbed dramatically into Coriolanus’ dress shirt, but he pretended not to care like a good husband. “I’m sorry. I c-couldn’t—couldn’t get down. I th-thought you would come get me. I shout-ted for you,” she played up her tears. [Y/N] played up everything for attention; they both knew that. But the situation was mutually beneficial for people that liked attention so damn much. “You didn’t hear me.” You never hear me.

“Oh, Princess…” Coriolanus rubbed his hands up and down her arms, hoping it would warm her up. He pulled away from her regrettably and stripped off his blazer. He wrapped it around her shoulders and pulled it carefully in front of her. He knew [Y/N] would like the gesture. Now, Coriolanus did not say I’m sorry. It was not his fault that [Y/N] had fled to the attic. He did instead try to make good from now forward. “I was so worried, I started to think something happened to you. I wanted to give you space, but then I didn’t hear from you all day. I’m relieved to know the only monster that got you was the attic,” Coriolanus leaned into her neck to kiss her in his favorite place. “You sat up here in all this junk and dust today; how are you still so stunning?”

[Y/N] laughed through a wet sniffle as Coriolanus searingly kissed her neck. “I didn’t know I’d worried you this much.” She muttered.

“I didn’t know I’d upset you this much,” Coriolanus agreed. That was as close to I’m sorry as she was going to get. “What did you do up here all day?”

“W-Went through some boxes. Found your old uniform.” [Y/N] smiled back.

“My Peacekeeper uniform?” Coriolanus asked in surprise. He hoped that she had not found anything else, if there was anything more scathing up in the attic.

“Mhm,” she affirmed. [Y/N] stood shakily from the floor, snot dripping from her nose. Snot, which she knew better than to wipe on the sleeve of his blazer. She followed where the beams were in the floor nimbly so she didn’t put her foot through the ceiling below her. [Y/N] collected a decently sized metal crate with a handle on it. PRIVATE SNOW, CORIOLANUS B. was stamped on top of the dusty, dented metal. She carried it back to Coriolanus and sat down with it in front of him.

“I didn’t go through everything in here, that felt intrusive, but I did pull this out,” they both knew that was a lie and that she had absolutely gone through every item, but Coriolanus let her keep going without cutting in. [Y/N] decided she would still let him explain the history behind every item he wanted to share anyway.

When she shook the long gray-blue jacket out of the box, something happened that hadn’t happened last time she took the jacket out. “Coriolanus, what’s this?” [Y/N] asked, plucking a bulky chain off the floor that had tumbled from the coat’s breast pocket.

“Ah, I’d forgotten where those went. Dog tags from my time in Twelve.” Coriolanus said.

“I still have my father’s. You were like a real soldier then, huh?”

“Peacekeeper.” Coriolanus corrected.

“Yes, Peacekeeper.” [Y/N] agreed quietly.

[Y/N] held the two identical pendants in her hands.

SNOW, CORIOLANUS

CITADEL, CAPITOL

4147769218S 12

O NEG

CREMATE

His entire identity all on two pieces of nickel. While she squinted at the embossed metal, Coriolanus leaned forward across the box that had once held his entire world and grabbed the chain she was holding as well as her hands. [Y/N]’s red weepy eyes met his crystal clear blue ones. “Would you like them?”

“You don’t want to keep them?”

“Certainly not. My name right there on your chest? That’s preferable to them sitting in a dusty box forever. People will know who you belong to if you wander off like this again. ‘Know you’re not, hm, like… up for finders-keepers.” Coriolanus shifted them out of [Y/N]’s hands and dropped the chain around her neck as if it were the finest gold necklace he had ever purchased her.

Coriolanus put that box up in the attic because he had not wanted to think about it ever again. Above all, though, Coriolanus Snow was an opportunistic man and he put those dog tags on [Y/N] just like he had Lucy Gray because he knew this move was flattering. If it worked once, it would work again. Sickeningly, he pulled out the same words he had used before too: “There. All mine.”

“All yours.” [Y/N] replied.

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Text

Safe Keeping | 1

Part 2

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut (wedding night, loss of virginity, mild dub con, PIV, biting, praise kink), emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, baby fever, typos, etc.

A/N: what do we say to big scary murderers? all together now: i can fix him. the smut is at the end so just keep scrolling to the bottom if you wanna pass (: originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx

A collective gasp resonates in the hall upon the utterance of the proclamation. The blonde boy basks in the reaction. I release a breath, hand on my churning belly, as I stand there in front of the Iron Throne. The agitation that filled me threatened to spill from my lips when I curtsied to the king. But by the gods, I manage to mutter, "you have honored me with such a decision, your grace."

King Joffrey smirks, "yes," he shifts in his seat, "I have." He stands from the throne and raises a beckoning hand, "dog!"

All eyes turn to one corner.

The rustle of fabric and the clink of steel fill the hall. I watch as he walks towards me. I watch the large man, clad in darkness from head to toe, hand on his hilt, face adorned with a large burn, come to my side but pay me no mind. He turns to his king, "your grace."

"My king," queen Cersei mutters to her son, "he is a member of the Kingsguard, he cannot--"

"My word is law, is it not?" the boy says.

His mother looks at him then us, and says no word.

Joffrey grins, "I present your new ward," he raises his arms, "orphaned at war, parents and brothers dead, house left with no heirs. She turned to me for counsel," he points to his chest, "for she would die on her own. And now I give her you," he clasps his hands, "to have and to hold in holy matrimony."

The room is dead silent.

"Consider it a gift for your loyal service," he turns to me, "a rather generous one, given your infliction," he turns back to him.

The man on my side nods once.

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes."

I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine father."

A loud and shrill laugh echoes in the chamber, demanding everyone's attention. Joffrey wheezes until he's red and tumbles back into his metal chair. He catches his breath and nods, "he- mmm, he would," he chuckles.

The king settles himself and waves us off, "go forth and make arrangements then, my lady. Your protector awaits."

I flinch at the way the wooden door is opened. Sandor stands before me, in a dress shirt and a scowl, leaning against the opening of his chamber door. I look away and curtsy, "good morrow, Lord Sandor," I steal a quick glance at Lucy by my left, "I've had my handmaiden prepare f-"

"Hound."

I lift my eyes to his face. The sour expression he held is amplified by the scar on his side. His eyes burn into me. "They call me the Hound," he grunts, "y'know that?"

I clasp my hands in front of me and open my mouth before muttering, "yes. Yes, I do."

"Then save me of this lord business," he straightens up and walks off inside his chambers. I watch him as much as I can from where I stood outside his room. I pipe up when he is no longer in eye's view, "may I come in?"

"Door's open, isn't it?"

I look at Lucy hesitantly, motioning she stay outside. I push the door wider and walk in, seeing Sandor was now getting dressed.

I stare at him for a moment, pressing my hands closer together, "would you like for me to he-"

"I'm not the king who has a bitch for every task."

I clench my jaw at his icy words.

Sandor begins to do his clasps, "why are you here, girl?"

He does not look at me after asking. I purse my lips before replying, "I am heading to the tailor to pick fabrics and-"

"Why isn't the tailor coming here?" he asks, still focused on dressing himself.

Sandor finally turns to me after fixing his top. I look up at him, feeling a dread build in my belly, "I wanted to go outside."

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head. He takes steps closer.

My lips part. I blurt, "the palace is too stuffy."

"Stuffy?" he retorts, "I wonder how large your house is if you find it stuffy here."

I shake my head, "I did not mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?" Sandor says, tilting down to look upon me once he is close enough. I am unable to withhold myself from stepping back. I mutter, "there are many... looming presences. It's overwhelming."

"Looming, she says," he grumbles. "Well, little lady, you're going to be shackled to me, and I'm shackled here. You'll have to get used to these looming presences."

I turn away from him and take a breath. Must he speak to me like I'm a child? "I understand that."

"No, I don't think you do," he says.

I look back at him. His gaze is as hard as ever.

"The moment a thing like you is outside the castle walls, thieves and rapists will fight to getcha," he walks off, "get your footman to escort you right in front of the shop and back."

I furrow my brows as he heads to the door, "wait, what about you?"

He stops right in front of Lucy and turns back, "what about me?"

"I'm going to the tailor to be fitted a dress for our wedding," I explain, "I came here to bring you along with me," I point to the woman at his side, "Lucy has made food for you to-"

"Why would I go with you to a tailor?"

Will he ever let me finish speaking? I hold back my annoyed expression, "you need to be fitted for your wedding at-"

"I'm not your dress up dolly," he grumbles, face pinched in disgust, "I'll be wearing my armor and that's that."

We stare at each other for a moment. I watch as Lucy glares at Sandor from behind. I clench my jaw tightly before curtsying, "as you wish, my lord-"

"Hound," he barks.

I look at him in shock, "you wish me to call you hound?"

He narrows his eyes and scoffs, "it's what I am-- what you're marrying, isn't it?"

I debate his words, unsure if he meant it or if it was a trick, a reason for him to be angry at me, "may I call you by name?"

He feels disdain burn up from his belly to his throat, "what? Too good to admit that-"

"That is not what I said!" I quip hotly.

The hulking man is rendered silent. He did not expect that. Still, he decides not to respond and walks away.

I scoff when he does so.

Lucy makes a face at him before coming up to me, offering a remorseful look, "he's a brute, milady! Rugged and ugly and mean!"

"Lucy," I warn as she takes my arm and escorts me out. She closes the door on our way and makes a face, "he's a thickheaded oaf!" she glares behind her to no one, "he's lucky-- blessed by all gods to be promised to a lady like you, and he treats you as though you were the degene-"

"Lucy!" I quip, yanking her by the arm.

She is finally silenced because of this. We both halt in our spot.

I hiss, "if someone were to hear you, if he were to hear you..." I shake my head, "he is my lord now. He is your lord."

Lucy grumbles.

"If it could be, I would not marry anyone," I tell her under a hushed voice, "but you know that cannot be."

We begin to walk down the hall. I continue, "I had thought I'd end with an old lord, eager to inherit my estate and esteem," I shake my head, "shocking as it was to be thrown like a bone to him..." I look out the open windows, "at least... the Hound... can protect me," I look back to Lucy, "protect us."

Lucy's face falls solemn. We hold each other's gaze for a moment. She then offers, "you're right. Them forest monsters will cower in fear at the mere sight of the 'ound."

We head to the castle gates, "do you think the guards will let us-"

"We'll walk, Lucy," I reply.

"What?! But the Hound said-"

"He expected me to have footmen and you know well that I don't. I do not think it would be appropriate to instruct the servants here to go out of their way for us. Besides, the shop is not far, you know this."

"But, Lady, I- I can drive the carriage again!"

I shake my head, "don't be ridiculous, Lucy. Do you know how silly we'd look galloping in a carriage for just a few streets down the city?"

Lucy is unable to talk me into any of her ideas. We ask the guards let us through the gate then walk to the tailor.

Once there, I am greeted by the tailor and immediately attended to.

Lucy and I go through the fabrics together. I laugh at her sentiment that all the fabrics would look good on me.

"Here," the tailor says, placing a strip of fabric on my shoulder, "I think this would suit you well, lady."

I look at myself in the mirror just as Lucy says, "that's it! That's the one!"

"Lucy," I chuckle, "you've said that about all the fabrics thus far."

"And I meant it every time!" she retorts, "but this one, this one is truly better than all the rest."

I look at myself in the mirror, "this one is actually quite pretty," I agree, "it's a very pale shade of red, but I quite enjoy it."

"It is all the rage with the ladies at court," the tailor says.

I smile, "very well. I should like to have this for my wedding dress."

Lucy squeals and applauds.

"A fine choice, my lady," the tailor nods and finishes measuring me.

The moment Lucy and I exit the tailor shop, we are scared by a loud holler. We turn to our side and see the mighty Hound, leaned against the wall. He straightens up and marches towards me.

"My Lord Sand-"

"What did I tell you about going outside the castle?" he barks, glaring down at me. His nostrils flare. His jaw clenches. My stomach rolls.

I give him a look and push Lucy behind me, "there was no dange-

"That's what you think. But tell me, what do little girls know but to play dress up?"

I whimper when he grabs my arm and drags me like an unruly child all the way back to the palace. I do not try to fight him. I know I will only hurt and tire myself if I do.

"Maybe I should let the peasants have at you," he mutters, side-eyeing me hotly, "teach you a lesson."

"Let her go!" Lucy shrieks.

He threatens to strike her when she tires to pull me away. I shout in protest. Sandor huffs and decides to simply continue dragging me.

The moment we are past the gates, he releases me roughly, making me yelp. Lucy grabs my arm and checks if I am injured.

Sandor eyes every one of the men present, "I'll make a jump rope out of the entrails of whoever fucking lets her out again."

The Hound storms off, leaving me and my handmaiden reeling and everyone else uneasy.

Sandor walks down the halls across the keep. He notices a guard looking down from the window. He wonders if he should push him for no other reason than the fact that he can.

He doesn't. He goes downstairs. He furrows his brows at the sight of men huddled together, looking at something in the gardens. He realizes it's most likely the same thing the man upstairs was looking at.

He walks their way, because he has to anyway, but is, frankly, uninterested in whatever the fuck has these men gawking.

On his way to his insufferable master, he passes Baelish, who is seemingly chipper to see him. The man smiles, "greetings, Hound."

The Hound ignores him.

"Pretty little thing in the garden. A darling flower, ready to be plucked," Baelish smirks as he watches the large man pass, "our king truly blessed you with such a match."

His expression does not change but his ears do ring at that as he walks down the hall.

He wills himself not to think of it, Littlefinger is a leech, but by the end of the day, his words are still ringing in mind. How irritating it was, suddenly, that he did not look at whatever the fuck it was those men were gawking at.

He's fuming at the sight of more men flocked by the garden when he reaches that hall again.

"OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!" he growls, thrashing past anyone who was slow and stupid enough not to get out of his path in time.

Sandor's eye twitches as when he sees what the commotion is all about.

"So, the princess said to him, 'away with you. I would rather never feel your kiss than yearn for something I will never feel again.' " I read the last section of the page. I flip to the next part and offer a smile to the children leaned on my lap listening to my story.

"Why would she tell him to go away?" Benji asked me from my right.

Lucy, beside him, chuckles and brushes his hair back,

I offer, "well, the prince had to go away. I suppose the princess just wanted it to be done with."

To my left, Ophelia, the boy's younger sister, pushes the book in my hand down so that she can see the picture. I show it to her just as Benji says, "she should have kissed him."

I chuckle, "well, maybe she will. There are a few more pages le-"

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

I gasp and look up. A protective form of ire burns through me at the sound of Sandor's words. The two siblings in my arm squeal at the sight of him and cower into my breast. I glare at him, "there are children here!"

"I can bloody see that," he looks down with contempt, "what? Are they your bastards?"

Lucy takes hold of the children.

"They are not bastards!" I rebut, "they are my childhood friend, Lady Deena's children, who, mind you, travelled far to King's Landing for our wedding!"

"I don't give a fuck about Lady Deenas or Lady Danas. Couldn't you have read to the rats in your damn chambers, girl?"

I give my handmaiden one look and, immediately, Lucy takes Benji and Ophelia along with their fairytale book. They scurry away to their chambers as the children clamor.

I stand from the stone fence we had been sat on, "we wanted fresh air."

"You wanted attention," the Hound quips.

I am wholly offended by his accusation. Now that I was standing alone in front of him, my confidence from having something to protect dwindles. I don't get to ask from whom he thought I wanted attention because he's soon berating me all over again. He quips, "does it please you to know all the guards in King's Landing want to fuck a baby into you?"

I am appalled by his venom.

He grabs me by the arm and begins hauling me off. A squeak spills from my lips at his brute force. Part of me wishes to fight back this time; I do not want him to humiliate me by dragging me around again. And yet I find myself unable to do anything more than latch my fingers into his iron grip, trying to at least loosen it.

Sandor, of course, does not budge.

"Is it a crime to read to children?!" I whine out in frustration, finding it immensely difficult to keep up to with his wide strides.

He does not make a sound, save the sound of his boots on the stone floors. I pant as we hike up the steps, yet still, I find myself explaining, "I would have done the same to our children!"

I do not see that Sandor reacts to this because I am too busy trying to match his pace.

I thank the gods when he finally releases me. When I catch my breath, I realize I am in front of the door to my chambers.

"Do not stroll around as if you actually live here," Sandor quips, raising a finger at me.

"But I do-"

"Last time I checked, you're not marrying into royalty," he cuts me off.

I watch the large man walk off right after speaking this. I rub my arm as I feel my eyes water. More than his heavy grip, I was once again hurt by his jagged treatment. My voice breaks as I shout out, "wou-ld you at least tell me what exactly I've done to have angered you so?!"

He does not slow, nor does he look over his shoulder when he barks back, "I don't want to see you fucking reading to those children again."

Needless to say, I crumble into a fit of tears the moment I get into my chambers.

When Lucy comes to my side on my bed, he curses the Hound and does her best to console me. She rubs my back as I weep my woes out into my pillow, "oh, Lucy, he doesn't just despise me, he despises children!"

Lucy scoffs, "why am I not surprised."

She regrets saying this when I turn to her with wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes. She gives a guilty expression, "milady, I-"

"That's all I ever wanted," I sniffle, "all I ever dreamed of-" my lips quiver, "being a mother. Having children. You know this."

Lucy bites her lips tightly as I continue to sob. She mutters, "pardon my foolish words, lady."

"Oh, what does it matter-" I rub my philtrum, "you're right. This is not a surprising development."

"You can still get him to give you his babes! Men like making babies, not really taking care of them. And of course, I would never leave your side. I would help you raise your darlings, protect them from him," she speaks sincerely. I knew her words meant to comfort me but in truth, I don't think they do.

It seems she can tell that, which is why she's apologizing all over again.

I shake my head and place my hand on her cheek, "it's alright, Lucy... you needn't worry... it's all... going to be alright.

Sandor and I look starkly contrasting at the altar. He is dark and brooding, clad in hard armor and a perpetual frown. I am bright and jittery, wrapped in pale reds and nervous smiles.

The septon binds our hands together in fabric. We turn to each other as we speak our vows.

My heart races when we are told to kiss. I suck in a breath and get on my tiptoes to reach his lips. I crane my neck up; he makes no effort to lean down in return. Still, our lips meet and in that moment, I am his.

The audience applauds us, the sound of King Joffrey's laugh is apparent even through it. Our wedding was not a grand event; the king wanted it to happen in haste, and I could not afford to make it a grand anyway. There were also not so many people in attendance, and yet it felt like the whole world was watching me in this moment.

The celebration feast that came after was terribly tedious and severely unenjoyable for me, and for Sandor. Everyone else seemed to enjoy the merrymaking though, namely the king, and I suppose that was enough.

I did nothing but smile and thank my guest from my seat next to Sandor. He did not speak to me, let alone anyone who came up to us with congratulations on their lips. All he did was eat. I suppose it could be worse. At least one of us could stomach eating at this moment.

The only life I felt was when I was introduced to a babe of one of the ladies. The sweetling had only seen 4 moons and she was as sweet as can be. She was so precious. I just had to hold her. I was inspired to even stand and frolic a bit with her in my arms.

Her mother and I conversed much about babies and child rearing. My stomach rolled in a mix of excitement, dread, anticipation, and worry all at once, knowing this was to be the next part of my life now.

I enjoyed all the stories she told me. I was flattered when she said I would be a great mother, for her child in my arms did not fuss one bit and she was known to be quite fussy. I giggled at all the wonderful memories she had with her other children who, she said, were even fussier than her daughter. I nodded solemnly at her advice in child birth and breastfeeding, making sure not to let a single word go unheard.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Sandor was watching this all from his spot with the cup of wine before him. He did not avert his eyes once; he watched each and every move.

Well, it was unbeknownst to everyone excluding Lord Baelish, who was rather amused by it all, which was why he decided to act.

"Lady Clegane," Lord Baelish comes up to me and raises a hand, "might you spare me a dance?"

I turn form the babe in my arms to him. I smile a small one, "I'm afraid my darling friend here makes me unwilling to do anything but coddle her."

The child's mother on my left laughs, as does Baelish. He links his hands together, "well, judging from your darling friend's temperament, I'd say you would be a fine mother."

"I agree," the lady says.

I grin from ear to ear, heart soaring at the sentiment, "I would like to be nothing more."

Baelish presses his lips into a smirk, "may the gods bless you with many children then," he raises his hands "and may they all take after your sweetness, grace, and beauty."

The way Baelish speaks those words were intentional, as was everything was with him. The comment leaves an air of tension between us. The man basks in it and decides his work is done here.

"I-It is kind of the king to assign a larger room," I muster up as I walk into my new chambers-- our new chambers.

Sandor follows after me, locking the door behind him. He hums, "I doubt it was the king that thought of it. It was probably the queen."

I stand by the end of the bed. I brush the sheets with my hand. I mutter a correction, "kind of her to think of us."

When I turn, my breath hitches at the sight of Sandor standing right behind me. I suck in a sharp breath as I take in his expression. His face is barely visible in the dark. I can only see as much as the moon allowed. Still, I can tell he is stoic, hard, and predatory. This was it.

My hands tremble. I fiddle with my fingers, "shall I-" I bring my palms to his chest plate, "help you out of your armor?"

Sandor does not respond to me.

"H-husband?"

He takes my hand, taking a shaky breath from my lips along with him. He leads me to his claps and shows me how to undo them before releasing my hand to do it myself. I continue to undo all the claps until his armor is off him. When he is left in his shirt and trousers, he snatches my wrists before I can undress him any further. I freeze in my spot.

My belly churns at his touch. It is reminiscent of the times he has dragged me by the arm, and yet the firm grip is a notch gentler. The way is brows furrow is barely visible because of his burns, but I see it. He leans down and his dark hair spills over his scar, "do you know what's going to happen now, little girl?"

My breath hitches. I take a moment to even my breathing before responding, "yes."

He hums and lifts his nose, "what's going to happen?"

"You're going to fuck me."

Sandor laughs lowly. I am shocked when he swipes his thumb on my lips, "filthy mouth."

I look up at him with wide eyes as his own rake me up and down. I feel incredibly self-conscious under his scrutiny. I want to push him away and hide under the sheets. Yet still, I am rendered frozen in my spot.

"Tell me honest, have you ever done this before?" he speaks rather softly.

I feel my body burn. I shake my head, unable to speak.

Sandor allows me a second. He believes it yet finds it hard to believe. "I would not judge you if you did," he adds.

I shake my head faster.

He draws out a deep breath, "no, of course you haven't--" he grabs my ribs and spins me around. The action makes my heart hammer. He pushes my hair to the side, over my shoulder. I squeak softly when he begins to undo the back of my dress. He completes his thought, "-- you're a good girl."

Though he was loosening my ties, I was finding it harder to breathe. He very soon slips my dress off my shoulders, leaving me in my shift. After doing so, he begins to remove the pins in my hair. It takes a while for him to accomplish it. I count the clinks that come from him dropping the clips onto the floor.

When he is done, he gently combs through my locks and lets my hair run loose. It was then he nudges me, "on the bed. On your back."

I shudder and crawl on the bed. I watch him take his shirt off the moment I lie on my back. I immediately turn away and close my eyes when I notice his bulge. His hands undo the string of his trousers.

I press my thighs together. I feel my heart pound. It pounds intensely between my legs.

"Aren't you curious to see what it looks like?"

I curl my legs up at his words.

I gasp and flinch when he grabs my ankles, my eyes ripping open to see what he was doing. He straightens my legs out and pulls me down; I gasp once more when he does so.

I catch sight of his opened trousers. I see the way the hair on his wide, battle-scarred chest trails down to the thick, dark hair beneath his navel. I see the imprint on his pants clearer. I shut my eyes again.

I hear him pull his trousers down. I feel the bed dip as he crawls over.

My hands dig into the sheets as he knocks my legs apart. I am passive and obedient; I make room for him. I can hear my pulse from my screwed eyes.

Goosebumps form on my skin when Sandor's hot, calloused fingers brush up my thighs. He lightly kneads my flesh. The action almost makes me moan. He stops and pushes my skirt up when he feels something by my hips, "where did you get this?"

I feel him ghost over the deep scar on my left hip. I cover my face in the crook of my elbows, "I was attacked."

He does not respond.

"That was the day my family died."

Sandor feels bad for asking. He feels a bit more when the thought does not prevent his cock from hardening. He adjusts his grip, hiking my shift up higher. His hands claw on my hips but only one remains. His mouth waters.

I gasp and slap my thighs close, or at least try to, when I feel him brush something firm and damp against my pulsing core. He uses the sheer size of him to prevent me from actually pressing my thighs together.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh-" he tuts, "this is for your own good. Believe me."

My toes curl and my hands dig into my pillow as he fondles with me. The sensation makes my body twitch and the wet squelching sound that pierces my ears fill me up with an unnamable sensation. Soon enough though, I feel myself become undeniably aroused.

My hips begin to roll and my back begins to arch.

Sandor grunts and licks his lips, loving every moment of his private show, "good girl."

His words strike up my belly like lightning.

Lewd sounds begin to dribble past my lips. I feel my body begin to tingle. The sopping sounds intensify.

"Feel good?" he asks, "you like it?"

I find no room to deny it. I instantly respond, "yes."

"Good," he trails off.

My grip on the pillows loosen when he begins to slow. I bring my hands to the side when he falls to a stop. Just as I am about to look down to see what was wrong, my heart races all over again when he hooks his fingers behind my knees and nestles between my thighs. He positions against me. I feel him guide his hardened length into my folds.

I let out a loud groan when he slips into my wetness. He grunts and cusses as he sinks down, balls deep. My nails claw at his shoulders. He pushes my knees back to the mattress. Surprisingly, the weight of him is not suffocating, in fact, it was welcomed... it was delicious.

I whine viscerally when he begins to buck his hips slowly.

"Mmm, fuck," he pants, "so fucking tight. So pretty and wet and warm, my sweet virgin."

My jaw drops at his words.

"My sweet lady wife," he growls, "all," he drags out, "mine."

My breath strains and escapes my throat hotly. My sounds match each of his thrusts; they are deep and lewd. Sandor's male ego is through the roof because it if. He slowly picks up the pace.

I am a mess of whines at the feel his manhood stretching and prodding into me. My body shivers every time he collides with the tender spot in me. It feels so good; it's nothing I've felt before.

Sandor grunts and shifts on his knees. He adjusts me beneath him like I weighed nothing, and maybe I didn't to him. I slip out a scream when he batters into me with such delicious force.

"Shhhhh," he hushes shakily, hands forcing my hips down in place so I didn't shoot off as he snapped his hips into me. With every hit of flesh, his stones knocking into me, his wet skin, slapping into my dripping folds, I feel my body burn and tighten more.

"Don't be too loud," he scolds emptily, for in truth, he would love it if he got something even louder. He leans lower, "wouldn't want you to wake all of King's Landing." But please do.

His words momentarily push sense into my mind. It doesn't last. I can barely mask my loud cries and he fucks into me. My nails dig into his scalp. He lets out a sound because of it.

Sandor shifts again. This time, his buries his face next to mine. He presses against me, chest to chest, grabs the bed frame with one hand, my knee with the other, and rams into me so hard, the bed creaks and knocks into the wall.

My eyes roll back and my open mouth latches onto his shoulder. I naturally then sink my teeth in is taut flesh. It does wonders to muffle my sounds but it pulls out some from Sandor.

"Gods, girl. Yeah," he heaves, "sink your," he gives two particularly rough thrusts, "fucking teeth into me."

My breathing grows erratic after this. An intense pressure begins to build in my belly.

"S-Sandor- Sandor-"

He hums and maintains his intense pace, "come girl. Just a bit more. Come around my cock like a good, dirty girl."

His words push me on the edge. I crumble and convulse beneath him exactly like it, a good, dirty girl. My voice is just as shaky as my thighs are. My body bursts into an intense, burning pleasure.

My body drips in sweat and slick and spit and tears, all purely out of bliss. All the air is pulled out of my lungs as I fall into this feeling.

Sandor curses. His thrusts grow erratic. I would scream if I wasn't so winded and exhausted. He stabs so roughly into me, I flinch because it feels like he's hitting the very depths of my mind. Then, he breaks into a growl and I feel him throb so strongly until his movements come to a halt.

Once he is still, I am obliterated. I cannot move. I can only feel heat and pulsing. I feel terribly sticky and so full. I love every inch of it.

I sigh and lean into him. I can imagine now why many paid for this pleasure, why people had so many children. My fingers scratch into his nape. I rub my face against his cheek; I feel the texture of his burn. Sandor stiffens.

The next moment, he pulls away, and it was then I realized doing that, nuzzling into him, was obviously a mistake. I gasp at the sudden lost of contact, the emptiness. I watch him jump out of the bed, as if I was fire and I had burned him. I press my thighs together and push my skirt down, feeling shame wash over me as I watched him tuck himself into his trousers like he was eager to leave me.

And he looked exactly like he meant to leave me at this moment.

"Where are you going?" I ask him, but my voice is so small and unsure that he doesn't hear it.

He grabs his shirt and puts it on. He heads to the door, unlocks it quickly, and insults me by saying, "good night."

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callsign-dexter · 2 months

Text

Forever Yours 18+

Request: How are we feeling about Tim Bradford meeting his high school girlfriend again as he's on patrol with Lucy and gets all flustered again cause you're the one for him (like you separated ways as he went to the police and you did something else but are back now) and you just feel the same old feelings. Later Lucy won't stop making fun of him cause he's always badass and now you seem to be his weak spot. Next day you visit him at the department with his favorite food and he asks you out on a date which you gladly accept. Just some fluffy cute Tim, with maaaaaybe smut at the end of their date and he won't let her leave him ever again? 😊

Next week is my bday, so I thought some Tim would be adorable !

Pairings: Tim Bradford x Teacher!Reader

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, pregnancy

Masterlist

A/N: Happy birthday or belated birthday to the anon that sent this in!

A/N 2: @talesofreading and @imagine-all-the-fandoms some steamy Tim smut for you!

Los Angeles. You never thought you would come back here but after being away for so long you were itching to come back. Most importantly you were missing your high school crush and boyfriend, Tim Bradford. You two only split when he decided to go into the military and you wanted to become a teacher. It was a mutual break up but man did it still hurt. You two had lost contact and both of you had been too busy to try and reconnect with each other but now you were back having gotten your teaching degree and took the position as a first-grade teacher. You loved kids and they seemed to be drawn to you. It was really your true calling.

Last you heard of Tim was that he had gotten out of the military and had gone to the police academy, was married but then got divorced and he was working as a TO for LAPD. You heard all of this through his sister that you were best friends with. You had wanted to get in contact with him but school and kids kept you busy so you just let it go.

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The new school year was just about to start and you were excited. A few weeks before you had gone in and set up the classroom how you wanted and then started to figure out teaching material. A week before school actually starts you would be meeting the students and their parents for the first time. Overall, you were excited and couldn’t wait.

There was one week before school and you had gotten there early to start meeting the students and parents. The time had started and the students and parents started to slowly trickle in. Everyone you met were friendly and some of the dads even tried to flirt with you but you just smiled and continued on. You had your mind on one person and that was Tim Bradford.

It was finally the end of the day and you were exhausted but you had a lot of fun and loved seeing the kids. You made sure everything was in order and everything was cleaned then you were walking you out of the classroom and locking the door behind you. You left the school with a smile on your face. You couldn’t wait for Friday next week.

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Your alarm on Friday went off early and you were getting up with a smile on your face. You turned it off and got in the shower and brushed your teeth. You walked out into your room in just a towel and started to get dressed. As you were doing so your cat, Biscuit, walked in and jumped on the bed and meowed at you, you turned and gave him some love and then you were back to getting ready. When you were done in there you walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where your German Shepherd, Steel, greeted you. You gave Steel his food and then fed Biscuit and now you were getting yourself coffee as it was brewing you let Steel out and then when he was done, he was at the door wanting back in. You finished getting ready to leave the house. The coffee chimed when it was done and you grabbed the travel mug and headed out to your blue Toyota Tacoma.

It was a quick drive to the school and you got there with no trouble. As you were driving you looked like Tim but you were too busy paying attention to the road. You pulled into the parking lot and into the parking lot for the teachers. You parked and turned the engine off and then you were getting out and grabbing your bag. As you were walking into the building you greeted some of the other staff who were all so friendly and that made you smile.

You walked to your room and unlocked it and started to get everything ready for the day. About 7:50 AM students started to trickle in and you were at the door greeting everyone. Once everyone was in you closed the door and walked to the front of the classroom smiling and made sure everyone was sitting down. “Good morning, kiddos. My name is Ms. Y/L/N and I’m gonna be your teacher for this year. I’m excited to learn about each and every one of you and I can’t wait for the fun things I have planned for you all. It’s going to be a fun year. Now does anyone have questions for me or about me?” You asked and a few raised their hands. You looked over at them and smiled “Benson, what is your question?” You asked.

“Do you have any animals?” He asked with sweet innocent eyes and you smiled.

“I do, I have a dog named Steel and a cat named Biscuit.” You said

“Do you have pictures?” He asked and you smiled and pulled up a picture of your animals.

The rest of the morning went without a hitch. When they were at lunch you smiled and sat in your room thinking about what the plan was for the second half of the day. You were scrolling through your email and noticed there was going to be a fire drill and that they were going to bring the fire trucks, ambulances, and police in.

All the kids were back and you let them know what was going to be happening and you assured them that there was nothing to be afraid of and it was all a drill. Some still seemed scared so you said that they could come to you if they got too scared and that seemed like that helped ease them up a little bit. For now, the day went like normal and it would be happening close to the end of the day.

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“Did you hear that we have to go to the elementary school for a fire drill?” Lucy said as she and Tim were driving around making calls and making sure everything was good to go.

“Yes, I did.” Tim said, making his response short.

“How do you feel about that?” She asked

“I’m fine with it. It lets kids see the importance of what we do.” He said and she nodded seeing that he wasn’t up for any more discussing it. While they were waiting to be called to the school Tim was thinking about you and where you were. You were his high school love and he never stopped loving you even when he was married, he wanted to get back into contact with you but never seemed able to find the time but boy was he in or a surprise today. The time came and they were heading to the school along with the ambulance, firefighters, and two other shops. The point of this was to first have a fire drill and then show the importance of the first responders. Tim parked next to Talia and Nolan’s car and they headed over to the kids. Everyone was answering questions and then something, more like someone, caught Tim’s eye. He looked closer and it was you. You were bent down talking to a kid who was crying and you were trying to console them but it wasn’t working and so you picked the kid up and let them cry into your neck. He needed to see you and talk to you. “I’ll be right back.” He told Lucy and then was gone before she could say anything.

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“Hey, shhhhhh. You’re ok.” You said consoling the little boy. You were bouncing them around trying to soothe him. You didn’t even know Tim was walking up to you. “It’s nothing to be scared about. It just means that it helps on the way and they save people.” You said and he came out from your neck and sniffled.

“Really?” He asked and you smiled and were about to answer but a familiar male voice answered before for you.

“Absolutely. It means that we are on our way to save you.” Tim said and you looked up and saw him and the little boy looked at him.

“Really?” He asked and Tim smiled.

“Yup, my fellow officer John Nolan will be happy to show you and talk to you about it.” He said and then pointed over to him “He is right over there.” Tim said and the boy sniffled and nodded and you sat him down and watched him scamper off to John. Making sure he was safe before turning to Tim smiling. “You've always been so good with kids.” He said and you chuckled.

“You have too. One of the many reasons I fell in love with you.” You said and he smiled and looked down.

“It's been a while.” He said looking up at you and you nodded agreeing.

“Too long and that is my fault.” You said and his smile turned into a frown and he shook his head.

“No. That is not true. I'm the one that took off and didn't even try to contact.” He said and you shook your head.

“I'm to blame too.” You said and once again he was denying it.

“We can discuss this over dinner.” He said and you looked at him.

“Like a date?” You asked

“Exactly like that. My number is the same if you wanted to text me anytime.” He said and you smiled and nodded.

“Mine is too.” You said

“Ms. Y/L/N! She hit me!” Your student, Amber, said pointing to another student, Emma, as they ran up to you. You looked at Tim and he smiled and nodded. You bent down to the two girls. You walked back over to Lucy and the others watching you handle the situation with a smile. All he could think about was how you would deal with your and his kids and that put a smile on his face.

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Tim walked back over to the group smiling. “Is The Tim Bradford actually smiling?” Lucy asked and everyone turned to see and he actually started to blush.

“He's blushing!” Angela said with a smile.

“I am not.” He said and tried to stop but he just saw the love of his life again.

“You so are! Is it because of that teacher you were flirting with?” Lucy asked and he didn't say anything and then the radio saved him and then he was quick to answer it.

“Come on Boot. We have work to do.” Tim said and walked over to his shop and she quickly followed behind him. When they got back to the shop his phone dinged and he was quick to pull it out and smiled when he saw it was you. Lucy took notice of this and she smirked.

“Is that her?” Lucy asked and Tim was quick to drop the smile and look at her.

“It’s none of your business.” He said and she rolled her eyes but smirked when she looked away, he was smiling and was quick to send a reply back and it was back to work for the both of you.

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You and Tim had been talking all week and the same old feelings were coming back. Saturday rolled around and you found out he was working and you decided to bring him and his coworkers. You loved baking and Tim knew this. You parked in a parking spot and then walked into the police station smiling. You greeted the front desk person and they smiled. “What can I do for you?” She asked.

“I’m here to see Tim Bradford.” You said and she smiled and then she paged him and he was coming down in time.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He asked and you smiled and turned to him.

“Well, you mentioned you were working today and thought you and your coworkers could use some baked goods.” You said and he smiled.

“Come on.” He said and you walked with him into where everyone was. It looked like they were just in for lunch. “Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N this is Angela, Talia, Lucy, Jackson, and Nolan.” He said and everyone waved as they were introduced.

“Nice to meet you all.” You said “I figured you all could use some goodies.” You said you waved your basket.

“Her cookies are to die for. They are my favorite” Tim said as you set the basket down in the break room. Tim wasn’t looking at anyone but you, everyone was smiling and looking at how lovesick he was and they were happy for him. Everyone got a cookie and they absolutely fell in love with them and they voiced this and that made you smile. “Hey, would you follow me?” He asked you and you nodded and he took your hand and led you to the briefing room.

“What’s up?” You asked as you sat on the edge of one of the tables.

“Will you go on a date with me?” He asked and you smiled and nodded.

“I would love to go on a date with you.” You said and that made him smile.

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 7 tonight?” He asked and you once again smiled.

“That sounds perfect.” You said and then you both continued to talk until he had to leave and that was cue now you had to go home and get ready for your date.

7 PM rolled around quickly and before you knew it you were opening the door to a smiling and well-dressed Timothy Bradford. “Wow.” He said and you blushed but Steel was quick to rush the door.

“Steel, off.” You said and he backed up and moved away from the door and that made Tim fall in love with you even more. You made sure to grab your keys, locking the door behind you, and the both of you headed to his truck where he helped you in and then closed the door and walked to the other side and got in and headed to the restaurant that he had picked out that he knew you would love. “So where are we going?” You asked and he smiled.

“It's a surprise but you’re going to love it. They have sushi.” He said when he looked over and saw you were about to say something and then your smile came back. “I’ve missed you. I’m sorry that I didn’t stay in contact.” He said and you shook your head.

“Nonsense. It was my fault too.” You said

“I guess it is both of our faults.” He said and you chuckled but agreed. You both were quick to get to the restaurant and he was quick to park and then was getting out and helping you out. You both walked into the restaurant and he walked up to the receptionist and he was quick to get you seated. You two talked and caught up and just had a delightful time, it was just like old times. You both ordered and now the wait for food has started.

“I missed you.” You said and he smiled and nodded.

“I missed you too. It was hard to go on not knowing how you were but I was too selfish to actually text you.” He said and you nodded looking at him.

“It was hard finding out through your sister about what you were doing but it helped.” You said and he nodded and just then the food came and you both started eating and finished the date and now you were back at your house inviting him. Steel greeted you and so did Biscuit and they immediately fell in love with him and you fell back in love with him, though you never truly fell out of love with him.

You sat on the couch with a glass of wine, both of your animals had left the room so it was just the both of you, and you both leaned in and now you were kissing him and he was kissing back and neither of you were stopping each other. “Tell me to stop if you want me to stop.” He said when he pulled away and you looked him in the eye.

“I don’t want you to stop.” You said and he smiled.

“I was hoping you were going to say that.” He said and crashed his lips back into yours and he laid you down on the couch. He started to kiss your neck and then got to your sweet spot and gently bit it and that made you moan.

“Tim.” You moaned and he smirked and did it again. You clenched around nothing. You both worked on getting each other clothes off and everything was off in no time in a pile on the floor beside the couch. “I love you.” You said and he trailed down your body peppering it.

“I love you too.” He said in between kisses. He ghosted over nipples giving them equal attention but he knew where you needed him the most. This was not the first time you had sex with this man, he was your first in high school, sure you had sex with other men but nothing compared to him. He still knew how you liked it and knew all the right places to please you. He trailed down to your heated core and was quick to dive in and you moaned out throwing your head back and hands going to his head. He let up for just a second. “We can take this to the bedroom if you want.” He said and you shook your head.

“No, it's perfect here.” You said and he nodded and he was diving back into your pussy licking and sucking on your clit knowing exactly where to use his tongue to please you. “Tim.” You moaned out and bucked your hips towards him and he was quick to hold you down. Your hands left his head and they came up to clutch the couch cushions and your legs spread wider. He started swirling his tongue around your entrance and was tongue fucking you and you felt that rubber band feeling starting to tighten. “‘M close.” You moaned out but he stopped just as soon as you were about to cum. “Tim.” You moaned out in frustration but he was moving up to be face to face with you.

“What?” He asked his breath fanning you and you could smell the wine on this breath.

“I was about to cum.” You said and he smirked.

“You’ll get what you want soon.” He said and kissed you as he rubbed his cock up and down your wet folds and then let up on the kiss as he pushed into you and you both moaned. “See? I told you.” He said and all you did was moan. He stretched you in all the right places and it was like you were back in high school with him all over again.

“Tim.” You moaned and he smirked, loving the way he made you moan and the way you were gripping him. He started to move and you both moaned out.

“You’re still as tight as ever.” He said and attacked your neck with more kisses and love bites.

“You ruined all the other guys for me.” You moaned out and he gave a sharp thrust that hit your g-spot perfectly.

“Good.” He said

“You’re the only one for me.” You said and he gave another sharp thrust and then he started to go faster and you didn’t even have to ask for it. You both wanted this and you both needed it. Everything was perfect. Ever since he started to go faster it was making that rubber band feeling coming back. Each thrust was like heaven and you never wanted it to end. “I’m about to cum.” You moaned out.

“Me too.” He moaned out and picked up his pace and trailed one hand, leaving the other to keep his weight off of you, down to your body to your clit and he started to rub it, flick it, and pinch it all it was doing was making you come closer to the edge. Your orgasm was just right there and so was his.

“Tim!” You yelled out not caring who heard you.

“Cum for me.” He said and sent a flick to your clit and leaned down to bite your nipple and then you were seeing stars. Not a few seconds later his thrusts were getting sloppy “I’m gonna cum.” He said and then his hips stilled and he painted your walls right. It was a good thing you were on birth control, you thought as you and Tim came down from your highs. Tim slowly slipped out of you and then got behind you and threw an arm around you. He grabbed the blanket from off the back of the couch and threw it over you both. “I’m never gonna let you leave again.” He said and you smiled and nodded and turned to look at him.

“I’m never going to leave. Ever.” You said and he smiled and leaned down to kiss you.

“I love you.” He said

“I love you too.” You replied

You wanted this. You wanted forever with him and he wanted that with you too. You both wanted to marry each other and start a family with each other. Neither of you could wait to finally be with each other forever. You both wanted this since high school and nothing is going to get in the way of you both being together forever, not again.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

2 years later………

You and Tim had been married for 2 years now and had a 2-year-old son, Dakota. Your son was conceived on the last day of your honeymoon. Now you are 6 months pregnant with your second child, this one being a girl. Your jobs were going great and Tim had just been promoted to Sergeant which meant a bigger paycheck. Now you and Dakota were walking into the precinct to meet with your husband. You had just parked the car and got out and got Dakota out. “Kota, hold my hand when crossing the street.” You said and he nodded.

“Otay momma.” He said and you smiled and ran a hand through his hair, he was the exact copy of his father. You grabbed his hand and the both of you walked across the street and into the precinct.

“Good morning, Mrs. Bradford and Dakota.” The receptionist said and you smiled.

“Good morning, Veronica.” You said “Tim in?” You asked and she nodded.

“Yup, you know where to find him.” She said and you nodded and then you were heading to him with a hand on your sons and one on your stomach.

“Y/N! Dakota!” Lucy said and you smiled.

“Hello, Lucy.” You said and your son waved at her.

“Tim is in his office.” She said and you smiled and walked to his office. You looked into the room and saw him focusing on his work and you looked down at Dakota.

“Knock, Baby.” You said and he smiled and did so.

“Come in.” He said and you opened the door and you both stepped in.

“Daddy!” Dakota said and he looked up and smiled and walked around his desk and scooped his son up.

“Hello there, handsome. Have you been good for mommy?” He asked and he nodded.

“We went to the store, I helped!” Dakota rambled on and Tim smiled.

“You helped mommy?” He asked and looked at you and you nodded.

“Uh huh. I helped carry!” He said and he smiled.

“That’s my boy.” He said and kissed his cheek and then walked over and kissed you. “How is our little girl doing?” He asked.

“Currently being still for once but using my bladder as a soccer ball a lot.” You said and he chuckled. He put Dakota down and he walked over to the table with toys and coloring books that Tim kept for him. Tim put his hand on your stomach and immediately the baby kicked. “She must know that she has her daddy here.” You said and he chuckled and leaned down to kiss you.

“Mommy! Daddy! Come help!” Dakota all but shouted and you two broke apart.

“Ok, we’re coming.” Tim said and you followed him over there and he sat down on the ground and you sat in a chair which he helped you sit in. Tim got into helping Dakota so that you were able to lean back and watch with a smile on your face. This was the dream you always wanted with him and you got it finally after so long. You were married to the man of your dreams, had a son together, and have a daughter on the way. You rubbed your stomach as she kicked and that made you smile.

You were finally happy and couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your years with the man of your dreams since high school. They were your world and you wouldn’t trade anything for it. You loved your growing family and you knew Tim did and that made you happy. Tim looked over at you and smiled. “I love you.” You mouthed and he smiled.

“I love you too.” He mouthed and then Dakota was grabbing his attention again and you chuckled, yup you loved little growing family.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

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quecksilvereyes · 1 year

Text

oh, sister, I am sorry. your eyes are sunken and your skin is bruised. your lips are chapped, your nailbeds bitten raw. your husband's hand on your waist is a ghost's touch held by the band on your left ring finger and I-

I am dead.

I got on the train, Su. Nevermind your tears, nevermind the plea you could not shape with words, nevermind your fingers on the pulse point of my wrist. "stay", you'd said, as you have always done, dictionary in hand and baby teeth yet lodged in your jaw. "don't go where i cannot."

I step through a wardrobe and you follow, damned be reason. I slay a wolf and you follow, I cling to the little ones and you follow, I am crowned and you follow, I am-

I go past a lamp post, and you follow, damned be dread. I go to a train station and you follow, trembling hands and tender heart. I go, and I go, and I go, and you follow. Sun of my skies. Light of my life.

I go. you stop.

are we too old for stories, now? ten-and-four and ten-and-three, budding bodies and steel bones, we are cast from our home. i hold the little ones until i drown in them. you grip your skirts until no iron can press the shape of your palms from them. and you have ever been, cruelly reasonable and logically callous.

say you, glass shard eyes and rouge-red lips: we are english. we are children. she thinks she has found a magical land in the upstairs wardrobe.

say I, trembling hands and coiling guts: we are narnian. we are monarchs. if she's not mad and she's not lying, then logically she must be telling the truth.

my sister Susan, beautiful as folk tales are and twice as sharp, did you intend every invitation you took for me to twist the knife a godly animal once thrust into my guts? perhaps it was the way your eyes turned blue, or the sound of your laughter losing its bells. perhaps it was just my trembling fingers at the back of your legs, drawing stocking lines where no stockings had ever lain.

the line came out shaking, and you rubbed it off until your skin cried red. the hem of your dress still dripped wet when you left that day, turning on heels too narrow for you to walk in.

do you remember? it took you days to come home, and mother wailed for all of them. you crawled into my bed that night, as you did when we were parents to our little ones, those terrible months. your head on my shoulder, your breath in my ear, I held you until morning.

your mouth in my throat, eyes heavy with sleep, tongue heavy with champagne: we are here now. we must make the best of it. he cannot have all our lives, and all our joys. i wish you would laugh again.

doesn't little lucy, shrieking mouth and tumbling legs, laugh enough for us all?

lucy's manic. if she didn't laugh she'd cry.

i think sometimes, in the parts of my guts that are still a schoolboy, and are mean and cruel to match, that the alcohol makes you softer than the daylight ever could. i do not tell you.

i press my lips to your forehead. i wrap my arms around you. the year between us rings heavy, and when I get up in the morning, you do not follow.

I tried, Su. I did. I applied for university, I saw that girl with that smile. with those eyes. I let you take sections from the paper before I ever touched it, I held the little ones in my arms, and I made coffee in the morning. I sat all my exams.

I smiled when the little ones came back smelling of home.

Aslan's wounds, did I try. but-

I have ever been a thing made for stories. brave the way knights are, bloody knuckles and buckling pride. a horse between my calves, a sword in my hands.

I think, sometimes, that I was born for my sword, for the hollow ringing of my heart when I first held it. a part of me, even then, ten-and-three and soaked to the bone.

such bravery is not made for real world boys and real world taunts. there is a map, I think, from the summits of my knuckles to the jaws of every boy who ever looked at me and bared his teeth.

I am sovereign. I am the skies for your sun to burn in.

I am made wrong, for this england, and I cannot take this life you want. I belong, I think, into myths and legend, the star-studded shards of our home.

so I went on the train, Susan. so I died, and I named what you have chosen. so I banned you from their scorning mouths. so you grip your husband's hand, realest of us all, and you cry. you do not follow.

Forgive me.

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breanime · 2 years

Note

For the gif drabbles ❤️

"This looks like shit," you threw the money on the table, "Do it again."

Annie and Ruby groaned in tandem, but Beth sighed. "It looks perfect," she said, looking up at you as you stood over her, "We've printed this same design four times--"

"--and it keeps getting slightly less like shit," you cocked an eyebrow, "Look, if you can't hack it anymore..."

"We can!" Annie spoke up, eyes wide. "We can, we'll get it right!"

"It's just..." Ruby chewed on her lip.

You could feel your patience thinning. "Just what?"

"Well," she continued weakly, "Lucy was the artist, so... without her..."

"Ya know, since homeboy did... what he did," Annie added in.

"...It's harder to print. We have her blueprints, but some of these subtler details are just... We need an artist," Ruby finished.

You nodded, scanning the three women before you. Annie looked nervous, as did Ruby, but Beth looked annoyed and defiant.

You were sick of her face.

"So get another artist," you said, getting bored with the conversation.

"Why? So your boss can shoot her?" Beth ground out, glaring up at you.

Your eyes narrowed at the same time Rio chuckled. You turned a bit, angling your body so that you could see him.

He sat on a chair next to a monitor, a hand on his chin and smirk on his face.

"That's funny to you?" Beth spat, anger clear on her face. "You shot a defenseless girl!"

You raised an eyebrow at Rio, but he was still chuckling. If he found her little outburst amusing, then you guess you would allow it.

"Nah," he said, shaking his head, "I'm not laughing about that. I'm laughing at what you said," he smirked over at you, "She called me your boss."

Annie frowned, looking at the two of you. "A... Aren't you?"

"She," Rio gestured towards you, a pride grin on his face, "is my boss. Yeah, see, a real bad bitch don't shy away from the dark parts of this business," he went on, "And so when I told my boss," he pointed at you again, "that I had to kill Lucy cause of your," he looked at the girls, "bullshit, well. She wasn't pleased. And I'm telling you now, looking at her face right now," Rio made eye contact with you, and you could see the pride in his eyes as he looked at you, "My girl ain't letting you dumb bitches fuck our shit up again."

Beth spoke before she could stop herself, "Your girl?"

His smirk stretched over his plump lips, "My boss," he clarified, "and my girl," he looked over at you again, "So, what you think, ma? Have 'em print it again, or have Mick take them downtown and put a slug in each of their heads?"

You turned back to the women, watching the fear swirl in Annie's eyes, the way Ruby stiffened, frightened and trapped.

And Beth's reddening cheeks, you could see the humiliation on her face, now that she was looking at what she could never be, what she could never have, standing right in front of you.

You looked over at Rio, and you thought back on your life with him--meeting him when he was just a runner for your father, Rio remaining loyal to you even after your father died and you took over his organization, the first time you kissed, when you had blood on your hands and he had thought he lost you, the way Rio had grabbed you and held you to him, the first time he ever let himself act like anything but a loyal subordinate to you. You remembered that sick, cold feeling in your gut when you'd heard that he had been shot three times, that he was with the feds. It's what brought you back into his orbit, you'd sworn to keep it professional with him years ago, but that... that pulled you right back in.

You watched Rio watch you, and you felt a wave of protectiveness come over you as you looked at him--the man you loved. You turned to Beth, your gaze cold as ice and as strong as steel, using every ounce of your status as a boss to intimidate her. "How about you choose, Mrs. Boland? You want to print it again this time, and do it right, or would you and your gal pals rather take a ride with Mick?"

"W... We'll print," she said weakly.

Rio's chuckle warmed your soul, and as the ladies worked on the new print, you turned to him. He gave you a special smile, one full of love and appreciation for you, and you turned your back to the girls as they worked.

They didn't get to see the loving smile you gave him back.

That was only for him.

**********************************************************************

Thank you for reading! Lemme know what you think!

#bre does gif drabbles (again)!#rio x reader #rio imagine #manny montana #rio good girls

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sky-kiss · 13 days

Text

Lucy & Cooper: Eye to Eye

A/N: So short but needed it out of my head. Vague spoilers for the end of Fallout's first season, so be aware.

L & C: Eye to Eye

Vaultie doesn’t talk much for the first couple of days.

Coop tries not to dwell on it—lot easier for him, lot safer for them, if she keeps her mouth shut. Just…well, hell, it’s one of those things that niggles at him, twitching in the back of his mind like a worm on a hook. Dumb fuckin’ fish that he is, Coop lets it draw him in.

The ghoul gives her a once-over as they settle in for the night. Blood’s still crusted on her uniform, near the corner of her mouth, some of it flecked into her hair. A mottled bruise stretches across her cheek and up over her temple, purple at its center before paling to yellows and greens on the edges. Coop knows it hurts, but Vaultie doesn’t say shit.

A noose and a prolonged stay on death’s door, dehydration, and irradiation hadn’t shut her up, but she’s sitting there, staring into the fire, all banged up and silent.

Cooper chews a sardine ponderously. There’s no taste, not anymore, just the tension of flesh and little bones giving way beneath his teeth. He grunts before sliding the rest of the tray across to her. Vaultie doesn’t take it. He clucks his tongue. “Eat when then eatin’ is good, Vaultie. Get deeper into the Wastes and…well.” he shrugs as if the silence should be all the answer she needs. And it should be, but she just goes on staring with her huge doe eyes.

“I’m not hungry.” Almost as an afterthought, she adds. “Thank you.”

“Do what you like. You’re a big girl. And I ain’t your daddy.”

The phrase jostles something in her head. Vaultie’s whole face screws up—nose scrunching, lips curling—and she opens her mouth as if to speak, only for it to snap shut. A muscle twitches in the corner of her mouth and it’s…it’s a hell of a thing.

He doesn’t see his daughter in her face…doesn’t see Barb. He’s looking in a mirror. It’s two centuries ago, and he’s staring at himself—all offended dignity as he reads something unsavory in a script or listens to a suit wax philosophical about a battlefield they’ll never see.

Vaultie must clock something about his reaction. All the stiffness leaves her posture. She just…deflates, eyes dropping. “I know that,” she says, voice soft. Not the “let me de-escalate this situation” bullshit she’d put on in Filly…just human. Very human and so tired. “I’m sorry—it was wrong of me to snap at you.”

Coop almost laughs. He holds his arms out wide instead. “No harm done.”

She goes back to her staring, back to her silence. Something howls off in the distance.

Out of nowhere, and because it’s all just fuckin’ disorienting—the silence, having somebody around again—the ghoul says, “Reckon you’ll kill him?”

“Excuse me?”

He picks nonexistent grit out of his teeth and spits. “Think you know exactly who I mean, sweetheart.” Vaultie cocks her head to the side. Firelight licks at her skin—it makes his hard lines harder, edges more jagged, but for her? She looks soft and young…a gross oversimplification. There’s steel in her eyes. Coop shrugs, flashing a smile that must look horrible. She doesn’t shrink back. “You find it offends your finer sensibilities and I’ll do it for ya.”

“No.” Her tone leaves no room for debate.

“Vaultie, that’s not a word I’m in the habit of hearing.”

“It’s Lucy,” she corrects. “And I…said what I said.” The girl hugs her arms around herself. “He’s still my dad. I don’t want him…” Vau..Lucy pauses. Her brow furrows, “...Well, I guess I don’t know what I want yet. But…I have time.”

“Less and less of it every day.”

She screws up her nose again. “Maybe. But it’s my choice.” It’s the damnedest thing: the words just hang there for a second, silence broken by the crackle of the fire. And then she seems to actively register what she’s said. It’s Lucy MacLean’s choice. She smiles and nods—brilliant and bloodied and somehow still clean. “But…thank you for offering.”

Like he’s suggested giving up his seat on the bus and not filling her daddy full of lead. Fuckin’ Vaulties…Coop shakes his head, “Anytime, sweetheart.”

#fallout #lucy maclean #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout tv #fallout spoilers #fallout fanfic #lucy maclean x cooper howard #dunno that I should tag it as shippy it really isn't #i can feel the hyperfixation growing

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always-a-king-or-queen · 7 months

Text

Miss Pevensie, they say, can you identify these bodies for us? And you try, gentlest sibling, you try your best. But the tears are thick in your throat and the grief is bitter on your tongue, and when you shut your eyes you see fire and steel, twisting together and crushing the breath from their bodies.

You look at your father, and mother, and cousin, still and silent on their backs, bruised and bloodied and unsmiling, and their faces are anything but familiar. Were their eyes open you would be looking into the face of a stranger. You press your hand over your mouth, and you do not cry, and you tell them what they want to know. These are my parents, you hear yourself say. This is my cousin. They nod, they thank you, they direct you forward. More, more, more corpses to identify. More losses to count.

You look at your eldest brother, golden blond hair spread across his forehead, thick like the mane of a lion. There is gravel in his skin and soot on his cheeks and his face is pale, hands folded over his chest and blood threaded into his yellow sweater. Red against gold. For a moment the combination brushes your brain, touches a distant memory of battle and clashing swords, but you blink and it is gone. This is my brother Peter, you say, in a voice choked with grief. The sky looks black outside the window, and your brother’s arm still feels warm when you touch it a final time.

You look to your younger brother, dark hair tousled, blood leaking between his lips. His skin is frost pale, like snow, so white he appears to be made of stone. Shrapnel cuts into his cheeks and sends crimson trails across his face. His hands are clenched, cap askew on hair smeared with blood. They tell you he died with his sister in his arms, body curled around her in a vain attempt to keep her safe. You stare at him with a lump in your throat, and for a moment you seem to see him, silver crown upon his head, smiling with quiet gentleness. It fades, and you whisper, This is my brother Edmund. The tree outside the window seems to wilt a little as you speak. Your brother’s cheek is like ice beneath your fingertips.

You look last at your sister. She is peaceful, lips lifted in a smile, hair tangled beneath her head and shoulders. She grips something in one hand— a tiny wooden carving. A lion. Your throat clenches to see it, but you do not know why. Her skin is warm, like sunlight, but there is such coldness in her face. Such emptiness. Blood smears her sky blue dress, and you weep to see it. Blood does not belong on your baby sister. For a moment the red makes you remember her, dancing wild by a fire with berry juice smeared on her hands and mouth, but surely not. Surely such a thing never happened. This is my sister Lucy, you murmur, and are able to say no more. For a moment it seems as if a mist touches the window, and your sister’s skin is hot against your palms.

You turn away, raven-dark hair falling over your cheek, and stare out the window with tears burning your throat. There is no sun, and you think that perhaps there will never be sun again. It has been taken away forever.

(For a moment you seem to hear a voice, deep, gentle, loving. To the radiant southern sun. For a moment you feel the weight of a crown in your hair. Perhaps you are losing your sanity, bit by bit. Perhaps it was shattered the moment you heard the news).

They asked you to identify the bodies, and you did, because they are your family. They were your family. You loved each and every one of them. You loved your mother's soft fingers in your hair and your father's deep chuckle. You loved your older brother's fierce kindness and your little brother's quiet demeanor and your baby sister's merriment. You loved them all. And now you stare through the window at a sky that is heavy with rain and think of flames and twisted metal and the blood on your siblings' skin.

You close your eyes. For a brief moment you think you smell lilies, and salt, and Lucy is laughing and Edmund is smiling and Peter's arms are slung around their shoulders, and then they are looking at you and beckoning and there is a lion with golden eyes and the sun is rising into a damp new sky.

Your eyes open slowly, glazed over with tears that spill down your cheeks like rain.

And for a moment, just for a moment, you remember.

#susan pevensie #i am in the midst of writing a fix it fic for her #bc lewis encouraged it #and her story wasn't finished #and and and #also the premise of the story is super duper fun #but it will be sad too #but will end happy #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #ramblings from the void

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echthr0s · 17 days

Text

I have a few things to say about Fallout (2024).

I know Caesar's Legion gets all the credit on the sickos (complimentary) side of fandom for having insanely homoerotic rituals but oh my god what's this, it's the Brotherhood of Steel with a steel fucking chair

Lucy MacLean has a face that's made for kissing women. why is she not kissing any women, what's going on

the ghoul lore is truly all over the goddamn place. like ok fine I don't hate it. but it's thin at best and if I think about it for longer than 3 seconds I am gonna poke holes in it whether I want to or not

brain on a fucking roomba

again, can we talk about Maximus and that whole "use my cock" business like please explain to me in detail what the actual factual fuck is going on in the BoS. I'm a visual learner btw

#i actually do have some Concerns about the focus on everyone being terrible to each other #and of course i agree with the ''it's been 200+ years but it sure don't look or feel like it'' critique #but i'm willing to hold out hope that our protags and friends are supposed to forge new paths #and this season is the necessary setup for that pathing #all that being said. i'm not interested in complaining too much bc the bottom line is... i had fun.#fallout

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geeks-universe · 1 day

Text

The Fallen pt. 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Cooper Howard x F!Angel!Reader

A/N: The rating is going to go up after this chapter. This one doesn’t include any smut, but the next chapter definitely will.

The journey to finding the head was relatively uneventful.

Or, as uneventful as traveling through the Wasteland could be.

The group picked up a dog on the way, though somehow you were the only one surprised, and delighted. Among all of your father’s vast creations, they happened to be your favorite.

The feeling was apparently mutual, considering the dog had taken to sleeping on your chest every night and following close by during the day. You’d lovingly named her “Maze” after your favorite, albeit grumpy, demon.

It fit, if you were being honest, even though you knew the aforementioned demon would skin you alive if she ever found out. (Even if she’d secretly find it endearing.)

It was a nice distraction from Cooper too. When you’d first met him a few years ago, you’d been reminded of something so very human in his hesitation. It was buried deep, heavily denied, but there. Every meeting since then you’d been determined to find it, to find the man in the monster.

“Have you slept?”

Maximus had been a nice addition. At first, you’d been hesitant to trust him. Many, many factions had risen since the fall of humanity, and almost every single one of them became twisted, corrupted versions of what they were meant to be. The Brotherhood of Steel was certainly no exception, but Maximus was.

Maybe you’d been too quick to judge others before too.

“Was just thinking,” you murmured, absently petting Maze when she nuzzled further into your lap.

“About anything in particular?”

It was a kind question, and while you could see the darkness in him, the kind that came with growing in a world hell bent on destruction, there was a good heart in his chest. You only hoped he didn’t lose it.

“Nah,” you shrugged the question off, letting your mind wander through the twists and turns of your memory.

He studied you for a moment, before gesturing towards the other two sleeping bodies.

“Get some sleep, I’ll keep an eye out.”

Initially, you were going to object. You didn’t want to rest, didn’t have any desire to revisit the pain of the past that you were forced to witness in your dreams, but there was an exhaustion deep in your soul. Rest wouldn’t fix it, but it would help.

You muttered a thanks, not missing the way his eyes lingered on Lucy’s unconscious form. There was certainly something happening there, and the thought of a blossoming romance in a decaying world warmed your heart.

Sleep, like always, slipped through your fingers like sand. Even with the warm presence of Maze and the friends around you, it didn’t come easy. It hadn’t in a long time, and you doubted it ever would again.

Eventually, however, the lures of slumber found you, and instead of falling into a peaceful embrace, you woke to lungs full of ash.

You tried to call out, to yell to your friends, but the burning in your chest crawled up your throat, forcing you to your knees.

Before you, the world burned.

Not the Wasteland you’d been traversing, the endless desert and bloody terrain, but the world as it was before. Skyscrapers reached for the clouds, cars were like so many dots in the city, and there was so much life. Birds singing in the sky, the breeze swaying leaves, a smell so fresh it brought tears to your eyes.

Then the flames licked it, consumed it, swallowed it whole.

And you were left there to watch, your knees planted to the ground.

“Dad.”

A desperate, wretched sob. A wish. A cry torn from your throat, wrenched free by your heart.

“Dad, please.”

You were screaming now, begging, heart pounding with anguish.

“Don’t do this. Don’t let this happen.”

Each word shredded your soul, hopelessness bitter on your tongue. The brightness of your heart, the very essence of your being, dimmed to an ember. Your fists pounded against the Earth, the horizon disappearing in a cloud of smoke and ash.

A scream of rage, of agony, of desolation erupted from you, like the bombs that fell to the Earth around you.

Horror sliced through your back like a knife- blinding, hot pain coated your tongue like blood. You reached back, clawing at the pain despairingly, ignoring the splashes of blood as you tried to just make it stop.

But it wouldn’t.

Your nails provided no relief, the desperate slashing growing fiercer with the tears in your eyes, grasping with the last of your strength at the pieces of yourself.

It didn’t matter.

Made no difference, really.

The bond was severed.

Minutes turned to hours turned to days before you had the courage to move, to assess the damage. The fires still raged around you, days after the initial blasts, and the hollowness in your gut deepened.

Your hands shook as you reached out, first hesitantly, then madly, at the remnants of your once beautiful wings.

Golden Child.

Hope.

Growth.

Life.

Your father had called you all so lovingly, murmured into the ear of a child desperate for her father’s pride. It was all a lie, one that poisoned the air in your lungs.

Bloodied feathers and snapped bones lay behind you, the golden dulled with the death of an entire population. A crack formed in you then, one that would never heal.

“I hate you.”

A gloved hand pulled you from the clutches of unconsciousness, dragging you back to your prison.

The way you moved was instinctual- swiping your leg out and pressing Maze’s knife into the neck of your would-be attacker. It was fast, precise, a move taught over and over again by the demon until you’d been able to do it in your sleep.

Only, by the time the tears in your eyes cleared, you realized it was very much not an attacker.

It was Cooper.

And he looked far too smug for a man you’d just put on his ass.

“It ain’t good form, sneakin’ up on a restin’ man.”

Your words were an exact echo of the first time you’d ever heard his voice.

“It most certainly ain’t.”

There was an almost playful twinkle in his gaze as he pressed a little deeper into your knife. Your hand shook then, a reminder of what you were.

More importantly, a reminder of what you could never be.

Before he noticed that particular quirk, you sheathed the dagger, but didn’t move from your perch above him. He didn’t seem too keen on moving you off him either.

“You were squirmin’ in your sleep, sweetheart.” He explained, resting his top half on his forearms. That man surely did look too comfortable with you on top of him. “Makin’ a lot of noise.”

“Just… memories.”

You puffed a breath, nearly leaning your forehead against his. It was easy, natural, the way your body sought his out, like a moment of rest after a hard day.

Instead, your gaze zeroed in on an unassuming glint, a sparkle in a sea of sand. It was more than just glitter though, and upon the realization of exactly what it was, your heart dropped.

There, sitting inconspicuously in the sand, was a small, golden feather.

Your feather.

Cooper followed your stare, looking curiously at the object that was causing such a reaction. He didn’t understand though, couldn’t possibly.

Your feathers hadn’t shined like that since the day the bombs dropped. The few that remained were dull, bloodied and broken like the rest of your wings.

“Are we interrupting?”

Lucy approached, Maximus directly behind her with a curious look. Why in all the world were you on top of the ghoul?

While Max was shocked, Lucy wasn’t bothered. She was more astonished that she’d yet to walk back to the two of you fucking the absolute hell out of each other.

“Yes.”

“No.”

You and Cooper spoke at the same time, your movements quick as you disengaged. You didn’t see him grab the feather you seemed so mesmerized with and tuck it into his chest pocket, but after giving the two others a smile, you definitely did notice it missing.

“Okey-dokey,” Lucy drawled, another suspicious glance casted between you both.

“Are you okay?” It was Maximus who asked, and from the tenseness of his body, you guessed he’d probably heard more of your nightmare than anyone else.

“I’m okay,” you lied, standing closer to Cooper absentmindedly.

Maze trotted up to you, pressing her wet nose into your hand like she understood your pain. Maybe she did, in a way. Not the exact pain you felt, but the loss of something so fundamental to your person.

Animals had an easier time realizing what you were. Besides Chloe and Linda, you’d never actually told another human being. A few had found out through one way or another, but it was hard to trust that part of yourself with others.

“We’re close,” Lucy announced, gesturing towards the wide open desert.

Less than half a day, you’d all agreed on yesterday before you stopped for the night. Then, as soon as you retrieved what remained of Dr. Wilzig, off to Lucy’s dad and the mysterious Moldaver.

“Thaddeus had the head last,” Maximus explained, stepping up with Lucy as she led the way.

You hung back with Cooper, glancing over at him every few minutes.

The two at the front continued to talk, explaining something or another, but you were too focused on Coop. He’d been there when the world went to shit.

You’d known it for a while, that he was old enough to have witnessed the end. He hadn’t said it explicitly, but the pieces clicked together when he properly introduced himself. Lucifer had a week-long bender involving a piñata of drugs, a couple of Swedish models, and a whole lot of old cowboy films.

You’d passed on the drugs and sex, but he’d trapped you in his penthouse and forced you to marathon the greatest hits of one Mr. Cooper Howard.

Time hadn’t been kind to him.

That man had been good, altruistic. He, like so many others, had lost so much of themselves to the world.

“Any particular reason you’re starin’ at me like I’m the last piece of pie?”

You hummed a small laugh, more thoughtful than entertained.

“The world before…”

He held a hand up, stopping you before you could even start down that line of questioning.

“Whatever you think you know of the world before, you don’t.”

“I think you made a better cowboy hero than a cowboy villain,” you joked, a genuine chuckle sounding as he nearly tripped over his feet, shock on his face.

“And what’s that supposed to mean, darlin’?”

“Whatever you want it to, cowboy.”

The mischief in your eyes was rivaled only by the guilt. You’d never be able to let go of it, to not have it haunt you every moment of every day, but perhaps you could live with it.

Perhaps there was a future for you.

Not the kind of future Lucy wanted, with romance and children, but the kind of future you did- freedom and a person to share it with.

“Got jokes, do you?”

His smile was wry, not quite amused, but certainly interested.

“Just for you.”

He cut you a hard stare, one that saw far more than you wanted him to, and yet not enough. The relationship you’d built up was founded upon a mutual understanding of letting the past die, and yet you found yourself wanting to tell him everything.

Gazes locked together, longing mingling in the air, interrupted only by the sound of a growing melody. You snapped your head forward, surprised by the sudden appearance of an entire radio tower.

Perhaps Cooper had distracted you more than you cared to admit.

“Thaddeus,” Maximus called, drawing attention to your group.

Maze held back, sticking close by your side as you approached the tower. As unsuspecting as it looked at a distance, it grew more ominous up close. Bodies and debris littered the ground, blood speckled in the warm sand.

You frowned.

Death, in this world, was nearly constant. You’d never seen the uglier side of it before coming to Earth. Even knowing the eternal resting place for these souls didn’t make it any easier to see them strung up and displayed this way.

The brutality of man hurt almost as much as the abandonment of your own family.

“Maximus?” The man, Thaddeus, you assumed, approached with a look of surprise. “I thought you’d be dead by now.”

“Just give us the head,” Max bargained.

The mention of an ‘us’ seemed to garner a response. The squire finally looked at the group, a cursory glance to each of you.

When he saw you, a smile tugged at his lips. He blinked once, then twice.

“Hi,” he greeted, solely focused on you.

You sucked a breath in, not missing the clench of Cooper’s jaw.

“Hey,” you replied kindly, taking a step towards him. “Thaddeus, was it?”

“Oh fuck,” he rubbed his empty hand against his pants nervously. “I ain’t ever seen someone as pretty as you.”

You breathed out a laugh, holding both hands out in front of you as you approached.

“Flirting is definitely not a part of the Brotherhood’s curriculum, huh?” Lucy mused.

“We really need that head,” you told him cautiously, slowly, ignoring the vault dwellers' merriment.

His eyes were wide, following your every move with something a little too close to reverence for your liking. The divinity that ran through your veins certainly made you more appealing, but the look he was giving you was a bit deeper than that.

A bit hungrier.

“It’s too late,” he responded, and as if on queue, the distant sound of spinning blades cut through the air.

“It’s not,” you argued, another step as you very carefully maneuvered around a trap. “Bring it here and we can leave together, before they land. But we have to go. Now.”

For a brief second, you didn’t think he’d follow. His eyes flicked up to the sky, where the Brotherhood would be any minute, and then back down to you.

Then, he took a step.

A cry rang out in alarm, torn from your throat as you jumped forward, trying to push him out of the path of a well-placed arrow. It didn’t matter, though. You were too late, pinning his body to the ground after he’d already been wounded.

Guilt gnawed at your stomach as you gazed down at him, wide eyes staring right back up at you. He’d been struck in the neck, a fatal wound by all accounts.

“Are we having sex?”

You tilted your head to the side, confusion bubbling around you. He definitely wasn’t dying, if the appendage pressing insistently into your thigh was any indication.

“You’re not dead?”

It was a question, one echoed by Maximus somewhere behind you.

“He’s gonna be,” Cooper growled, his voice hardly registering in your confusion.

“Just, sit still.” You ordered, reaching a hand towards his neck.

The arrow went clean through one side, remaining embedded into the throat. How he was alive was a mystery for another day, your current concern revolving around removing his new necklace.

You grabbed one end of it, tingles splintering up your arm, that ancient warning rearing it’s ugly head.

Do not kill.

Do not harm.

You grit your teeth, tugging as his hands came to rest on your hips. You’d wanted to comment on it, to tell him to take his hands off you, but Cooper beat you to it.

“Keep those hands there and you’re losin’ them.”

It was a vicious threat, spoken from his chest with anger, the hammer of his gun clicking for emphasis.

A pounding started in your head, a chant repeating itself.

Do not kill.

Do not harm.

You wanted to shout in frustration, the tremors working their way through your entire body. They came to a crashing halt the second the arrow was through, the wound healing on its own only seconds later.

You slumped forward, catching yourself with your hands on either side of Thaddeus. The man beneath you noticed, the sound of a bullet echoing through the air when he reached a hand up, almost grazing the side of your face.

“Watch those hands.”

It was a final warning, the patience of the ghoul gone.

“Your eyes are beautiful.”

His voice was dazed, staring at you with awe. It made you fidget uncomfortably before you rolled off him, leaving the space Cooper needed to stand above him.

Rage burned in his eyes as he pointed his pistol at the young man.

“Coop,” you warned, stepping in front of him.

Your warning meant very little to him at the moment. Murder was in his eyes, the kind that promised to see it through to the end.

The sky grew louder, the Brotherhood closing in on your position faster than you’d like.

“We don’t have the time for this.”

Reason seemed to win out for the moment, the need to survive beating back the need to prove a point. He holstered his gun, a withering glare pointed at Thaddeus.

You paid it no mind, jumping into action before any more ground was lost. You tossed the head to Lucy, shuddering at the lifeless object. It was gory, unnecessarily so, and holding it felt unnatural.

“Get out of here,” you yelled to the others, finding your footing relatively quickly.

Cooper was close by, following your every footstep. Thaddeus, however, decided to take his own route. It was probably for the best, lest Cooper ever see him ogling you again. Maze, initially unsure of where to go, obeyed your queue, running alongside Coop.

You’d only made it a hundred feet or so before you realized Lucy and Max were not with you. Your abrupt stop was interrupted, the ghoul tugging the back of your jumpsuit before you could even try to turn around.

You caught a quick glimpse. A passionate kiss was exchanged, and a sorrowful goodbye. The moment wasn’t for you to witness.

Before long, Lucy caught up to your little group again.

She didn’t bother to greet you, her hand gripping the head for dear life. It was the only thing she’d managed to salvage from the radio tower.

It was clear Max’s departure bothered her deeply, but you knew some wounds couldn’t heal with anything but time.

Maybe one day they would find one another again.

Until then, you’d look out for her, make sure she was able to grow on her own terms.

God only knew she’d need it in the upcoming future.

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard insert #fallout x reader #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout reader insert #the ghoul imagine #cooper howard imagine #i love this #fallout

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