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mangostarjam · 2 months

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taking care — wind breaker, aged up sakura haruka x f!reader, established relationship, "brat" as a petname, smut towards the end, 4.4k words

"Aren't you too old for this?"

Sakura Haruka grimaces and shoves his bruised hands into his pockets. You raise an unimpressed eyebrow. There's dirt smudged along his cheekbone and the end of his sleeve is ripped.

"They were tryin' to hit on a girl." It comes out mumbled. Haruka's two toned gaze is averted to the top of your head. It was always difficult to get him to meet your eye in your high school years, but ever since he hit his growth spurt and graduated you feel like it's gotten worse.

"Haruka-kun," you sigh, "c'mere."

You grab his arm and tug, taking advantage of his brief moment of surprise to drag him into the back of the bakery. Your coworkers wave and smile at the former school captain but otherwise leave the two of you alone.

"Y-you…! What're you doing?"

The back office of Saboten is neat and clean and thankfully empty. You shove Haruka into a chair and grab his chin, ignoring the flare of heat beneath your fingers as he turns bright red.

"Did you get hit on the face?" you ask, leaning closer to look. The dirt smudging his cheek is loose, brushing away easily when you stroke the smooth skin there. You probe gently at the strong bone beneath and ignore the way his chest seizes with a held breath.

"No," he mumbles, "it's just dirt."

Your attention is drawn — as always — to his eyes. A muted, stormy gray blue and a bright, shimmering gold meet your unabashed gaze as your thumb strokes along his cheekbone again.

"I'm glad you didn't get hurt." You allow yourself a tiny grin as he scrunches his nose at you. "You could've let the new Bofurin kids handle it… but those guys will definitely think twice about messing with anyone from our neighborhood now."

"'Course," Haruka sniffs. You wonder if he knows he's leaning into your palm. "It was a quick fight, anyway. Only losers are late."

"I told you, you don't have to pick me up from work. I can handle myself." You giggle as he scoffs. You slide into a crouch, propping up your elbows on his knees for balance. "Give me your hands, Haruka-kun."

Your boyfriend hesitates for a short moment before releasing a breath. His hands are rough, but he flips them over obligingly and doesn't flinch when you curl your fingers around his wrists. "You've bruised your knuckles again," you tsk. "I'll go grab the first aid kit."

"W-wait." Haruka's entire face is charmingly pink, the gentle hue sweeping along his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. "You don't… I mean, I don't need you to —"

"I know," you hum, tugging his hands up to brush a gentle kiss along his skin. "But I want to."

Haruka stays quiet as you fetch the first aid kit and get to work disinfecting the tiny cuts on his hands. You're used to the comfortable silence, basking in the familiarity of tending to his battle wounds in the back of the bakery where you first met.

You never would've guessed that part of your job duties at the bakery would include taking care of the new out-of-towner all those years ago, though it wasn't like he went along with it quietly. Your boss at the time was adamant that the Bofurin boys deserved all the freebies the bakery could afford to give, and she never minded when you'd pop off to the back alley to administer first aid.

Nirei was the one who knew you were handy with a medical kit, but it was Suo who eventually tricked their first year captain into coming to you. Haruka was a lot pricklier back then, shying away from casual human contact like everyone was out to get him but diving into fights like nobody's business.

Luckily for you, in spite of his speed and reflexes, Haruka definitely wasn't used to girls who were willing to literally sit on him to force him to stay still for first aid. After enough times shoving freshly baked bread into his hands and making him into your first aid practice dummy, he started to show up outside the bakery's back door on his own, often looking like a disgruntled street cat.

Little by little, you learned which breads he preferred and you begged Kotoha to teach you how to make omurice the way Haruka liked it. Little by little, he stopped flinching away from your touch and even let you lean against him when you needed a short break from work or studying, propping your head up against his shoulder and staying still enough that sometimes you'd fall asleep.

Little by little, the two of you fell in love.

Haruka doesn't say anything as you finish smoothing the tape holding his new wrappings together, but he flips his hands to hold onto you as you rise from your knees. You smile. "Do you wanna get dinner at Cafe Pothos? Kotoha-chan might make fun of you, though."

"She'll make fun of me no matter what," he grumbles. You snicker as he ducks his head. From this angle, you can only see the pale white eyelashes of his left side pressing against his skin as he takes a deep breath. "Don'tcha need to finish your shift? I'll be outside."

"Aw, are you worried about me?"

"Shaddup" Haruka huffs. "As if I care."

You grin as he rises to his full height, still steadily avoiding eye contact as you squeeze his hands. After all these years, it's cute how flustered he still gets when you tease him. "Haruka-kun? You can let me go now."

"…Can't."

"Oh?" you raise an eyebrow and tilt your head to catch his eye. He scowls. "If you just loosen your fingers—"

"Sh-shut up." You watch patiently as your boyfriend takes a deep breath. It's quiet in this back office, though a wall is shared with the employee locker room and you can hear a few of your coworkers laughing and chatting indistinctly. The smell of rising dough and freshly baked bread permeates the room, cut through with the sharp tang of antiseptic cream.

Haruka's ears are still red. You catch a glimpse of them through his black and white hair and squeeze his hands again. So cute. "Haruka," you say.

"…What?"

You rise up on tiptoes to kiss him, holding onto his hands for balance as you rock forward. Haruka predictably freezes before making a rough sound and kissing you back, letting you take the lead as you lean into him. His heartbeat jumps beneath your lips as you move to kiss at the soft spot below his jaw, earning another strangled noise that makes you smile into his skin.

It's warm. You think maybe your own ears are red enough to match his, but you don't give him a chance to notice, pressing another quick kiss to his lips and disentangling yourself. "I've gotta get back to work. I'll see you in a bit, 'kay?"

You leave him in the back office, knowing he'll find his way to the alleyway behind the bakery to wait for you, as always. Your coworkers don't mention how long you were missing, but you take over the mopping and cleaning duties as a thank you anyway.

Haruka doesn't take your hand when you meet him after your shift, but he walks close enough that your shoulders brush with every step. The gentle ringing of the wind chimes strung up below the shopping district sign follows the two of you on your walk towards home.

"What should we have for dinner, since you don't wanna endure Kotoha's teasing?" you ask, grinning lopsidedly when Haruka snorts in response. The street lamps cast a glow along his black and white hair, haloing him in a light gold that pales in comparison to his golden eye.

He glances sideways at you as you pause at a crosswalk. You catch a flash of gold and blue before he faces forward again. "You're comin' over?"

"Yes, or else you'll eat instant noodles again and die of malnutrition," you say. The two of you step into the street, though he steps slightly ahead of you to make sure it's clear. "Unless you don't want me to."

"Let's have curry."

"Did you get ingredients for curry, mister?" you ask, bumping your shoulder into his arm teasingly. "Or will we need to stop by a konbini again for emergency supplies?"

"That was just one time," Haruka grumbles, but he glances back at you fondly as you laugh. "And I went shopping earlier, brat."

He lets you hold onto his sleeve as you enter his studio apartment and stays steady as you toe your shoes off in the genkan. The place is vastly improved from the first time you stepped foot in it all those years ago, when you were delivering food for a sick Haruka.

Gone are the creaky hinges and peeling paint — the walls are smooth and clean, the cabinet doors are all securely attached, and there are actual curtains hanging over the balcony doors. He still sleeps on a futon, but he also got a low table and cushions for guests after you complained about eating on top of cardboard boxes, and he got a dresser to store his clothing after you took him shopping so he'd stop wandering around town always wearing his high school uniform.

Making dinner is always fun, with Haruka, because even though he's grown and learned a lot, you still get to tease him about his bulk stack of instant noodle packages and he still turns bright red when you lean over the table to offer him a spoonful from your plate.

He's more relaxed here, more willing to close the gap between you when you reach out to him. It used to worry you in the beginning — would you always be the one to make the first move? Did he actually like you, or was he just going along with your flirting because he didn't know any better?

Then he does something like swiping his thumb along your lips and sticking the digit in his mouth, laughing at your surprised gasp and gathering up the dishes before you can form a coherent thought. He asks about your day and listens as you tell him about the cute little kid who came into the shop asking for curry bread because "that's Sakura-taicho's favorite, and I wanna be like him when I grow up!"

You bask happily in the furious blush that paints his skin, grinning to yourself as he stammers and jerks his face away.

"Did you get new towels?" you ask, handing him a soapy plate to rinse off. Your boyfriend takes it, huffing an amused snort when you yawn widely. It's nearing your bedtime, and your sated appetite is making you even sleepier.

"Yeah," Haruka says, "since you were complainin' last time that mine're scratchy."

"Oh, nice," you say, rinsing the suds off your hands and moving to stand behind him. You shove your face into his shoulder blades before he can move, wrapping your arms around his middle as he tenses beneath you. It's been ages since he was an active fighter defending the town, but you can still feel the power and strength of his densely packed muscles twitching under your hold. "Mm, I'm sleepy…"

"Gwah! What are ya, an octopus?!" Haruka sets the clean plate on the drying rack and settles his hands on top of yours, but he doesn't move you. He could easily overpower you, though you're hugging him pretty firmly, pressing your entire body up against his as you take a deep breath. "The hell're you doin'?"

"Hugging you," you say. Haruka's fingers tighten around your wrists, but he still doesn't move you.

"I got that, genius."

"I'm just recharging before I have to head home," you mumble into his shirt. You're saving both of you from embarrassment, here, hugging him from behind like this, so really he should be grateful that you're so considerate of his feelings.

"It's late."

"I know," you whine, squeezing him just a little bit harder. "I don't wanna think about it."

"You have a toothbrush here."

Oh. "I don't have clothes here."

"You can borrow mine." Haruka stiffens even more as your hands clench the front of his shirt. "I-It's not like I'm tryna get you to stay over! It's just that it's late and you've gotta get up e-early tomorrow! I'm not some kinda pervert!"

You giggle into his back and nuzzle your forehead into the strong muscle there as he finally relaxes. "I'd be kinda upset if you didn't think about it a little bit, Haruka-kun. I am your girlfriend, after all."

Haruka lets out a huge sigh and moves to brace his hands on the counter. "You can take a bath first. Lemme go heat up the water."

"Are you trying to be a gentleman again?"

"Wuh — what're you talkin' about? I already told you I'm not a pervert!"

You laugh. "Last time you went to heat up the water for me, you didn't come out for a solid twenty minutes. I thought you passed out in there."

"That was just — I was just —!" Haruka hangs his head and you press your cheek against his back. You can feel his heartbeat pounding in double time. "I was tryin' to calm down."

"You don't have to, y'know," you say softly, patting at his firm chest with a sigh. "I wanna do it too."

Haruka chokes on his spit. Or at least, you think that's what happens, because he lapses into a coughing fit and gently pushes you towards the bathroom with a red face. He refuses to answer your concerned questions, only shoving a pair of shorts and a t-shirt into your arms before shutting the bathroom door on your amused face.

You shower and bathe on your own, humming a nonsensical tune as you lather up with his shampoo and body wash. It's a minor miracle and mostly a testament to your relationship that he has amenities at all, the clean smelling soaps clearly picked out with a thought towards your possible use of them. It makes your heart stutter in your chest when you notice that he's stocked your favorite brand of lotion on the counter and even left a clean face towel and headband for you to use while washing your face, as if he knew you'd need them eventually.

His clothes are a little too big on you, but you cinch the waistband of his shorts and hope for the best as you step out of the bathroom. Haruka is sitting stiffly at the low table, glaring down at his phone as the screen lights up with texts.

"Is everything okay?" you ask.

Haruka looks up and freezes. You pause in the act of adjusting his shirt on your shoulders, blinking at your boyfriend as he seems to go through five stages of something before he turns a bright cherry red and slams his eyes shut. You snort.

"You've seen me naked before, Haruka-kun."

"S-shaddup! T-that's different!"

You get on your knees in front of him and cup his face in your hands. Haruka doesn't flinch, but he cracks open one stormy blue eye like he's worried about what he might see. You roll your eyes at him. "Are you good? Why do you look so pissed at your phone?"

"Oh," Haruka blinks and glances sideways at the offending item. His face is warm in your hands. "The guys found out you're staying over."

"Are they giving you advice on how to get laid again?" you ask, giggling. "I love you, but please don't listen to Umemiya-san. I promise I don't get turned on by plant based pickup lines."

"I'm gonna shower!" Haruka stands abruptly and shuffles past you, but he pauses at the door. "You can read it, if ya want. The chat thread."

You raise an eyebrow and pick up his phone as he shuts the bathroom door behind him. A generic wallpaper greets you as you swipe it open, but you notice a star emoji next to your name in his message history, which makes you smile.

The chat thread with Haruka's former classmates is at the top, filling with more unread notifications as you watch. Scrolling through, you grin to yourself as the boys send teasing and shy stickers, interspersed with their own complaints of struggling to find partners for themselves and throwaway comments about "that lucky bastard Sakura" snagging "the cutest girl on Tonbu street".

"What're ya laughin' at?" You blink as Haruka crouches in front of you, a towel hanging around his neck. He's shirtless, and you watch with interest as a gentle pink flush deepens and spreads along his skin. "Quit starin'!"

"Y-you're the one who came out shirtless," you squeak, setting his phone aside and reaching out for him. Haruka chews on his lip but lets you touch him. "That's so unfair!"

You trail your hands down his bare sides and smile as he tries to suppress a shiver. Then you reach for his hands. "The first aid kit is here," Haruka says, stretching out to grab it from its shelf. The movement puts his hard muscles on full display, though you have a feeling it's unintentional. Regardless, you can't quite tear your eyes away from his chest and stomach, watching as the muscles of his abs flex when he returns to his crouch.

"You're so stupidly hot," you mutter, accepting the kit and snapping it open. "I can't believe you just walk around looking like this."

"H-huh?" Haruka's eyes widen in surprise. You grab his hands to keep him from running away, but he stays still as you reapply ointment and bandages to his knuckles.

"I know you find it hard to believe, since people used to give you shit about your looks, but you are…" you pause and glance up at him, taking in his smooth skin, his beautiful gray blue and golden eyes, his fluffy black and white hair, "stupidly hot."

Your boyfriend sighs and places a hand on your hip. You set the first aid kit aside and grin up at his pleasantly pink face. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, please."

Haruka kisses you slowly, tentatively. It's a little precarious, leaning up as he crouches in front of you, so you drag him to the futon and pull him over you, tugging him close by the ends of his towel. "You're so warm," he mutters, shifting his weight on his elbows and doing his best to keep from crushing you.

You sigh into the next kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him down, huffing a laugh when he grunts and smacks his hand against the floor in surprise. "You're so far from me, how can you even tell?" you tease.

"You're always warm," Haruka grumbles. He noses along your cheek, smiling against the smooth skin there as you giggle. "And soft."

"Are you callin' me weak?" you ask, tilting your head to kiss him again. He breaks the kiss with a pant, nipping at the exposed skin of your collar as your shirt shifts. "Ah — hey!"

Haruka groans, one of his hands going down to grip at the soft give of your waist, holding you still as he grinds down into the cradle of your thighs. You moan as his hard length drags against you, wiggling your hips into the friction as something pulses in your core. "I should've given you another shirt."

"A-another shirt? What's wrong with t-this one?" You gasp as he rolls his hips again, arching into the touch as his free hand slips beneath your borrowed shirt to brush against the swell of your chest. You grab at his shoulders and back, dragging your blunt nails along his skin as you pant. "I l-like this shirt!"

"I like it too," he admits, hiding his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. His hand slides up to cup one of your tits, tugging and pinching as he sucks a bruise into your neck. "Y'look damn good in it."

You whine, throwing your head back as he shoves the shirt halfway up, snagging on the bottom of your breasts before he yanks it off of you entirely. He drapes himself back over you almost right away, kissing you breathless until you lick into his mouth to earn a strangled groan.

Haruka seems content to keep kissing you, and normally you wouldn't mind, but your borrowed shorts are getting uncomfortably damp and he keeps rolling his hips mindlessly and it's driving you a little insane.

"Haruka, touch me already," you plead. Your boyfriend pulls apart a few scant centimeters, two toned eyes scanning your face wildly until you grab one of his hands and shove it down your shorts. "O-oh, yes, please right there —!"

"Fuck," he bites out. "You're so wet."

"Haruka, you need to stretch me out," you say breathlessly, squirming as his fingers slide and press against the wetness along your lips. "Y-you're too big to go right away, you've gotta ngh —"

He dips one finger into your clenching pussy and freezes above you. It would be almost comical except for how much hotter it makes you, forcing you to buck into his hand as he pants. "S-stop squirmin' or I'll come in my fucking pants," Haruka grunts, forcing himself to begin fingering you in earnest.

He grits his teeth when you whine at another added finger, scissoring them immediately to hurry this up. He doesn't want to hurt you, but when you're laid out like this right in front of him, looking so pretty and perfect, it's taking everything he has not to rut into you like an animal.

"I'm ready, 'm ready," you breathe. You wrestle the two of you out of your bottoms and giggle when he sends one pair of shorts flying into the wall, but your attention is immediately drawn to the trail of black and white strands leading down to your boyfriend's cock. "Can I?"

"Fuck no," Haruka says, positioning himself between your legs again. "D'you want me to die?"

That makes you laugh. You reach out for him as he spreads your legs apart with rough fingers, his easy, overwhelming strength making something throb in your gut. Your sex life is actually pretty healthy, considering your respective jobs and commitments and Haruka's healing trauma. He's always been careful and attentive to your needs as you learned about desire together. It's not like you're deprived of it, or anything.

But when Haruka slowly pushes his way inside you, the muscles along his jaw ticking with restraint, the feeling of being filled by him makes something snap in your core and you cum with a breathless cry.

Haruka freezes immediately, hands slamming down on either side of your head as you clench and squeeze his cock unrelentingly. He barely manages a shallow thrust before he has to freeze again, hot breaths puffing on your face.

"Did you just…?"

"Uh huh."

"Does that always happen??"

"Your dick isn't magical, Haruka-kun," you giggle, looping your arms around his shoulders and wiggling your hips a little. "This isn't going to happen all the time, so don't get used to it."

"I wasn't sayin' that!"

Haruka pouts into your next kiss, but you lick into his mouth and manage to draw out a low groan and an aborted thrust. The ache in your gut hasn't lessened much. If anything, the pressure of his thick cock nestled inside you is making you tingle all over, and the way sweat starts to bead along his hairline makes you want to make him cry.

"You can move, please," you breathe, "you don't have to hold back."

"Don't wanna h-hurt you," Haruka grunts, pulling out slowly only to thrust back in with a force that makes your tits sway. He screws his two colored eyes shut, brows furrowing in concentration. "Fuck, you feel so good."

"You feel good, too," you sigh. "You can let go, I promise."

Haruka's next thrust makes you moan, and something in him seems to snap. He fucks you into the futon relentlessly, propping your ankles up on his shoulders, his dick hitting that spot inside that makes you see stars fuzzing along the edges of your vision. The angle presses your clit against his skin with every thrust, sending you quickly spiraling into another orgasm as you cry out his name.

"Hah, oh fuck I'm gonna —!"

Haruka groans a strangled garble of your name as he reaches his peak, thrusting into you deeply as his cock throbs and releases thick gobs of sticky cum inside you. He lets go of your legs immediately, pressing firmly into the muscles there to ease the strain of being stretched like that for so long, but he hides his face in your neck as the two of you catch your breath.

"Should I call in sick for work tomorrow?" you mutter absently, somewhat desperately grasping for some semblance of sanity. "I dunno if I'll be able to walk."

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Haruka asks, lifting his head and wincing at the pull of sweaty skin. He's glowing, bright and handsome above you, his hair damp with sweat. His two colored eyes are a little watery, his eyelashes sticking together in clumps with unshed tears from how hard he came. The sight makes something squirm in your gut.

You reach up to push his bangs out of his face and snicker as the strands stick up. "You didn't hurt me, you just fucked the strength out of my limbs. We'll need another shower."

Haruka blushes hotly, an impressive feat considering he's still solid and hard inside you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm not hurt," you promise. You cradle his face in your hands and he leans into the touch. His hips roll slowly against you and he bites on his bottom lip as you gasp. "Haruka?"

"Maybe you should call in sick for work tomorrow."

"Seriously?"

Haruka nods, still blushing hard. "I swear I'm not a pervert, but you…"

You gape at him. "Are you calling me a pervert?"

"N-no!" You don't give him a chance to continue, leaning up to kiss him. You're both smiling when you pull away. "Who knew doing this stuff would feel better than fighting?"

You laugh out loud at that and flop back into the futon. "Are you seriously comparing the two things? Why're you thinking about fighting right now?"

"Can't help it," Haruka says, shrugging. "I could die when you make me feel so good. And fighting's what got me the cutest girl on Tonbu street."

#haruka x reader #sakura haruka x reader #haruka sakura x reader #wind breaker x reader #x reader #wind breaker fic #wind breaker writing #windbreaker x reader #fuji writes fic #send help idk what came over me #i saw this guy blushing all over the anime and lost it #'super shy' by newjeans plays on loop #i discovered something about myself while writing this btw #no i will not elaborate #also i read a lot of josei manga this weekend and that def did... something

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aphrodites-fav-daughter · 5 months

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Going to Victoria’s Secret with Percy Jackson…<3

“stay here” you said to your boyfriend. You stood in front of a child play area.

He shook his head wrapping his arms around you.

“Please Perce” you begged your boyfriend. You really didn’t want him with you when you enter Victoria’s Secret. You were fine with any other place, just not here…

“No…” he pouted squeezing his arms around your body

“please…” you asked with puppy eyes, a trick you had mastered.

Fine," he grumbled and let go of you. "Do you have everything you need in case of a monster attack?"

Yes, mother," you sighed at his protectiveness, "I have everything."

"Your dagger?" He questioned. " Your cellphone? What about-"

"Percy!" You interrupted him. "I'll be fine. We don't even have cellphones. You're only a couple of feet away from the entrance," you reminded him.

Ever since the war with Gaea, he's become way more overprotective in thoughts of losing you.

You thought it's adorable, but he could sometimes cross the line.

"You're right," Percy shook his head to himself. "You're a big girl."

You kissed his cheek, and then walked into Victoria Secret. You threw a quick look over your shoulder to make sure Percy isn't following.

He wasn't were you last saw him. He was with a little girl, helping her up a pair of steps that lead to the slide.

Your heart melted at the sight, he looked so cute with children. Your mind even wandered to the thought of Percy and you having kids one day, that little girl being your daughter.

You smiled to yourself, heading to the panties section. You chose a few pairs of panties, and then headed to the bras section.

You wanted to make this quick, you didn't want to make Percy wait long. You already knew what you were looking for.

"Uh, sir," you heard a female employee near you speak behind a rack of bras. "We need to ask you to leave. We're having complaints from other customers."

"I can't," you heard, this voice being much deeper and more masculine. "I'm here with my girlfriend."

"I'm sorry, sir, but until you have proof, we need to ask you to leave."

The people around you began to mutter, some pointing.

You almost laughed at the guy behind the rack of bras, thinking what type of pervert would come in here and claim he had a girlfriend when he clearly didn't. 15

Behind the rack, the figure rose to his feet, beet red.

You continued to think what a lunatic the guy is for spying on girls.

That was until the pervert turned out to be your boyfriend.

Percy sent you an bashful look. 41

You sighed. "Ma'am, he's… he's with me," you spoke, your face flushing red.

The employee nodded and left to fix the underwear close by, but she kept an eye on the two of you.

Percy wouldn't meet your eye.

"I told you to stay and wait," you scolded him.

"But I wanted to be with you, (y/n)."

You tried to muster some anger, but you couldn't. He only wanted to spend time and be with you. You began to think how sweet it was. You kissed your boyfriend, catching him by surprise.

You pulled away, looking at the selection of bras to choose.

Percy chose one, picked it up, and held it to his chest. "How about this one, (y/n)?" He asked, the bra he chose being blue with jewels decorating it - almost like seashells. "I would look hotter in this than you," he smirked. He slid his arms through the loops, looking down.

The employee near by looked ready to call security to escort both of you out.

"Percy!" You attempted to scold, but ended up in laughter.

He took off the bra and placed it back. Only this time, he chose an even larger sized bra. "This one fits much better," he felt himself as if he had boobs. "Yup, much better," he said as he smiled innocently at you.

There's nothing innocent in that smile.

The employee spoke to the mall security guard from a far distance, throwing glances in your direction.

"Uh… Perce," you began to place down the panties and bras you selected. "Put that back, we're leaving."

"Why?" He looked at you confused. "Aren't you buying these?"

"I was but not anymore," you said as he took off the bra. He followed your gaze and then understood what you meant.

"Come on." You laced your hand with his and started to take off running leaving behind your cute pantries you sadly didn’t buy.

“Hey!!” You heard from behind you, Percy took off in a sprint dragging you along to the bathroom and locking yourselves in a stall.

“Fuck. I love you…” Percy exclaims before kissing you, your mouths moving in perfect alignment. You guys were soulmates… your hands reached up each other’s shirt’s ,he pushed you against the wall before taking his hands out of your shirt and gripping your ass causing you to moan lightly, gifting him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. “Percy…” you grumbled in between kisses. “Yeah?” He replied in a haze.

“we forgot Annabeth at Cotton on Kids…”

#Pjo x reader #percy jackson #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x reader #pjo x you

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luveline · 1 year

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

the tension between you and miguel rises to an all-time high —a ficlet featuring a grumpy miguel and a flirty, distracted spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. fem!reader, 1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel has asked you multiple times to leave him alone while he's working. The strike force can't run itself (or so he claims —Margo and Lyla seem plenty capable, in your eyes) and he needs time and solitude to organise the protection of canon events, and—

"Blah, blah, blah," you say, dropping your voice to a soft, teasing melody as you skirt around his frankly audaciously jacked chest.

"Don't blah, blah, blah me," Miguel says. You'd be intimidated if you weren't so happy to mess with him. "I'm not kidding around."

Okay, maybe you are intimidated. That just makes messing with him more fun.

The room he operates from, as you've so fondly monikered The Office, is in organised chaos, and much too dark. You drag a lone chair toward his control panel and set yourself down in front of all his screens and computers.

"Ooh," you hum, reaching for an unlabelled switch with a purposeful slowness.

Predictably, Miguel slams his hand over yours, yanking your chair back with an annoyed, "No."

"Come on, Miguel. What harm could I possibly do?"

"You could–"

"Topple the multiverse?" you suggest. "I've heard."

"You could turn off every member of the Society's DMW. That's what that does. Potentially endangering each of their lives by stranding them in unfamiliar dimensions, and preventing them from correcting canon events."

You feel bad for teasing him when you see the look on his face, anger and exhaustion and the slimmest allowance of defeat. It must be tough to lead the Spider-Society. Tougher to micromanage more than half of its members.

Pulling your hand from under his, you cross your arms over your stomach and give him an apologetic frown. "Sorry, Miguel."

Evidence of his sweet spot for you lines his expression, softening his sharp jaw and the stoic set of his brow. It's gone as quick as it came, and his mask falls back into place. He turns away from you as though pretending you aren't there and scans one of his holographic screens, his face glowing with a yellow-orange haze.

Miguel has to tolerate you, because you're a Spider-Girl. Though you've never called yourself that aloud, and you're not sure anyone else has, either, it's an undeniable truth. You were bitten by a radioactive spider that gave you super mutant abilities, though yours aren't as potent as others. You're not especially strong, you probably couldn't stop a bus with your bare hands, but you're smart. You haven't saved the world or anything, but you lost your Uncle Ben. You paid the toll.

Every spider person has lost someone. Miguel seems to have lost more than that.

"You know," you mumble, kicking the ground lightly to make your chair spin on its axle, "I've been thinking…"

"That's never good."

"Why do we wear our suits here?" you ask, spinning for a second time, the room moving past your eyes in flashes. "It seems performative."

"Ah, I can answer that. Some of us work when we're here."

You wrinkle your nose at his deadpan and kick the floor again, spinning so fast it makes you laugh. "What did you say? I can't hear you from your high horse– woah!"

Miguel grabs the back of your chair, bringing you to a sudden and firm stop. You blink hoping it'll assuage the dizziness between your eyes, and when it doesn't work you keel forward, muttering, "Woah, I'm gonna die."

"You won't die."

"How do you know?" you ask.

"You're under my watch, aren't you?"

"I knew you liked me," you say. "Oh, I don't feel well."

"You brought it on yourself."

You catch your breath. When you feel okay enough to stand you almost trip, and Miguel doesn't bother pretending that he had any intention of stopping you from landing flat on your face. The you before the spider bite would've wiped out. This you giggles and holds Miguel's elbow for a second while you plant your feet.

"Okay, boss-man," you ask, looking up at the unnaturally high screen he's investigating. "What are we doing today?"

"I'm supervising a task force operation on Earth-31913. You're going home."

"Miguel," you say, not sure if you want to flirt with him or piss him off. He looks incredibly pissed off already, so you choose flirtation. "Have I told you how handsome you look this evening?"

He doesn't react. His hands don't so much as shift where they're akimbo on his hips.

"You really have the most handsome eyes," you continue, weaving around his arm to stand in front of him. You have to crane your neck to see them. "Sulky. Do I really have to go home? I'd rather stay here with you."

He looks down his nose at you. "Yeah?" he asks quietly, his voice rough as hewn stone.

"Yeah," you say, taking a small step back.

"And do what?"

You mirror his stance, hands on your hips. Your suit isn't form fitting like his, doesn't showcase nearly so much lean muscle, but you like it. You'd chosen a simple black ensemble to match the spider who bit you with a pinky purple heart over your stomach. Miguel had asked about it once, just once, when you'd first met and he had no idea how much of a problem for him you were going to become.

Why there?

Why do you think? you'd asked, giving him a sticky-sweet smile.

Forget I asked.

He lifts a hand to your chin, pinching it between two deft fingers. You're lucky he isn't wearing his gloves; his claws would pierce your jaw.

"What do you want to do?" he asks, again so quietly. "If you stay?"

"I could help with the task force."

"That's what you want to do?"

You flush with heat but refuse to let him know how you're feeling. Your heart bumps against your ribs, breath caught in your throat as he tilts your head up, as he leans down.

"No," he says near your lips, "that's not it."

"I could help you?" you offer.

Something flashes in his eyes. You hesitate to call it lust. It reminds you of a cat with a mouse in it’s clutches, only his pupils are blown, black and inky and wide as dimes.

"You want to help me?" he asks, his lips an inch, half of that from yours.

You nod minutely. "Yes," you say under your breath.

His hand moves to your cheek. He leans in closer and closer, until there's a hair's width of air between his mouth and yours, the tips of your noses bent together. His breath fans over your bottom lip and it's hot. You swear you can feel his heart as his chest presses to yours. He lingers there for an endless handful of seconds, silently egging you on.

You call his bluff and refuse to close the distance.

Miguel pushes you away from him, far from cruel but certainly not sweet. "I have a tower of paperwork you can file," he says.

"Here I thought you were finally going to bite my head off," you hum. "You're a sore loser, Miguel."

"And you're my pest," he says, holding your gaze for a half-second too long. He turns away. "Lyla? Arrange the recounts from the last canon event for Spider-Girl's perusal, please."

"So you've remembered I'm here?" Lyla asks wryly.

You don't mind the paperwork. You sign each one with a winky face and a pink gel pen heart, knowing Miguel will go over them all again, and knowing he'll grow angrier and angrier with each heart.

He'll kiss you and mean it one day. You just have to play the waiting game.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

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thefantasyden · 4 months

Text

Stray Kids reaction to you fighting sub space

BDSM themes, descriptions are based off my personal experience but yours may be different! Sub space is not the same for everyone.

NSFW content as always ♡

Chris:

Chris takes a minute to notice the change in your behaviour. He'll reach over to pet your head or something and feel you tense up under his touch, your leg bouncing as you try to keep yourself grounded. He had asked you to come to his studio to keep him company, and you didn't want to be clingy while he was working. The second it clicks to him that you weren't letting yourself slip he'd be pulling you into his lap, his hands wrapping around you in a tight bear hug before he's planting silly, exaggerated kisses all over your face. He knows you need reassurance, and he is the king of pushing all the right buttons, lovingly coaxing you into that sweet, cloudy relief.

"Babyyyyyy you know how much I love taking care of you. You'll be good for me and let me do it, right? It makes me feel needed."

Lee Know:

He isn't having it one bit. He knows that there's always a reason when you start slipping, and it's almost always because you're overwhelmed. He's so used to you letting yourself fall when he's around that he's more shocked when you don't. He'd see you fidgeting and acting restless, and it doesn't matter what you're doing or where you are, he's calling you over and telling you to kneel for him. He knows you will, because you want to please him. His hand would only be petting your head for a second before he's wrapping his hand gently around your throat. It's not enough to choke you, but the pressure is just perfect enough to push you deeper into his willing arms.

"Don't ever do that again. I don't like it. You're mine, you know I'll always give you what you need."

Changbin:

He's honestly clueless until he makes you say it outright. All he knows is that you're quieter than usual and you aren't giving him your full attention, so he'll stare you down and ask you whats wrong until you admit that you need to let go for a bit but you're scared of annoying him. He'd be a bit upset that you think you're even capable of annoying him, and he'd be holding your head with his hands on your cheeks, a pout playing on his lips as he scolds you. He's quick to kiss you and will pull you into his lap so that you're straddling him and can't move away.

"I can't believe you'd ever think about my Bunny like that. That's just mean. My Bunny is perfect, and I think I need to remind you of that, hmmm?"

Hyunjin:

He notices that you're tense and jittery, but he doesn't address it immediately. He wants you to communicate it to him properly (because he knows it'll push you further in) and he will encourage your need to submit by resting his hand near your neck or standing near you when you're sitting, although any position that has him towering over you will work. He is very proud of you when you finally tell him what you need and what your thoughts are, kissing your hands before his lips meet yours. Hes pressing his body against yours before you know it, lips readily exploring the skin of your neck and trailing anywhere that sparks their interest. He's gonna shower you with praise and compliments and help wipe those annoying thoughts straight out of your pretty brain.

"That's my angel. So good to me, aren't you? My sweet, needy baby. I love it when you're like this."

Han:

He's pouting. He's whining, and he's scolding you like you've personally hurt him (which he believes you have). You and Jisung are always VERY open about your needs, and when you struggle with anxious thoughts like this, he really takes it to heart since he empathises with it so deeply. He'll lay his entire body on top of yours and whisper how much he loves you and how you're the best thing that's ever happened to him and he wants you to know you're safe with him always. You're his partner in crime, his chaos coordinator, and if you don't feel good, he doesn't feel good. Once he's done with his lecture, he's dragging you up and toward the bathroom so he can get you into a warm bath. He likes washing your hair and body for you because it makes you feel even more submissive and also gives him an excuse to grope you all over.

"My poor baby. Can't believe I left you to be all needy by yourself. Gonna make it up to you, ok?"

Felix:

Your sub space was something new to your relationship, so Felix would understand why you'd be anxious. He's very keen on your needs and is quick to notice any change in your behaviour, so he doesn't miss the dazed look on your face or the frustrated noises that you don't realise you're making. He'll reach up to pet your head in the same manner you'd do for him and whisper that it's okay if you're feeling needy. He'd tell you that he'll take care of you, that he wanted to take care of you. He'll gently massage your scalp in the most delightful, soothing way, and it's impossible for you not to let go when he's so caring and sure of himself. He coos at you a lot when you do finally give in, and he can never stop the cheesy smile on his face when he sees how dreamy you look.

"I think you're so cute like this. My happy little star. I wanna see more of it, ok?"

Seungmin:

Minnie is definitely upset because you should KNOW he doesn't mind. He's always lovingly bullying you, but you KNOW he doesn't mean it. He knows you know. The tell for him would be when he rolls his eyes at you with some half hearted quip about you being a pest and you dont't respond with the same energy, your nails picking at the skin of your fingers. He'd glare at you for a moment before making his way over, crouching down in front of you and staring up at you with a glare. He tells you that it's really mean of you not to want to submit to him. He doesn't mean it, of course, but he knows that a little push is what you really need. Might make a comment to you about how you must not think very highly of him, and he is reeling when he sees your eyes get all watery as you scramble to tell him that you just need him so very badly. He reassures you once you're there, but he's also quick to pinch your thigh in warning.

"If you do that again I'm not gonna be very nice, ok? Only I get to have you like this and I think I deserve to see it as often as possible."

I.N:

He's not very well versed in body language, so he would end up accidentally upsetting you by ignoring you in favour of whatever game he was playing, only responding when he hears a frustrated cry leave you. He's confused at first but he gets the gist of your babbling when he hears 'stressed' and 'can't think' and hes willing to pause what he was doing, motioning for you to come sit on his lap. He frowns at you and tells you that he needs you to let him know what's going on. For him, knowing you were wanting to submit would be a huge turn-on, and he isn't in control of how hard he gets with you sitting on his lap teary-eyed. He's going to use the moment to try out any accessible fantasy that you'd mentioned to him, wanting you to enjoy the experience so that he could have you that way the next time you felt needy.

"You wanna be my toy? Aw baby, you should have asked. You know I'm always ready to make you cry if you need it.."

#stray kids smut #skz smut #felix smut #jeongin smut #i.n smut #seungmin smut #jisung smut #hyunjin smut #han smut #changbin smut #lee know smut #minho smut #chan smut #bang chan smut #chris bang smut #thefantasyden

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alottiegoingon · 2 months

Text

hc! married life

lucy maclean x fem!reader

summary: meeting lucy + being married to her

warnings: lucy is a dork, established relationship, its 2296-2300ish, it takes place after fallout finale and things get better after it, nothing but fluff and a married couple doing cute shit, no nsfw but mentions of it, quick cannibalism mentions (uh…), wasteland and life outside the vault brief mentions, reader wasn't born in the vault, not proofread, silly plot

when you first met lucy, you found her in the old antique store. you were talking to the not so nice lady that owned the place when you saw her step inside with an inquisitive gaze, observing a bunch of what it looked like junk to you. it was almost hilarious seeing a young woman wearing that goofy ass blue and yellow jumpsuit.

you were leaning against the wall in the corner, listening to all of her chattering about vault-tec. it sounded like nothing but utterly tedious

"it would be safe to assume that you do business with criminals. not judging you. don’t imagine there’s that many other options up here." blissfully unaware of the death stare coming from that lady, she boldly muttered and it immediately made you step out of the corner you were hiding in to save her

"she doesn't mean that! she's new here, sorry." you jump in, forced to intervene, touching lucy's shoulder and giving them a light squeeze. she furrowed her brows in response with your disapproving glance. “wha- who are you? i was just talking about the equipments!”

pulling her away from the place, you hear the hoarse voice behind you saying "fucking vault dweellers."

it didn't take longer than a day for you two to be friends. sharing stupid stories from her vault, fun facts, and learning about each other's life and family was one of the things that you bonded over

while you two were outside once, walking together by the wrecked lanes of what los angeles used to be, and lucy began to talk about her life in the vault and you were more than impressed and in disbelief of how naive vault dweellers could be

"wait, what do you mean?" your face twists at the second you heard lucy saying that the guy she married was an outsider that was responsible for killing half of her vault. "how can you married someone you've never met?"

"well, you see, when you marry someone from another vault, usually it comes with benefits! we gave them seeds and parts for machinery and they offered us a breeder!" lucy explains it all like the good teacher she is, assertively nodding with shoulders back

you forced yourself to repress a laugh by looking the other way, and she immediately noticed and questioned you incredulously but you knew her too well already to notice that she wasn't mad. "what is it?!"

"you people marry strangers for seeds and to have kids? that sounds... miserable. what if they are awful people or outsiders like that guy?"

"okay, when you say it like that..." she loses her shoulders, brushing her confidence away, gulping and chuckling awkwardly. "but you are an outsider. and you aren't that bad."

"careful there. it makes you sound like you are very found of the outsider here, lucy maclean." you stare back at her and see a tender smirk peeking onto her lips. her body slightly leaning against yours, and a soft gaze that swiftly averted when you caught her. she didn't deny it though, you thought

it took her one kiss to invite you to live with her after your mission was done and you gladly accepted.

the invitation was up even after all the truth about her dad. after all the traumatic experience, on the way to your new home, you never left her alone not even for a second. you were always holding hands, sharing glances, leaning against each other and making her giggle as you were losing the track of how many times you kissed her face

in the vault, after everything was settled, you had all the time in the world to take care of her and learn about each other. you would spend hours running your fingers through her hair, listening to whatever she said and playing with her fingers while holding her hand. you would let her talk about all the memories with her family and carefully laugh along or comfort her when needed

you knew that you couldn't erase her bad memories from what had happened but you could create new ones and you focused on that

it was about time when she proposed to you, stuttering, crying and using a bunch of silly expressions like "holy moly" or "jeepers creepers"??!

don't get me started on the honeymoon. yes, you were living in a giant metal capsule but you could swear that as soon as you left the room after days, you were able to breathe fresh air.

lucy wasn’t exactly the easiest person to appease. especially not after finally seeing through the entire “breed” thing that everyone in the vault worshipped so much and experiencing what actually love could be. turns out that sex isn’t something people do just to have kids and “recolonize” the earth, after all

strongly believe that she would be such a loud and whiny girl when you touch her. even the slightest graze would make her legs tremble and she would go like 🥺

"wanna cook together?" "wanna go gardening?" "wanna watch a movie?" "hi, princess, wanna read something together?" "teach me your repair skills?" and her answer would always be "okey dokey" and a huge smile

your favorite part about gardening was to plant food and use it for dinner as you cooked together. and by that, it meant that you would cook while she was happily seating following you around with a cooking book giving you orders like a princess

in other times, you were proud to distract her on purpose by hugging her waist from behind, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. reasonable to assume that the entire room would smell like smoke as she cried at the sight of you on her knees and between her legs, eating her out

when it came to help around the vault, you were a great teacher along with your wife, making sure that all the facts were correct but in a less traumatizing way in order to not scare all the kids with “yeah, so basically all my family got killed by explosions but, hey, i’m here now!”

after a long day, watching movies was your favorite thing to do. one night, when discussing all the different genres of movies that lucy had never seen, you mentioned a specific one

“you know, my grandma used to tell me about this really weird show from the 2020’s where some creepy teenage girls ate each other after crashing into the wilderness.” and lucy’s face goes pale, looking like 😦

“golly gee… i hate it up there.”

#shes princess #lucy maclean #lucy maclean x reader #fallout #yellowjackets x reader #jackie taylor x reader

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bizbat · 4 months

Text

When They're In Love HCS - Jason Todd

~ Fem terms used for reader

~ Partially based on these headcanons

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ You can find part two here, and part three here.

~ You can find more of my works here

Jason Todd seems like the type to fall hard and fast. He might not admit it for a while, but he's been developing feelings for you from at least the second or third time you met.

He's the type to call you "Wifey" or "The Missus" even when you aren't married and regardless of whether or not you to plan to.

He absolutely keeps a picture or two of you in his wallet, and no, he doesn't think it's cheesy in the slightest.

He's the type to lay on you. Your chest, your tummy, even your butt if you're laying on your stomach, your size and weight is irrelevant.

You'll be minding your own business, laying down and reading a book or playing on your phone, and he'll come out of nowhere and drop all 230+ lbs of muscle on your smaller body.

If you wheeze and try to crawl out from under him, try to push his giant hulking form off of you, he'll just wrap his arms around you and tell you he's tired, and just needs a few minutes of sleep.

Doesn't actually spend as much time reading as he would like to, but if you enjoy reading he'll always find time to do it with you.

If libraries had gold card memberships, he would be the one to have it. He'd rent any and as many books as you want.

Sometimes, he'll go out of his way to find books he thinks you'd like or that you can read together. Sometimes, he'll even give you old books from his personal library if he thinks you'll enjoy them as much as he did

I don't think he's be huge on giving gifts, I see him as more of a quality-time type (but i see almost all of the bats as quality-time types so take that with a grain of salt), but I do think he'd give you lots of tiny gifts all the time.

He'll pick up a quick breakfast for the both of you at the local bodega, he'll get your pet treats, he'll bring over your favorite candy or snack everytime he comes over to your place, etc.

Loves movie nights. Doesn't matter which movie it is, it could be some dumb, low budget nightmare made to babysit kids, or the best piece of visual media ever made by human hands.

He loves being able to talk to you, he loves hearing your opinions, loves hearing your voice. He'll recommend movies to watch just because he knows you'll have a lot to say about them.

I don't think he'd have a big moment where he introduces you to his entire family, I think he'd introduce you slowly, one person at a time.

I think he'd start with Dick or Cass, or Alfred, then so on and so forth. I think Tim and Damian would either be dead last, or have to find out on their own.

The only reason the others were told by Jason straight up is because they have that bare minimum amount of respect to stay out of his business. 💀

If you're a civilian, I don't think he'd want you to have anything to do with the more dangerous side of his life. It's bad enough you're dating him to begin with, he doesn't want to put you at anymore risk.

It's a somewhat different story if you're another vigilante. I still don't think he'd want you involved in his work specifically, but he would at least know you could take care of yourself if it came down to it.

He almost always wakes up before and goes to bed after you.

He likes seeing you when you're asleep, your hair a mess, or your bonnet askew.He thinks you're so cute when you're sleeping.

I don't think he'd take lots of pictures, but i don't think he'd mind if you did.

He might actually enjoy it if you just have a ton of selfies with him.

You are his lockscreen. Whether that was a decision made by you or him is still up for debate.

Doesn't care if you're more masculine or feminine, i think he'd find something to enjoy about both aspects.

Or if you were more androgynous.

He'd for sure call you "My girl".

A list of names I think he'd call you: My girl/wife, Wifey, Angel, Sweet thing, Princess, Baby

I've said it before and I'll say it again, the man LIVES for domesticity.

Even if you aren't married, you guys will act like an old married couple.

He's not my personal fave, but guess I had a lot of thoughts about him lol

#bizbat #jason todd x reader #jason todd hc #jason todd headcanons #dc headcanon #dc #red hood #red hood x reader

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a-hazbin-reader · 4 months

Note

K so I loved your egg and dog, why not next a real kid. The cannibal kids, like the kids adore y/n when ever she comes to town to visit. They do multiple fun activities like makeing flower crowns or just somthing as simple as hopscotch!

(Proves y/n would be a good mom.)

Y/N would be a good mom!! I believe in her!!

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Children in mild danger, Cartoonish antics, Reader wants children, Alastor being possessive, Sad implications

Description: 👆⬆️

Alastor likes taking you to Cannibal Town, he likes that everyone there loves you nearly as much as he does

He likes showing you off and letting Rosie brag about you for him

Because she totally brags about you, not letting Alastor get a word out to say it himself

And the children all listen to Rosie so they quickly turn their attention on you with sparkling eyes and grabby hands

And you are immediately enamored with them too, giving them tight squeezes and gentle pecks on their chubby cheeks

It's adorable that the children have taken such a shine to you, really it is

"Y/N! Y/N! Come play with us!"

"Alright~ Alright~"

Not the littlest one leading you by holding onto your finger

And the way you indulge them just makes his heart melt, watching you play along with their antics

You mend their clothes for them, bandage their boo-boos, bring them snacks so they aren't tempted to gnaw on each other

Or you

Plus it gives him time to chat with Rosie or shop for surprise gifts for you so he doesn't necessarily mind it

Except those kids never seem to run out of energy or get sick of your attention

Sometimes he finds you surrounded by them, all of you snuggled up together and relaxed

Are those flowers in your hair?

Yes, yes they are.

Or you'll seek him out, one child on your shoulders and another in your arms, both asleep

But your husband wants to take you home and get some snuggles with you for himself

And cannibal children are fucking ruthless when it comes to something they want so he has to get creative to get his wife back

"Here~! Have some scissors! Run as fast as you can with them~!"

"ALASTOR!"

"Oh fuck-"

They 100% fight back though, those children are smart and ruthless, quick to realize Alastor is competition

That's part of why he likes the cannibal children so much tbh

They will literally throw him in a well if it means spending five more minutes with you

It becomes a cartoonish war between Alastor and the children, one with little malice but many dangerous antics on both ends

With you in the middle

You even start to play along, picking different sides at random and turning things into a game

It's totally not an excuse to watch your husband play with children and it definitely doesn't make your heart ache

Once Alastor stops to realize how you're looking at him and sees how much warmth your gaze holds then he starts to understand something

Something that makes his heart throb a little but he tucks it away for when you two are alone

Alastor starts to join you in hanging out with the children after that, enjoying the maternal side of you more than he would care to admit

And seeing him act even remotely fatherly is obviously doing things for you so that's a bonus for him too

You two are constantly followed by a gaggle of children now, the two of you looking like duck parents

If you run into any of the overlords then Alastor will pit the kids against them, telling them to get their Aunty/Uncle

Bonus points if its Vox and they take off a piece of him and bring it back to Alastor

They love biting their Uncle Vox~

They even visit you two at the hotel sometimes, all of them storming the building and wreaking havoc until they find your room

Not all of them trying to sneak into bed with you two as silently as possible

Okay no-

He's going to start locking doors now

Go ahead, old man they'll just break them down

Alastor totally doesn't make them Charlie and Vaggie's problem afterwards just so that he can have some peace

More cuddles with his wife please

"Alastor...we should get the children home..."

"Five more minutes, my dear~"

How can you say no to him when he's kissing your neck like that?

Five more minutes

He's amused when you try to explain away the love marks on your neck and shoulders in a PG way

Kids ask the silliest questions, don't they?

You always sigh happily at the end of the day once the kids have gone home, leaning on your husband

You look tired but happy, Alastor committing the look to memory

He catches you staring at the kids fondly and looking at baby clothes a little more often

Maybe you hold a baby for a little too long, voice a little too thick with emotion

It's obvious to him that being around the children makes you happy but also makes you wish for something more

And all he wants is his wife to be happy

So maybe he should have that conversation with you that he's been putting off for awhile

Alastor isn't really a coward, but when it comes to difficult conversations with you, he's definitely reluctant

He doesn't like to see you get worked up and if the conversation goes where he thinks it's going to go then...you're gonna get upset

Waits until the two of you are snuggled up together in bed, his arm wrapped snuggly around you

You're nearly asleep, happily breathing in your husband's scent and lazily stroking his chest

"Y/N...do you want a family with me?"

Now you're wide awake

🥹🥺🥹 literally me after this

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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arminsumi · 8 months

Note

“you’re short”

“okay? so put some inches in me”

all i can imagine is a sassy/bratty reader and a cocky gojo 😭

we’re going to ignore that i’ve only seen one ep of jjk and i’m already requesting smut over it ☠️

OOH, YOU FLIRTIN'?

💗 GOJO さとる

[ Note ] : 🥵😳 what a vision! and lol one ep into jjk n alr thirsty for gojo love that 👍 also u n me are so small compared to him 🫠 also idk if he's more cocky or dorky in this oops lol. and i am writing this on my phone at a sleepover lord help me i have been awkwardly shifting around and avoiding showing my screen to any eyes 😭😭

[ Warnings ] : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : suggestive/18+ content/smut, mentions virgin reader, getting caught

[ Playme ] : XXX

"You're so short."

"Okay, so put some inches in me."

"Yeah, I bet you'd like that, huh?"

"I would, actually."

"Ooh, you flirtin' with me, shorty?"

"Yeah, well you started it, big boy."

Big boy...? 😳

Gojo Satoru, your very cheeky and very bold classmate, who has not held back on flirting teasing you about your height since he met you, is rendered speechless for the first time.

But only for a moment. Soak up your victory quick. He stutters. His brain chokes up. His heart throbs like he's just developed an instant crush. His uniform pants feel uncomfortable.

And then he reanimates himself once he hears Suguru snickering next to him.

"That's pretty bold of you, huh?" he smirks toothily, sinking his shaky hands in his pockets. "Now you're gettin' me all worked up—"

"—oh yeah?" you lid your eyes and flirt. He's taken aback again. "Worked up how?"

"Get a room, you two. Honestly..." Suguru grumbles.

"Yes, I think we will." Satoru winks at you. It's a failed wink. Deep down, he's not confident in his flirting. No. Deep down, he's an awkward dork.

His brain short circuits when you continue flirt back. He actually runs out of things to say.

She's a mature flirt. I'm an immature flirt. How the hell do I keep up? Fuck.

When you and him get alone together, clearing up the chairs after a class, you tease;

"Come on, big boy, what's the matter? Lost your edge?"

"No... I'm just thinking." his voice cracks at the end, he clears his throat. It feels tight. His pants feel tight too.

"About what?"

"About what you look like naked."

You let out a laugh, and laugh and laugh, like he's the most ridiculous flirt you've ever met.

"What?" he raises a brow.

"You're so ridiculous."

Oh yeah. That irks him. That flippant comment. You're not even looking at him as you say it, you're scooting a chair into a desk.

He walks over to you and peers down, making the height difference between you and his 6'3 frame sorely apparent. What a big boy.

"Wanna repeat that for me?"

Ooh his voice is heavy and low, low enough to cause goosebumps on your skin. And the proximity? It makes you feel more than just small, it makes you feel a tingling between your thighs.

He comes closer. Grazes his lips across yours. Mixes breaths with you.

"Uh—" you get flustered.

"—haha, just kidding." he pulls away suddenly. Maybe because he got too nervous (true) or maybe because he felt victorious in knocking you off your high horse (also true).

"I thought you were gonna—" you begin disappointedly.

Satoru cuts you off.

"—do something? Aw, are you horny?" he winks.

"Yeah. For you." you roll your eyes.

Fuck.

My pants feel too fucking tight. Can she see the outline of my dick? Is she looking there?

"Is that so?" he raises a brow, staring right into your eyes. No one holds eye contact quite like Mister Six Eyes.

He chuckles, Addam's apple shifting up and down deliciously. "Aren't you a virgin?" he sneers.

"Yes. I am. Are you gonna do something about it, or just stand there like an idiot?"

He nearly chokes.

Wow. What? She actually just said that?

"Of course I'll do somethin' about it, sweetheart. But..." he leans into your air again, closer than before, 'n breathes tauntingly against your quivering lips.

"... does a goody-two-shoes like you really wanna lose her virginity in a classroom?"

"Stop stalling, big boy. I'm not a "goody-two-shoes"; I'm fucking horny." you seethe lustfully.

Fuck.

He's not sure how to respond. His brain is malfunctioning.

"Alright... then use your words like a big girl and ask me nicely to fuck you." he mutters, lips grazing yours. You can feel how badly he wants to kiss you.

Please say it.

The sexual tension has his heart racing, pretty cock pressing flush against the fabric of his dress pants.

"Satoru..." you begin, pulling on his collar.

He gulps and listens intently. The small touch your fingers make with his neck drives him wild.

"... fuck me."

Something just snaps inside him right there.

He crashes his lips onto yours with a feverish intensity, the rest his history—

—er, until the teacher walks in on you two right as things get toasty, catching Satoru with his hand up your shirt and your hand down his pants. And then you giggle off to detention with Satoru.

He promises to put some inches to your height. Uh... you know... by lifting you off your feet while he stuffs you up with his cock 😌

No copying/plagiarizing/reposting. Do not promote me on other platforms.

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ma1dita · 4 months

Text

play pretend

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k (holy shit)

summary: (established relationship…at the end of it lol) suggestive in nature but sfw , underage drinking what do you expect from a dionysus!kid, mentions of vomit The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren't exactly together yet. Everyone knows you two are together except the both of you, apparently. It’s hard to not run away from something good. (luke castellan x dionysus!reader)

a/n: happy first i love you to you and luke! yall are together now! crazy! thanks for being patient during my lil vacay :)) its been a little over a month since i started the trouble!verse!! ilysm

(posted 2/23 betad by my one and only @mrsaluado )

—

There’s something you’ve always loved about mornings.

Waking up with the first rays of light peeking through your window, the sun’s arms stretched around your sleepy frame pressing warm, featherlike kisses across the expanse of your back.

It almost feels real.

Apollo must be feeling generous today, the heat of a warm breath brushing against your neck, and your alarm sounding an awful lot like soft snores. You ought to get up and close the blinds; it’s too damn bright. But your weighted blanket feels immensely heavier this morning as it envelopes your senses—smelling of citrus, musk, and a tangible dream of last night that seems to have stayed in bed with you. As soon as you try to untangle your legs from below the covers, warmth presses you deeper into the mattress with a…familiar sigh.

Your eyes pop open.

Quick and calculated, your eyes survey the surroundings of your room—the mop of licorice tresses nestled against the crook of your neck, both of your clothes scattered on the floor, as well as the alarm clock and a few other things knocked off your nightstand from Luke’s enthusiasm. The quiet of the morning is quickly disrupted when you hear two pairs of little hands pounding on your door, and for a moment you wonder if this is one of those hyper-realistic dreams that you don’t want to wake up from.

“Sissy! You missed breakfast,” Pollux bellows as Castor continues to slap his palms on the wood like a bongo drum.

The sheets start rustling as you squirm out of Luke’s grasp, bumping against the muscular ridges of his torso which brings him back to consciousness.

“Be out in a minute!” you slur against his shoulder, and he opens his eyes blearily at the sight of you sprawled over him to try to reach the alarm clock on the ground. As his eyes focus he can’t help but admire the planes of your body, soft and pretty in the morning light like a painting come to life. Waking up in one’s company has never felt more right, even with the usual chatter of campers wafting through the open window. Here in the swaddle of pink and purple sheets, you two are something singular—not camp counselors with jobs to do, not demigods wanting to achieve glory, just your angelface and his trouble.

It’s intimate, even if it doesn’t have a label, him and you.

His large hand catches you at the plush of your tummy when you almost topple off the bed.

“Shit. Shit! They’re not kidding—Luke, it’s 9:30!”

You fling yourself upwards and off of him, clambering to find clothes from your dresser and tossing him his from the day prior. His belt buckle almost hits him in the eye and he groans, flinching as it smacks him in the cheek.

“Gods, woman. You think camp will crumble because you slept in for once?”

The glare you throw in his direction is his answer, so Luke slowly tugs his pants on–though he quickly gets distracted by a half-dressed vision of you rummaging around your room.

“Castellan.”

He grins like a little kid in a candy store, and to that, you throw his shoe at him.

Idiot.

Too bad you’re in deep shit for sleeping in.

“SISSY!!!”

“IN A FUCKING MINUTE, THING ONE AND TWO!”

Screaming at the closed door as you throw some shorts on, you spin around and bump into Luke who’s already got his hands around your waist as his nose nudges the space between your jaw and your neck.

“You were supposed to leave before daybreak,” you sigh, a smile creeping onto your lips, “if you did as you were told, I wouldn’t have slept in.” Fake annoyance leaks through your voice though he knows it not to be true, he wouldn’t be able to latch onto you like this if you were. His nose continues to graze up towards your ear as he presses a kiss behind it—like how you both deal with your feelings and the truth nowadays, a hidden secret kept for both of your eyes only.

“Dunno trouble…I can get used to waking up next to you,” he mumbles. You can feel the imprint of his smile searing into your skin.

Is this what going into cardiac arrest feels like? Genuine question.

You’ve both been sneaking around for the past few weeks, but neither of you has made anything official. They say it’s easier to fall for a friend rather than a stranger—to know someone so intimately (and now in more ways than one) should make falling the easy part.

But that’s kind of the problem.

Luke is your best friend—both knowing how the other feels from a single glance, so pray tell to all the gods on Olympus, why has this boy not asked you out yet? Whether this is all for fun or anything resembling a four-letter word that makes your brain go fuzzy, you think you’d rather swim in the Styx instead of putting yourself at a disadvantage. Love is scary, even if it’s Luke.

Especially since it’s Luke.

His words make you stop in your tracks and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears, so you’re not dead… But the noise turns out to be one of the twins banging on the door again, and now you look like an asshole for taking too long to respond. Luke’s awkwardly looking at you now, tongue in cheek.

“Last warning,” one of your brothers teasingly croons, before the other continues, “Dad’s almost at the door! Your boyfriend’s gotta go or he’s dead…”

Your eyes widen in fear and Luke loosens his grip on your waist, unsure if you look like you’ve seen a ghost at the thought of him being called your boyfriend or the very real possibility of getting caught by your dad.

What a way to go, you two.

“Get out. You gotta go now, out the window!”

You start pushing him towards the windowpane, your palms pressing against his marked-up and very bare back.

Holy shit, he still doesn’t have a shirt and he looks like he got mauled by a hellhound.

You can practically see the grapevines start to flourish outside your window.

He’s too close for comfort, way too damn close, you think, but can’t reason if you mean Luke or your dad.

“Seriously?”

He straddles the open window, and Luke doesn’t know what to feel about you pushing him away—it’s a feeling that’s foreign to him since he’s always by your side.

“Sorry. I’ll make it up to you later angelface,” you mumble, pulling him in for a mind-numbing kiss that almost makes him slip off the rain gutter, and by the time you’ve already closed the window he realizes he’s shirtless in broad daylight, feet hopping off the siding of the cabin.

This couldn’t get any worse (oh but it does in a second), and you’re definitely the asshole this time around.

Your dad barges into your room by the time you throw a shirt on.

“Kid, what the hell? You sick?”

Mr. D furrows his brows at the sight of you, face flushed as you simper up a lie about your head hurting. It’s weak for an excuse and even if you usually don’t have a tell—he’s the master of this game, so he pretends to not notice you chuck a shirt out the window when you open it to make it less stuffy.

He raises an eyebrow in disapproval when you both notice your shirt is too big on you.

Oh, he’s onto you, applying heat like a brand to make his only daughter squirm; Mr. D peeks out the window to see a certain Luke Castellan stomping across the path wearing your cropped camp tee—and concludes that if there’s anyone in hot water right now, Luke must be drowning in it.

—

Acting natural is a bit harder for you today, and it feels like a cruel and unusual punishment worth the deepest pit of the Underworld as you scribble words onto a page that won’t even be comprehensible once you read them after this meeting is over. You’ve been catching up on work all day (also known as the impossible task of avoiding Luke) to show your dad you haven’t been slacking off. But a late start meant you fumbled through your day and it was obvious to everyone that you were off your game. Archery ran into javelin throwing, capture the flag teams weren’t ready and had to be made on the spot, there were no new shipments delivered to the camp store, and the infirmary ran out of ambrosia— which were all things that you were expected to coordinate.

Gods, you’re getting too old for this shit.

And if you, the head counselor everyone depends on, is off her game, well—everyone’s on edge. The Stolls even dared to ask you if the world was ending today and you were less than impressed.

Being in love sure feels like it is.

The only thing left to get through is this counselor’s meeting before the party tonight at Fireworks Beach, and you’ll damn yourself to Tartarus if you can’t even get that right. You’re a Dionysus kid, so partying is in your blood. Party planning is your favorite hobby, and to be real, you deserve a drink after today.

Speaking of your father, he’s jabbering on about something you find yourself not particularly interested in, but well…someone’s gotta listen. Charles is dozing off at the table, and Lee jabs him in the side. You see Silena braiding Clarisse’s hair out of the corner of your periphery. And of course, out of all of them, there’s Luke who’s been trying to steal your attention for the past 30 minutes. Black ink smears across the page as you find yourself having every thought that ends supplemented with the memory of how Luke looked at you as he climbed out of your window this morning.

Could he actually want more?

The all-star camper, Luke Castellan— camp’s best soldier who’s envied by many and admired by all…wants to wake up next to you. You, the camp director’s daughter who keeps everyone in line and is seen more as authority instead of a person with feelings. You’re not always feared, but in a camp for demigod kids who’d rather hone their powers instead of lose special privileges for skipping class, you’re not exactly their favorite either. Once, someone said they’d rather face Mr. D instead of you.

“That doesn’t make sense, we’re supposed to send in the next progress report to Olympus before the last day of the month. That’s Wednesday, D. So it should be by the Sunday before,” you butt in after a statement your dad makes about scheduling.

All eyes are on you now— it’s the first time you’ve spoken up during tonight’s meeting which was out of character in itself, but your father catches you off guard when the sound of his booming laughter spreads across the room like dynamite tearing through a battlefield.

“Says who? We’ve got enough time,” The god remarks, a strange sheen in his eyes that reflects into yours. He’s on your ass a bit more today, pointing out your flaws from the day and making it his mission to get on your nerves. Few mortals would undermine a god, and though you do it daily to spite him for your existence, your confidence is lower today than it usually is—the reason being a boy with amber eyes boring into your soul from across the table. Everything else pales in comparison now, almost fading into the background, and even here in the hot seat you can’t help but think about if Luke could ever fall for someone like you.

You’re venturing into dangerous territory, you tell yourself, you’ve been hurt before.

It hurts less somehow when you’re cautious. To prepare oneself to be hurt is a defense mechanism ingrained in you—your mom raised you to always be ready for anything. Your self-identity has always been skewed by others’ perceptions. Mirroring the memory of your late mother’s ideals, exemplifying your actions through your immortal father’s personality, you find that fighting your bloodline is one of the most difficult things to come to terms with. A thought passes in your brain that you’ve taken after the worst of them—your mother’s ambition and your father’s unpredictability.

And who would want to love someone so difficult?

Tough love is the only way you know how to love. Perhaps someone as good as Luke deserves better than this.

“It’ll be less to worry about that way,” you swallow, and the other counselors sit back in their seats as tension fills the air, signaling another disagreement about to start between your father and you.

“Good thing you don’t have to worry about it since it’s my job, right, kid? Just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today doesn’t mean you can change things to better fit your schedule instead of the rest of ours.”

Mr. D scowls, and then again maybe you’re too much like your father—too brash, too mouthy, and self-serving, and your eyes meet Luke’s again as your mouth pulls into a bitter smile.

“It’s the first and last time it’ll ever happen. Gods know I don’t get sick days around here picking up after you,” you spit out harshly, words coming out like acid.

“Just saying kid. Haven’t seen you this careless in years— Maybe check yourself before telling us what to do, yeah?”

Your father’s words have a double meaning as he stares into your soul, glancing between you and Luke, who is none the wiser, still focused on you. Annabeth is holding his hand under the table as you watch his jaw flex. He can see right through the shoddy performance you put on of having it all together.

Does everyone know?

Your lips pucker as you roll your neck from locking, and a humorless laugh slips from you. Everyone else’s eyes are on Luke, who looks like he’s about to jump across the table and wring a god’s neck.

Fuck.

“Whatever. I’m not doing this today,” you grumble, feeling overwhelmed. The chair screeches against the wood of the floor as you push yourself up, fists stained with ink and clenched in teenage angst as you walk to the door to make a quick escape.

Your father crosses his arms smugly at the success of getting under your skin, and the last words you hear as you leave are, “You never want to hear the truth, kid. Must you always be so…. you?”

Your steps falter for a moment, feeling heavier knowing he’s right so you let go of the door to let it slam it behind you. There’s a commotion inside after you leave but you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. It’s time to party and you’re sure as hell getting drunk, high, or both tonight.

—

It takes about two cups of wine for the inebriation to start kicking into Luke’s system. He’d never been much of a drinker, but with the way you’re throwing your head back at Lee’s jokes as he plays the guitar, he thinks he should drink a bit more to forget the fear in your eyes this morning and how Lee keeps touching your waist.

He’s been suspended from counselor duties for the rest of the month for mouthing off at Mr. D in your defense, and even if Annabeth tells him he’s lucky to have not met a worse fate, the way things played out today makes him feel like the most unlucky guy at camp. Fuck the gods, or at least…fuck your dads (that doesn’t sound right, but he’s too busy watching the moonlight glint against your skin that whatever his ex is whispering next to him goes in one ear and out the other).

“Lukey?” Skye mumbles against his neck, “I miss you…you’re always busy doing who knows what!”

Well… she has a name, Luke thinks, taking a big gulp of whatever’s left in his cup as his eyes follow you across the beach. You’re dancing around the bonfire spinning a tipsy Clarisse who laughs without a care in the world. He thinks you’re the best of your parents—determined to achieve your goals, selfless when it comes to others’ needs, and passionate about what you want. Mr. D will never get to see this side of you—the one you show your friends and this place you all call home. He’ll never be deserving of the work you put into Camp Half-Blood (and to some extent, Luke knows he doesn’t deserve you either).

A dejected sigh brushes warm air against his shoulder.

“You know, Castellan. I wish I met you first,” the blond daughter of Athena slurs with tears forming in her eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“The two of you have always… it’s always been you and her. Even if you both don’t want to admit it. It’s not fair,” she hiccups. Luke pulls the cup out of his ex-lover’s hand and she shakes her head.

“Skye, you’re drunk. I’ll take you back to 6.”

“You really don’t see it do you?” Her hands grapple onto Luke’s shirt like she’s pulling him down and pleading for him to understand.

“That girl is in love with you. The both of you are meant for each other—and you’re both spending too much time trying to fight fate. The rest of us aren’t as lucky, but we sure as hell aren’t stupid.”

There’s a moment of clarity that hits as he looks into Skye’s eyes, and he scratches the back of his neck.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I meant what I said when we broke up a few years ago. You’re both always looking for each other, even if you don’t know it. Just meet in the middle already, for gods’ sake…I’ll be okay,” she sighs, sitting up on the log they were resting on.

“Your girlfriend is sure as hell to give me a hangover worth her title of being Dionysus’ kid in the morning anyways,” she mutters, kissing Luke on his cheek as a farewell. But out of all of the things to catch your attention that night, Luke’s blush glows in the light of the fire, and he watches you frown and stomp off toward the forest.

For being the son of the god of luck, his dad really won’t give him a break.

It didn’t help that Skye suddenly started projectile vomiting seconds after you left (off of her only cup of wine; wonder how that happened).

—

Luke fights through his growing intoxication on the walk back towards the cabins, but boy are you difficult when you’re angry—you’ve always had a profound effect on his being, even more so with your powers. He makes a wrong turn somewhere through the woods, completely missing the cabins, which he doesn’t realize until he stumbles across the path leading to the Big House. When his eyes focus, he spots Mr. D sipping on a glass as he leans on the railing of the front porch. Be calm and don’t act drunk, Luke tells himself, but all of his concentration goes into not swaying in front of the god of wine that he can’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

“Good evening, um…sir.”

“Kid, it’s 3 in the morning. What the hell are you doing here? Gods know it’s not my window you’re trying to climb up. You’re a bit of a ways off.”

Now what the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

Luke freezes in his spot (in reality he bumps into the first wooden step and sticks a hand out to steady himself against the railing).

“Are you drunk?”

Mr. D looks at him knowingly like it’s almost funny to him, eyebrows furrowed and head quirked like he can sniff it off of him. He probably can, now that Luke thinks really hard about it.

“I’m not gonna answer that because I think you know the answer already,” the son of Hermes words carefully, but nothing smart can come of this. It’s like playing chess with checkers, and Dionysus of all gods would know—no breathalyzer needed.

There’s a beat of silence, before Mr. D says, “I’m gonna give you another chance to–”

“Yes, I’m drunk, but it’s not trouble’s fault—it’s mine!” he blabbers, walking closer to your father.

“She’s mad at me for defending her from you earlier besides the fact I act stupid around her and I only had a few cups, I swear, but she’s…your daughter is…extraordinary.”

“What?”

“Your daughter makes me feel drunk, sir. Even without the wine. I don’t know what to do with myself, just please don’t get mad at her. She has a lot more to lose…” He feels pathetic in all sense of the word, rubbing at his eyes until Mr. D snaps his fingers and the alcohol blanket lifts from his senses. Like a bucket of cold water splashed onto his spine, Luke is suddenly very awake, and all too embarrassed for the waterfall of words he’s told your father.

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know she knew how to do that yet. She’s learning quickly.” Mr. D looks out into the distance, the dim light of the cabins acting like a beacon of light in the middle of the campgrounds.

Luke wrings his hands, picking at his thumbs and he’s sure he’s about to get kicked out of camp for his behavior, much less the fact that he’s been fraternizing with the director’s daughter.

“Sometimes I think she knows too much.” He licks his lips, awkwardly standing next to the god and wondering if the dark liquid in his cup is wine.

“Do you think I don’t know that, Luke? Do you really think I don’t know about the parties? I let her have her fun too you know— I'm the one that keeps Chiron asleep. She doesn’t ask for much. I know I give her a hard time. I’m just….”

There are a few things about Mr. D’s statement that surprise Luke: the fact that he actually knows his name, how he safeguards his daughter’s interests, and the possibility of a god actually knowing how to be a good parent.

It still doesn’t take away from the countless times he’s seen you put yourself down because of your father, the inadequacy you feel from the responsibilities you take on, and how you’d do anything for simple applause. Tough love is still love with a heavy hand. And it leaves bruises, whether he meant it or not.

“Is that why you’ve never sent her on an actual quest? We all know picking up the twins doesn’t count in the grand scheme of things.”

“For what? To achieve glory? Recognition? I never understood why we Olympians do that. Send children off to their deaths to deserve a moment of their godrent’s time, or a gift to shut them up. I don’t need her to be a hero, she doesn’t have anything she needs to prove to me. I need her to be my daughter, and preferably alive. That’s enough for me.”

Luke takes a step back in disbelief. There’s something in his being that yearns to be loved like that, without having to prove it or needing to deserve it. It hurts almost, the way he wants to be loved like your family loves you. Your father, an Olympian, standing in front of him telling him that your existence is enough to be worthy of his presence. In the silence that follows, Luke wonders if he’ll ever have that.

“You should tell her that more often, sir.”

“Listen. She’s a good kid, I just give her a hard time because it’s hard to get attached to you mortals. Your lives are so short compared to the infinite timeline I live. I can do everything in my power to try to keep her safe, but I can’t stop her from leaving. So don’t blame me if I act like an asshole if it’ll keep her here for a bit longer. I’ll take all the time I can get.”

“Then how do I tell her I love her with without either of us running away?”

Mr. D laughs loudly now, his wrinkles crinkling as liquid sloshes out of his cup. It turns out to be grape juice you left out for him before the party.

“Mortals always busy themselves with trivial things, like pride and sorrow. Pandora’s box left you humans with nothing but hope. I say you swallow the negative and just say it how it is. You’ll have a lot more time being happier together that way. I already lost my bet against some of the counselors anyway.”

“What bet?”

Your dad swats at Luke like he’s a dog to kick, and tosses his glass over his shoulder where it disappears in the night air.

“Get off my porch Castellan, and just know if you hurt her…”

“I’d die before that happens, sir.”

“That would hurt her most of all. Think about what that means. For gods’ sake she’s left her light on for you, so go on before I set the harpies on you. And don’t call me sir, it freaks me out. You’re still not special to me.” Mr. D stalks back inside the Big House, and Luke takes that as his cue to leave. The cold night air pushes him back towards the cabins, the light in your window luring him in like a ship lost at sea.

—

“I know you’re still awake, trouble.”

You hear him move closer to the bed as you keep your eyes shut, evening out your breaths, but you’re never able to hide anything from Luke anymore.

“I thought I closed that window,” you mumble, turning your face more towards your pillow.

“You didn’t.”

Of course, you didn’t. You were hoping he’d chase after you this time around, even if you made him drunk in more ways than one.

“Skye keep you busy?” you say nonchalantly, and you hear Luke laugh as he tugs your duvet off of you.

“Your dad did, actually,” he says grinning, watching your eyes pop open in confusion as you turn and face him, propping yourself up on your knees.

“What the fuck?”

“You could’ve gotten me kicked out y’know? Stumbled onto his porch telling him about how drunk you make me feel even without a drop of alcohol and how I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself when I’m around you.”

“You shouldn’t be so brave to fight gods like that for me. Even if it’s my dad, Castellan,” you whisper, and he kneels next to your bed so he can look at you in the eyes from an equal standpoint. Because that’s what the two of you are— equal, singular, one and the same. And he’s never made you feel less than, even if your brain tries to convince you of it.

“Stop that,” he scoffs, shaking his head as he grabs your hands, “stop calling me my last name like it detaches you from how you feel about me. I want you to stop pretending when it's just you and me,” he pleads, whispering your name so softly that the sound of it brushes against your lips.

There’s something more intimate in the way he looks at you now compared to when you were naked and nestled against him this past morning. The act of knowing that it’s you and him, no matter how hard you try to fight it.

His knuckle brushes against your jaw, pushing your eyes to look back into his, and you can’t deny him any longer.

“Hey. I love you, and I know you feel the same; I'm tired of you acting like you're not and I’m going crazy he—”

His words are halted by your lips surging forward to meet him in the middle. The culmination of years of friendship has brought you to this special moment frozen in time, and sure, demigods die young but this must be what he’ll see in Elysium. If there’s a single memory he can bring with him to his next life, he hopes it’s this one—the taste of you and how it feels to be loved like this, without question or reason. You pull away with a sweet smile and he feels drunk again.

“You’re my best friend, angelface,” you mumble.

Okay, now that sobered him up faster than it should have.

Luke stiffens, his hands falling to your thighs as he starts to ramble, “If you’re actually friendzoning me right now I might just roll out of your window and feed myself to a harpy.”

The laugh that comes out of you booms across the room as you wrap your arms around him with a radiant smile. You always have so much to say, but right now only three words come to mind. Five vowels, three consonants, and the gravity of it pushes out of your mouth like there’s no better truth to tell.

“I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you even before I liked you and I’m sorry I’ve been too scared to say it. I’m not used to…”

Luke sighs in relief, as he presses his scarred cheek against your shoulder.

“You think I’m not scared of us either, trouble? I worship the ground you walk on, and everyone can see that.”

“Well I’m not a god, Luke,” you say tugging him up by his mop of curls as your legs wrap around him.

“Sometimes when I’m with you, I think you’re the closest thing to it,” he whispers, pulling your chin down for another kiss until you both get your fill. He thinks he can kiss you forever until the end of your short lives, until it’s senseless and maddening, like falling into a drunken stupor. Loving you is an experience he’ll never be able to rid himself of, heart stained with the best of you until both your fingertips are red and raw with the feeling.

You pull him back into your bed as your giggles fill the early morning air. He’s quickly becoming what you love most about waking up in the morning.

—

Chris Rodriguez wakes up to the sound of the morning birds and chattering children in the busy cabin 11. As he rubs at his eyes, ready to take on the day as an interim cabin counselor for the rest of the month because of Luke’s suspension, sunlight falls onto the one empty bunk in the corner of the room (Fact: There is never an empty bed in the Hermes cabin. Also a fact: he and Chiron will be able to cash in against the other counselors as fast as his feet can take him to the Big House).

—

“To love someone is firstly to confess; I’m prepared to be devastated by you.” Billy Ray Belcourt

ask to be added to luke/general taglists!

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#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan angst #made by ma1dita ♥︎#🪽#percy series #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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daydreamingqueen1 · 8 months

Text

Sweets thief

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Warnings/Content: none. pure fluff, a wee bit of bullying to spence (totally harmless and friendly though), crushes, unhealthy amount of candy ingestion lol, no y/n, gn!reader too

Summary: You've been stealing sweets from your resident genius.

Word count: 1.2k

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It wasn't unusual for the BAU members to carry snacks with them.

The job was hard, stressful and, most importantly, it had unpredictable hours. So finding time to eat a proper meal wasn't always a viable option.

Nevertheless, eating is a basic human need and even if it's not completely healthy, the agents often found themselves battling their hunger with quick snacks.

As a relatively new member of the BAU, buying said vital snacks wasn't yet ingrained in your mind, resulting in you continually forgetting to buy something to munch on during cases.

Stealing was always an option though.

After several months with your coworkers, you are proud to say that you have managed to eat at the expense of all of their pockets, for experts in human behavior, they don't hide their treats so well.

However, after several months, you have come to know their go-to snacks and, subsequently, you have become picky.

Morgan eats some kind of high-protein bars with an awfully bright neon wrapper.

Emily loves those salt and vinegar chips every station has on their vending machines.

JJ, ever the healthy mom of the group, always has a few packages of oatmeal raisin cookies on hand.

Rossi carries eucalyptus and mint gummies like the old man he is.

And Hotch buys the most bland granola bars known to mankind.

With all of that said, the conclusion was obvious.

Spencer has the best snacks.

It is not only that he always has sweets but that he's the only one that manages for variety instead of a fixed thing. A bit ironic considering he is the most prone to sticking to a rigid routine. Well, you aren't complaining though, especially not this month.

You realized quickly that Halloween was a big thing for the resident genius, seeming to make the grown man regress to the mentality of an overly eager seven-year-old. It's lucky for you because that means that he chooses to try a new candy every single day of October.

It also means that you had begun stealing exclusively from him and, being surrounded by profilers, it wasn't long until you were discovered as the culprit.

A shadow had eclipsed your desk suddenly, making you look up to a squinting Dr. Reid. “Did you take my last Peanut Butter Cup?”

You shook your head, “No...”

Derek snorted on the desk nearby, “You've still got chocolate on your face, kid,”

Cleaning your mouth with the back of your hand, you smiled up at Spencer sweetly.

His converse sounded hard against the floor as he stumped away.

Apparently, you weren't that discreet. He ended up catching you many more times after that.

"Hey!" Spencer swatted your hand when you grabbed yet another handful of his M&Ms.

You shrugged, feigning innocence, “Hey to you too Reid, but we've been in the same room for a while.”

He huffed, inching the box slightly out of your reach.

Many more times.

Your hand was literally inside the familiar size bag of Starburst candy when Spencer came back from the bathroom.

“Oh come on!” he groaned, taking the bag out of your grasp, “Buy your own.”

You went back to the local police station office, giggling to yourself like a child with your hands full of candy.

At this point hunger had become a secondary motive to your stealing. The number one reason being how adorable Spencer's reactions were when he caught you.

In all honesty, you harbored a bit of a crush on the man. You didn't have the courage to tell him upfront, making your silly brain manifest your feelings like a preschooler pulling on the pigtails of their crush. Oh, but teasing him was so fun, and it got you free candy so it was even better.

Then, yesterday, there was an incident.

The team was on the jet, another kidnapped girl had been safely returned to her parents, fairly quickly this time too. Spirits were high at wrapping up a case with such a positive outcome, making most of the agents mingle and play games on the usually quiet ride home.

You were perched on one of the individual seats, scrolling away in your phone and absentmindedly eating some candy (you had bought your own for once).

You jolted a bit when a hand dived into your candy bag. When you looked up, you found a smirking Spencer standing right in front of you, looking fairly smug and popping a piece into his mouth. He thought he was finally getting back at you for eating all of his sweets.

His joy lasted for about three seconds before he realized his mistake.

See, to the untrained eye, he had just eaten a couple of innocent looking bear gummies. Except, these were not regular gummies, they were your favorite kind, the most sour kind.

Spencer's face scrunched up with disgust, the sour effect of the gummy doubled at taking him by surprise, the acidic taste completely taking over his taste buds.

You couldn't help it, you bent over your belly with laughter, inadvertently drawing attention to Spencer's predicament.

The whole team snickered as they watched him rush back and forth on the narrow hall of the jet until he got hold of a tissue to spit the offending candy.

“What the hell is that?” he turned around to confront you.

You gave him an apologetic smile, “Sour candy?”

More laughs filled the space and Spencer had sat down on the furthest chair from yours, pouting with his arms crossed over his chest.

Back to today, you feel actually kind of guilty about what happened. You have been munching on all of Spencer's treats for weeks and the one time he does it to you, the whole team ends up making fun of him. A bit of teasing was fine but you don't want the man to actually feel bad.

So when you see him stand up from his desk and walk into the kitchen, you quickly jump out of your chair and grab something from your bag, trailing right behind him through the bullpen.

He's making himself an exaggeratedly sweet cup of coffee when you corner him.

“Spencer,” you call, making him turn around. Your hands are inconspicuously behind your back, “Trick or treat?”

His eyebrows furrow suspiciously, “Neither if you're going to give me one of those monstrosities you like.”

You huff out a laugh, “No, no, I promise it's not that. Come on, trick or treat? ”

After measuring up how much he trusts your statement, he relents, “Treat.”

“Ta-dah!” you sing, revealing a single Hershey’s Kiss in your palm.

Spencer's eyes light up.

“I know it doesn't make up for everything I ate but it's an offer of peace.”

He gives you a small smile, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

As his hand extends to grab the chocolate, your brain has an impulsive thought.

You lean forward and peck his lips.

It lasts barely a second but it's enough to make your heart beat wildly against your chest.

Spencer stares at you frozen in place, a crimson color spreading all over his face.

“A kiss for a kiss,” you mumble dumbly, like saying that makes it better somehow.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ You think to yourself, your feet are prepared to flee the scene when he unexpectedly grabs your wrist.

“I– I...” he stammers, his cheeks turning impossibly redder, “I wouldn't mind if you stole more of those.”

A shy smile spreads on your face. Perhaps you won't start buying your own snacks soon.

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it's a bit silly but I was feeling halloween-y and craving sour candy

leave me a prompt or idea you'd like me to write!

♡, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

hope ya liked it, byebye

My masterlist

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sophsbookstore · 2 months

Text

Sims Stream

Lando Norris x reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Word Count: 1,354

“So, what do you want to do today?” a shirtless Lando said, coming up and hugging me from behind as I make us breakfast.

I turn around, giving him a quick yet passionate kiss before turning back around, just finishing preparing a fruit salad for the both of us, his head nessling between mine and my shoulder, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“Your day off has barely started and you're already bored huh?” I laugh, a smile creeping onto his lips.

“I already trained, did simulator practice, took a nap, and now I want to hang out with you my love.” He squeezes me tighter as I nestle into him.

“Well I was going to stream sims today.” I make my final cut, mixing all the fruit together before putting some in a nearby bowl and handing it to Lando. He gives me a thank you, before turning to lean against the kitchen counter, now facing me.

“I could join you.” he states, scarfing down the fruit, taking a few pieces of fruit from my bowl as well.

“We cant join games” I frown, wishing he could stream with me today.

“I know, you always watch me play video games, I wanna watch you play something you really like doing” he smiles, placing both his and my empty bowls in the sink, wrapping up the leftovers and placing them in the fridge.

I take his hand in mine, leading him to my office/game room. I pull up a chair for him, placing a pillow on the seat as well as the back of the back of the chair for comfort. As I get settled, He takes the armrest of my chair, pulling it closer to him. I drape a blanket over both our legs and start the stream, the sims loading screen shining bright in the backlit room.

As we start talking both to one another and the stream chat, more and more people start joining, freaking out at the sight of Lando and I streaming together for the first time. Chat being so used to just hearing Lando, and never seeing him. Lando starts talking to chat, telling them how excited he is to play with me.

Soon the game fully loads, I choose to start a new game, not wanting to ruin any of the storylines I have going with my other sims lore. “Why don't you make us? We can live out our lives through the sims” Lando asks. Chat, all Lando fans, loving his idea and agreeing immediately.

Embarrassed, I go to my library and select the premade Lando I had made just a few months back on another stream. “Already did.” I blush with embarrassment, he turns to me with a big grin on his face, getting closer to the monitor screen to observe his custom made sim.

“You did so good love, thank you for making me look so handsome” he says leaning closer to me, giving me a forehead kiss. As he gets closer, he moves his hand from his lap to start squeezing my thigh. I lean into his body, moving the armrest out of the way, holding his arm that's squeezing my leg. Chat absolutely loses it at the interaction, spamming mom and dad in the chat.

Once we make some adjustments to our sims outfits we start the game, going into a random starter house, customizing the interior to our liking with what little funds we have, and finding jobs for our respective sims. “Can I be an F1 driver here?” he questions.

“No, but you can be an athlete” he makes a sad face, not getting what he wanted. “The good thing is, there's a lot of job options in the game” this perks him up. I continue to scroll though the list, showing and describing all the jobs to Lando.

“WAIT WAIT WAIT I CAN BE A SECRET AGENT” he practically screams. “Why didn't you tell me, that's way cooler.”

Lando picks the job of secret agent, I settle with the streamer career, wanting my sim to be as accurate as possible.

“Can you fuck in the sims?” Lanod says out of nowhere. I playfully smack him on the shoulder.

“Lando there's kids watching, also our sims aren't even dating yet, they are just roommates.”

“How come sim Lando hasn't asked out sim Y/N yet?”

“Maybe he's too scared, sim Y/N is way too hot for sim Lando” I shrug, Lando giving me a side eye. “Dont side eye me, I said what I said, chat did I lie?” chat clearly siding with me.

“Tell sim Lando to ask out sim Y/N, we have to date her before anyone else tries to steal my girl” Blushing, I click on my sim, making Lando's in game alter ego flirt with her.

Soon, my sim walks away from Lando's, moving away to talk to another nearby towns person. Lando watches in disbelief as my sim, against my control, starts talking to another man. “WHAT THE HELL” he stares at the screen, sitting up a little more. Chat going absolutely insane, clipping the moment to probably use for another couples compilation.

“I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING, SHE DID THAT ALL ON HER OWN” I argued back. Lando takes the controls, choosing my character and moving her away from the random sim man, to go back to talking to him.

“How do I kill someone in the sims?” he questions, going to the settings and looking around for a kill button.

“You can't, I dont have the mod.” I laugh, holding my stomach with laughter, pulling him away from the screen, to go back to cuddling me.

“Can we download it? I want him dead, he tried to take my girl” lando pouts.

We continued the game, Lando and I switching off the controls whenever we wanted our charters to do something. Soon enough, Sim Lando and Sim Y/N start dating. Lando and I both chanted “kiss, kiss, kiss” when they shared their first kiss with one another.

“Does this mean that we can fuck now” Lando turns to me waiting for my approval.

I sigh, a smile forming on my lips. “Yes lando, they can now.” he cheers, taking the mouse and clicking on the bed, happily selecting the woohoo button.

I take the mouse back from him, moving the game to show a different room. “I don't want to show it on stream, it's an invasion of privacy '' I look at him sternly, he silently nods in agreement.

We wait a couple more seconds, talking to chat about anything that comes to mind until finally seeing the notification that they are done. Lando grabs the mouse before I can, clicking on my sims and taking her to the bathroom. “Lando, what are you doing?” I ask confused.

“I wanna see if Sim Y/N is pregnant.”

“LANDO WHAT!” I shout taking the mouse back from him instantly. We’re both waiting anxiously (for different reasons) for the notification of sim Y/N’s status. I let out a sigh of relief when she's not.

Lando slumps back in his chair. “Lando what were you thinking? They've only been dating for a day! It's far too soon for them to have a baby! They barely have any money, no space, do you need me to go on?” I lecture him, moving the controls slightly away from him so he cant make anymore rash decisions.

“I just wanted to see what a little us would look like” he said sadly, it breaks my heart, chat spamming awww’s in the chat. “I know it's too soon, I just got excited.”

“Lando it's ok, how about the next stream, we MAYBE have them try?” this perks him up.

“Really! You mean it? Everyone spam baby names in the chat, we’ll use the best one.'' Lando starts talking to the chat about how excited he is for the next stream, and virtual fatherhood.

As I watch Lando go on and on about this potential sim baby, I can't help but get excited for the day it happens in real life.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #Lando Norris x streamer!reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x twitch!reader #lando norris one shot

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isbuckybarnesokay · 2 years

Text

Steve never turns the heater on in his car when he's alone. This is something Eddie picks up on fairly quickly, as summer turns to autumn, as the air cools down. The mornings are icy, now. There's a bite to each and every breath that you can suck in almost like smoke, and it's pleasant for all of two seconds before it chills you to the bone.

The first time he notices it, there's so much noise in the car that Eddie doesn't get a chance to say anything - Dustin is chattering on to Mike about god-knows-what. Instead, he just watches from the passenger seat as Steve clocks Will's chattering teeth in the rearview mirror and immediately reaches forward to crank up the dial.

The second time, it's just Steve and Eddie, and they're driving back from dropping Eddie's van off at the mechanics. Steve meets him outside the shop at a crisp 7am, and it's fucking freezing, honestly. Eddie slides into the passenger seat and winces at the way his breaths come out in a cloud. "Shit, dude," he groans, "aren't you cold?" Steve shrugs, focused on driving. "A bit, I guess. Help yourself." He waves at the AC settings carelessly. How the fuck are you not freezing your balls off? Eddie wonders, but he doesn't voice the thought aloud, though he very much wants to. There's something here, he thinks. There's something I'm not getting.

The third time it happens, Eddie doesn't even need to get in the car to know Steve didn't switch the heating on. He knows this because when Steve saunters into the new trailer, a 6-pack in hand, his lips are almost blue. He's wearing a too-thin jacket, undone over a plain shirt. Eddie frowns. "Jesus Christ, Steve," he murmurs, immediately rushing through to his room to grab a sweater. He throws it at Steve when he gets back out to the main room, chewing at the inside of his cheek. "What's this for?" "Because you're fucking freezing, man. Are you kidding me? You're turning to ice right in front of me, look at you." And it's so wrong that Steve looks so confused. It's so wrong. Because he's so clearly cold as hell. It looks painful, damn it, the way his hands are shaking, the way he can't quite move his fingers properly when he goes to pop the cap off of his beer. I am going to take care of you until you figure out how to take care of yourself, Eddie thinks, fierce and determined. And he does.

When Steve leaves that night, after the movie, Eddie makes him keep the black knit sweater on, makes him take it with him. "You look cute," he grins, aiming for playful, aiming for the misdirect. He likes the way it makes Steve blush, anyway. It's a win-win. Eddie follows close behind Steve down the steps of the trailer, catching the driver's door with a quick hand before it can slam closed. He waits for Steve to start the car before getting to work. "What're you-" Steve begins, falling silent as Eddie leans over him and switches the heating on. "You," he mutters, pulling back, tapping a finger on Steve's forehead. "You keep that on until you get home, you hear me, big boy?" Steve looks bewildered, but nods anyway.

Eddie starts bringing an extra jacket or sweater with him everywhere, after that, and it comes in handy more times than he'd like. He wishes it wasn't the only way to get Steve into his clothes. He buys Steve a hot water bottle with a cover that's the same yellow as that sweater that he loves so much. Eddie gets into the habit of calling Steve each night, and before he hangs up, he tells Steve to fill it up. Tells Steve to use it. He checks Steve's bed one day, pulls back the duvet a bit, and can't help but beam when he sees the hot water bottle tucked there. When he presses a hand to it, it's still warm.

One day, nearing Christmas, now, Eddie slides into the passenger seat of Steve's car, and the heater is already on, car toasty and warm. His cheeks dimple when he sees that Steve is already wearing Eddie's own black knit sweater; His smile only widens further as Steve comments, "Fucking freezing today, man. When did it get so cold?" Eddie just chokes out a laugh and throws the spare jacket he'd brought with him onto the back seat. He has to turn his head to look out the window so Steve can't see the proud tears in his eyes.

#thinking about how childhood neglect can result in not knowing how to do things for comfort #how you can adjust solely to just surviving #thinking about eddie noticing this in steve and feeling protective about it but also not wanting to overstep boundaries with his new friend #by friend i mean crush #steddie #headcanon #steve harrington #eddie munson #isbuckybarnesokay

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liveontelevision · 4 days

Note

Hello hello! If you are still taking requests I've been dying for an Alastor x reader where the reader was married to him when he was alive, and she outlives him quite a while before they reunite in hell, only for him to nearly die again when the angels attack. I love your work!

I've been wanting to do this prompt for a hot minute, sorry it took so long Anon :')

But here's a good long fluffy, angsty, fic to balance out how much of an ass Alastor is in Suffer lol

Curiosity Killed the Cat | Reader x Alastor

What caught your eye first, was how much whiskey he could down before losing his composure. You found yourself in awe, watching this charismatic stranger go round after round, only to end up on the dance floor with more energy than you had when you were sober. Truly a spectacle. Why don't you go tell him that?

"Excuse me-" You say in a sing-song voice, slipping by the stranger to beckon another drink your way. You may or may not have brushed your body against him in some sort of attempt to get his attention. It went unnoticed, but that's alright, that trick didn't usually work on the ones who had one too many drinks.

You decide the next best action is to sit at the seat next to him, despite there being multiple unoccupied stools at the bar. That’s something he has to question, right?

Of course not. You spent far too long trying to get his attention in any way, and he's either humming a song to himself or chatting with the plump, noisy, owner who would come by. They seemed to be close friends.. but she definitely wasn't his type. She looks like one to cause trouble.

You get a good scope of his character. He came in wearing a pristine trenchcoat, shielding an expensive-looking vest and tie combo. But, by now the tie had come undone and was draped across his neck. The heat of the whiskey might've gotten to him, he left his top few buttons precariously opened. You didn't mind that one bit. Next thing you spot; slightly messed hair and smudged glasses- bingo.

"Hey, birdy-" you finally muster some courage to get his attention. "-may I?" You pull out a handkerchief you usually have on hand, in case handsome strangers with glasses need a quick clean. It took you a good half hour to finally speak up, but he's looking you up and down as if you had just walked in. It takes a moment, but you see him finally decide you aren't a threat. He sits silently. Taking another swig of his drink, he looks at you with a smile. Does he want you to.. no harm in trying.

You bite at your lip, hesitantly reach out to his face, and carefully pluck the glasses from the bridge of his nose. He shuts his eyes as you do so. A man hasn't made you blush in quite some time. You decide to blame the drinks. Luckily, you have a task to keep your mind preoccupied. You're carefully swiping any smudges clear from the lenses when you hear his voice for the first time. Or so you thought.

"Mimzy, dear, do tell me who this little kitten here is. A regular?" You're assuming he's speaking about you, he's gesturing in your direction with his empty glass. The owner of the speak-easy, who you now know as Mimzy, trots behind the bar to top off his drink.

"For sure! What do ya say, kid, you're here.. on most weekends, ain't ya?" She turns to you, and you take a moment to confirm. You didn't think she'd notice, you don't come here that often. That's what you tell yourself at least.

"Got an eye on her tonight, Al? Sounds like someone's not goin' home alone~" She teases him with a quick jab, and he's quick to roll his eyes.

"Now now, she's been perched here for quite a while and has barely said a word to me, I doubt she's getting any more than a free drink." He sounds snarky, yet.. familiar..

"Al… as in Alastor? That radio host fellow? Well, I’ll be damned! I wasn't expecting a celebrity such as yourself to frequent little joints like this one." You comment, finally joining the conversation. You hear a throat being cleared dramatically and turn to the owner behind the bar. You laugh nervously.

"Not that- it's still a good bar- I.. Sorry." Good recovery. Your attention is taken to the hand outstretched to you, and you instinctively lean away from it.

"Kitten-" He beckons his hand, and you follow his eyes to his glasses that were still in your grasp. You let yet another nervous laugh and quickly pass them over. He slips them on with a satisfied hum.

"If I remember correctly, Al-" you attempt to mock the nickname you picked up from Mimzy. "- You have a broadcast tomorrow morning, no? You really think drinking like a sailor tonight is the best idea?" You weren’t concerned, really. You wanted to tease him a bit longer.

"Props to you for knowing my schedule." You realize how strange that might've sounded and quickly finish your drink to prevent any more embarrassing thoughts from slipping from your lips. "Are you implying I can't handle my liquor, dear?" He scoffs, beckoning the bartender over. He has them refill your glass.

"I'm sure you can, birdy, but you've been pounding down more drinks than I can count." You respond. You weren't one to flirt effectively. That, or he just happens to see right through your nerves.

"So, you've been counting, hm?" You realize you had outed yourself to watching him all night. You curse yourself quietly, hoping the music filling the room will cover your frustration. "Appreciate the concern, but I promise you, I'm more than capable of doing my job. No matter the circumstances."

While he seemed to be reading you quite easily, you had picked a few things up yourself. For one, he watches everything. And he seems to only drop his intel when he needs to. Or to mock you. And two, he's a bit of a narcissist.. quite an ego on this one. But that could work in your favor tonight.

"Well, fine then. I'll be up bright and early to listen to your broadcast. I doubt you can get through it with a hangover. Especially considering how much you've been drinking." You state proudly. He lets out a chuckle, and despite how quiet it is, you can't help but appreciate his sultry laugh.

"Is that a challenge, kitten?" He purrs -ha- leaning his chin into his hand and slouching his body towards the bar.

"I mean if it is, there must be stakes." You say it as a matter of fact. "Let's say.. you cover my bill next time if I catch you slip up."

"Hm. Seems fair. You better be listening close, though, I'm very good at what I do." He enunciates his final sentence and it sends a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment, you consider this could be a bad idea.

"And when I win, what will be my prize?" He asks. You let out a little giggle at his cockiness.

"I'll tell you my name." He cocks his head to the side, an intrigue hitting him. Did he really manage to get this far without a proper introduction?

"I see your little detective game going on, I'll give you that. You are quite the observer. But you won't find my name just by looking." You say smugly. That's true for a number of reasons.

"I suppose you did leave that information out, hm?" He let's his eyes drop, as if he was trying to piece it together with what little information he had.

"I must say, you've got me hooked, kitten." He lets out a sigh, leaning back in his chair and finishing off yet another drink.

"Deal?" You hum, holding your hand out to him. He smirks, taking it into his own, not expecting a firm shake, but receiving one. He went on to press a quick kiss to your knuckles.

"Deal."

You went home alone after that night, but it was likely for the best. You were sure you'd see him next time, anyway.

Now that you had to tell him your name.

You thought for sure he'd at least stumble through a sentence, but no. He went through the entire show, even an interview with some big shot, and spoke perfect English. He talked like he'd never had a drop of booze his entire life and got a full night's sleep, which you both knew was far from the truth. You almost dreaded the next encounter, but at least you didn't wager anything too crazy. Sure, he'll see you differently after this, but if this were to go any further - what are you on about? You only met him once and listened to him on the radio occasionally at best. He's a perfect stranger to you. Let's not get too excited.

You find yourself seated in the same spot as before, shrinking into your seat and downing a few drinks to build your courage. You told him your mark. An awkward introduction, first and last name, made you feel like a new student at a children's school. He perks up, which is what you expected.

"Ah! So you're the famed physician! It's almost silly of you to call me a celebrity, you're the talk of the town, kitten." You groan, of course, he recognizes you. Everyone in this damned small town knows your name, your family.

You were one of the first women to complete their studies and practice medicine from your hometown. But to attend such high schooling in this time, your family had to be well off. And you were, in fact, well off. When it came to your love life, men were either disgusted by your pursuit of knowledge or took it like some fetish. You haven't approached anyone for years.. not like this, at least.

"You know, I spoke with your father a few-" You groan at the mention of him, cutting Alastor off mid-sentence.

"Don't be a fool, I heard the little interview on your show.. Can't say that was my favorite broadcast." Alastor had a certain segment where he would chat with some of the richer and more.. stuck up.. men in society. It wasn’t titled as such, you just noticed the trend of guests being pompous and wealthy. And your father was the perfect fit for that.

You didn't know this at the time, but Alastor was suddenly hit with some mixed emotions. There was more than one reason as to why your father was chosen to be on his broadcast. Alastor used his interviews to initiate close ties, and make powerful allies. If they weren't complying how he hoped, he would usually cut ties. Permanently.

Your father was definitely not a reasonable man, in fact, you made it a point to avoid him when you returned home. But did he deserve death?

"I didn't expect just the sight of me walking the streets to be as interesting as it is." You mumbled, leaning forward on the counter and drinking something much stronger than you expected. But the mentions of your father called for a hard hitter.

"You didn't?" He asked bluntly, twirling the liquor in his glass. You hum in agreement. Gossip spreads like wildfire here.

"Well, you've picked up some interesting feats. If you were hoping to go unseen, I would've put some more thought into my rags." He gestured to your clothing. It was definitely of higher quality, but it was something you were used to wearing while attending your school in a high-class city. You felt a bit embarrassed, placing your hands in your lap to subtly hide your body.

"And a beautiful doctor like yourself just 'walking the streets'? Some might be concerned for your safety." You tilt your head to the side at his words. Your confusion makes him smirk.

"I'm sure you're aware, kitten, but there seems to be a killer on the loose." He seems far too excited for the subject at hand, and it's almost noticeable.

"Hm. Guess I shouldn't be going out alone and talking to strange men, should I?" You say with a smile.

"I suppose you shouldn't." He shrugs off your words, getting another drink. You didn't even see him finish the previous one. "Though I must say, I'm glad you did. You've been quite the conversationalist." It's barely flirting, but it seems to leave you blushing a bit.

You went on to chat throughout the night, your drunken rambling turned to complaints about your father, and morbid details about what you'd learned in medical school. Both topics that you didn't realize intrigued Alastor to a personal extent. Later on, the rambles started to become incomprehensible. He decides it would be best for you to leave, considering you were refusing to do so and thoroughly embarrassing yourself in the process.

A giggling, stumbling mess, you were carefully lifted from your seat and brought to your feet with his assistance. He helped you out to the streetside, calling a taxi and bringing you into the backseat gently. He then went ahead and paid the driver, and turned at his heels to head back inside.

As he was reaching for the bar's door, a loud call forced him to turn back to the cab.

"Buddy, she's too sloshed to give me an address. You know where she lives?" Shit. Alastor looks to the bar’s door, then to the cab, where he spots you leaning your head against the window in the backseat. He sighs.

After insisting the driver keep the fair, Alastor brought you back out. He kept you standing with a hand on your lower back, as you gripped onto his shirt, far too small to reach your arm over his towering figure. He was cringing at the sight of his clothes becoming disheveled.

"Alright, kitten, where are you staying? I doubt you'd appreciate me taking you to your family home.." He was talking in a hushed voice, in the hopes that you'd have enough conscious to respond, but knew that likely wasn't the case. He looks around the area as if the answer would be in plain sight. He lets out a sigh of defeat when it clearly wasn't.

"Didn't even get to finish my drink.." He mumbles, pulling you closer to keep you stable enough to walk a few blocks.

There, sat a charming little motel. However, calling it charming was.. optimistic. Your memory, to this day, is in small flashes. Only certain things come to mind when trying to picture what went on.

You remember Alastor talking to the older gentleman at the desk. It seemed like they were acquaintances. Maybe they've done business in the past.

You remember him giving up after finding that the room he booked was on the second floor. Unwilling to deal with the staircase, he hoisted you up quite easily. You definitely remember that. How such a slender man can hold you in his arms with no strain.

You remember the room, it was cleaner than you expected. He seated you on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of you to remove your heels. He didn't seem to go much farther than that. He could've removed your entire wardrobe with your state of mind, and you'd be none the wiser. How awful it must be, to live in a world where a man not making a pass, surprises you.

As far as you know, you drifted to sleep almost right after. You're pretty sure he wrapped you in the blankets, and you remember the faint touch of hair being brushed from your face. His hand was far colder than you would have expected.

Being in your occupation, you don't exactly have time to confront all the horrific sights you've seen. So, your body deals with those emotions in other ways. A common occurrence, you were plagued with a number of night terrors. Something seems different in tonight's regularly scheduled program, though. A radio static overwhelms your senses, and any horrifying disfigurations that were taunting you seem to fade into nothing. A yellow grin and glowing red eyes are the last thing you can see.

You woke up the next morning with an excruciating headache, an ache in your stomach, and sore feet. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you barely care about the makeup that you'd smudged beyond repair. You try to recall your dreams, which usually stay vivid in your mind for most of the morning, but.. there's nothing. And despite the killer hangover, you feel more awake than you have in ages.

The panic settled in after you ran your hands across the unfamiliar sheets. With a soft gasp, you observe yourself. Still fully clothed, you spot your heels set next to the door. You look around the room next, and you almost feel relieved, seeing Alastor seated in a lounge chair in the corner of the room. He had his nose in a book. It was better than seeing him lying on the other side of the bed.. wait, was it?

You let out a pathetic little sound, your voice too weak to form any coherent words. He sets the book on his lap, and your sad attempt at a greeting seems to catch his attention.

"Good morning to you, too, kitten. Sleep well?" You were sure he drank as much as last night. If not, more. How dare he look so put together?

"Morning. I-um.. I suppose I did.. I-I hate to ask, but did... did we-" you stammer out, and he quickly holds his hands up in defense.

"Heavens no, dear, I wouldn't dare defile a woman who can't handle her whiskey." You scoff at his insult but still feel disarmed by his reaction.

"So then.. the motel room?" You question. He cocks his head to the side, only now realizing that your memory must've gone from the previous night.

"Ah, so you really can't handle your whiskey.. Well, not to fret, dear. You weren't telling me where you were staying, and Mimzy seemed keen on me taking you elsewhere." In actuality, she was trying to play matchmaker. Thanks for trying, Mimzy.

"I'm sorry for the trouble, Alastor, I hate that you bought a room just for me.. I can pay you back." You sit up, running your hands through your mess of hair and letting out a pained groan.

"I'm sure you can, but I simply can't accept." He stands, tucking the book under his arm and walking to your bedside. You swing your legs over the edge, only to notice how close he seems to hover over you. You look up and realize how statuesque he was. You hadn't seen him in daylight. And his height is much more intimating when he stands.

"It was my pleasure, getting to witness you thoroughly embarrass yourself." He bends at the hips, a taunting smile across his face. You try to recall anything embarrassing you might've done the night before, but you can barely recall a thing. That did little to ease your mind.

"You'll have to tell me about it one day." You grumble, standing with his assistance. He offered to escort you home, and you happily accepted.

The two of you stand on your small porch. It's a quaint duplex you've been renting, you go on about how how the family who lives here travels for the summer and was more than happy to offer their home to such a sweet thing.

"Well, since you insist that I can't handle my liquor, it might be a better idea to find each other.. somewhere other than a joint..." you say sheepishly, your eyes wandering to anywhere but his gaze. When he steps closer, you finally fix your wide eyes on him.

"You don't want me to court you, kitten. You're a lovely, educated, pretty little thing, you'll be wasting your time, unfortunately." He doesn't sound insulting, he says it very truthfully. It only makes you want to see more. To ask him to come in, and stick around awhile. But you're aware he has a broadcast coming up soon. You wonder if he would've stayed by your side if you slept through it.

"I'll be the judge of that. Besides, getting coffee doesn't waste too much time." You decide to stand your ground. You aren't sure why he's refusing if he thinks all that of you. You see him look you up and down, then let out a sigh.

"Hm. I suppose. I'll be back here tomorrow morning since you're so insistent. Just remember I warned you-" He says playfully as he makes his way down the stairs.

"Curiosity killed the cat, my dear!" He calls out before giving another heart-melting smile. You nervously bite your lip and watch him walk off through the cracked door. Like a damned puppy, you couldn't help but watch him walk off. You quickly shut the door, after realizing how hard you were smiling.

This was supposed to be for fun. You were just supposed to be some extra company on occasions. And he knew you came with your perks. You were an heir to a decent fortune, it only made sense for him to befriend you. You were knowledgeable and smart, he could definitely benefit from your skills if he needs to do so. There were plenty of ways Alastor could use you if necessary.

But with every little dance, every little coffee, or walk home from the bar, it was making him nervous. Of course, he would never call it that, he's too disgusted by the pangs in his chest he gets around you. Unfiltered, yet still delicate and professional. Incredibly intelligent, yet still makes the silliest mistakes. You were flawed. You came from such a slob of a man, and the fact that you are so kind despite that amazes him more than you realize. You are more than willing to stand for your beliefs. For one of the first times in his life, Alastor admired someone.

He's not sure what conversations led to him agreeing to cook yet another dinner in your home, but here he was; standing at your door with a bag of groceries.

"Oh- you didn't need to do all that, you're always free to use anything in the kitchen." You greet him as he comes inside, where he sets the bag at a nearby counter space. You reach up and pull his trenchcoat off his shoulders, which he willingly surrenders to. It was a little action you took, taking his coat for him when he would stop by. He's come to expect it. You hang it up on the rack nearby.

"Nonsense, I'm sure you have plenty to work with, but I'm following a special recipe tonight." He insisted, already unpacking things, setting up pots and pans, and rolling up his sleeves. He pulled an apron from the bag last, and the sight of him all prepped for cooking leaves you weak in the knees. You want to see this every night. You want him in your kitchen every mealtime. You shake the desires from your head, pushing aside the dreams of domesticity that have been plaguing your mind recently.

"Can I help with anything?" You chime in, peeking around the corner to smile at him through the doorway. He shakes his head.

"If you feel the need to help, you're more than welcome to get the table set, but I am quite in my element here, kitten. So, not to worry." You were mostly listening to him, but one part of you kept your focus on his skillful knife practice, watching him chop vegetables in a nearly professional manner.

"Kitten? The table?" His words and his moving on to something else snapped you from your funk.

"Oh! Of course, yes." You stumble a bit but do as he instructs. It wasn't anything special, but the space was more than enough to give the ambiance of a good date.

Damn, this man could cook. He's cooked for you before, but something you couldn't quite put a finger on left you swooning at the sight of the still-steaming gumbo in front of you.

"Damn, you can cook." You're muttering, between bites. You almost can't taste all its decadence, digging in before letting it fully cool.

"Slow down, dear, we have all night." He says softly, despite bringing a spoonful to his own lips. You catch yourself staring at the sight of him eating beside you, enthralled by his enthusiastic hums.

"So where did this come from? I'm a bit suspicious of the finery if I'm honest." You place your elbows on the table, perching your chin on top of your hands. He scoffs in response.

"How rude. All my meals are of the highest quality. I simply haven't made this in quite a while, I thought tonight would be a good time to do so." He replies.

"A recipe for special occasions, hm? Would you consider this.. a special occasion?" You tease, looking at him with a cocked eyebrow. He looks confused, letting his eyes wander in thought for a moment. Was this a special occasion? Is there any specific reason he wanted to bring his own mother's recipe to some girl he's befriended? He pushes the thought aside, planning on mocking you like usual.

"Any night with you is plenty special, kitten." He hums, popping another spoonful into his mouth. He doesn't see your face turning red, but his oblivious flirting always leaves you flushed.

"In that case, when are you inviting me to your own home? I won't lie and say I'm not curious, Al." You set your finished plate aside and notice his eye twitch. You've been staring at him long enough to notice even his smallest ticks.

"Someday. I've a bit of a mess to go through before considering bringing any guests over." He brushes clean his already pristine top, as you stand and take his empty plate to the kitchen. With a sigh, you take yourself over to the sink to do a quick clean. It's the least you could do after such a lovely meal.

"If you say so." You try your best to sound calm, but you're slightly hurt by his constant rejection of letting you into his personal life. It wasn't all the time, but there were clearly things he refused to talk about. You want nothing more than to know him.

Lost in your mildly upsetting thoughts, you recklessly take one of his knives the wrong way, the blade slicing surprisingly easily down your finger. The shock takes you back more than the actual pain. These are far too nice for everyday cooking.

Letting out a quiet curse, you feel his hand brush over your own, his shadow casting over your entirety. "Such a clutz." You hear, his voice causing you to tense. You let him guide your hand under the water to rinse it, effectively caging you in place.

"Be careful, will you? These are my nicer tools." Interesting way to say it, but you were too focused on the fact that you could feel his breath heating the back of your neck. You simply nod, before turning the water off with your free hand. You turn your body around, leaning your back against the edge of the countertop and effectively facing Alastor. His hands stay planted on either side of you, making it a bit of a tight squeeze. You weren't sure what you were trying to accomplish here, but here you are. Neither of you seem to be moving away, though. He drops his head to look into your eyes. You're lost in them.

You reach your arms upwards, holding them around his neck as best you can, and you feel him willingly lean within your grasp. The moment is heated, you feel his breath against your lips as you pull him impossibly closer. His breath is quick, almost shaky. You've never seen this side of him. You'd never associate Alastor with the term nervous.

Nearly closing the gap, you feel a hand come to your throat and fingers gently holding your jaw. With a quick turn, he places a soft kiss on your cheek. It lingers for a moment, and even if it wasn't what you were expecting, you're gasping beneath his affection. The room seems to cool down for a moment. He steps away silently, pulling his things all together.

You may have made a mistake.

"Oh, Al- I'm sorry I didn't think.. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, i-if that's what happened there." Your words quicken, suddenly becoming anxious that you may have upset him.

"No, don't fret." He waves his hand dismissively, his back still turned to you as he keeps himself busy with a bit of tidying. "I'd be an idiot to not expect that, eventually." He almost sounds insulting, a little cocky.

"Why's that? Are you used to women just throwing themselves at you?" You tease but keep yourself from his eyeline.

"Well, yes- but, you've been especially touchy recently. And you seem to be acting like I make you.. nervous. Fidgety." His little observations leave you a bit embarrassed.

"It's not nervous.. exactly. Never mind that, though.. Does.. that interest you..? At all?" It takes you a while to get the question out and it still comes across shaky. You're response is silence. Fill it.

"H-How about a drink before you head off, hm?" You quickly shuffle to your liquor cart, looking for anything to drown out your essential confession.

"It does." You freeze in place, missing the cup entirely with your first pour. That was an answer neither of you were really expecting. You finally turn to him, seeing that he had looked away just as you did.

"So, that means-" you want him to elaborate. You want to hear him say all the things you've been dreaming of. That he wants to spend his free time with you, hold your hand, and kiss it with more than just a greeting in mind. To call you anything other than kitten. Well.. that last part you didn't mind as much.

"I've not prepared myself for such a conversation, but I.. enjoy your company. And your brains.. and you certainly aren't terrible to look at." He said he didn't prepare himself, and it was pretty obvious. This wasn't his usual taunting, his usually eloquent beats. He's pausing between phrases, to come up with the best words on hand.

"Jee, thanks." You roll your eyes, your smile still shining.

"I suppose you leave me speechless, kitten." You leave a radio host, a man who talks for a living and is quite good at it, speechless. This time, he sees the freshly pink hues across your cheek. He lets out a devious chuckle, one you recognize when he's about to do something you'd consider nefarious. He starts to approach you, his clean shoes clicking against the wooden floors being the only sound. You knew you weren't in danger, but you find yourself walking backward until you hit the table. Continuing to lean away from him, he towers over you, only following your avoidance until you are straining to stand upwards.

"Well?" You let out, your words barely a whisper. "Are you going to kiss me or not?"

That seems to shock him a bit, you see his shoulders tense just slightly. You watch him contemplate his next action. He let his hand snake around your waist, not exactly to pull you closer, but his touch still left you weak. With a soft kiss on your lips, he gave you no time to truly enjoy it.

"I hate to repeat myself, but I warned you, kitten. Curious little things like yourself deserve.. more." After processing his words, you're still melting to his touch despite how fleeting it was. He steps away.

"W-What- No! I thought you said you were interested! And that kiss- W-What were-" You throw a bit of a tantrum, but quickly calm yourself. "I don't understand, help me understand. Please.." You sound a bit defeated. He sighs, clearly pained that this conversation has to continue.

"Hm.. I don't believe I'm able to give you everything you need. But, you deserve everything you need. It's as simple as that." He's pausing between words, and his expression shows that he's still not exactly satisfied with how it came out.

You shrank in place and held your arms, your mind trying to scrap together any little hints to what he means. Maybe something he's mentioned in the past. But as elusive as ever, it still just doesn't make sense to you. He catches a glimpse of your upset appearance, then takes in the rest of your state a bit longer. You can feel his eyes on you, forcing you to nervously bite at your lip.

"Okay. Let's forget all that, then." You said softly, smiling the best you can and waving your hand dismissively. He obviously knows that you wouldn't lose these feelings as quickly as he'd hoped. He'd reassure you, you'll get over it.

But you couldn't. You tried, you did. You went on other dates, considering how many men were throwing themselves at you in the right bars. You kept your distance for a bit but still saw him at Mimzy's bar on the weekends. Despite all your potential suitors, you still only seemed to look forward to those nights with Alastor. You'd go as far as to complain about some unruly men to him. His disgusted reactions were a comfort.

You kept trying to pry his real reasoning as to why he wouldn't be with you. He'd admit to not being trustworthy, which you would always dismiss. He'd go on about the other men that would be a much better fit, and all with good reasoning, but you still wouldn't stop pestering him. Then, after a few too many drinks, he finally let slip his disinterest in intimacy. And from everything he's told you, this seemed different. It wasn't an excuse or an avoidance, it was the truth.

"So, you don't find me physically attractive?" You ask him, swirling your half-empty cup.

"It's not that, I assure you. I'd just prefer to shower you in other affections, I suppose." He seems a bit unfiltered tonight, still avoiding your eyes.

"Other affections, hm? Like what, birdy?" You were already enraptured. But you were kicking yourself for getting your hopes up at all. You can see his immediate regret in his words.

"Kitten-"

"Please? I'm just curious." You say sincerely, placing your hand over top of his. You hesitate for a moment, but he seems to not mind the touch.

"Well.. I'd like to buy you the finest things. Any book you're slightly interested in, any frock that draws your eyes, any accessories that would bring out your natural beauty- you deserve it. I want to keep you proudly on my arm throughout the streets, showing everyone that you belong to me. I'd like to cook you every meal, until the day I die." His drunken rants leave an obvious sparkle in your eyes.

"Well that all sounds lovely to me.." you say softly, twisting and turning his hand until your fingers are comfortably interlocked with his. "Simply put, you're not interested in sex?” He was taken aback by your bold words, looking around as if he were nervous someone would hear. “I’ve read about it before, there’s an interesting essay that describes this sort of phenomenon. I'll have to lend it to you.” Your calmness surprises him.

“Well.. Thank you. That puts an end to that, then. Go on and find a man who can properly bed you.” He tries to act just as calm, but his voice still seems a bit frustrated by the idea. You make an act out of tapping your chin and humming in thought.

“No, I’d much rather spend my time with you.” You say bluntly. He quickly chimes in.

“But, I-”

“Alastor, I’ve never met someone as arrogant as you.” You let out a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “If you’ll have me, however you want that is, I’d love nothing more than to spend my days with you.” You speak slowly, almost mockingly, trying to get this damned point across after so long.

He’s still quiet, opening his mouth to respond, then letting his lips shut again. He smiles at you. You couldn't ask for a better response. It was the sweetest smile you've ever seen from him, no sign of teasing or mocking you, no hidden intent, and just slightly bashful. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, in a sweet sign of acceptance.

Things went on after that without a hitch. Mostly. There were some kinks to work out, sure, but you were absolutely head over heels for him. No one’s ever brought you this much joy, and having this more intimate side of him, despite its physicalities, was more than you could ever hope for. He’d finally let you into his home after a while. It was near spotless and he was more than willing to show off the space to you. You wondered why he felt the need to stall this for so long. But you’re together now, hardly anything else matters.

As the summer came to an end, and you had to find somewhere else, you were invited to stay with Alastor. After walking freely around town, as promised, with his arm around yours, gossip spread as it always does. Another talk of the town, two unwed youths in the same place, sharing the same bed assumedly. It made you two snicker at the rumors. Living with him was heaven.

Following through his previous statements, he showered you in compliments, cooked every meal for you, and spent as much of his free time with you as he could. He offered little physical affection, little pecks here and there, and had no issue with sharing his bed. It wasn't long before you popped the question. Neither of you were really interested in the big fancy wedding idea, he was even comprehended by the marriage itself, but if anyone could wear down his nerves, it was you. That being said, Alastor did get you a ring that you were sure cost far too much. He brought up the idea of eloping. A little vacation just for the two of you. It sounded perfect.

“Birdy~ You let out in a sing-song tone, opening the door to your shared home. Every time you’d walk up to the house, you’d slow down, taking in your flawless reality every day. You’d hold your hand out to yourself, looking at the still newly polished ring, then finally entering your perfect home.

Although, it wasn’t perfect today.

You call out his name, no response. You know he should be home, so you peak around corners to no avail. You checked tables and counters, no note to be seen.

After setting down your bag, slipping your heels off, and hanging your coat after your quick search, you head to your room to at least change for the evening. You and Alastor usually go visit Mimzy on these nights, an unspoken routine.

On the way to your room, your tights hit a wet splotch on the floor. With a groan of disgust, you finally realize what you had stepped in.

Blood.

Of course, you’d recognize blood. It trailed from the door in front of you.

Alastor assured you this was his office and showed it to you on occasion. The door was always open when he wasn't home, and although you never felt the need to intrude on his personal space, something was clearly wrong. You swung open the door.

“No.”

You cover your mouth after your quiet refusal. You're silent, unwilling to believe what you're seeing. Your darling husband-to-be, kneeling over a stained and still wet corpse wrapped in canvas. His hands are covered in blood. Actually, his entire body is covered in blood.

How he managed to get in and out of the house without making an entire mess was a thought that managed to cross your mind in your state of shock. You glance up for a second to notice one of the heavy bookshelves pushed aside, a sort of patio doorway leading to the swampy area behind the house.

You look at the door, then to Alastor. Who’s giving you a wide-eyed face that pains your chest.

Say something, Alastor. Say something that’ll make this all okay. You're a deer in headlights.

He notices your eyes dart to the right, then back to him, staring for a moment longer. One thing is on your mind without his reassurance. You’re in danger.

Run.

You book it down the hall, clearly going to the exit. Both your feet soaked in blood at this point are tracking through the house. The moment was such a blur, that you hardly remember how far you got before feeling the pain of hitting the floor. You look down after scrambling onto your back, seeing Alastor’s hand wrap around your ankle.

“Hold on! You’re covered in blood, you’re a mess, just-” He sounds deranged. Who is this man? Surely not the one who’s been treating you so well all this time. He sounds anxious and angry. You’re face is stained with tears as he essentially drags you across the floor briefly, not considering his heightened adrenaline in these moments. You kick. You scream.

“Listen to me!” He grabs you by your arms, giving you a good shake. That seems to calm you down.. or at least quiet you down. You’re staring at him wide-eyed, your breath rapid. He has your attention, yet he’s not sure what to say. A pained expression grows on his face. You’re leaving him speechless, again.

“Let’s.. clean you up.” He scoops you up, and maybe it's the shock that leaves you so lenient. Or maybe it's all the good times blurring what you've witnessed. When you come to, you’re sitting in the bath, Alastor by your side, and running a sponge across your arm, thoroughly staining the water with blood. The sight brings a gasp from your lips, that feels like the first breath you've taken in hours.

“A-Alastor-” You let out weakly, your frightened expression now burned into his mind. “Was that real..?”

“It was-” He lets out a pained sigh, seeing if he could soften the truth. It's not possible. “-It was.” no words can save him from this.

“W-Why..?”

“He was rather unpleasant. A man with too much money, who wasted most of his time on hitting his women staff. He had his chance to make things right, I assure you, this is always the last resort.” That doesn't help for obvious reasons. You pull away from his gentle washing.

“Always? You've done this before?” Your voice squeaks as it comes out. You don't want to know the details. But you can't stop the words from spilling from your lips. He stands and rings the sponge out into the sink, watching the red-tinted water swirl down the drain.

“Yes.”

“How many times have you-” You stop yourself finally. You don't want the answer to that one. You don't want the answer to any of these questions. Unconsciously, your mind still seems to piece together every strange thing he’s done and said to you.

Your half-sentence is replied to with silence. He goes on to finish cleaning you up, helping you in and out of the tub, and drying you as best he can. He wraps you in his own robe and brings you to the bedroom. You’re mortified when you notice him guiding you by your shoulders to avoid the bloody footprints still on the ground.

Some time passes. You sit empty-minded on the edge of the bed, your eyes gazing down into nothing. Alastor leans against the vanity across the small room from you. He runs his hands through his hair, pausing and clenching some strands in his fists before moving on.

“I can..get all your belongings together, find you a place to stay. I’ll do what I can to keep you safe.” He finally says, breaking the silence and your endless train of thought. His offer seems reasonable, but you still feel hurt.

“You want me to leave?” You ask quietly, gripping the edges of the robe and shrinking into yourself. He’s shocked by your response, you can hear it in his voice.

“You want to stay?” He asks in response.

“I.. I love you.” You say weakly. It stings to say it out loud. And even more so to hear it. “Will you hurt me? I-If I go to the police? If I rat you out..?” What are you doing? You can’t ask a murderer that. Your mind is running on fear, especially after what you just said. You feel his hand lightly lift your face to his, flinching slightly considering you hadn't noticed him approaching you.

“I would never hurt you. I’d spend my days rotting in a jail cell if it meant you’re safe..and happy. I love you, kitten.” You aren’t used to seeing this face. It’s almost emotionless. You start to picture this face carrying out his murderous intentions. But there's a crack in his psychopathic mask. There's a hint of softness and anguish at the sight of you.

“I don't.. I don't want to leave.” You take a hold of his hand, still shaking and clearly unsure of your words. You hear a soft hiss leave his lips, clearly trying to conceal his reaction to the unexpected. “I don’t want you to be in jail- or.. I suppose I don't want you to be caught..?” You groan, holding tightly onto his hand. “I’m so confused, Alastor. I want things to be normal. I want to go back to when you cooked for me, and.. And go back to planning- o-our elopement…” You let out weakly. He doesn't respond at first, you force your eyes up to meet his. He looks heartbroken at the sight of you.

“I just want to pretend that none of this happened..Please, stop this. F-for me, please don't do this anymore.” Your voice becomes a whisper. His hesitation only makes it all worse. He responds once he feels your grip on him loosen.

“Okay- okay. I’ll clean up this mess, and- I’ll stop. For you.” You manage to give him a weak smile, before resting your head against his chest. After holding you for a moment he settles you into bed after you had essentially fallen asleep in his arms. He does as promised. Mostly. He cleans up the mess at least.

The next morning, you wake up and hope everything that happened before a nightmare. But, you feel his robe still wrapped around you, then notice Alastor’s side of the bed empty. It's real then. It was too vivid. And if it's real.. Then he’s stopping. Because of you. It’s almost touching.

You go on about your day, and he greets you as if nothing is wrong, making your breakfast as usual. He’s chipper and goes on to chat about his plans for today. He’s pretending that nothing went on. How often has he done this? Convincingly pretend that he didn't take a life less than twelve hours ago?

It takes you a few days. A few months.. years, actually. To accept what he had done. You never forgave him, but you accepted it. You had to go on and enjoy your newly wedded life together, didn't you? Alastor had a broadcast to work on, an audience to appease, and you had to work as a physician, helping locals from within their homes. Besides, he stopped the murders after you caught him that one awful night, didn't he?

Didn't he?

Police are at your door. A nightmare of a sight. You open it, putting on your best face. It wasn't as easy as it used to be, but your smile still convinced the public. Leaning against the open door and batting your lashes you greet them sweetly. your face instantly fell to their words. You almost hoped that he had gotten caught. But he didn't.

He's dead.

“Shot in the woods, ma’am. A hunter mistook him for a deer in the dark.” you'd recall these words later, but for now, your ears were ringing and your mind was absent. You thanked them and shut the door.

You can't recall how loudly you screamed and sobbed, or for how long that went on. You need to be held. You need him to hold you and that only pains you more. You mourned for days, canceling appointments, and not answering any guests who were there to offer empty condolences. You rotted in his home. He was so young. You were both so young, there was so much to look forward to in your future. It's all gone now.

The first place you went to was Mimzy's bar. A few months had passed, and all your good liquor had run out. Plus, a familiar face could be a good change of pace right now.

“Oh, hun!” An immediate greeting at the door, Mimzy brings you to the bar. It's a late night on a workday, it was essentially empty. “I'm so sorry for your loss. Everyone in town is worried bout ya! I'm sure you don't wanna hear this, but how are you doin'?” She was right. You didn't want to hear that. You hated that question.

“Fine.” You say squeakly. It was the first word you had spoken in weeks, you realize. She slides you your drink and you immediately down it. She tops it off just for it to be finished off even faster than the last.

“Slow down, hun.” She says, sliding a glass of water to you next. When you drink it thoughtlessly, the absence of alcohol has you scrunching your nose. “I'm sure this isn't the best time, but.. I got somethin’ for ya.” She disappears into some backroom before reapproaching you and your barely touched glass of water. She places an enveloped letter in your hand. Your name written in neat cursive fills its front and your hands start to shake.

“It's from Al. He wanted me to give this to ya. If he ever.. well, if this ever happened.” as she's speaking, you've already opened it and begun reading.

It was instructions. And a large wad of cash. Above the instructions, A small blurb about how sorry he was, how much he loved you, and prayed that you'd never have to read this. Then a list of how to thoroughly clean and dispose of all evidence in his shed.

“Did you know?” you ask Mimzy, your hands crinkling on each side of the letter. She nods. “He never stopped, did he?” You say in a hushed tone, mainly in disbelief to yourself.

“Well- not exactly, no. he was finishing somethin' up in the forest that one night.” Mimzy talks as if she's practiced this conversation. He must've kept her up to date with all this.

“He told me he would stop. He said he was doing it for me-” You grip at your heart, letting out a shaky breath.

“What important is that he loved ya, right? He was an equal opportunity killer, hun, he only did what he had to. It was for the greater good, ya know?” Mimzy was speaking far too calmly about this. you let out a flurry of curses, shoving the crumpled-up instructions into your purse before standing at the bar.

“You're all fucking psychopaths!” You yell out to the empty bar and leave the building in a huff.

You needed to leave town. The two people you were closest to were both criminals. And being in this house was only hurting you more. You packed as much as you could, hand hovering over the phone to call for a taxi. You freeze in place. Then see your ring. You look at it for a moment, the light giving it a beautiful shine. With a defeated sigh, you set your bags aside and pull the instructions back out from your purse, straightening it out as best you could.

After finishing a very thorough cleaning, and questioning your actions through it all, you did everything on the list. You burned the letter alongside some other items that he told you to dispose of. You still aren't sure why you did it. He was never caught before and he must have cleaned up his job in the forest before getting shot. Maybe it was for the best. Let his radio persona live on. Let it be the last nice thing you ever do for him. You finally leave that hellhole behind.

You went on to live another sixty years, quite a feat if you must admit. You weren't much of a religious person, so passing in your sleep and waking up in the streets of Pentagram City, was a bit of a shock. After accepting the idea of an afterlife, you put the little details together. You were sure after all that went down in your youth, you would end up here. And if you're here, then maybe..

There are more important things right now. Lucky for you, you fell right in the middle of a bustling street. You scramble to your feet and quickly escape the speeding cars. Why were there cars in Hell? Why did it look so much like a big city you would visit at some point, how is it so human? There was so much to question, but you were desperate to find any sort of sanctuary.

You weren't sure why your first thought was to find the nearest bar, but something seemed to bring you in. You're almost disappointed in yourself for stepping into a club decorated as a 20s speakeasy. But it was familiar- nostalgic. A shrill voice draws your attention.

"Oh my stars! Get over here, doll!" The shriek brings your attention to the bar, where a slightly familiar face greets you. “What are ya gawkin’ at? It’s me! Mimzy? Get that tail over here!” Mimzy owns a club even in Hell? You approach her after some more beckoning.

"Long time no see! How long you been in?" She goes on. You observe her appearance as she speaks. She looks almost the same. The red eyes and sharp teeth were definitely new. You realize you hadn't had the chance to take in your own appearance, but clearly, it must've been similar enough for her to recognize you. Still questioning your position, you finally process her words.

"Oh- I just arrived actually. Lucky me to walk straight into your bar, hm?" You lean against the counter as she pours you a drink, a flurry of trauma and nostalgia turns to confusion.

"Wow! You had quite a life after old Al got you outta town, didn't ya?” She teased. You let out a nervous chuckle. Good old Al. You haven't thought about him in years. You were so young, so head over heels for this man you barely knew. You somehow managed to suppress all the bad times as you aged. Mimzy notices your face droop a bit.

"I suppose I did.." a brief smile meets the wedding band still on your hand.

"Well? Finally gonna reunite? Ooh! How romantic! You'll have to update me, sweetie!" Mimzy bats at you, letting out an excited giggle. You quickly shake your head, not processing any other way to respond.

"I-I can't- I mean.. Not after everything he’s done.” Your hands clench at even the thought.

“Sorry to break it to ya, but we’re all for a reason. You got plenty of time to forgive him, with the whole eternal punishment of it all.” Mimzy’s tone drops to a more serious one as if she’s heard that line before. “Not everyone’s lucky enough to rot in Hell with someone they love, you should see what he’s up to!” Her tone seems to immediately switch to something more chipper.

“Still, I uh.. I shouldn't. He’s been dead for so long, I’m sure he’s got some other dame cleaning up his messes.” Excuses. You didn't want to see him, because this is his fault. You're here because you helped clean up his space after his unfortunate death. Even when you had no idea, he relied on you. He trusted you to carry this burden for the rest of your life. Your rage was suppressed when you heard Mimzy's voice chime back in.

"Nope! He's been busy with uh.. his work. Still wears the ring, though~" She hums, tapping her finger to emphasize her words. You look down at your own hand. Why did you still wear yours, again? You never remarried, but mainly because of the trust issues that were instilled in you for the rest of your life. Maybe it wouldn't be a terrible idea..

“N-No, I just cant..” You let out louder than you meant to. Mimzy shrugs off your panic. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare room, would you, Mimzy?”

Mimzy did in fact have a spare room. You stayed in one of the ratty rooms about the bar, alongside some of the demons that rented the rooms for their own business. You realized, after finding a mirror, that you were portrayed with some feline features, nothing too disfiguring. Once you saw your new form, Alastor’s voice, every single time he beckoned you with kitten, rang throughout your mind. You couldn't bring yourself to look at yourself for the first few months. This was Hell after all. Eternal punishment can manifest in several ways.

Mimzy was still a clear supporter of Alastor, so she had a radio set up in your room already. No matter how hard you tried, you realize pretty early on that Alastor had some power over the radios that force his broadcasts to be the only thing streaming. You heard it all. The screams of souls being torn apart, his constant gossiping and cruel words making fun of other demons.

But damn, if it didn't feel like living again. Waking up every morning to the sound of his voice on the radio, before you can truly decipher what he’s talking about, it almost feels like a normal life. But then you hear the pain in those demons that he’s mercilessly tearing up. Sometimes, you see Mimzy cheering at the radio like some sports game is being narrated. You try to avoid her when she’s doing that.

Things were comfortable for many years. As comfortable as Hell can be, at least. Alastor became a distant part of your daily routine, you'd hear his broadcasts all the time, but only in addition to the other bustling city noises. It all seemed to cancel out after a while. You worked with Mimzy, picking up at the bar when she had to run off. In exchange, you stayed in that room indefinitely. You two seemed to become friends again, despite your living history. It became clear to you that what happened when you were alive really didn't matter down here. You all made the same degree of mistakes and you all learned that you’re here for the same reasons.

You went through extermination days as best you could, only having one face-to-face interaction. That day, you were already on the verge of death from falling debris and trying to escape a specifically insistent exorcist. She had you cornered. You shut your eyes, wincing at the upcoming angelic weapon you saw her raise at you. Only feeling a slight sting across the bridge of your nose and cheek, you open your eyes to see her flying back towards the portal to heaven. You can't believe you got that lucky. You’re still in disbelief at the entire scenario, but unlike most wounds down here, your face was permanently scarred. It was small, barely noticeable! Mimzy says.

But you knew not everyone had this much luck on extermination day. After noticing the silence on the streets, during the most recent extermination, you nervously left the bar. Everything was empty. The portal had opened closer to that hotel you’d heard of. And the exorcists were going straight to it. You scoffed, walking back into the bar. They’d finish off those demons there quickly, so you still wanted to hide. As you barred yourself up in your room, you remembered Mimzy telling you about her visit to that hotel. About why she visited the hotel. Alastor's there. You try to not panic. It’s been decades, why are you worried about him? Besides you know how powerful he is, you've picked up his whole radio demon shtick from others. He’ll be fine.

Then why are you so restless?

A loud knocking at your door shakes your entire core. You keep yourself hauled up in the corner of your room, covering your ears and squeezing your eyes shut. You still hear a voice call your name from the other side of the door.

“You gotta come see this! The angels are gone!” It's Mimzy. it's far earlier than usual, you were almost worried it was some new tactic they picked up. You crack the door open just slightly, and her small frame pummeled the door open. She paces your room, rambling words that you barely catch, and she shoves her phone to your face. You have to take it from her shaking hands to get a glimpse. It's hard to see, but it's very obviously footage of Alastor fighting Adam. His body is warped through the drone’s camera, and you watch him fade away into nothingness after one blow. There was no audio, You couldn't hear what happened. Considering you weren't familiar with his shadow antics, you had no idea what actually happened to him.

“You gotta find out if he's okay! I can't go back to that hotel, you gotta do it!” she sounds frantic, taking her phone back. “What? Absolutely not! I'm sure he's fine.” You wave your hand dismissively, despite the hesitance in your voice. Everyone's in Hell for the same reasons. Your mind goes back and forth on the possibility of forgiveness.. of mending burned bridges.

“The videos from a few hours ago, those angels are gone! Ooh.. He's just gotta be okay..” You didn't realize how much Mimzy actually appreciated Alastor. Whether it be the protection he offers or their actual friendship, you aren't sure. But she's clearly worried about him. You just aren't ready.

Mimzy spent the next few days begging you to go down there and find him. And you refused every time. She mentioned going to Cannibal Town to visit his "Gal Pal" and even she hadn't heard from him. He's disappeared before, just recently too, You're sure it was just like his last seven-year absence. Even if you were getting a bit worried, you'd never admit it. There were no broadcasts, there was no public trash-talking from the Vees, it was just.. quiet.

“Didn't you love him?” You stare at Mimzy, in disbelief that she just said that.

“Excuse me?” That seemed to strike a nerve. And maybe she meant to do that.

“I remember you two in my bar, you were two peas in a pod! I've never seen him like that with any gal, hun. That's not somethin' that just goes away.” Mimzy takes your hand from across the bar. “Please, go check on him. Maybe it'll be like a final hurrah, but I just gotta know if he's okay.” You look around the room as if someone would offer to go in your place. But she's right. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't missing his broadcasts. You let out a dejected sigh.

“Okay.. okay! Fine.” You huff. An immediate change in attitude, Mimzy lets out an excited exclamation and pours the two of you drinks, to celebrate her pushy victory.

You take in a deep breath, looking around the new hotel's exterior. It was much larger than the previous one and more lavish. You hesitate before knocking on the door. A series of whispered voices, then scrambling feet, follow the door opening. It's the princess of Hell. You weren't expecting Alastor to greet you, but you still feel a bit disappointed.

“Hello! Welcome to the Hazbin Ho-” You quickly interrupt.

“No! Nono, sorry.” You laugh Nervously. “I'm not here for the whole.. redemption thing. Is.. uh…” You peek around her shoulder, seeing a few demons you recognize from the commercial, but no Alastor.

“Is the radio demon here..?” You finally ask quietly. Charlie still seems a little hurt from the interruption, but just because you're not interested in redemption doesn't mean she won't try to convince you.

“Alastor? Sure! He's been in his tower since we reopened.. So, he's probably up there.” She explains, pulling you into the building despite your refusal. “I can go get him for you! What's your name? I'll tell him who-”

"That's actually okay! I was sent to check up on him, so.. if he's alive, then that's all I need to hear!” Mimzy will just have to be satisfied with that. You're chickening out. If they're saying he's fine, then that's good enough for you. The longer you're here, the more anxious you're becoming. You're worried he could pop out of nowhere. Which is a legitimate concern apparently.

“Charlie!” A greeting comes from behind the blonde, and you see a red-clawed hand engulf her shoulder. “Already a new resident? How exciting! What unfortunate sinner has found themselves here as a last resort.. today…”

You know that voice. Of course, you know that voice. He looks fairly similar to how he did when he was alive, the hair was new. Ditto the antlers. A deer? They turned him into a deer down here? You almost want to laugh. Maybe being in Hell for so long has turned your sense of humor that crude. You're staring with wide eyes. He whispers your name so quietly that all you can really take in is his lips forming the word.

“Hey, Al! She was just looking for you! I think she might be worried, right?”

Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up-

“I.. was! But I see he’s clearly fine now, so! I should get back to Mimzy’s-”

“Mimzy? You're with that trainwreck?” a low voice comes from the bar, interrupting the conversation. The cat demon behind the counter scoffs at you. “Nice ears.” They fold down involuntarily from embarrassment.

“Kitten.” You immediately turn at the sound of Alastor’s voice, shivers thoroughly covering your body. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but it clamps shut. His eyes widen for a moment, looking around the room to see how almost every resident had gathered to witness the new face. You start to back away to the door.

“This may not have been the best idea.. T-thank you, princess, it was nice meeting you.” with a blink of your eye, Alastor’s arm is around your shoulder.

“Why of course! Thank you for visiting! I'll escort you out!” His chipper attitude startles you, and you feel almost insulted by his eagerness to have you leave.

“Oh! Well.. come back anytime! Our doors are always open!” You hear Charlie call out as Alastor takes you outside the building. Before you even have a chance to protest, you're suddenly in a recording room. Your mouth is still open ready to scold him, but instead, you examine the dizzying change in scenery. Your eyes finally drop to Alastor, who had taken both your shoulders and let his head drop from your view. He startles to mumble.

“W-What are you-”

“Why didn't you tell me you were here?” His head finally lifts and you catch his perplexed expression. Pained eyes paired with a strained smile, it's almost frightening.

“W-Well, I.. it was just-”

“When did you arrive?”

“A few.. decades ago..?”

“Decades?” His voice goes low and static. You pull away from his grasp as his voice changes. “You shouldn't be here. There has to be a mistake.” His voice returns to normal, and he starts to pace the room. Mumbling more nonsense to himself, he starts gripping at his hair.

You watch this for a while, before finally approaching him. You take hold of his arm, effectively stopping him in place. Pulling down his arm, you feel the grasp on his hair loosen.

“Calm down. You're pulling your hair out, again.” You say softly, brushing his hand clean of stray hairs he had torn out. Reaching forward you attempt to brush his hair back into place. Your hand pauses, hovering just by his cheek. You want to hold him. He seems to follow your hand when you decide to quickly distance yourself.

His eyes look bloodshot and demonic. How could you still possibly be getting lost in them?

“You shouldn't be here, kitten. You’re here because of me.” You flinch at his words, despite how true they are, you manage to feel some underlying guilt.

“Yeah.. Mimzy just wanted to know if you were alright. And you seem just fine. I should go.” You say bluntly, taking hold of your arms and going towards the door.

“Why didn't you find me?” His words cause you to stop.

“Sorry, you weren't exactly the first thing on my mind when I woke up in Hell.”

“Kitten, I-” His voice seems to drop the radio static. It sounds entirely too familiar.

“-don't call me that.” You snap, biting at your lip unconsciously.

“I'm sorry.” He finally says. “It was.. irresponsible of me to lie to you. I made a mistake.” He sounds more embarrassed to admit he messed up. His ego makes you scoff.

“Yes, it was irresponsible. It was downright cruel, Alastor. I had to live with the burden of your murders and had to die with the consequences.” You turn back to face him, a rage that had been boiling for decades finally spilling over. “I did so much good after you died. It has to be your fault I'm here. I never told the cops, I followed your ridiculous instructions, and it was the worst decision of my life! And now I'm paying for it. For being too far in love to realize that you were just using me!” You've had this conversation in your head so many times, that you have no issue saying exactly what you want.

“No!" He stops himself before he can shout anything else. "I assure you, that isn't the case at all. I love you more than I can put into words, kitten, can't we just-” Alastor reaches his hand out to you and you quickly lean away. You spot the ring on his finger.

“Love? You used me to make sure your record stayed clean! That's not love.” You hiss.

“I did it to protect you. I gave you everything you needed to remove yourself from the situation if anything were to happen to me. You said you went on to do good, and I believe you. That was because of me! The letter and the money were both for your safety- I was helping you.” He isn’t exactly shouting, but his tone is certainly sending chills down your spine.

“You don't get to take credit for my life! I should have never come!” You fling your arms up, turning back to the door. He grabs your arm and turns you back to him, a tight grip on your shoulders. He opens his mouth to seemingly scold you, and you're ready to bite back. You notice him scanning over your facial features, and his expression seems to falter.

“What happened to you?” He runs a clawed finger delicately across the scar on your cheek. It had faded but was still visible. You wince at his touch, which makes him pull his hand back.

“Oh, don't act like you care.” You mumble.

“Of course, I care.” His soft response forces a pained groan from your lips.

“All these sweet words you’re saying.. I-I don’t know what to think with that ridiculous smile.. I can't take you seriously!” Your voice is beginning to crack, losing the strength to have this go on.

“About that-”

“I hate you.” He flinches at your words, Out of everything you’ve said, you don't understand why that seems to silence him. He grips onto his chest, his coat and shirt scrunching into his fist. You watch him drop his head, bracing himself on his desk that he had stumbled to. You’re sure he’s being dramatic. Hamming it up to get some sort of pity. A sigh passes your lips.

“Um.. Alastor… I didn't mean to-” His act only fools you a little bit. You wonder if you’ve let out too much steam. If he really-

Before you can finish any other thoughts, he collapses to the floor.

“Fuck-” You quickly move to his side, flipping him to his back and helping him at least prop himself up against a wall. “Should I get-”

“Don't tell the others.” He breathes out, putting his hand up dismissively. With the wave of his hand, you see the blood across his palm. Your eyes follow the source to a continuously growing stain on his top. The sight of blood didn't seem to bother you after everything. “Just help me up.”

“O-Okay.” You do as he says, helping him stand. Almost feeling like an instinct, you pull his coat off of his shoulders. He struggles to keep up with the movement but still gives in. He quickly loses his strength and stumbles to the small couch nearby. You almost enjoy watching him stubbornly refuse your help.

“I.. might require.. some assistance.” He says it so softly you almost want to ask him to repeat himself. Even if you understood him just fine.

“You're asking for help?” You correct him, placing your hands on your hips.

“I don't need help.” He snaps. You would've been offended if you knew he was just to flustered to admit it.

“Then what do you need?” You sit beside him on the couch, placing your hand on his blood-stained shirt. He immediately winces.

“For.. you to stitch this up.” You start unbuttoning his shirt, your hands grazing the fluff of his chest with a mild curiosity. You finally get the full scope of a completely untreated slash that would've surely killed any human if left untreated. But for an almost immortal demon, it was just a painful nuisance. Very painful.

“From your fight with… You want me to help you stitch this up?” You ask because that it seems near impossible to do so, even with someone of your medical history. It's wide and seems to be covered with specks of gold. It feels like small shards of glass when you swipe your hand over him.

“.. yes.” He says quietly. You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head at him. He’s reckless, too stubborn to have looked at the wound because of its reminder of his defeat. And you know that's exactly why it got this bad. No matter how small, Alastor sees the smile growing on you.

“I missed your smile.” He says softly.

“Please stop saying things like that.. You're confusing me.” You make sure to speak your words quietly as if you don't want them to be heard. A small demonic creature rushes to your side, holding a tray up with the essentials to properly treat the slash. It stays perfectly still once in your reach.

You went to work, after some proper scolding, trying your best to keep the process as painless as possible. Every so often, you wonder why you are being so careful with him. He doesn't deserve your tenderness. Your thoughts are stopped when you see his hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you away. His face is scrunched, a hiss passing by his tormented smile. You must've hit the wrong spot while lost in thought. Your eyes fall to his ring, again.

“Why did you keep this on?” You ask, examining his hand that’s still engulfing your wrist.

“It reminds me of you. And yours?” His voice is hushed, still recovering from the pain. You realize he has a full view of your own hand, your wedding band sitting just as clear to him.

“It.. reminds me of what you did to me.” You hear a quiet groan in response to your words, and he releases your arm, gripping the couch in its stead. You keep going.

“I'll admit, I was worried about you.. after the battle with Adam. Maybe it was Mimzy getting me all worked up..” You finally admit. You don’t want him to think you’ve spent your whole life and death hating him. But why would it matter either way?

“I can't be killed, you had nothing to worry about.” He replies, not willing to comment on your sudden vulnerability. Not in this position. All you can do is laugh at him. He's clearly talking out his ass.

“Looks like you got pretty close to it.” You scoff. His ears flatten, and he looks away like a stubborn child.

You finish up after an hour. It felt much longer. The silence with quiet quips mixed in, the surprisingly intimate moment, it was suffocatingly uncomfortable.

“I didn't want to come here. I was perfectly content in being in Hell. I didn't expect this form of torture.” You say, setting everything back onto the little tray presented to you. That little demon had been standing there this whole time. You notice it started shaking a while ago.

“Come now, you're being dramatic. You chose to find me, did you not?” He says, sitting a bit taller with the regained strength.

“I'm not being dramatic! You try to avoid Mimzy's constant nagging! I hear your voice everywhere, see all the ads for this hotel, and they made me a damn cat, Alastor!” You feel yourself starting to lose your composure, gripping your hair and letting out a pained laughter. “H-how unfair is that..?” You let out a weak chuckle, feeling tears well in your eyes. He pulls your hand away from your hair, brushing his thumb across your ring as he holds you for a moment longer.

“Completely unfair. Your appearance may be.. unappealing … to you, but your face is still the same. Your eyes still bright as usual, your smile just as sweet.” His sincerity is muddling your thoughts. Those thoughts that warn you he’s hurt you before. And now he’s a cruel overlord, he’ll hurt you again tenfold. You feel his thumb drag along your lip after realizing you had leaned in towards him.

“Still biting your lip, hm?” His static fades again, and you wince at the raw skin he's brushing over. Old habits apparently don’t die hard.

“N-nervous tick, I guess..” His closeness leaves you a bit breathless.

“Do I make you nervous?” His tone confuses you. There’s an underlying sense of worry, a genuine concern for your well-being. But you’re still distracted by his strange smile. You don’t have much time to think any further about it before you’re startled by gentle lips against yours. It’s quick but is more than enough to let out a flood of feelings you’ve been suppressing since the day you left your hometown. He looks at you with a sly smile on his face.

“I’m still mad at you.” You say quietly.

“I know.” He kisses you, again.

“Y-You don’t have to-” He interrupts you with another kiss.

“I know.” Still holding your face you barely take in his next words with a clear head. “I miss you.” Another kiss, just to throw you off this time, “I miss having you at my side.

Stay.. please.”

There was no way you would drop everything to live with a man you were barely married to in life. That didn't stop you from seeing him more, though. You were actually.. kind of glad to see him. To patch things up, even just a little. You’d visit, sneaking around at first to avoid any interaction from the other residents of the hotel. They were all more than intimidating to you. Especially considering one of them was the king of Hell. Alastor was more than happy to keep you away from him, though.

You updated Mimzy on how he was when you left that first night, but you left out the unimportant bits.. Like the giant angelic slash across his chest. You didn’t need Alastor to tell you that you shouldn't be going around spreading that information. A true accomplice. When Mimzy noticed you were visiting him to the point where you couldn't cover the bar when she needed you to, she was more than happy to kick you out. You knew exactly what she was doing. She didn't want you homeless, but you were essentially left with nowhere to go. Except for the hotel.

It wasn’t the worst thing to happen.. Things almost seemed normal. Alastor had lots of sucking up to do, even though he wouldn't call it that. He was definitely working at it. Making you breakfast like before, treating you like even higher royalty than he ever could while alive. He has the power to do so now and he fully intends to use it. And it’s working.. A little bit.

Okay, a lot.

You’re shocked that he still seems the same after becoming the powerful overlord he is. You’d love to convince yourself that none of that mattered, his status in Hell or what happened when you were alive. That you could just forget mortality to look forward to the potential future facing you. It’s easier said than done.

You're still struggling with your nightmares. Even more so in Hell, likely another form of punishment. Something about the hotel seemed to subdue some of them actually. As if the air were clearer here. It only helped most nights, though. Whenever you woke up in a cold sweat, struggling to breathe, clutching at your heart, there was only one thing to calm you. The radio at your nightstand would play a specific song. One that Mimzy was fond of, so you heard it most nights at her bar on Earth. Whenever you heard that, you knew he was there. He was waiting for you.

"Birdy?" You knock on his door, which seems to open slowly just from your touch. Alastor is sitting contently in front of his firepit. This wasn't the first time you've found him in the middle of the night.

"Another one, my love?" He tilts his head up slightly, the book he had in his hand shutting immediately. You nod your head slowly, already approaching him. Your blanket still wrapped around your shoulders is dragging across the ground. You give him a look he recognizes, and he nods at the implications. Without caution, you let out a tired whimper and plop into his lap. He pulls the blanket over your entirety.

Getting completely comfortable, he adjusts his arms to pull his book back to his eyeline. With your head nuzzled against his shoulder, you're too tired to conceal your little habit of purring. He doesn't mind, though. He loves it.

♡♡♡

Another big boy for ya 🫶

Human Alastor is really fun to write for, I had to do some research tho lol

I tried to keep Alastor's sexuality in mind, so I hope I represented it well. That's always something that makes me nervous when writing for Al 😬

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