#beta radio sitting room

[thewinchestah]

"PREY" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: One-Shot, 18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, begging, overstimulation, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, degradation kink, praise kink,

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: i lost count. it's big.

  | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: Helloooooo!!! I write a lot but i never publish it! My lovely friend and also biggest inspiration for this fic @smallershorteranduncut ordered me to post this and i'm nothing but her loyal servent! I hope you guys enjoy the fruits of me writing 10 google docs pages today while i was enraged. Also english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here yadayayfayada! enjoy <;3 (UPDATE!) Part 2 is now up!

-

Everything about the Radio Demon seemed to be designed to make you desire him, want him. Many times in ways you weren’t even ready to admit to yourself. You haven’t been in Hell long, that’s true. But ever since you manifested here you felt like someone had picked your brain open to make Alastor the perfect bait to lure you into even more sinful, sinister paths. 

He had an inexplicable magnetism around him, a piercing presence that made your eyes stuck on him when he worked a room. He had you bewitched and you hadn’t share more than polite pleasantries with each other since you became a guest at the hotel.

Today, again, you were transfixed in his gaze. Sitting in the corner of the hotel lobby, trying to make your embarrassing attraction to him go unnoticed while Alastor waltzed across the room explaining more of his wicked plans to Charlie. God, how you wish he had his wicked way with you. 

He seemed more… on edge today. His red eyes  glowed a little brighter, his nostrils flared a bit more, static filling the room more often, he was smiling with almost barred teeth, and everyone seemed to be avoiding him. Even Charlie was trying to politely dismiss him, the general feeling of uneasiness inside the hotel  just growing larger when Angel stationed himself near your little corner of the room. 

“Don’t go near that creepy motherfucker today, he’s about to lose it.”  Angel alerted, almost whispering, a pair of his hands making the “crazy sign” near his head 

“Isn’t he always creepy and about to lose it?” Husk added, staring at the exchange between the radio demon and Charlie.

“I’m telling you toots, I know that guy definitely isn't normal, but today he is borderline a mass extinction event. I swear, he’s just waiting for someone to give him the excuse” Angel replied, confirming your suspicions. Something was off.

“Uh. Well, about that, I think it’s time we rescue Charlie” 

As if on cue Charlie turned to the corner of the room, gesticulating really hard to be taken away from the small commotion her conversation with Alastor was becoming. 

“Hey Charlie, do you remember that thing with the hotel’s… personalized stationery you asked me to help you today? Let’s do it!” Said angel gently guiding Charlie away from the Radio Demon.

“Guess that’s my cue Alastor! Greaaaaat chat! As always! Have a nice day!! Byeee!” Charlie’s overly chirpy tone giving away her uneasiness. 

Suddenly it felt like all the air was taken out of the room. Alastor’s neck turned into an ungodly angle, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Static grew around the group, almost suffocating. As your vision went blurry from the sheer power that was being evoked, you contemplated if there was another afterlife. Preferably one where you didn’t inherit a death wish from your previous ones.

And as quick as it started, it was over. 

Alastor just said a creepy “hm” turned on his hell, and walked away. 

It almost felt like it was all in your head, but your friends standing perfectly still and dead silent next to you gave the reality of the situation away: everyone just had a near death-death experience. Maybe it would be a good topic for Charlie’s bonding exercises, who knows with this place. 

“I told ya’ll. Mass. Extinction. Event. Stay out the psycho’s way”

Angel’s voice became background noise in your head, your eyes focusing on the spot where Alastor just threatened everybody’s life without saying a word. As the voices dissipated around you and normalcy slowly returned to the hotel, your mind sank deeper and deeper into the mystery that was the Radio Demon. 

-

They were so oblivious, so naive. Thinking he wasn’t listening what they said about him behind his back. Thinking he was unaware of him being the topic of the discussion when he wasn’t looking. He could bathe in the smell of their fear, and he was relishing it. 

Alastor stared at the new pretty little thing that arrived at the hotel. Oh how pathetically sweet and innocent she was, thinking she was being subtle about her infatuation with him. Thinking she could hide her interest in him, when she was nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes. Oh, she was just the perfect prey for him, wrapped in this lovely red bow she wore on her hair. 

Angel was right, he was just waiting for an excuse, and she just offered him one on a silver platter. And alastor was everything but a coward. 

-

You cursed a little bit louder than you intended when you saw the blood dripping from your finger. “Stop. making. a. spectacle. of. yourself” you mentally screamed. You still could not figure Charlie’s “special stationary stapler” out, so stapling your finger was bound to happen. 

Even though it was not much, the silly little cut was stinging like a bitch, and your best efforts to stop the bleeding were futile, considering the mess on the hem of your skirt. Still high on the adrenaline from earlier, your shaking hands searched for something, anything to put on your finger so you could continue your work without anyone noticing. Everyone already had enough for one day, it was fine. 

“My dear, did you just hurt yourself?” Alastor’s voice invaded your ears. Oh, fuck. That’s it, he was going to murder you for being so incompetent with the damned stapler.

Turning to face him, you meet his piercing gaze, not sure if you should run and scream for help. “Oh no worries alastor, it’s just a small cut, i can manage!” you give him your most confident smile. 

Alastor’s head tilts, eyes burning red as he watches the small droplets of your blood make their way down your index finger.  

“Nonsense, I can't have my staff running around with injuries and bloodied clothes. We are in hell, but we are not savages, dear” He seems transfixed by the blood, and you are too scared to move, too scared to anything other than hold the weight of his gaze and hope for the best. Your lizard brain is screaming for you to run, ask for help. Maybe Charlie isn’t too far away, could you make a run for it? Somehow your survival instincts override your brain, maybe all those hours watching true crime back on earth weren’t in vain, and you decide against running. Let him initiate first. 

He catches your wrist, trapping it inside his deadly claws. His face, towering over you, comes all the way down to inspect the offending finger. You can feel his breathing on your skin. 

Your breathing stops. You swallow an imaginary lump. He’s gonna bite off your fing-

“Would you be a doll and let me take care of it? Blood being unnecessary wasted truly abhors me” 

You must have said yes at some point, you don’t really remember, now you are holding the red handkerchief he handed  you, answering his request to “please follow him”. Trailing behind the Radio Demon, both of you walk through the large corridors. 

This might be the time to scream for help. the voices inside your head warn. With every step of his feet you hear his microphone going tsk tsk tsk where it touches the ground. You are walking the death row, the paintings on the wall chanting “dead woman walking, dead woman walking”. 

“Keep pressuring the wound darling, we are almost there” he gently commands you, too gently… it feels almost… soft, pleading. The way Alastor goes from 0 to 100 is giving you whiplash. 

He slows down, reaching for the door knob of an unknown room. Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to enter first.

the door locks behind you.

 if i’m being murdered, at least i’m being murdered with class. 

“Don’t be silly, I’m not going to murder you” Alastor says, almost singing the last part of the sentence. 

“Oh fuck, i said that out loud, didn’t I?” you blurted out 

“Yes you did. And yes, I also noticed your lovely doe eyes on me every time i’m in the room” 

Your brain short circuits. That 's it. You are dead. He’s not going to murder you (apparently), but you are going to die of embarrassment. It will feel like murder. He knows, fuck, he knows. He knows about your crush (?) and he’s going to drag you for it. You are going to be so dragged the angels will pity you and bring you to heaven. A creative way to be redeemed, Charlie should know about this. Your thoughts are going downhill as a big snowball, there are too many of them and you can’t follow a single coherent train of thought. You don’t even want to know how you look in the middle of this. You must look pathetic, truly like a doe caught in headlights. And then you hear your name once.

Twice now, in a sing-song voice.

Your eyes fly open towards the sound, breaking from the anxiety induced spell as you realize the Radio Demon had just called you, by name. He knows your name???

“Ah hahah! You’re back.” Alastor says, as he starts to circle you like a predator. Your eyes, as always, follow his across the room.

 “I don’t like to repeat myself, little doe. You heard what I asked?” 

Again, you don’t really remember answering, your brain is going AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA as you watch him pace around you, eyes burning red, demanding your attention. Teeth slightly barred, voice on the edge of something. Was that “X” on his forehead always there?

“I asked if you know what you are doing to me” static fills the room as he finishes speaking. Alastor’s clawed hand trapped your bloodied finger dangerously close to his grinning lips. Your brain is doing flips as he stares deep into your soul, and when your thoughts land you make the connection. Alastor is horny. Alastor is horny for y-

“You see, little doe, I know what your eyes hide when you desperately lower them everytime I come near you. I know how you feel you can hide in plain sight if you stay quiet enough. But I can taste it. Your fear. Your lust. In the air. In your blood.” He has a white knuckled grip on your wrist now, same with his microphone. You lower your guard, eyes going from startled to lustful. “Good thing right now there’s nothing more i want in this godforsaken pit than your lust, pet”

You want this. There’s no point in lying to yourself. You want Alastor to fuck you. You’ve fantasized about the Radio Demon taking you more times than you can count. More times than you would like to admit to yourself. This feels deeply wrong, but you crave it. 

Fuck it, you are in hell, there’s nothing to lose. Alastor is still watching you, impatiently. For the first time today you realize you actually forgot to say something. He’s waiting. Alastor is waiting for your permission. 

“Take my breath away, Alastor” 

Your permission might have been really loud, it felt like you were screaming the words. But you can’t be sure, it might have been a whisper. Either way he didn’t miss it, what happens next is fast, angry and delicious. 

Alastor pounces and licks the blood on your finger, something clicks inside him as he tastes the red liquid, because he lets go of his microphone instantly and his arms grab your waist aggressively, so forceful you wouldn’t be surprised if it breaks skin. You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, by the sight of a psychopathic demon drinking your blood. But you are, and there’s no going back. 

“Strip” he orders. You want to say to him that you can’t take your clothes off your person with him holding you like this. He must have realized the conundrum: if he wants you naked, he has to let go of you. To Alastor, letting go of you right now is simply unthinkable. So he doesn’t: you feel his claws cut the bodice of your dress open, sending the most delicious shivers down your spine. Another claw rips your skirt apart, and you are almost fully naked in the Radio Demon’s arms, pressing your body hard on his still impeccable dressed body.

It’s humiliating, it’s dangerous, it’s hot, it is delicious, to be at his complete mercy, just how you always wanted.

Somehow both of you made your way close to the enormous bed in the middle of the room. Alastor cornered you, so the only way you could escape was walking backwards towards the bed. The brilliant bastard. 

You feel your calves hitting the edge of the bed, and Alastor breaks away.

 Pity, your mind complains. Get him back to touching you again. right. now,.

“Now now, we should establish some rules for this, pet” Alastor’s hands might have stopped touching you, but his piercing eyes never did. He knocks you on top of the bed, you lay there sprawled open just for him. His hands move up to do a quick work of his bowtie

“Rule one: you will take what I give you. Nothing more, nothing less. What I give you is enough. You might feel like you can’t take anymore, but you can. You will take it, I will make you take it” He takes his tailcoat off, his frame towering over you, even with your body completely flat on the mattress and his in front of it. 

“ Rule two: every ounce of your pleasure is mine and mine only. Mine to give, mine to take. And you will give me everything. I want to hear every sound, to feel every touch, to know every nasty thought that runs inside that pretty little head of yours. You will not suppress anything, I wanna hear your moans when you make a mess of yourself as I take everything I desire from your delicious body. I will relish on your desperate screams of pleasure.Nothing outside these walls matter” He is climbing on the bed now. You hold the weight of his gaze, underneath your demonic lover’s eyes your skin burns.

“Rule three: don’t you dare cum without my permission, good girls earn their orgasms and you will be a good girl. Or else…” static starts to pick up around the room, you are seeing the blackest black that ever was, his shadows enveloping you both. Nothing outside these walls matter. “Understood?” Alastor says as he pins your hands on top of your head, against the fancy headboard. His hand cups one of your boobs and he is worrying your nipple between his sharp claws. finally finally, your mind sings. You feel a surge of magic binding your wrists in green chains, attached to the headboard. It’s overbearing, it’s ridiculous. His magic feels like him, another part of him for you to take.

He pinches your nipple particularly hard and you moan softly, pleasure and pain consuming any other sensation. You forgot to answer him, you realize. You’ve barely started and you are already being bad. “yes alastor, yes.. but please don’t stop” the soft whimper leaves your lips.

“lovely.” he replies, and with that his mouth is on your nipple, sucking it while he administers his wicked ministrations to your other one. His sharp teeth prickling on the edge of breaking skin, and you already feel like you won’t be able to take all of him. 

His hand trails down to aggressively grip your thighs, his tongue sucking the neglected nipple his fingers left. Your moans become frequent and messy, if he’s already making you go insane with the beginnings of foreplay... You might pass out and die when he starts fucking you, but you don’t care. Let him show you the true meaning of la petite mort.

“My my, what do we have here” his hand leaves your thigh to trace the wetness of your panties. A clawed finger rips it apart, the last barrier between you and total consumption by the Radio Demon. He takes the finger between your glistening lips, not entering, just teasing 

“I don’t think i will get enough of this pretty little body of ours anytime soon, pet” he says as his finger finally enters your sex, He moves his digit with an expertise you didn’t really know he had in him,  making you whimper his name, ooohs and aaaahs, your hips start threshing from the pleasure. If you continue at this pace, you will be  begging for permission to cum too soon. Pathetic. you think to yourself. Because you know how hard this building orgasm will be,you don’t know if he will grant you more than one orgasm. And will you murder you yourself if you don’t feel his cock inside you tonight. You take a deep breath in between your moans and will your hips to stay in place, your nerves to calm down. 

Alastor adds another finger, and it takes all of your willpower not to become a puddle of wetness right there. You bite your lip so hard you taste blood. 

“you do make a mess of yourself, don’t you? you just can’t help it” he says as he curls his digits inside you. Your hips start thrashing hard again, and you sink them deeper into the bed. The chains on your wrists shake with the effort to hold back. As if alastor wasn’t going to notice. “no no no what did I say?” he snaps angrily, he’s eyes flash red at you and he takes his fingers out with a wet “pop”, you feel like crying at the emptiness. “please please alastor, don’t stop” you plead. His hands leave you entirely, you are left with just his piercing gaze, the one that makes your skin burn. “did I say you could hold back? don’t pretend like you aren’t a common whore for me, that you love how pathetic it feels that you are creaming yourself and we haven’t even really started” 

his condescending tone just makes everything even more sublime. It’s so wrong how good being told you are nothing more than a common whore by the Radio Demon feels. But you never felt anything close to this. “please Alastor” you beg again, nothing but a small whisper

“I would love to taste this pussy, so red already for me, but since you broke one of the rules… i’m afraid I will make you understand that are nothing but my pretty cockslut the hard way” 

Punishment? His punishment sounds ever better than his praise right now. You moan at his voice. He laughs. 

His knees cage you, as he lifts his upper body from you and starts undoing his zipper. He is taking his cock out. Oh fuck, he’s gonna fuck you without anymore foreplay. And he’s not going to be gentle about it either. You shiver. 

Alastor pumps himself a few times, his cock is big, thick, and an angry red shade, flush red like that, because of you, just for you. He’s gonna make you pay: pay for holding back from him, pay for making him feel like an animal and almost losing his hard constructed control. 

The look on his face says it all, he’s gonna take it out on you and you can’t do nothing about it.

You don’t have much time to think about the repercussions, in one swift motion his tip is already inside you, stretching you deliciously. Your brain short circuits again, the feeling of his cock inside you is everything you imagine and more. Depraved, heavenly, delicious. You struggle in your binds again, you want desperately to touch him. To feel his skin beneath your finger, to scratch him, mark him. But oh well, he’s the Radio Demon, he’s the one in charge and you are his prey.

Alastor starts to slowly enter you, he’s trying his best to hold back. He knows if he does this too fast it will hurt in a way he doesn’t want you to feel. And by the look on his face going slow is as torturous for him as it is for you. tantalizing inch after tantalizing inch he spreads the walls of your cunt apart. You understand now why this is punishment, it hurts in a perfect way, it hurts even more that he is doing it slowly, and not just thrusting like you imagined  he would, if he had more time to work on you. 

You become a mess of moans and incoherent words. His cock is halfway inside you now “HoLY FUCK ALASTOR” you scream. It’s already too much. 

“There’s nothing holy about this my dear. I’m going to breed you. I’m going to break you” and with that he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Now you truly scream in pleasure and pain “you won’t be able to walk straight for days, you will feel me in every step, and you will thank me for it”. His thrusts pick up at breakneck speed, the bed shakes from the sheer force that Alastor is using to fuck you. Every snap of his hips you moan more and more. 

The sound you make when he takes everything out and enters you at once is so obscene that it would make Angel Dust blush. He’s growling now, his antlers growing bigger as he fucks you like his life dependend on it. As he fucks you like he hates you. 

Alastor pushes your hips higher, and suddenly he’s even deeper. His other hand holding your waist in a bruising grip. The strain on your pinned hands will bruise too. His lips graze the skin of your collarbone, he looks so feral you are scared he will maul, the thrill of not knowing adding to your fucked up sense of pleasure. 

He seems to pick up on your fear, and bites down on your collarbone, hauling as he tastes your blood and buries himself inside you again and again. Moans turned into screams, and the only thing coming out of your lips is his name, spoken like a profane prayer. You would give everything you have to Alastor, and he doesn’t even have to ask.

Your orgasm has been building for a while now, the coil on your belly becoming tighter and tighter, like a supernova about to be born. “Alastor, please please let me come” you beg. His unfocused eyes stare down at you, as he takes a moment from feasting on your sweet blood to address your desperate, sweet pleas.

“Don’t. You. Dare” he says, punctuating every word with a sharp thrust. As much as you want, you are not sure you will be able to hold any longer. “I beg you alastor, please let me cum, i will let you do anything you want. but i need it so badly, please please”

You sounded so desperate when you begged, so beautiful.

“Don’t strike deals you don’t know you can fulfill, pet” his voice is low, a warning. You ignore it. “I promise Alastor, anything”. Alastor laughs.

 his finger touches your clit as he finally allows your sweet relief “you may come now, sweet doe” and that’s it, you are off, you are dead. You see stars, you see the entire universe as you scream out and climax. Walls tightening around Alastor’s monster cock, eyes rowling, his name a scream on your lips. You ride out your wave slowly, but Alastor is not slowing down.

Instead he is picking up his pace, maneuvering your hips even higher, your chains are stretched to the limit. You can feel them start piercing your skin. Thrust after thrust the sensation becomes too much, you are too overstimulated to go through all of this again.

“i can’t take it, i can’t take it!”

Alastor doesn’t care. “I told you not to make deals if you can’t hold them, didn’t I?” You don’t answer, you can’t. you can’t to anything but let him fuck you as hard and as much as he want. “but you are such a little cockslut for me that you can’t help it. What a shame” 

He is gripping your hips so hard it breaks skin, tiny trails of blood on his claws. “you will take it. You better take it, or I will make you take it” static picks up as he threatens the last words. You know you are spent, you know how bad it hurts, you know how bad his words sound, but the lines between pleasure and pain are so blurred that you can’t think coherently. Even this  pain of being broken feels good. 

Still, tears fill your eyes and you start crying, from pleasure, from pain, you don’t know anymore. What Alastor is doing to you has no precedent. No one can do this like he does. He knows torture too well, and he is tortouring you in the most decadent, delicious ways possible. “alastor i want to, i want to so bad but i just can’t” the tears sting your eyes and stain your face. 

Alastor sees it. He slows down just a bit, his voice softening “oh my dear doe, but you can. Just this once more, just for me. One more” his voice is so maddening soft it acts like fuel to your tears. Your skin tingles and you feel giddy, somehow your throbbing hot, wet cunt seems to find the right amount of relief, and you can feel only pleasure again.

Alastor continues to fuck you, your moans returning to normal, you are being so loud now, making a mess of yourself, just like he said, and a big hand comes to cover your mouth. 

“Oh we can’t have you being this loud can we?” his voice goes to that delicious mocking tone. His thrusts are slower now, but as deep as they can go. “what would you friends say if they found out that you moan like a common whore for their feared radio demon.. hum,.?”

You start to feel the pit of your belly tightening again, and alastor doesn’t stop humiliating you. The degradation feels just the right amount of perfection. You are exactly what he says you are. A common whore when it comes to him. “weren’t you ashamed just a few moments ago? trying to hold back the sinful sounds you make when I touch you? I already gave you one orgasm. I’ve been way too generous for my liking. I should stop right now since you feel so conscious about this”  Alator’s breathing is becoming erratic, his thrusts sharp, hard, and out of the breakneck rhythm he was torturing you before.You start moaning even louder through his hand. “ungrateful little pet. You are just so greedy for one more orgasm, you don’t even care that everyone downstairs can hear you hm??”

You can’t think straight. you feel on the edge of glory, this orgasm threatening to be harder than your previous one, as if it is possible. “alastor i’m so sorry, i know i don’t deserve it” you muffle behind his hand, he hears you speaking and takes if off “but can you please let me cum? just this once? just for you. Please Al” his thrusts are truly erratic now. He’s close too, even though you are too wrapped up on your own sensations to notice 

“please” you beg, nothing more than a whisper. Already making peace with the fact that you are going to come without his permission and he will probably never fuck you again

“Good girl, you can come now”

instantly as you are granted his permissions your world explodes, blinding hot pleasure takes over your body, the waves of pleasure making your heart beat so fast you feel like it’s going to stop. The petit mort is coming, and her sweet embrace envelops you, specially now that you feel Alastor’s cock twitching and spilling his seed inside you. You scream his name. Maybe you hear him screaming yours too. You don’t know anymore, your nerves are singing from pleasure unheard of back  when you were alive. Pleasure so great it could only be found in hell. The most heavily, depraved way of torture. 

You come down from your high, still dizzy, your body going limp. You are not dead, but you are positively spent. You give in into the warm and fuzziness of sleep. 

The last thing you remember is the softness of a blanket, a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Oh my dear, I knew you had one more on you,spending yourself this way just for me! What a truly precious thing, doe”

You might be dreaming now.

-

You weren’t dreaming. Alastor praises you, knowing his words will be the last thing you hear before a night of peaceful, deep dreamless slumber. He makes sure to put the softest velvet blanket he owns on your body, not to make the damage you gladly allowed your body to take for him an inconvenience. Tomorrow you will wake up to fancy letters of praise and sweet chocolate covered strawberries. And no one will know how Alastor found the perfect doe to breed as he pleases during the height of his mating season.

#hello guys im insane can you tell? #eu escrevi isso aqui na força do odio puro e genuino de quem ta sendo xingada no twitter tem dias #alastor #alstor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor fanfic #the radio demon #the radio demon x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin fic #autora também está no cio #serio aquela msuica sento no bico da glock rebolo e tiro o short e vem vamo fudeee o gabriel tirou o meu cabaço e me botou de quatro nao #sai da minha cabeça #aquariano nato também não #QUEBRA A CAMA DESSAS PUTAAAAAAAAA #baixaria

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario: A Wendigo's Violent Love Part Two

Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], violence, OOC, spoilers for the first season of the 2024 show, possessive and obsessive behavior, Alastor is in denial of his feelings, possible angst.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the back button on your phone or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your Internet consumption!

Reblog to support content creators! ❤️

Part One

Part Three

Salutations everyone, good to be back on the air~! :)

I understand it’s been a while since I wrote anything, but due to how busy I’ve gotten in real life, updates will be a bit slower until perhaps the summer. Nonetheless, I am committed to writing the best Hazbin Hotel fics for the community so that everyone can enjoy them to their heart’s content!

Special thanks to @witch-of-the-writing desk for collaborating with me on this chapter and helping me bring these fantastic characters to life on the page, and @vikkirosko for being an awesome beta reader alongside @illuminaresblog.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going on in tonight's broadcast with Hell's one and only Radio Demon!

The reconstruction of the hotel included the kitchen being entirely remodeled. 

Gone were the cabinet doors that hung from its creaky hinges, the marble floors that never shined bright no matter how many times Niffty scrubbed them,  the mice’s squeaking and an ice box that couldn’t fit all of the foodstuff to feed several people. Dark matte cabinets held the dining ware and bowls, stacked up in neat little rows and protected by glass doors on either side of a large wrought iron stove top and the range hood. The cedar countertops glowed under the lights, stretching from the island in the middle of the room to the small dining room table stationed on the right side. Copper pots and pans were suspended in the air above the island, so whenever it was time to start cooking, Angel or Lucifer would have to pull out the ones needed and put them away after the meal. The icebox was now bigger, stainless steel with a bottom drawer to place frozen items in. 

Overall, it was a massive improvement from the previous one with additional space and a little footstool for Niffty to make the midday meals. Alastor…he was usually in charge of the evening ones, though the others have recently started to contribute to making their own dishes. The successes of those evenings varied, though they all tasted delicious to you. 

 Niffty had all but pushed you into a chair at the dining table as soon as you entered the kitchen with Husk. You watched her tiny frame skitter across the marble floor, plating stacked sandwiches held together with toothpicks stabbed through the middle and potato salad and two other side dishes before it appeared in front of you. She must have prepared some tea for you as well, seeing an ivory teapot and a cup already filled to the brim, steam rising and emitting a fragrant aroma that tickled your nose. 

You thanked her graciously for the meal, even though you were quite sure that you were not going to be able to finish it all before you had to leave for Alastor’s radio station. Twenty minutes was not what Charlie would qualify as a proper lunch break. 

The tiny housekeeper  repeated the same ritual with Husk though she directly handed his plate to him before she gave you an annoyed look that clearly said, finish your meal, all of it, and got distracted with the sight of a roach and began to chase it down with her needle. Husk merely shook his head and sat down next to you on the right side of the table. He picked at his food, clearly not in the mood to eat because his mind was on something else. However, you did not pry. Vaggie had spoken to you about respecting people’s privacy in your first week of arriving at the hotel; just because someone doesn’t seem happy, it didn’t mean you had a right to address it. Talking about it might help, and sometimes it doesn’t. If anything…just let the sleeping dogs lie. 

You eyed the clock. Ten minutes left, and you were only halfway through the meal. You ate the sandwiches, and only had a spoonful of the potato salad. You were about to take another bite from a different side dish when Husk spoke up, his voice muffled by the food in his mouth. 

“I saw what happened in the greenhouse.”

You blinked. Husk….he had seen the confrontation between you and Alastor? You carefully lowered the spoon down the plate, tapping against the porcelain. “There’s nothing to worry about, Husk.” You replied calmly, your attention entirely focused on the meal in front of you. “He will not harm me. He simply wants to talk about my performance on the job.”

“That’s bullshit.” Husk hissed. “We both know it ain’t just ‘cause he’s the facility manager of this place, or that you’re slackin’ off,  it’s ‘cause he hates it when people question his authority!” He slammed a fist against the table, causing the silverware and glassware to wobble momentarily before righting themselves again. “[First Name], I saw. I know what he did, and you really have no idea who you’re gonna be alone with in what, five minutes?”

“Seven. And I know who Alastor is. He is a serial killer, a cannibal, and an overlord who broadcasts his carnage on the radio.” you said, raising the tea cup to your mouth as you took a languid sip,  placing it back down the saucer a moment later with a clink. You looked at him. “He is also in a weakened physical state. He will not admit that he has not fully recovered from the war.”

“I swear to God, do not make me go to the princess and Vaggie about this, because I fucking will -”

“Telling them what he did will not change his tactics. He will simply find another way to intimidate me.” You cut off. “You know him better than anyone else, Husk. He is clever, manipulative, and will do anything to get what he wants.”

Husk shot a baffled look at you, eyebrows raised and yellow irises narrowed slightly. “You really don’t see how he looks at you, do you?”

You blinked. “As an enemy? Yes.” Hostility, anger, shock, humiliation. You had seen those expressions many times on that battlefield when you charged across No Man’s Land with the Major’s battalion, cutting through the enemy lines with anything in reach and at your disposal. A weapon of war, a loyal dog to the Major. You watched Husk’s face fall into disbelief, then aggravation before he slapped a paw across his face. You tilted your head to the side. What was wrong? Why was he upset? Is it something you had said? You watched the bartender stand up from the table, walk towards the lower cabinets, crouching down and pulling out a hidden bottle of whiskey. He uncorked it, and took a swing from it before turning back towards you, frowning.

“Ya might have been a soldier, ya might have things that would turn shit white and ya not be scared of Alastor…but you should be. He’s been gone for seven years, and no one knows why, but I can say with certainty that he’s much stronger than before. If you’re gonna talk to him, just….just don’t mention….he’s no different than I am, all right?” That was all he said before almost bolting towards the door, leaving you alone in the kitchen. 

No different than what Husk is. You thought, picking up both of the half-eaten plates from the table, throwing the reminder in the trash, washing and rinsing them off under the tap before setting them down in the dish rack. What does that mean? Alastor does not drink nor does he gamble. Husk is under his commanding unit, a soldier. Your brow furrowed. Did Husk….knows something about Alastor that he doesn’t want others to know? How did Alastor rise to power so quickly and overthrow the overlords who had been dominant in Hell for centuries? 

You would have to think about this possibility later, because when you looked at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall, you realized you were already late for your meeting with Alastor. 

Shadows were handy little helpers to have, Alastor notes. Not only could they provide protection to the staff when he had other matters to attend to in the Pentagram but they were excellent spies. To be his ears and gather all of the delicious secrets he could uncover from enemies that were actually some semblance of a threat to his plans, or just because he was bored and liked to keep tabs on the latest bits of gossip. He loved to share this information with Rosie over tea-time when the subject of their discussions was not revolved around the ornery old bitch, Susan.

Although they have proven themselves to be useful time and time again, these little helpers were also sentient and created their own discord, much to the frustration of their creator. As much as you can say you’ve been keeping a distance from Alastor, he unfortunately can’t say the same. His shadows as of late have found themselves almost constantly attached to you. Through darkened hallways to under your leaves at the greenhouse, they were always at your side. Ready to step in and assist you in any way they can, even if he won’t lift a finger. 

Regardless of how annoyed he has been with them recently,  they had repeated word for word of your conversation with Husk. They know you are late but have said that you are walking towards him and not from way to him, whispering how you were turning right at the end of the corridor and about to come across the staircase leading up to the radio station. They adored you, much to his annoyance. It had already been difficult to even comprehend the idea that he had feelings for you, and his shadows, unfortunately, reflected the darker parts of him that he wished to be locked up for all eternity. The weaknesses that were a threat to his own goals. 

He could not act like an altruist or a lovesick fool. He hungered for power. He craved freedom. Nothing should stop him from carrying out what he wants. If he wrangled the truth out of you, to know that you despised him and did not care about him in any capacity….he will be satisfied. 

Will he though? 

His train of thought was soon interrupted by a knock at the door. Putting on his best smile and straightening out his bowtie, Alastor walked across the room and opened it. He looked down, and saw you staring at him. Your appearance wasn’t as ruffled as he had suspected it to be from being late for an appointment, just a few [Hair Color] strands loose from the hairstyle you wear every day ... .but he supposed he can let it slide this time. He’d rather not hear Niffty complain to him about how you aren’t eating your meals.

“Well, well, there you are~! And here I was wondering if you had forgotten! Come, come, take a seat!” He said, gesturing to the couch sitting adjacent to the soundboard where he sat. He did not even want to look at you, not at this moment. He could feel the shadows purring in delight under his feet, no doubt staring at you with such adoration that it made him gag. He reigned them with a pulse of his power just before a slippery fellow tried to crawl towards the couch and perch over your shoulder. 

He took a seat, and so did you after smoothing out the skirts of your dress. You looked at him straight in the eye, spine straight and gloved hands folded neatly in your lap. 

“So, you are aware as to why you are here, yes~?”

“...I am.”

“And why is that?” He pressed.

“Because I questioned your authority. You tried to frighten me, and you had failed.” You replied. “In my defense, you were in no position to exert yourself when you are still possessing an injury that you will not speak about to the others. I have no intention of saying that to anyone here. I only ask that you do not harm Charlie or the others here in the hotel, or I will keep the promise I made to you less than an hour ago. You will be killed by my hand or I will die trying. People keep secrets because it is necessary for their survival, and the others around them. How can I be sure….that you will not raise your hand and strike us down as soon as your wings are unclipped?”

Alastor’s eyes widened slightly as a wave of high-pitched radio static left his teeth and bounced off the walls before he quickly recollected himself. Goodness, always the blunt one, weren’t you? Inhaling sharply through his nostrils, he made sure his grin stretched all the way to his ears, never showing you what is really going through his mind. Annoyance. Frustration. Adoration. Amusement. 

“Well, those words are the very reason why you are here, my dear.” He stood up from his chair, slowly walking around the soundboard, running a finger across the polished wood. His eyes were fixed on yours and you did not look away. Good. Keep your focus on him and nothing else. 

“By meddling in my affairs, even if it was unintentional on your part, is putting the rest of the hotel in danger. I cannot be compromised under any circumstances, lest I anger the one whom I have an agreement with.”

“The one who is responsible for your rise in power?” He blinked, stopping in his steps for a moment.  Ah. You caught on without him having to spell out to you. Unless dear old Husk had said something to you? No. The shadows have told him that he merely mentioned the seven years that the Radio Demon was gone, nothing beyond what everyone else already knew.  

He nodded, swiveling on his feet and because he felt like it, a jaunty little spin before he sat on the coffee table,  right in front of you and crossing his legs with such elegance that it would make a French girl jealous. 

“Indeed. And trust me when I say they are much more powerful than Charlie’s dear father. That is to say, not even Lucifer can protect you or anyone else from what is about to or could happen should I be compromised. And I know how much you care about the staff here, even sweet little Niffty. Which is why…I want to make a deal.” He held out his hand towards you. “Keep what has happened at the radio station and anything else beyond these four walls to yourself. Never share what you know, not even to Charlie. In exchange for your silence, I will not harm anyone here in the hotel unless we know for certain that they are a threat. Well?” He tilted his head to the side. “Do we have a deal?”

You stared at his hand, then raised your own to your lips, carefully tugging off the glove with your teeth until it fell into your lap. The adamantine skeletal fingers curled around his own, solidifying the deal between the two of you. Alastor felt a burst of power course through him, felt the stitches on his mouth and eyes tugging, the walls turning emerald and the shadows danced around them in celebration. Then the magic subsided, yet the warmth, the burning sensations from your prosthetics seeping through the leather gloves did not. A chirping of radio static left his mouth upon feeling his hand being squeezed to an almost painful degree. When he looked at you, he saw emotions swirling in your eyes that he had not seen from you yet.

Anger.

Disappointment.

Resentmentment.

These were emotions he had caused. Him, the one who was holding your hand tightly because he made a simple deal for yourr silence, and not her soul. So why does he feel conflicted? He had gotten what he wanted, to push you away from him, to banish these uninvited feelings from his chest. But this deal did not give him any satisfaction. It caused him…pain. The kind of pain that he cannot explain. It was not the pain he felt when he missed an opportunity to have an excellent dinner, and not even the pain that…that Adam had given him.

For whatever reason, he could not stop himself from bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss across the knuckles even when the angelic steel instantly burned his mouth upon contact. When he realized what he had done, he pulled away as if he had been struck again by his drunken father and promptly left his office, disappearing into the darkness and subsequently from the hotel altogether.

He did not like this. He did not like these feelings. He did not like how he never had the opportunity to ask him if you cared about him, loved him…yet why did your opinion matter? Why did he want to hear you say, out of your volition, that you love him too? To a man who is supposed to feel nothing at all?!

Times like this, there was only one person who could provide light on this precarious situation without daring to judge him. The Pentagram’s most delightful, daring, and dangerous overlord of Cannibal Town. Rosie. His oldest and dearest friend. 

He supposed it had been long enough since the two of them had tea together, hasn’t it?

Alastor inhaled a shaky breath, allowing himself to materialize on the streets near the Jazz District and smiled brightly as if he wasn’t having an existential crisis, humming a merry tune under his breath that made nearby demons tremble in fear. 

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#forbidden-sunlight #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #fem!reader #violet evergarden!reader #character!reader #vivziepop #yandere x reader #yandere #ns.fw #cw obsessive behavior #tw obsessive behavior #cw obsessive love #tw obsessive love #a wendigo’s violent love

[pimosworld]

Show me your teeth

Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

Summary-You want Miguel to bite you during sex.(that’s it that’s all.)

CW-18+MDNI,NSFW,angst,comfort,fluff,kissing,establishedrelationship,consent,biting,smut,unprotected piv,piv cream pie,softdom Miguel.

A/N- I haven’t heard show me your teeth by Lady Gaga in years and then it came on the radio twice after I saw the movie so that inspired this shameless smut. Thank you @melodygatesauthor for answering my question about his fangs paralyzing (she’s like,just don’t have them paralyze 😂).

WK-1.2k

Not beta read

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He’s pacing around the room fidgeting with his hands and you almost feel bad for even asking. He definitely was not shy in the bedroom but you may have crossed a line. 

  “Please baby.” You 're not above begging and you know it’s his weakness. 

  “Just this once.” The finality in his tone isn’t questioned-usually.

  “Mhmm.” 

  “What do you mean Mhmm, I said I’ll do it just this once.” He’s completely stopped pacing and is now glaring at you with his arms crossed. The expanse of his broad shoulders and bulging biceps has you momentarily distracted. You would think he would’ve caught on by now that you get turned on when he’s mad. 

  “Well…what if I like it or you like it and we want to do it again? I don’t want to say just this once,just in case.” You’re suddenly noticing patterns in your carpet you've never seen before because you refuse to lift your eyes and meet his intensity. 

  He lets out a deep sigh and runs his hand through his hair. "Fine, but we need to establish some boundaries and make sure we're both comfortable with it." You nod in agreement, relieved that he's willing to compromise. "I just don't want to hurt you," he repeats, his voice softer this time.

  “You have to tell me to stop if it’s too much…because I won’t be able to.” You nod your head in agreement. 

  You stand up and walk over to him, placing a hand on his chest. "I trust you," you say, looking up at him with a small smile. "And I know you would never intentionally hurt me." He leans down and kisses you gently, his hands resting on your hips. 

He stands back and takes off his clothes slowly, the muscles in his chest and arms flexing with each movement. He grins as he notices you staring at him. 

  “Like what you see hermosa?” He asks teasingly 

  You can’t help but smile back feeling a rush of excitement coursing through your body. 

  “desnudate y siéntate en mi regazo.”(undress and sit on my lap.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you're ready for this level of intensity, but the look in his eyes tells you that he won't take no for an answer.

You slowly begin to undress, feeling his gaze on you the entire time. Once you're completely naked, you walk over to him and straddle his lap, feeling his hard cock pressing against your ass. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck.

"Good girl," he whispers, his hands roaming over your body. "You look so fucking sexy like this."

You moan softly, feeling your arousal growing with each passing moment. He begins to kiss and nibble on your neck, his hands squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples. You gasp and arch your back, pressing your ass harder against his cock.

 "Please," you beg, needing more. "I need you."

 He leans in and bites your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You moan in pleasure, feeling the heat between your legs grow. He pulls back and looks at you, his eyes dark with desire. 

  "Are you sure about this?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You nod, unable to form words as the desire consumes you. He leans in again, biting down harder this time. You cry out, feeling a mix of pain and pleasure. He continues to bite and suck on your neck, leaving marks that you know will last for days. He licks and soothes it with his tongue and your arousal is slowly dripping onto the couch below. 

He moves to the other side of your neck and sinks in, the low whimpers of his name and the tears streaming down your face spur him on-he will definitely want to do this again.

 You can feel his cock twitch against your back steadily leaking precum, his resolve quickly fading as he’s consumed by the feel of your plush skin on his fangs. 

 “Miguel please.” Your voice barely above a whisper. 

  He chuckles darkly, his fingers trailing down your stomach and slipping between your legs. "You're so wet," he murmurs, rubbing your clit in slow circles.

“Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," you moan, grinding against his hand.

 "Please, fuck me."

He stands up, still holding you tightly, and carries you over to the bed. His strength shouldn’t shock you but it does every time. You know he could destroy you if he wanted too but he always takes his time. 

He lays you down and climbs on top of you, gripping the base of his thick cock with his hand as he slowly drags it through your slit. 

  "Are you ready?" he asks, looking into your eyes.

  "Yes," you whisper, and he slowly begins to push inside you. The feeling of him filling you up is almost too much to bear, and you moan loudly,wrapping your legs around his waist.

  “Paciencia amor se que puedes tomar lo que te doy.”( patience love,I know you can take what I give you.) 

  He whispers in your ear as he begins to thrust in and out of you. He’s stretching and filling you completely as your back arches off the bed. He’s holding you like a life line as he grunts and moans above you. 

  “Fuck you look so pretty falling apart in my cock.”

  He picks up the pace hitting something harder and deeper inside. His senses are heightened and he knows you’re getting close. Being the tease that he is he slows down-you know he wants you to beg for it.

  “Please don’t stop Miguel…I'm so close.” 

  “What do you say when you want to come preciosa?” He growls into your ear as he grips your hips tighter, fighting off his release. 

  “Please papí…” He didn’t let you finish as he sank his teeth into your breast, your climax shooting up your spine as your body shakes beneath him. You can still feel him grinding his thick cock through your swollen cunt as he chases his release. Your body is overwrought but his stamina would have him going for hours. 

  He comes with a shout as he spills himself inside you groaning into your neck. He shushes your soft whimpers with his mouth as he places pepper light kisses on you. 

  “You did so good for me…always so good to me.”

  He knows you can’t bear the full weight of him as he tries not to collapse into you. You pull him closer loving the grounding feel of his body against yours as you both come down trying to catch your breath. 

  As you drift off to sleep you know you’ll have fun explaining those marks tomorrow. 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #oscar isaac #miguel o’hara x you #into the spider verse #miguel o’hara x fem!reader

[toruro]

— ✧ scrawled in sand

inspired by hozier’s ‘all things end’

pairing. jeon wonwoo x reader

description: "loving wonwoo was like taking a breath of air. you don’t get to think twice before you inhale, and so you never thought twice about loving wonwoo. maybe that’s why he stitched himself a little too deep, and now you’re wondering when exactly did the thread cut loose."

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), break up au, angst w/c: 2.8k a/n: sorry ig. anywho! this is for @ressonancee my beloved ^^ and thank u @cheolhub for reading over this 4 me and @lovelyhan for beta reading c:

smut tags. fem bodied reader, fingering, pet names (angel), creampie

If there was anyone to ever get through this life With their heart still intact, they didn't do it right

Your friends tell you that you should have seen it coming.

They’re right, in retrospect—you should have seen it coming—but that isn’t so easy. It can’t ever be easy when you love Jeon Wonwoo, and that’s because loving Jeon Wonwoo is as easy as breathing.

You wonder if you let yourself love him too easily. Too much, you dare say, because you’re starting to realize that when you love too much, Wonwoo begins to stitch himself into the very walls that build up your life.

The needle must have pricked on your first day of high school when you saw him for the first time after summer. Loving him was easy then, because he smiled so brightly and patted your head so fondly you could melt into his arms. It must have sunk a little deeper on your guys’ first prom, when he asked you out with a poster and cheap flowers because it was the only thing his crappy life-guarding job could afford. Loving him was easy then, because he pressed his lips to your cheek and held you close.

Loving Wonwoo was taking a breath of air. You don’t get to think twice before you inhale, and so you never thought twice about loving Wonwoo. Maybe that’s why he stitched himself a little too deep, and now you’re wondering when exactly did the thread cut loose.

It couldn’t have been in college, no, because Wonwoo agreed to study in the same city as you in a heartbeat; because you made love for the first time in your creaky little dorm bed after kicking your roommate out; because through those four years, you were still breathing and you were still loving and that thread was so deeply rooted that it might as well have been a part of your soul.

Late nights on campus when you would sit in the library together and pretend you were studying. Pretend, because loving Wonwoo was too easy and one teasing glance turned into another before the two of you would be giggling like school kids until you were kicked out for being too loud.

Scurrying away with your bags stuffed with unfinished notes to makeout behind some building under the dingy yellow light of a lampost, his lips sucked your breath away, but that’s okay because even if you weren’t breathing, you were loving Wonwoo and that was more than enough.

It couldn’t have been when you moved in together after graduation, because that first night Wonwoo danced with you in your barren living room to the staticky radio the landowner left behind, and when he looked at you it was with flames in his eyes. You loved Wonwoo too easily, and so you forgot that all fires die eventually. Sometimes, when you close your eyes, you still imagine you can feel the embers.

You conclude that it must have happened slowly.

To love Wonwoo was to breathe, but you failed to realize that it is not always easy breathing.

You should have listened to your friends. Being high school sweethearts was a high—it was your peak, you realize now. You and Wonwoo were hiking towards a goal—to make this work—and somewhere along the climb you must have gotten lost.

Breathing was no longer easy because the air was thinning, but of course, that happens slowly. So slowly, you aren’t sure you’ll ever find out exactly when that thread snapped; you’ll only ever know when you finally felt its whiplash.

You wake up rather early for a Sunday morning. You’d like to blame it on the empty spot next to you, but you rather enjoy the extra space.

(You feel plenty warm on your own anyways.)

There’s a rustling outside your bedroom, coming from down the hall, and you aren’t quite sure what he’s doing.

(You’re even less sure if you’re bothered enough to find out.)

You glance at the time. 7:17. You figure you might make use of your early waking, slipping from beneath the covers to leave the room. There’s something heavy in the air when you do, and you feel it in every thudding step you take.

(Does he hear the rumbling as deeply as you do?)

“Wonwoo,” you call out, when you walk into the kitchen to find him pressed against the counter, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

(When was the last time you called him “Won?” “Woo?” “Love?”)

“What is it?” he asks when you stand by the island, looking up from his phone, but the screen still stays on. You want him to turn it off, but then you think again.

(Why should he?)

Wonwoo glances back at his phone when you take too long to respond. You click your tongue and shake your head, turning away. “I forgot.”

(Ask me, ask me, ask me. Ask me if I’m okay.)

Silence follows as Wonwoo leaves the kitchen to grab a bag from the pantry. “I’m going to the farmers’ market now. It’s my turn this week.”

(When did you stop slipping into the car together, Wonwoo’s thumb brushing over your thigh as you sing along to the morning blues? When did you stop holding hands, skipping through the market, grabbing samples, and feeding each other through hushed giggles and soft-lipped kisses? When did you start taking turns?)

“Do you remember what you wanted to say?”

(If you held out your hand, would he take it?)

“Remember to get the tomatoes.”

(Loving Wonwoo is too easy, and maybe that’s why you never really noticed when you stopped.)

You imagine this would hurt less if there was a ring on your finger. It isn’t difficult to admit you married the wrong person, tied by legalities and social burdens pressed down on you.

It’s harder to say you’re bound by a love that once was.

It’s okay, in some ways; you’ve learned to live with it. Most days, you two work your way around the elephant in the room. But today, you’re tired. You’re so, so tired and it’s getting just a little too hard to ignore that the calf has grown into something much, much bigger.

Loving Wonwoo was like breathing, and now it’s hitting you that you’re at a loss for air. When you step through the front door, you think everything might give out.

Wonwoo sits on the living room couch on his laptop, and you aren’t sure what he’s doing, but you think it hardly amounts to any level of importance right now. “Wonwoo? Wonwoo?” you call out and there’s something in your voice—like you’re searching for him even though he’s right there—and Wonwoo just caves.

There’s worry laced into his tone when he calls your name and for a second, you think things have already been mended. The stitches feel as they have tightened and you let yourself dream that this will be your rebound, but then you realize that Wonwoo is only concerned because your eyes are welling with tears and you’re staggering against the wall, limbs trembling and lids heavy. He stumbles a little to get to you, and you think that Wonwoo always used to find it easy to come to you.

(When did things change?)

“Hey, what’s wrong? You’re crying—” When Wonwoo grabs your arm, you kiss him fiercely, not because you feel fiercely, but because you hope it will ignite something tonight.

Kissing Wonwoo is almost as easy as it was to love him. Years and years of his lips against yours and now it’s just like second nature, the way your tongues glide and prod into each other’s mouth. Wonwoo’s lips are chapped, and he tastes faintly of the coffee that sits on the corner table.

(Wonwoo likes to make it on the French Press, for 4 minutes and 15 seconds to be precise, with a dash of milk and 3 cubes of sugar.)

“Wonwoo,” you whine like your throat knows so well—hoarse and desperate just how he likes and tonight it works, because Wonwoo is wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you deeper. His palms dig into your flesh so hard you want to cry—but you’re already crying—so you press your face into his neck and suck instead.

He groans into you, his hands slipping underneath the hem of your shirt, and so you move on to suck and lick against him again because you once loved the sound of his breathy moans and you’re convinced that if you hear it just once more, it might just make you fall right back in love.

It doesn’t, but you’re not really surprised. His hands are running all over your waist, your stomach, and still, it feels good, at least for now. You know Wonwoo knows how to make you feel good, after all, it was just that he never really did it anymore.

(No hard feelings though, because when was the last time you unbuckled his belt and palmed him through his boxers like you’re doing right now?)

Warm hands creep up, brushing over your hard nipples, pinching and tweaking between deft fingers, and you throw your head back and moan. You’ve always been a bit sensitive there, and as he roughly yanks the buttons of your work shirt loose, Wonwoo uses what he knows to his full advantage.

“Bedroom,” you breath out, tangling your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck, tugging softly. If it hurts, Wonwoo doesn’t say anything.

(Has he ever told you if it hurts?)

He nods, limbs still tangled with yours as your feet follow the silent path down the hallways. You stumble through the door together and your back is hitting the mattress before you can even discern what is left and what is right.

(When was the last time your bed felt this warm?)

“Angel,” Wonwoo mumbles into your mouth, pulling away just an inch to slip the shirt off his head. “Angel,” he says more intensely this time, speaking from his throat and oh this will be your undoing, because you are no longer Wonwoo’s angel but for this moment, you two can pretend.

Shimmying your shirt and bra off, you leave it fall on top of Wonwoo’s on the ground before playing back down on the sheets and opening your legs. He’s got his hands at your waistband, yanking the pants right off your legs and something about the way the cool air hits your bare skin makes your ache run a little deeper.

“Wonwoo,” you mewl, reaching for his face so you can smash his lips into yours once more. He doesn’t taste much like coffee anymore. Now, he just tastes like Wonwoo.

(You aren’t sure which you prefer.)

“Oh fuck,” he moans against your cheek when he grinds down into you, bulge pressing against your thigh as your body grows warmer and warmer.

(Is this the fire you so desperately tried to light?)

With your hands caged around his cheeks, Wonwoo looks at you with heavy lidded eyes and you wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. There was a time where you could tell, but that time has passed and now you’re panting into his neck when he brings his fingers up to your soiled panties.

Rubbing against the nub over the slick fabric, your blood buzzes and your back arches into his touch, legs spreading and spreading until they have no further to go. “So beautiful,” Wonwoo tells you, thumb circling over clothed clit as your tits heave up and down in tandem with your harsh breaths.

(Beautiful, because you are beautiful. You’ll always be beautiful, but being beautiful will not always matter.)

“More,” you whine, thrashing against the sheets when his thumb is no longer enough. Hooking your finger under your panties and tugging it to the side, your core is all shiny and flutter and beautiful when it’s on display to Wonwoo.

His finger is in your cunt before you can plead with him again, because now is not the time to make you beg. It has not been the time to make you beg in a long, long time. One turns into two and soon you’re moaning incoherently as his knuckles plunge into you, caressing your warm walls so methodically one would think it’s ingrained into Wonwoo’s very DNA.

You feel yourself coming close to your end and so you wrap your fingers around his wrist to make him stop. He looks up at you and—oh, those eyes—his lips are on yours again, so your legs wrap around his bare torso as you roll around in the sheets.

If you think hard enough, it feels like one of those blissful mornings. The ones you see in movies, lovers entangled in nothing but kisses and souls as they exist in the world they’ve built up in their head. You imagine that could have been you and Wonwoo, if only you had found your way back home.

Soon, you’re pushing him onto his back against the headboard as he kicks off his pants and boxers, and there you are, climbing onto his lap, pressing your naked back to his chest. Settling the back of your head in the crook between his neck and shoulder, you lift your hips just high enough so Wonwoo can hold the fat head of his tip against your swollen folds, and you brace yourself.

There’s a mangle moan that erupts from both of your lips when you sink down, and for a second, you almost fall back in love. He’s filled you to the brim as you shake above him, adjusting to the size and you wonder if Wonwoo has always made you feel this full. So full you feel you might implode if you get any closer, but still, you dig your heels into the mattress and grind down anyways. If you’re going to burn tonight, you might as well enjoy this while it lasts.

Wonwoo’s throbbing inside of you, hands holding their iron grip on his waist as he helps you lift yourself up and then bounce right back down. You can’t see the look on his face, but you imagine he’s got his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, eyes shut, and eyebrows pinched together every time your cunt envelopes his cock.

“Angel,” he mutters into your ear when you reach one hand up to grab at his hair. One of his own large hands grabs at your tits, squeezing the soft flesh as your hips begin to swivel more and more erratically. Wonwoo teeths at your neck and collarbone, leaving splotchy red marks that you’re sure will bruise the next morning.

(No worries though, they’ll fade eventually.)

“Fuh … fuck,” you cry when your stomach starts to churn and your vision starts to grow bleary. It’s so much—so, so much, and you start to think that your body won’t be able to handle much more when your limbs grow limp. Wonwoo starts to fuck upwards and into you now, and the sound of skin slapping against skin leaves a ringing in your ears.

Just a little more. Just a little more. You’re sure Wonwoo feels it too, and thus his hips jerk just a little bit harder and his grip grows just a little bit tighter.

When you cum, it’s with Wonwoo’s name on your tongue. It’s broken and it’s strangled, but it is there and he soon follows suit, moaning about his beloved angel into your skin from behind as he spills his hot seed into you.

You’re both messy all over—sweat and cum and drool slips between your bodies and you should feel gross, but your body still trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm and you find yourself reveling in bliss.

You sober up a few minutes later, but still, you sit in a haze.

Nuzzling into Wonwoo’s neck, you search for a fire—a spark of anything, really. Desperately, you rake for a glimmer of heat in his heart, and as you begin to grow colder and colder you drift.

Did you douse the flame? Months ago? Years ago? Or did it fizzle out on its own? You learn that you won’t ever know. Wonwoo probably won’t ever know either, so you figure if there’s one way you’ll spend eternity with him, it’ll be in ignorance.

You’ll start packing your things tomorrow. You’re sure Wonwoo will understand.

For now, he wraps an arm around your stomach and presses his mouth to your shoulder, and the soft brush of his lips makes you shudder. Your friends were right: all good things come to an end, but you figure that if this is how they come to a close, you don’t really mind.

And all things end All that we intend is scrawled in sand Or slips right through our hands And just knowing That everything will end Won't change our plans When we begin again

a/n. reading this over i was like owie why did they do that and then i realized that i wrote this and now i’m kind of wondering why i decided to do this to myself in the first place but it was fun so i don’t rly care

taglist. @xenkimmie @lesdevoeux @cheolism @namjoonbaby @listxn @scuzmunkie @binwons @lskjki @h34rts4chira @kazuhateez @imlilstitious @yogurttea @lynnxworld @jeanjacketjesus @meowmeowminnie @soonhoonietrash @caratlove10 @cottoncheol @synthetickitsune @ixayjun @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @marzmeltdown @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @hipsdofangirl @nikkixpenguin @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 (strikethrough could not be tagged)

#wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #wonwoo angst #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo smut #svt smut #svt angst #seventeen angst #📝 writing

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 23

summary: Javier is living the fucking dream and has never been happier with the woman he planned to marry—until the mistakes of his past are brought to light, and his world comes crashing down. 

rating: E (18+! Age gap (about ten years), Soft Javier Peña, Protective Javier Peña, Angry Javier Peña, explicit smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (m receiving), masturbating (f), deepthroating, spanking, dirty talk (he talks you through touching yourself), praise kink, breeding kink, spit mention, mentions of assplay, canon typical violence (Javier punches someone), angst, Chucho being the best dad, Javier being cute with baby animals, Javier saying very romantic things during sex)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 12.1k+

a/n: I’m just going to say I’m sorry. This will be part 1 of 2 for the Colombia arc. This chapter is all in Javi’s POV, and the next will be in reader’s. Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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The fifth of November landed on a Thursday this year, and the temperatures were finally beginning to come down—just not enough for Javier to turn off the air conditioning in his truck or wear his suit jacket on his drive, the navy blue garment hanging over the back of the middle seat with his burgundy-colored tie. 

The news radio station was a low chatter while he had his left palm gripping the steering wheel, the other holding up his Nokia cellphone to his ear, waiting for the other person to pick up. 

Ring. 

Ring. 

“Murphy,” his old partner, Steve, answered. 

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey, Jav—it’s earlier than you usually call. Are you off work already?” For the other man, it was a little after five o’clock his time, and from the sound of it, he was on the road heading home to his wife and kids. 

Javier’s hand squeezed so tightly on the wheel it made the leather creak at imagining getting to do the same, his heart picking up in pace and a smile curling up on his lips that someday he would. 

On Thursdays, he called Steve when he got off work—he did it when he worked for his dad, talking to his best friend while having a cold beer in the kitchen or cooling off from the hot day on the couch in the living room, always checking up on how Steve, Connie, and their three kids were doing. Once he started dating the woman who’d be his wife, the phone calls started taking place on his drive from the ranch to her apartment, then from his job at the Sheriff’s office to their shared apartment. 

“Yeah,” he answered. “I had something to do and couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of there. I spent my whole fucking day prepping for that stupid fucking meeting tomorrow.”

The one with the DEA. 

The one with the DEA that he didn’t want to have. 

Communication with them over the phone was fine because it was easy to get out of the calls—feigning he had meetings to attend, or another call coming through from his boss, or he just didn’t answer and let it go to voicemail since he recognized the numbers.

And maybe there might have been a time or three when he just hung up on them simply out of annoyance. 

But tomorrow was in person, and he had no choice except to sit through the asshole of an agent questioning every little fucking thing about the busts the narcotics unit made and having Javier try to explain why they still hadn’t found out how the drugs were getting smuggled into their region. He didn’t understand why he was getting grilled about it when there were multiple agencies in the area, including the fucking DEA, trying to figure it out. He knew this meeting would put the irritating shit he sat through as attaché in Colombia to shame. 

“I still can’t believe he’s asking so many goddamn questions,” Steve replied. “You’ve been handing him busts on a silver platter, and if I were him, I’d be thanking you, not giving you so much shit.” 

Javier sighed. “Yeah, you’d fucking think. Why does this guy even give a fuck about me?” 

He could hear the smile in his friend’s voice. “Like I told you the first time you called about this asshole: it's his first big assignment, and The Javier-fuckin’-Peña is one of his contacts—” Javier scoffed. “He’s just trying too fucking hard and is jealous of all the arrests you’ve made. Plus, you work for a law enforcement agency, Javi. The DEA has relationships with law enforcement agencies, and yours is smack dab on the border of a country with a history of smuggling, so you’re gonna be popular whether you like it or not.” 

“I fuckin’ hate it,” he grumbled. 

Steve chuckled. “I know, but suck it up, and tomorrow, scare the kid shitless with that mean ol’ glare of yours so he’ll leave you the fuck alone.” 

His eyebrows rose, nodding his head. 

“That’s definitely an idea...” 

His friend laughed. 

“I’m serious,” Javier said. “He wouldn’t take the fucking hint when I hung up on him. I could just… scare him a little.” Frowning, he whispered, “Mi Cielito can’t know.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Steve chuckled. “Things still good with you guys?” 

The thought of her had him going soft, picturing her perfectly in his mind. 

He smiled. “Things are going so fucking good.” 

“I’m glad to hear that, Jav. She seems like a great girl.” 

Taking a deep breath, he slowly let it out. “She’s fucking amazing, man—perfect, beautiful, wonderful. I love her so much and can’t wait to marry her.” 

“Then propose to her already.” That made Javier frown. “You’ve known for months now that she’s the one, and you’re holding off, for what? A future date, when you can just do what you really wanna fucking do and marry her whenever you want. You’re not beholden to that date, Javi. Do what makes you happy.” 

“When did you become a fucking motivational speaker?” 

“When I became a dad—gotta give fatherly advice and pep talks. When you have a kid, you’ll become one, too.”

That made him smile again, thinking of his conversations with his father and how the older man always had wisdom to bestow upon him or knew exactly what to say. It was the same with his mom, almost as if once you became a parent, a plethora of knowledge was imparted on you to pass on to your child when, in actuality, it was just your life experience you were using to make sure your kid succeeded in life as best they could. 

“I guess I will,” he replied. “Speaking of kids. How are mis sobrinos (niece and nephews)?”

The Murphys had three children. 

Olivia was their eldest, who they adopted as a baby nine years ago in Colombia while Steve was working down there. Steve Jr., or Stevie, was three and their only biological child. Nathaniel, Nate for short, was just adopted the prior year and had turned one not too long ago. 

Their kids (who could speak) called Javier ‘tío Javi,’ and he loved them all like they were his blood, sending presents on every birthday and Christmas that he double-checked with Connie they’d enjoy. Before the Thursday phone calls, it was a random day of the week calls when Javier had time while in the middle of trying to take down the Cali cartel, and they were a nice reprieve from the stress, especially when Olivia excitedly told him about her school day. 

He spent a lot of time with them when he first got back to the States and even got to meet their new baby, but it’s been months since his last visit. 

“They’re good. Pretty sure Olivia and Stevie are still on sugar highs from all the candy they got on Halloween.” That was the previous Sunday. 

“What’d they dress up as?” 

“Olivia was some princess from a cartoon movie with a beast, and she wore a pretty yellow dress—”

“Belle,” he interrupted. “She was Belle from Beauty and the Beast.” 

“Yeah! That’s it. Wait. Why do you know that?” 

“Lucky guess—what were Stevie and Nate?”

“Stevie was some blue spotted dog, and Nate was a lion.” 

Javier was frowning. 

He never celebrated Halloween growing up since Día de Los Muertos (Day of the Dead) overshadowed it, but if it was something his future wife wanted to do with their kids, he’d like them to have some kind of theme for their costumes… If he could get them to. 

“I can’t wait to see the pictures,” he said, which was true. He kept all of the letters Connie sent with photos of their family while he’d been in Colombia and after he returned home. His girlfriend suggested putting them in an album after he’d taken her to the ranch and pulled out the small box containing the collection—so they got one that now lived on the bookshelf in their living room, hanging some of the pictures on their walls. 

“Bring your girlfriend over here for Thanksgiving. We’d love to have you both.” 

“Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got plans with my family.” 

All his family members who lived in Laredo were getting together at his tía María’s, who had the biggest house, a good-sized patio space, and backyard to accommodate the dozens of adults and children who’d be in attendance to eat. He and Cielito would be spending the night before and morning of making pies and side dishes at the request of his three tías. 

“Alright. But remember, our door is always open, and we’re dying to meet the woman that’s gonna make an honest man out of you.” 

He snorted. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We’re thinking sometime next month.” 

“Any time is fine.” 

“You want us to visit that bad?” 

“Since the moment she found out you had a girlfriend, Connie has been on my ass about getting you to bring her here. For the love of god, Javier, please come visit us so she’ll leave me the fuck alone.” 

“I’ll figure something out.” 

“Thank you. Any time, Javi.”

“Probably right before my birthday.” 

“Any time, just get your ass over here.” 

“Will do.”

“I’m home, so I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Give Connie and the kids my love.” 

“Of course. Tell the future Mrs. Javier Peña we’re all excited to meet her.” 

Javier smiled. “I will.” 

“Bye, you asshole.” 

“Adiós, pendejo (Goodbye, asshole).” 

Clicking the end call button, he set the phone in the seat next to him and turned back up the radio, the top news stories being all about the latest midterm elections. 

Minutes later, gravel crackled and popped under the truck tires as he drove down the long driveway past his father’s house to the back, parking in the empty spot beside his dad’s rig that, since he’d started driving, had always unofficially been his. 

His door squealed when he opened it, his feet hitting the ground as he got out of his seat with his aviators sitting on the bridge of his nose, his phone put back in his pocket—the first few buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, taking a second to roll the sleeves up his forearms to make him more comfortable. Lifting his left wrist, his eyes narrowed to get a better read of the silver watch face, seeing he only had an hour before his future wife would be expecting him home, and by now, his family out here should’ve returned from checking on the herd of cattle; his father would either be in the small office across from the house doing paperwork or shirking his responsibilities elsewhere in the vicinity.

Javier went with his gut on where to find Chucho, the truck door slamming shut, the small rocks crunching under his steps as he made his way around the back of the vehicle heading toward the barns.

Passing the large paddock, all the horses, including his own, Sombra, and his tío’s, Enrique the Asshole, were stretching their legs and roaming around. His attention moved ahead to his primo (cousin) Diego, coming out of the new barn, wheeling a wheelbarrow full of hay his way. 

The younger of his uncle’s sons got the Peña genes—brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin. The oldest, Sebastián, had a striking resemblance to his tío but was light-skinned and green-eyed like his Spanish mother. Their baby sister, Alma, and tío Ángel’s pride and joy was a mix of her parents—her mother’s beauty and eyes with her father’s tan skin and brown hair. 

A beaming smile appeared on Diego’s face when he spotted Javier. 

“¿Qué tal, Javi (What’s up, Javi)?” he asked as he approached. “¿Dónde está tu esposa (Where is your wife)?” he asked, looking around for Cielito and making Javier grin. 

“Mi futura esposa está en nuestra casa (My future wife is at home). Estoy aquí para ver a mi papá (I’m here to see my dad). Necesito hablar con él (I need to talk to him).”

“Oh, él está allí en el granero de ganado (Oh, he’s over at the cattle barn),” he said, pointing in the direction with his thumb. 

That was just what Javier suspected after something his dad said the previous day. 

“Gracias, primo (Thank you, cousin). Tengo prisa (I’m in a hurry). Te veré el domingo en casa de tía María (I will see you Sunday at aunt Maria’s). ¡Adiós (Bye)!” 

“¡Hasta luego (See you later)!”

His strides were long as he made his way toward the older barn, its wooden exterior wearing a new coat of bright red paint and the trim snow white. His father was standing at the pen’s fence, his straw cowboy hat shielding the sun’s rays as usual, holding a small plastic bucket in one of his hands, the other feeding carrots to the animals. Javier smiled that his assumption of what Chucho would be doing was correct as he approached, hearing his dad softly cooing words in Spanish. 

“Stop spoiling mis hijas (my daughters),” Javier said, getting closer. At the sound of his voice, the two calves came bounding toward him on the other side of the fence, shoving their heads between the metal bars at him. He chuckled, crouching as he gave Daphne and Velma pets, their hair soft under his palms. “Hola, mis preciosas (Hello, my lovelies),” his tone was sweet. “Tan lindas que estan  (You two are so cute). ¡Están creciendo tanto (You’re growing so much)! ¿Me extrañaron (Did you miss me)?”

At dinner the night before, Chucho had told them he was planning on bringing the girls in for a long weekend since they weren’t treated like the rest of the herd and didn’t live out on the pastures with them 24/7. His dad sometimes had them stay in the pen at the barn or hang out in his backyard. They were kept more like pets than cattle and spoiled as such. 

He could hear his father’s footsteps coming near. 

“I will spoil mis nietas bovinas (my bovine granddaughters) as much as I like since you haven’t given me any human ones to spoil… yet,” Chucho replied, holding the bucket toward him. 

Javier groaned, this being a constant conversation they were having. “I know, I know, you’re not getting any younger—it’s gonna happen.” He took a couple of long orange carrots and started feeding them to the girls, who were happily munching away. “Like I’ve told you before. There’s just some shit we gotta take care of first, and fuck, we’ll need to buy a house.” The thought of hunting for one sounded like a real pain in the ass, especially with everything they’d want it to have. 

“Javi?” 

His head tilted up to meet his dad’s eyes. “Yeah?” 

“Have you guys thought about building a house?” 

Javier’s eyebrows dipped together. 

They’d discussed what their future home would need—a big backyard for garden space, a spacious living room, and a good-sized kitchen. They also planned to move into a house around the summer of the following year. If they were to build, though, it would be to their specifications. He could give his future wife the kitchen of her dreams, a big sunroom for her plants, and a soundproofed master suite. 

“We haven’t…” he answered slowly. “We’d have to find land, an architect, contractor, whatever fucking else is needed to build a house.” 

“The land is taken care of,” Chucho said with a wave of his free hand like it was no big deal.

Javier knew he had to look confused. “What?” 

Daphne and Velma had finished eating, and he was back to petting them. 

His dad smiled. “I’ve got all this land, Mijo.” He held out his arms. “Be my next-door neighbor, or live up the road. Don’t stress yourselves out over finding the perfect house when you can just build it—and with us living so close together, it’ll be easy for you to bring mis nietos humanos (my human grandchildren) over all the time.” 

Javier’s eyebrow arched. “How do you know we’re gonna have more than one kid?” 

He hoped they would and wanted as many children with her as she was willing to have. 

There was a sad smile on Chucho’s face. “Because you’ve always wanted to be a father, Javi,” he answered, and Javier’s heart clenched hard. “That whole mess all those years ago before you left? You didn’t want to marry her, and I don’t blame you. She told you she was pregnant, and you just wanted to do what was best for your unborn baby—they were your main priority, and you were willing to do anything for them. Yes, you were scared about becoming a dad, but we could see you were excited, too, and how much you loved that child you thought existed.” His dad put a comforting palm on his shoulder. “You were ready to devote yourself to being the best father to them.” Javier’s eyes were watering because it was true he always wanted to be a dad, and he didn’t think anyone knew. “I know her lie hurt you deeply, Mijo, and also gave you relief, but it’s such a good thing you didn’t end up marrying her because look at where you’re at now.” The older man was softly smiling now. “You found the right woman who truly loves you, and your mother would’ve loved—I sure do, and when you hold your child for the first time, you will fall in love with them immediately and want ten more,” he chuckled.

Javier laughed through the tears, taking off his sunglasses to wipe at his eyes with the back of his arm before putting them back on. 

“Also,” Chucho continued, “I know you’ll have more than one because the two of you can’t be left alone for more than five minutes—it’s surprising she hasn’t fallen pregnant yet.”

“She has good birth control.” 

Too good, in Javier’s opinion. 

He started to stand up, involuntarily grunting from the ache in his knees and lower back. 

His dad’s eyebrows rose, nodding his head. “Well, that explains things. You were just here yesterday. I wasn’t expecting to see you again until Sunday. Something on your mind, Mijo?”

Therapy had been a fucking godsend, and Javier no longer constantly worried about shit, feeling like he was finally in control of his thoughts and emotions. Still, sometimes, he just wanted to drink a beer with his dad and talk about what was on his mind.

Javier smiled cheekily. “More like someone on my mind.” 

Chucho laughed. “She’s always on your mind!” 

“Yeah, she is, but, uh—” He scratched at the back of his head. “—I needed to talk to you about something alone…” 

The elder Peña sobered up immediately, putting a hand out to squeeze his arm. “Is everything okay, Javi?” 

Javier gave him a smile. “Everything’s fucking amazing—especially with her, and that’s why I’m out here…” 

His father’s face lit up with a huge grin as the realization dawned on him. “¡No puedo esperar para decírselo a tu mamá (I can’t wait to tell your mom)! Vamos a la casa y me lo puedes contar todo (Let’s go to the house, and you can tell me everything).” 

On the drive to their apartment, there was a lot to think about between the meeting the next day and plans for the future. The whole building a house was a great idea that he wanted to run by Cielito to see what she thought about it, then there was the other thing he needed to figure out…

Arriving home at his usual time, it wasn’t a surprise her car was already parked in her spot when he pulled up since she was usually off a little earlier than him. His truck took the space beside hers, towering over her tiny Honda that Javier had to contort his body in order to drive when he took it every weekend to fill the gas tank. 

Before leaving the ranch, he washed his hands and hoped his cologne masked any kind of animal smells, not wanting her to know where he’d been—if she happened to ask, he’d tell her the truth of his whereabouts because there was no reason to lie. 

Walking to the apartment, his suit jacket and tie were dangling over his arm, the other hand holding his keys that jingled as he unlocked the front door. Once inside, he shut the door and locked it, tossing his ring of keys into the large bowl on the long, narrow console table in the entryway, toeing off his Chelsea boots in front of the shoe rack on the floor beside it. 

His body completely relaxed, a long, relieved sigh leaving him at finally being home. 

The familiar smell of the apartment calmed him—he was safe here, he was loved.

“Cielito?” he called, turning toward the rest of the room and immediately jumping in his skin at her standing right there in front of him. “Jesus Christ,” Javier breathed, his heart pounding in his chest, pressing his hand over it.

She wore a deep purple oversized t-shirt that had faded and thinned over being washed and worn so many times, her legs bare beneath it. 

A laugh sputtered from her lips. “I’m sorry for spooking you,” she said, moving forward to wrap her arms around his middle. He hugged her back with his free arm, a smile turning up on his mouth. “This was supposed to be horny, not scary.” 

“How is you scaring the shit out of me supposed to be horny?” he asked, kissing her forehead. 

Pulling back, there was a mischievous grin on her face. “Give me your jacket and tie.” He handed both over, watching as she turned to toss them on the couch behind her. When her attention returned to him, she said, “Okay, so you carrying your jacket kinda threw off my groove. Now, pretend you just took off your shoes and are super happy to be home.” 

“I did just take off my boots, and I am happy to be home…” he replied with knitted brows. 

“Yes, I know, but turn this way—” She made him face the shoes again. “—Okay,” she said, taking steps away from him. He turned his head toward her. “No! Don’t look at me yet!” Her outburst startled him, making him look forward once more. 

“Mi amor (my love), what are you doing?” he asked. 

“You’ll see, and you’re gonna love it. Trust me.” 

“I trust you, Cielito. I trust you more than anyone else.” 

And he did. 

There wasn’t anyone else he trusted more or with whom he felt comfortable being genuinely vulnerable. Yes, he still hadn’t told her about Colombia, but he just wasn’t ready to open all of the old wounds and muddy her with the blood of all of the awful shit he’d seen and done—honestly, he didn’t want to think about any of it or bring her into that world, he liked keeping her separate from it all. 

She was heaven. Colombia had been hell. 

So, he was biding his time. 

“I know, you big cutie,” she said. “Okay, now turn.” 

He was beyond confused and unsure what was going on, but she was excited, so he was more than willing to go along with it, knowing she’d make whatever it was good. 

Turning in place toward her, he was met with a look of determination on her face as she came at him quickly, his eyes widening when she grabbed the open collar of his dress shirt, shoving him back against the front door, smashing her mouth against his as she kissed him hard. 

Smiling into her lips, one of his arms pulled her close, the other hand going lower to grab a handful of her ass, groaning when he found no underwear. 

She was right. He definitely loved this. 

Blood rushed to his groin, his cock twitching when she slipped her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his own. Her hand slithered down the tight space of their bodies to rub over his hardening length, making him moan when she nipped at his bottom lip, arousal igniting in his belly.

Her mouth was a hair's breadth away from his as she breathily whispered, “I wanna suck your dick. Can I, Javi? Can I choke on this big cock?” She ended the question by lightly squeezing it in its half-hard state. 

“You can do whatever the fuck you want to me,” he answered huskily, feeling her smile when she kissed him. 

Both of his hands were now under the hem of her shirt, groping her bare backside. 

“You don’t know what you’re offering when you say that,” she murmured into his lips. 

“Yes, I do,” came his muffled answer. “Anything. You love my ass as much as I love yours.” He squeezed her asscheeks in his big palms.  

The revelation he was into assplay was surprising, to say the least. Now in the right circumstances, he loved when she used her fingers while going down on him, or there was that one time she experimented with her mouth, and he about lost his damn mind. 

“I do love your ass and you, but I didn’t bring lube.” 

He smiled. “Later then, and I love you, too,” he replied, kissing her harder. 

He deepened the kiss, their tongues moving together in a practiced dance while she made sounds in the back of her throat that went straight to his cock, loving how her scent was enveloping him—knowing he’d smell her all over him by the time they were done, it permeating his clothes,  his hair, and  his skin, hating that he’d have to wash it all away later. 

When her lips left his to take a breath, the plush softness of them met his chin, then her teeth lightly nibbled, making him smile while both of her hands went to the front of his pants—his belt clinked as she expertly undid it, popping open the button of his slacks, unzipping them, his dick now completely hard.

“You’ve been on my mind all day,” she said in that sultry tone she knew drove him wild, unable to keep from giving her a quick kiss. 

“What were you thinking about, Cielito?”

She looked up at him under her lashes, crookedly smiling. 

“Sucking this beautiful dick,” she answered, stroking it over his pants, the sensation making his breath hitch in his throat. 

His tongue wet his bottom lip, wanting nothing more than her mouth on him. “What else, baby?”

“Well, we haven’t fooled around since Monday—“ Fuck, had it really been since he tied up her hands and fucked her in the kitchen? “—because you had to work late Tuesday, and we went to your dad’s last night.” Her free hand went up his chest. “So I’m really in the mood for you to make me feel it tomorrow.” She bit her lower lip. 

“I can do that,” he replied. He covered her hand on his cock with his own. “This is yours, and you can have it any fucking way you want it, mi amor (my love).” 

Her mouth collided with his, saying as she kissed him, “God, you’re so hot—I love you so fucking much.” 

It made him smile. “I love you, too.” 

One last kiss, and she was crouching in front of him, yanking the navy blue material down his thighs, leaving his dick confined by his white boxer briefs. She rubbed him over them, his chin dropping to watch as she mouthed at his hard length over the cotton, the warmth of her mouth causing his own to go slack and his skin to heat. 

Her hands went up his thighs, the color of her neatly trimmed nails catching his attention. 

His words came out rougher and deeper, a smile on his lips as he picked up her hand and inspected it, “You’re wearing the nail polish I picked out.” It was bright cherry red, and he’d chosen it the prior day at the drugstore before they’d gone out to the ranch, the cheesy name on the cap of the bottle reading, ‘Not Red-y for Bed.’ “It looks fucking gorgeous on you, baby,” he continued, swiping his thumb over the tops of her fingers. 

She grinned up at him. “Thanks. My future husband has excellent taste,” she replied with a wink. “Now stop distracting me from sucking your dick.” 

“Yes, mi reina (my queen),” he said, letting her palm go and watching as her beautiful fingers pulled down his underwear, his cock springing free. Moving onto her knees, he was glad they were cushioned by the soft, thick runner rug they’d invested in, her spitting in her palm and taking him in hand, his mouth falling open at the first stroke. 

He started working open the buttons of his shirt, keeping his eyes on her as she languidly jerked him, getting glimpses of her red nails when she’d twist on the upstroke, and fuck, they looked good wrapped around his dick. 

She took him into her mouth, and Javier forgot how to breathe. 

There was only one button left to undo on his dress shirt, but that didn’t matter with her gaze on him, watching as she hummed in enjoyment, taking him further and further into her hot, wet heat. Her other hand slipped between her legs, and his cock twitched that she was touching herself. 

“Fuck, hermosa (beautiful),” he rasped, his hand resting on the back of her head. Javier gulped hard at the pleasure. “It feels so fucking good, Cielito—you’re so fucking beautiful playing with your pretty little pussy while my dick is in your mouth. You gonna make yourself come, baby? Can you do that for me? Come all over those gorgeous fingers.” 

She moaned while continuing to blow him, doing this swirly thing with her tongue around the tip and on the underside of his cock that had him groaning loudly. His hips were rocking, knowing she was on her way to turning him into an absolute mess.

Her eyes were watching him through her lashes, all heavy-lidded and dark, the arousal evident in her gaze while her lips stretched around his dick and her head bobbed, twirling her tongue around the head on each upstroke. Her hand worked what couldn’t fit, the other moving at the apex of her thighs. 

“Are you rubbing your clit?” he roughly asked. “Does it get you off sucking my cock? You like this, don’t you? You like getting yourself off while choking on it.” 

That made her moan again, and he could see on her face how much she was enjoying this. 

Truth be told, before her, Javier didn’t really care for blow jobs—not that he didn’t like them, he loved them; the problem was he could tell when his partner wasn’t into it, and there was no bigger turn-off than someone doing something they didn’t want to do. 

But Cielito was different. 

He was pretty fucking sure she had some kind of addiction to sucking his dick with how often she wanted to do it, and the thing was, every, single, time, he could tell she was having the best time—he had never seen someone enjoy blowing him more. 

Javier loved it when she wanted to go down on him, her enthusiasm making it incredible. 

All of a sudden, her mouth came off him, a string of spit keeping them connected as her eyes closed, and he knew that look on her face. Her free hand left him to pluck at her pebbled nipple through her shirt. 

“Are you gonna come for me?” he asked, curling his fist around his wet cock, slowly jacking off as he watched. “You gonna be my good fucking girl and come for me?”

“Yes,” she moaned, nodding. “So close.”

“I was gonna get down there and eat you out—make you come on my fingers and tongue, but I think you’d like it better if I didn’t loosen you up before I got my dick inside you. Isn’t that right, baby?” Her breath stuttered, a sheen of sweat coating her forehead. “It’s been three fucking days, and you want to feel how big I am—how much I stretch you open.” Soft sounds were spilling from her lips that were getting louder. “You’re my dirty fucking girl and want to feel me all day tomorrow while you’re at work.” He could tell she was close. “I bet you’ll want me to fuck you again tonight in bed and tomorrow before work so you’re stuffed full of my come—”

Her body tensed up, coming with a gasp of his name, and he smiled. 

“There it is,” he said. “Such a good girl—you did so good for me, mi amor (my love). God, you’re amazing. It’s fucking sexy how hungry you are for my dick.” 

Her eyes blinked open, smiling dreamily at him. “Because it’s perfect,” she replied. “And you’re perfect—you make the best noises when I go down on you, and you never try to fuck my face without asking or are ever pushy.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “I honestly don’t think you’ve ever asked me for a BJ, which is shocking.” 

He was smiling. “I’ve never needed to, and I wouldn’t.” 

Her brow arched. “You wouldn’t ask for a blow job?” 

“I only want one if it’s something you want to do—otherwise, I’d rather just fuck or eat your pussy,” he answered with a shrug.

“I am living the fucking dream. Now move your hand; I wanna feel you in my throat.” 

He chuckled, doing as she said, and was not at all surprised when her lips wrapped around his cock. She bobbed her head, working him inch by inch into her mouth until she swallowed him down into her throat, taking him all the way to the root, Javier groaning. 

Those bright red nails were digging into his thighs, the knot in his belly was beginning to wind tighter, and his cock pulsing in the tight space. Sweat coated his brow, a flush crawling up his chest and neck, his heart pounding in his chest. 

Her eyes were on his, tears gathering at the edges, saliva escaping at the sides of her mouth, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. 

“My good fucking girl,” he praised, feeling where he was bulging in her throat. “Such a good fucking girl taking my dick down your throat—god, I love you so much.” 

She gurgled around him like she was replying, ‘I love you, too,’ then her head was coming up, sputtering as she coughed.

“You okay?” he asked. 

She gave him a thumbs up, finally answering, “Yeah.” Saliva was coating her chin and around her lips while she breathed hard. 

His thumb slid along her bottom lip as he smiled. “Hermosa (Beautiful),” he said.

“Messy,” she corrected.

“Still beautiful.” 

Playfully, she rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m not done.” 

Not wasting another second, she took the tip back into her mouth, circling her tongue around the sensitive ridges. Javier swallowed thickly, feeling the pleasure build inside him, entranced with her stroking him again, the flash of red as her hand easily glided up and down his spit-slicked shaft. When her other hand started lightly massaging his balls, his cock jerked, a shaky breath leaving his lips. 

He didn’t want to come like this. 

Quickly, he got the last button on his shirt undone, shrugging it off and tossing it toward the couch, it landing on the floor. 

“Baby?” he said, her eyes immediately meeting his while pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses down his shaft. 

“Hmm?” She hummed. 

“Don’t make me come.” 

The power was in her hands. 

“You close?” she asked before being fucking mean and dipping her head low to lick at his sack. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. His throat bobbed as he thickly swallowed, trying to control his breathing and the tightening in his gut, not wanting to blow his load so soon. There was no other choice but to gently push at her shoulder. “Stop,” he gasped, and she did immediately, hands and mouth coming off him. “Thank you,” he panted, swiping at the sweat on his forehead with his arm. She shuffled back on her knees, looking up at him. “Do you want me to eat your pussy or give you my dick?” he asked. He was fine with either and was pretty sure she was going to choose—

“Dick,” she answered immediately. 

He smirked. “Fucking knew it.” His thumbs went into the waistband of his boxer briefs, shoving them and his slacks down to his ankles before peeling off his socks. Groaning, he straightened and held out his hands to her, saying, “Come on, mi futura esposa (my future wife). You deserve better than getting fucked on the floor.” 

She accepted his help, Javier grunting as he pulled her up to stand in front of him. 

“Fucking on the floor is hot, though,” she pouted. 

“Sometimes,” he said, grabbing her hips and turning her the other way. “Most of the time, it just fucks up my back and knees, and I don’t want to deal with that shit tomorrow. Let’s go.” He smacked both of her asscheeks to get her to start moving, earning a giggle as he followed her to the bedroom. 

Their first big purchase as a couple was upgrading the queen-sized bed she’d already had to a king. They’d gotten a sturdy frame that Javier tweaked to ensure there’d be no squeaking and a white metal headboard that was arched with thin vertical slats for obvious reasons, precautions made so it wouldn’t bang against the wall—yes, he did spend an entire Saturday morning sex-proofing their new bed for the sake of their elderly next door neighbor who glared at him every time they crossed paths. 

Late afternoon sunlight was slipping through the cracks in the closed blinds and illuminating the blue linen curtains covering them in their shared room. The only lights on were both bedside lamps—her watch, a paperback, alarm clock, and a corded telephone accompanying hers; a small framed picture of them kissing with fireworks going off above their heads that his dad took at the town’s Fourth of July event, a book with his extra pair of reading glasses on top of it, and his alarm clock beside his. 

His attention was on her ass as she crawled up onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress when he followed. Once she was far enough up the bed, he pounced, gripping handfuls of her backside and tackling her to lay flat on her stomach, making her laugh when he sunk his teeth into her plump flesh. It made him smile, placing a loud, smacking kiss over the indents of his teeth before he sat up and helped her flip onto her back, his hips nestling in the space between her thighs. 

Their noses were almost touching, his arm beside her head holding him up while his other hand rubbed up and down her belly over her shirt. 

“Hi,” he said. 

She smiled, sliding her fingers into the hair at the back of his head, making him shiver. “Hi, babe. I love how we get so horny we forget to greet each other.” She quickly pecked him on the lips. 

“Or you decide to scare the shit out of me.” 

“I really didn’t mean to. I was just trying to channel my inner Javi.” 

His eyebrows dipped together.

“What?” 

“You know, just showing up and going zero to horny in under thirty seconds. Like Monday, when you stormed into the kitchen and started making out with me? That was so hot. I was trying to be like that.” 

He smiled. “You’re cute,” he said, nuzzling her nose. “Don’t sneak up on me next time, and it’ll go better.” 

“Noted.” She pulled him in for a kiss, and he happily reciprocated, deepening it quickly with a slide of his tongue along her lip for her to open. His cock was still hard, pressing into her skin, his hand moving up to palm her shirt-covered breast, listening to those sounds he loved coming from her throat while they kissed, and kissed, and kissed. 

His lips left hers to catch his breath, moving them along her jaw to nibble at her chin. 

“I love you in this shirt,” he said into her skin. 

“Thanks,” she panted. “It’s comfy. Now please, fuck me, Javi.” 

“Need my dick, Cielito?” He kissed over her pulse point, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath his lips. 

“Yes,” she answered. 

That was all the answer he needed, pushing up with a grunt to sit up on his knees while she turned onto her stomach, which required him to help move her legs around him. Her hips rose automatically without his help, presenting her glistening pussy, and that had a shock of arousal hitting his gut at how ready she was for him. His cock throbbed between his legs, wanting to feel her squeeze around him. 

One hand smoothed over her ass, spitting on the fingers of the other that he rubbed over her entrance, repeating the action to slick his dick up, notching himself at her drenched hole.

“You ready?” he asked. 

Her head was resting on her crossed arms. “Dámelo (Give it to me).” 

“Es tuyo, mi reina (It’s yours, my queen),” he replied, pushing in. 

His eyes slipped shut, and his mouth went slack as her hot, velvety walls embraced him, smoothly sliding all the way home in one thrust. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, it feeling like her tight heat was trying to suck him in deeper. 

“God, that’s good,” she moaned. 

Pulling out halfway, he pushed easily back in. “Fucking love this pussy—sit up with me.” He tapped her hip. 

Her legs were on either side of his, getting her up on her knees to have her back to his chest, his arm going across her front to hold her breast, the other palm gliding down the soft cotton of her shirt to the apex of her thighs. 

His pace was slow; there was no hurry, wanting her to really feel him by keeping his cock buried deep inside her, barely thrusting in and out while moving his hips in a circular pattern. He welcomed it when she reached behind to dig her cherry-colored nails into his ass, her other set doing the same to his arm as she softly moaned, the fire in his belly slowly building. 

Had he really gone three days without this? Feeling her warmth, the way it rippled through his body, and her softness, having her so close to him, and the connection. He needed to feel more of her. He needed more of her skin on his. He needed it all. 

His thrusts didn’t waver as he pressed his lips to the shell of her ear, whispering, “Mi amor (My love)?”

“Yes?” she gasped. 

“Do you wanna keep the shirt on?” 

Even though he told her constantly how attractive he found her and her body, there were still times when she felt more comfortable wearing a shirt during sex, and he respected that. 

“No.” 

As soon as the word left her lips, he was tugging it up, her arms going over her head for him to get it off, tossing it to the floor. 

Pulling her back, her skin on his felt amazing, languidly moving in her while he kissed along her shoulder and neck and up to bite at her earlobe. His fingers between her legs were rubbing at her swollen clit, his other hand plucking at her hardened nipple, feeling her arousal dripping down his dick.

His lips were back at her ear, panting hot breaths against it as he asked, “Did your needy little pussy miss me, baby? Did it miss being stuffed with my cock or my come?” 

“Both,” she moaned. 

With the way her cunt was starting to flutter, he knew she was getting close. Their bodies were sticky with sweat, not caring how they stuck together or the wet sounds where they were joined, Javier smiling at hearing the wet suck of his dick moving in and out of her sopping pussy.

The angle was awkward, but he kissed her cheek, and she turned her head to chase his lips, kissing him while he built her up higher and higher, his own orgasm taking shape at the base of his spine. 

His mouth went back to press at her shoulders, Javier in heaven. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he said through heavy breaths, muffled into her skin. “So fucking much. Eres todo para mí y siempre lo serás (You’re everything to me and always will be). Te daría la luna si pudiera (I would give you the moon if I could). Te daría todas las estrellas del cielo (I would give you every star in the sky).” He started moving a little faster, putting more pressure on her clit, her moans getting louder. “Te mereces todo y más y movería cielos y tierra para dártelo si pudiera (You deserve everything and more and I would move heaven and earth to give it to you if I could). Pero solo soy un hombre así que te estoy dando todo de mí (But I am just a man, so I am giving you all of me). Cada parte de mí te pertenece porque yo soy tuyo y siempre seré tuyo (Every part of me belongs to you because I am yours and I will always be yours).”

Her pussy seized up tight around him as she came with a cry of his name, his fingers gently swirling over her sensitive bundle of nerves to help her ride out the wave. 

“So good to me,” he softly said, kissing the side of her neck. “You did so fucking good for me, my good girl—god, I love you.” 

It took some seconds for her to speak, her voice sounding rougher than usual. “Javier, why would you say absurdly romantic shit you know is gonna make me cry while you’re balls deep inside me and on the cusp of making me come?” 

“I don’t know,” he panted, shrugging. “Felt right. Still got you off, though,” he pointed out. 

“Yes, and cry at the same time, which is rude.” She wiped at her eyes.  

His hands were rubbing circles on her hips. 

“I don’t see that as a bad thing—are you still wanting the special thing you say I’m good at?” 

“The Javi special, that you know the name of and refuse to use—” That was true. “—Yes. Pretty please.”

He smacked her thigh. “Hands and knees, baby.” 

His cock was still achingly hard inside her when she lowered onto her arms, figuring he could go a bit longer before he’d come. Gripping the flesh of her hips, he moved, watching as he pulled almost all the way out, seeing himself shining in her juices and fucking back into her hard. She loved getting pounded from behind, and he was more than happy to oblige with his dick slickly moving fast in and out of her tight, hot heat, carving out space inside her with every stroke that had her mewling.

A layer of sweat was coating his forehead and chest, feeling a drop slide down his cheek while he grunted in exertion, fucking her how she wanted, her moans of his name spurring him on. His big hands grabbed onto the cheeks of her ass and squeezed them, gripping them to pull her back and fuck her on his cock. One left her, coming back down on the jiggling flesh with a loud smack that had her cunt clenching around him and her crying out in pleasure. He kept up the punishing pace, his heart thudding in his chest, spanking her again in the same spot, then on the other side, feeling her getting wetter. 

“You gonna give me one more?” he asked through bared teeth. 

Her arms and legs were trembling, and he was pretty sure he could make her come one more time. It looked like she couldn’t hold up her weight anymore, moving onto her forearm, her head resting to the side on it, noticing her other arm had gone under her body to play with her clit. 

“Javi?” she gasped his name. 

“Yeah?” he answered. 

“I want you to come inside me.” 

Pleasure was curling and knotting in his gut, and her words ramped it up. 

“I will.” 

“I wanna feel you come inside me.” 

That sentence confused the fuck out of him in his wrecked state, not knowing at all what she meant since he already said he was going to do it.

“I’ll fill you up, baby,” he panted, now focusing on chasing his high, closing his eyes, needing that sweet release more than anything. “I’ll fuck you full of me, stuff you full of my come, and get you preg—” The sentence cut off into a strangled moan as she reached between her legs to cup his sack, the sensation tipping him over the edge, hitting the point of no return. He pushed into her all the way as his balls tightened, and he came, his cock jerking hard, pumping spurts and spurts of his spend inside her. His mind had gone blank, euphoria taking over every molecule in his body, feeling her cunt spasming and tightening around him as she went with him.

When a coherent thought came to him, it was that he needed to lie down—a hiss slipping through his teeth when he pulled out, moving to fall onto the mattress beside her. 

The second thing to cross his mind as the cool air in the room felt chillier on his sweat-dampened skin was he missed her warmth—frowning, he sat up with a groan, his heavy-lidded eyes seeing she was sprawled out next to him.

“Lay back down,” she said, turning her head toward him with a little smile and looking just as wrung out as he felt. “I could feel your sad eyes on me.” She yawned, speaking through it, “I just needed a second to be able to move—I was heading your way, baby.” 

He didn’t have to be told twice, lying back down and getting comfortable with his head cushioned on a pillow. Seconds later, she was in his space, making herself at home with her body half on top of his, Javier smiling when her fingers slid into his sweat-dampened hair, wrapping his arms around her. 

His words were rough. “That was new.” 

“Robyn told me about it.” That was her best friend and co-worker. “But I just made it extra horny by feeling them while you came.” 

“I liked it.” 

“Good.” 

She cuddled closer to him, sighing happily as they laid there. 

If someone asked him what his favorite thing in the entire world was to do, his answer would be what they were doing right now—not the sex, but the being naked, holding each other in their relaxed, happy states, enjoying the other's company. 

This was also when he was most vulnerable physically but mentally, too. All his carefully built walls crumbling, aware that he’d answer any question she asked him and ignoring the one on the tip of his tongue that he could taste the words of. 

“Yes,” she said, tilting her head up to kiss under his jaw, and his heart started hammering that maybe he said aloud what he was thinking. 

His lips pressed to her forehead. “Yes, what?” 

“Just practicing how I’ll answer when you finally ask—I wanna be ready.”

He smiled.

“I do.” 

“Huh?” 

“Just practicing how I’ll answer when I’m asked if I’ll take you as my wife.” 

She sat up to hover her face over his, looking him in the eyes. “That was really fucking smooth.” He smiled. “I love you, Javi, more than anything.” Her lips met his, kissing him tenderly, his hand cradling the back of her head. 

They separated after a few seconds. “I love you, too,” he replied. 

Her red-nailed fingers pushed the hair off his forehead while she looked at him fondly. “I know you do. Let’s go shower, and then we can make dinner.” She started to get up, moving to the edge of the bed. “Does pasta sound good?” she asked as she stood. 

His back protested when he sat up and got out of bed from the opposite side. “Sounds great. We’ve got stuff for salad, too.” 

“We do.” She nodded, her head turning to look at him. 

“Go start warming up the shower. I’m gonna go grab my clothes from the living room.” 

Her mouth turned up in a grin. “What a good, responsible man, cleaning up after his sexcapades. Okay, hurry up!” She started heading for the en suite, and he went to grab the pile he left by the front door, taking out his wallet from his pants pocket and putting it in the bowl on the table, picking up his dress shirt from the floor, grabbing his suit jacket and tie. 

He could hear the overhead fan blowing and the water running in the bathroom, light streaming out from the door that was almost all the way closed. 

Tossing his clothes on the bed, he kept his pants in his hands as he walked the few steps to his dresser beside the bedroom door, glancing toward the noises over his shoulder before pulling open the top drawer that contained his socks and underwear. His hand went into the pocket of his slacks, pulling out the small white leather ring box, popping it open to see the gold band with a modest-sized diamond in the middle with two smaller ones on each side. 

“You don’t know that you’re gonna get to answer that question a lot sooner than planned,” he whispered, “and I can’t wait to see you wearing this.”  

“Javi?” she called from the bathroom. 

Quickly, he shut the box. “Coming!” He dug into the back of his drawer for the old pair of wool socks he never wore, bundling the ring box inside of them and stashing it away in the depths. 

Now, all he had to figure out was when. 

Friday, November 6, 11:58 AM

The conference room didn’t have a fucking clock.

He needed a cigarette, his fingers itching for one, thinking he could probably bum a smoke off of someone when this was over. His reading glasses were sitting on the bridge of his nose as he brought up his wrist to read his watch for probably the thirtieth time in the last fifty-eight minutes he’d been in this pointless meeting.

The DEA agent he was currently half-listening to and who has been the bane of his existence since he started this job, had come in on some kind of power trip, thinking he had authority over Javier and the people he worked with—it’s been an ongoing issue and a reason there was animosity between the two men. 

It all made sense when he finally put a face to the name of asshole DEA agent Jesse Clemons. 

The other man was in his late twenties, if he had to guess—definitely too young for the assignment he’d been given since there was no way he had enough experience, and he was hiding it by being a grade-A dick. In terms of looks, the kid was smaller than him, thinner, shorter, with the face of an average white male, and had the attitude of someone whose parents paid for him to get into an Ivy League school—which made Javier think he had connections that landed him this job since something about the guy screamed ‘nepotism hire.’

Javier put him in his place before they even sat down and made it clear he was the one in charge here—possibly scaring him too much because the kid was stuttering and stammering through the whole meeting. 

Glancing at his watch, he saw the hour was finally up. 

“Well,” he said, interrupting the agent as he closed the files before him, putting them into a stack. “I’ve got another appointment to get to.” Standing, he took off his glasses, sliding them into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, and picked up the manila folders. “It was nice to meet you in person, and we’ll see how your suggestions play out.” They wouldn’t. “Doors this way.” He held out his arm toward it. 

The agent looked relieved it was over, quickly putting his things away in his brown leather briefcase and letting Javier usher him out of the room. 

They paused just outside the door. 

“Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me, sir,” Jesse said, holding out his hand that Javier quickly shook. 

“Yeah.”

“My, uh—“ He scratched at the back of his neck. “—My nana sends her regards.”

That had Javier’s eyebrows pulling together as he tried to figure out who he could possibly be talking about. 

“Your… nana...?”

“Yes, my grandma Noonan. She was a former ambassador in Colombia…”

Javier huffed out a breath—there it was, the reason this kid was hired. His grandma was a real hardass but pretty decent at her job, and with her connections, it’s no wonder her grandson had such an important assignment.

“Yeah, I remember your nana. You give her my best. Thanks for stopping by.” 

The younger man nodded, retreating down the hallway. 

Javier sure as fuck didn’t miss the DEA and their bullshit, the meeting turning out to be just as irritating as he’d expected it to be. He’d been prepared for the questions and had the files to back up his answers and prove they’d been working their asses off. 

The only good thing about this was that the kid would probably leave him alone now, or at the very least only be in contact when necessary, which is what Javier hoped. 

Once the agent disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in, his eyes closing for a moment. 

He didn’t actually have another appointment. It was lunchtime for him and the woman he loved, who he needed to talk to in order to calm his nerves. 

“Never thought I’d see you again.” That voice hadn’t spoken to him since he uncovered just how corrupt the Colombian government was. His eyes flew open, turning his head toward them. 

“Why the fuck am I seeing you, Stechner?” he practically spat out. 

Bill Stechner looked balder and his beard longer, standing half a dozen steps from him down the hall. His appearance had Javier’s heart speeding up and jaw clenching, knowing that nothing good would come from this. 

The older man walked a little closer as he spoke, holding a file in one hand and the other in his pocket, “I was in the neighborhood on business and heard you were working here. Wanted to stop by and see how my old friend was doing.” 

His eyes narrowed. 

“We’ve never been friends, and how I’m doing is none of your fucking business.” 

“What? I can’t be happy for you?” 

Javier’s blood ran cold—what the fuck did he know? 

Stechner removed the hand from his pocket to open the folder. “You know,” he continued, glancing down at it. “That girl of yours is too good for you.” 

Dread came over him, feeling the heaviness of it in his gut and having to swallow hard because there was a chance he might throw up. 

“I know she is,” he answered. 

“No, no, I mean she’s really too good for you and is another woman with questionable taste in men. Did you know she graduated top of her class in college?” He didn’t. “She had the pick of any hospital in the country, and she chose Dallas, which, let me tell you, is quite far from her family, but I’m sure you know that.” He did. “Speaking of her family—” Stechner flipped a page. “—talk about notoriety and wealth. I’m honestly surprised you live in that tiny condo with all of the money she has. Looking at this, she should be with a doctor, or a surgeon, hell, even someone from a family as affluent as hers.” An opinion her parents shared. “I’m not seeing why she’d choose a disgraced farmer boy.” His teeth clenched, the sentence repeating over and over in his head, ‘Because she loves me. Because she loves me.’ The other man looked up to meet his eyes. “But you, the only reason you’re with her is the money, right? Because someone like you isn’t the settling down type. You can’t stick to just one woman, and with that kind of cash, you can afford more pussy than you were paying for with Uncle Sam’s money in Colombia.” 

What money? What money was he talking about?

The jabs about his sex life were fine; he was used to it, but he was beyond confused at being accused of only dating Cielito for her money since he’d seen her bank statements—they sat at their kitchen table writing checks to pay bills together every month, and balance their checkbooks. Her accounts weren’t anything crazy, and his savings was even bigger than hers from not having to pay for a lot in Colombia. Her job did make more than his, though; that was a fact and understandable with the work she did.

But she wasn’t some millionaire, which was what was being implied. 

Maybe he was assuming that since her family had money, she did, too? 

Too bad his research didn’t tell him her relationship with her family was strained with them all being a bunch of uptight, snobby dicks and that there was a chance she’d been written out of her parents' wills due to her life choices (dating him)—so, she didn’t have access to their money.

Everything else Stechner said had him taken aback at how he’d managed to tug at Javier’s relationship insecurities—he knew he wasn’t good enough for her, that his career was lacking, his wealth was mediocre, that his past should be a glaring red flag. 

But she still chose him despite it all.

Despite it all, she still loved only him. 

His face had heated as it pinched in anger at the fucking audacity of this fucker trying to mess with his relationship, rage roiling in his belly that Stechner misused his authority with the CIA to get information on his future wife and invade her privacy. 

“I don’t owe you any explanations,” he gritted out. “Leave me and her the fuck alone.” 

“Oh, you didn’t know about the money.” The file closed in his hand. “Like how she didn’t know about all you did in Colombia? I could tell I caught her off guard when I brought it up.”

Panic erupted inside him, his eyes widening, papers scattering on the floor when he dropped the folders in his hand to take the strides and grab the other man by his dark green jacket lapels, slamming him into the wall. “What did you tell her?!” The words roared from his throat. 

His mind was racing, thinking of all Stechner could’ve told her and knowing without a doubt he’d twist things to make Javier look like a heartless monster—he was so fucking scared he could cry. 

It irritated him how calmly the other man spoke. “Well, I couldn’t believe she didn’t know why you weren’t there to catch Escobar with how ‘serious’ you two are and figured it must’ve slipped your mind, so I just told her the truth of how you got a lot of innocent civilians murdered by helping Los Pepes—men, women, children. I also brought a copy of Judy’s interview for her to read as proof.”

This was his worst nightmare. 

That interview pinned all of the leaked intelligence to Los Pepes on him when they were also getting it from other high-ranking members of Search Bloc, the police force in Colombia dedicated to taking down drug lords. It made him look responsible for all of the carnage and innocent casualties, including the war that happened between Pablo Escobar and Los Pepes that had the former setting off a bomb at a busy shopping center a week before schools were starting, killing a bunch of kids. 

“You’re looking awfully pale, Javier,” Stechner continued. “Do you need to sit down?”  

He didn’t have a chance to explain the truth to her. 

She was going to leave him over his past mistakes. There was no way she’d want to be with someone who fucked up so badly—he was going to lose her, and his heart felt like it was breaking into a million tiny pieces he’d never be able to put back together. 

He was spiraling, his eyes burning with unshed tears as he let go of the man, turning around with his face in his hands, screaming into them FUCK!

Why was this happening to him? Why was Stechner trying to ruin the only good thing in his life? Was this payback for disobeying and taking down the Cali cartel? For revealing the corruption in Colombia? Or was this just for his own fucked up amusement? 

His entire world was crumbling. He should’ve told her sooner. She should’ve heard all of this from him and gotten the truth. 

She was everything to him, and without her, he was nothing. 

He had nothing left to lose if he already lost her, and now he was just angry and fucking tired of people ruining his life. His blood was boiling, rage bubbling up inside him over this vindictive motherfucker who wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone. 

His hands fell, and he turned on his heel to face the bastard. 

“I should’ve done this a long time ago,” he said. 

Stechner smiled. “What’s that?” 

His right fist was tightly clenched, and then he swung, hearing and feeling the sickening crunch as it connected with the other man’s face, who yelped in pain. 

Javier was numb, shaking out his hand as it flexed at his side while Stechner tried to staunch the bleeding coming from his nostrils, the file he had tucked under his arm. 

Javier glared, his tone menacing as he raised a finger, “Leave me and her the fuck alone. If I see you around here again—” He jabbed the other man in the chest. “—I’m getting a fucking restraining order.” 

“I could have you arrested for assaulting a government agent.” He sounded nasally. 

“And how will the CIA feel about one of their agents using government means to harass a civilian? You get me arrested, you lose your fucking job for being a creep. Leave. Us. The. Fuck. Alone. You got what you wanted. She’s probably at the apartment packing my shit as we speak.” He snatched the folder from Stechner. “I’m taking this—now fuck off.” 

With that, he turned around, his heart pounding, heading to where he dropped his files. 

Sheriff Arturo’s assistant, Joy, came out of the conference room, holding her notepad to her chest with wired-rimmed glasses on her freckled face. He’d forgotten she’d been taking notes for her boss at the meeting. 

“Go to the hospital and talk to her,” she said. “I’ll clean up the mess here and make sure he—” She glared at Stechner. “—is escorted out of the building.” Her eyes came back to him, the fresh college graduate looking worried, when she continued, “Whatever is going on sounds bad, and you need to go right now and fix it, Javi. Go to her! Hurry!” 

She was right. 

“Thank you,” he replied and started jogging down the maze of hallways to get out of the building. 

By the time he made it to his truck, sweat was coating his forehead, and he didn’t bother putting on his sunglasses, tossing the file Stechner had on the passenger seat, the tires screeching as he turned onto the roadway. His hand tightly squeezed the steering wheel while the other dug his phone out of his pocket, holding it up to his ear as he speed-dialed Cielito.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

“Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system—”

“Fuck,” he hissed, redialing. 

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

“Your call—” He hit the end call button, glancing at the clock on his dashboard. 

She should be on lunch right now and have her phone. 

She should be answering. 

She always answered. 

She always answered. 

He dialed again. 

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Dread filled him once more. 

“Your call—” He clicked the end button. 

Was she screening his calls? Was she letting him go to voicemail? 

Was she done with him? Was this all over? Was she even going to be at the hospital when he got there? Or did she leave work early to go home and pack his things?

He didn’t want to call her work, but he needed to know if he was heading to the right place, scrolling through his cellphone’s phone book until he found the number he was looking for and pushed call. 

Ring. 

“Doctor’s Hospital of Laredo, how may I direct your call?”

“Post-op nurse’s station.”

“One moment.”

Ring. 

Ring. 

“Post-op. Robyn speakin’,” her cheery voice answered. 

He let out a relieved breath. 

Robyn would know where she was at. 

“Robyn, it’s Javi—“

“She can’t talk right now,” she interrupted in a serious tone, her change in demeanor jolting him and making his stomach drop. 

“Just…” His throat felt tight, swallowing hard while his eyes watered. “Just tell me if she’s there, please,” he all but begged. 

“Of course she’s here.”

“Okay… Thank you…” he numbly replied, ending the call and setting the phone on the bench seat beside him. 

A tear rolled down his cheek. 

“Fuck!” he shouted, hitting the steering wheel. 

How was it that hours ago, his life had been perfect? 

Everything had finally fallen into place—he’d found the perfect woman who loved him and who he loved; he’d gotten his mother’s ring from his dad the day before and was going to take it to the jewelry store Monday to have it sized and altered, actively planning how he was going to propose so it’d be perfect. 

She deserved perfection. 

He’d been living the fucking dream, and now he wasn’t even sure if he still had a girlfriend. 

She wasn’t answering his calls, and she’d roped in her friend to keep him from talking to her. 

She promised him she’d still love him after finding out about his past, and he believed it, but he also knew Stechner was a sadistic prick, and Javier didn’t know what she’d been told—what lies, and exaggerations were said to make him look as horrible as possible. 

It must’ve been jarring for her, and she wanted space—what she needed was to hear the truth, the whole truth of everything he went through down there, that he should’ve fucking told her months ago. He felt like a real piece of shit that he put her in this position. Javier knew her better than anyone else, and had she known about Los Pepes, and all the other shit he’d been keeping from her, he knew for a fact she would’ve sniffed Stechner out right away and ripped him to fucking pieces for trying to sabotage their relationship. But she didn’t know, and that rat bastard got what he wanted. 

The traffic light turned green, and he laid on the horn when the car in front of him didn’t immediately go, passing them when he could as he sped over the speed limit. 

All he could think about was how he had to get to her and straighten this all out—hell, if he needed to, Steve could corroborate everything he was going to tell her. 

He would fix this. He had to fix this. 

There was no other option. 

He couldn’t go back to how he was living before her, which wasn’t living at all; it was just existing with no purpose. There was a purpose now; there was more than a purpose, expanding to hopes and dreams for their future together. 

She was his sun, shining brightly, giving him life, warmth, and helping him grow. He was her moon, faithfully following her anywhere she’d go, reflecting her radiant love, loving her day and night in her best and worst moments. 

He loved her more than anything, and he would do whatever it took to make this right. 

His eyes were burning. 

“Tengo miedo, amá (I’m scared, mom),” he whispered under his breath. “Me duele el corazón (My heart is hurting). No puedo perderla, amá (I can’t lose her, mom). La amo más que a nada en el mundo y no puedo vivir sin a ella (I love her more than anything in the world and I can’t live without my her).” Tears fell down his cheeks. “¿Puedes hablar con alguien en el cielo o dondequiera que estés (Can you talk to someone in heaven or wherever you are)? ¿Por favor, amá (Please, mom)?” He wiped at his face, sniffling. “¿Por favor (Please)? La amo y haré cualquier cosa para recuperarla de vuelta (I love her and I will do anything to get her back).”

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Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

Tagging: @theorganasolo @nicolethered @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin @themarcusmoreno @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @enjoyourlattebitch @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @theewokingdead @guess-my-next-obsession @pedrostories

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier peña/reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

[syddsatyrn]

Je t'aime Violet

By Sydd Satyrn Masterlist

Chapter 1 ⛧ Chapter 2 ⛧ Chapter 3

⛧Pairing: - Alastor x OC!Reader Violet

⛧Fic playlist: Click here!

⛧Warnings: Drinking, smoking, swearing, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, adult themes, 18+ not for minors

⛧Summary: Hello ladies, gentleman and nonbinary friends! I present to you, my series Je t'aime Violet. This story is staring my OC, Violet! She is a deer demon containing a lot of personality. With a gifted voice and a bit of jazz, she's got style and class on lock. After 7 years, Violet and Alastor's feelings towards each other never dissolved. Violet reconnects with the man who left with her heart, will she forgive him? Does Alastor have the ability to set his pride aside for love?

⛧Notes: @hellfiremunsonn is my beta reader, go check out her writing! Its fantastic!

⛧Taglist: @ok-boke @myeternalsin @squiword7 @hxzbinwrites

⛧Chapter 2: Sauntè The sunrise paints your hotel room in orange and yellow hues. You stir in bed and slowly open your eyes. It takes you a moment to remember that you are in a hotel room. You sit up and rub your sleepy eyes. As the haze of sleep fades, your mind starts to process the events of the previous night. The mysterious shadow lurking in your room sends a chill down your spine once again. Was it just a figment of your imagination, or was there truly someone watching you as you slept? Shaking off the unsettling feeling, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up.

With a deep breath you decide to take a quick shower and change into something a bit nicer. You chose an A-line, knee length black dress with a simple corset. After brushing out your long black hair, you put on a pair of kitten heels and do a simple makeup look. Feeling satisfied, you think you're ready to head down to the lobby in search of some coffee. ---------------

Alastor was up all night in shock, when he felt your presence nearby he thought he was going crazy, last night he sent his shadows off to find you and you just so happen to be two doors down from his room. He couldn't believe it. After all these years, here you were, in the same hotel, under the same roof as him. A mix of emotions flooded through him - excitement, curiosity, and a hint of something darker that he couldn't quite place. He remembers the last time you both saw each other, that night still haunts him.

His hands clenched into fists as memories of the past flooded his mind. He knew he had to see you, to talk to you, but he also feared your reaction. Would you welcome him or push him away?

With a deep breath, Alastor stepped out of his room and made his way down the hallway towards your door. The dimly lit corridor seemed longer than usual, each step echoing in the silence of the night. When he finally reached your door, he hesitated for a moment before raising his hand to knock.

Before his knuckles could make contact with the wood, the door swung open, revealing you standing there in the doorway, a mixture of surprise and confusion written on your face. Alastor's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, the same familiar features he remembered so well.

"Alastor," you breathed out, disbelief coloring your voice.

"Violet," he replied, his voice low and laced with static. For a moment, he simply stood there, gazes locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes. The way he said her name made your ears perk up and your tail flicked. Finally, Alastor cleared his throat, breaking the tension heavy in the air. "May I come in?" he asked, his tone almost wavering. Violet hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with memories and questions. Despite the flood of emotions coursing through her, she stepped back, allowing The Radio Demon to enter the room. He moved past her gracefully, his presence commanding yet tinged with an underlying taste of vulnerability that tugged at Violet's heartstrings. As he turned to face her, she noticed a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a stark contrast to his usual confidence. "I never thought I'd see you again," she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Alastor's expression softened at her words, he briefly let his guard down as he observed your appearance.

"Nor I, you," he replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of regret and longing. You stood there, facing each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between you both. Alastor can see the pain in your eyes, the hurt and confusion that mirrored his own. As the tears rolled down your cheeks, without a word, he closed the distance between you and him, pulling you into a tight embrace. The initial shock melted away, replaced by a flood of emotions as you wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as if afraid he might disappear again. Alastor's grip tightened slightly, a silent promise to never let go again. "I'm sorry, Violet," he murmured against your hair, the words heavy with regret. "I should have never left you."

Alastor breathes you in, a familiar smell that has haunted him for years. He holds the back of your head as you let out muffled sobs into his chest. For so long, he had tried to bury the memories of that night, but now they flooded back with a vengeance. As you slowly calmed down in his embrace, Alastor pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. The raw emotion reflected in them made his chest tighten with guilt. "I never stopped thinking about you, my dear," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never stopped thinking about you.” You return, feeling like you might just cry again. You searched his face for any sign of deception, but all you found was love in his gaze. Alastor gently brushed a stray tear from your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "I know I have no right to ask for forgiveness after what I put you through," he began, his voice laced with sincerity, "but I want you to know that I never wanted to leave you. It was the hardest decision I ever made, but it was the only way to protect you from something bigger." The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, you felt a mix of emotions floating inside you - pain, longing, but above all, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time. “Well…you know I can't stay mad at you for very long.” You finally say, breaking the silence and trying to lighten the mood. Alastor’s eyes lit up, relieved by your words. He continues to hold you close like you are the most precious thing in the world. The tension that had lingered between you dissipated, replaced by a sense of familiarity and comfort. His face is pretty red and he looks away. “I never wanted to leave you…” “Alastor, I’ve come to accept that you did it for my benefit, although I may not understand it, I don’t think you’re making it up either.” You reply, his words make your heart swell. Alastor let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, the weight of years of guilt slowly lifting off his shoulders. He gazed at you, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and admiration. "You always were too kind for your own good, my dear." he said softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His face is so close to yours, you swear you’re dreaming right now. The love of your life has returned to you and everything feels exactly like when you first met so long ago. Alastor reaches out and gently cups your face in his hands, your heart is racing, your breath catches in your throat. Without breaking eye contact, Alastor leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wished. But you didn't. Your eyes closed as his lips met yours in a gentle yet passionate kiss. Alastor held you close, his touch reverent yet filled with a hunger that matched your own. The world fell away as you lost yourself in the bittersweet taste. You practically melted in his arms, a feeling that only he was able to accomplish. When you both break the kiss in need of air. He takes a moment to collect himself and reluctantly lets go of you. He takes your hand and smirks. “Unfortunately, I have some business to attend to today, but darling…Would you care to join me for dinner tonight?” He kisses your hand and your face turns a darker shade of red. "J'aimerais ça," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you meet Alastor's gaze. 

(I would like that)

“J'ai hâte d'y être, chérie,” he replies. 

(I'm looking forward to it, Darling.)

——————————————- As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city, you found yourself standing outside a quaint little French restaurant. Alastor stood beside you, his arm gently linked with yours as he led you inside. The ambiance was cozy and inviting, with soft jazz music playing in the background and the scent of delicious food filling the air. The two of you settled at a private table near the window, basking in the soft candlelight that flickered gently. Alastor's eyes never strayed far from yours. He reaches across the table and takes your hand in his. “You look stunning tonight, my dear.” He says, a genuine smile graced your lips as you met his gaze. “You were always such a charmer, Alastor.” You reply and Alastor raises an eyebrow. The waiter comes by and takes your order, he comes back momentarily with two glasses of rye whiskey. Something that only you and Alastor drink. You hold up your glass and he mirrors your gesture. “Sauntè.” “Sauntè, ma chérie.” You and Alastor have always had a lot in common, you both have older tastes and speak French. You’re both deer demons, and you have the same drink of choice. You met him while bartending at a Jazz club, before you had started your career. You couldn’t stop staring at his ears, he ordered rye whiskey and you fell head over heels for the polite man sitting at your counter. He returned several times and once caught you singing in the kitchen. He told you how pretty your voice was and that you should get serious about your talent.

You took his advice to heart and began performing at the club, captivating audiences with your voice. Alastor was always there, watching from the shadows with a proud smile on his face. Eventually, your talent caught the attention of a music producer who offered you a record deal. As your career soared, Alastor remained a constant in your life, supporting you every step of the way. Until that one devastating rainy day when he left. Alastor raised his glass to his lips, the amber liquid glinting in the candlelight. As the whiskey burned its way down his throat, he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him at that moment. It was surreal to be sitting across from you after all these years, almost like a dream he never thought would come true.

“Violet, if I may ask…” He began, your ears twitch. “How exactly did you find me?” “I heard you on television, talking about the hotel. How could I not recognize that voice.” You reply, and take another sip. Alastor's smile faltered slightly as he remembered the reason why his voice was now propagated through the airwaves. "Ah, yes, the hotel," he said wistfully. "It seems my reputation precedes me." There was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he composed himself once more. "But enough about me," he deflected smoothly. "Tell me about you, my dear Violet. How has life treated you in my absence?"

“I just finished my first tour! I’m doing a few local shows next, just paying back some favors.” You summarize the highlights of your tour through Hell and all the different places you played. “I am pleased to hear you are doing so well in your career. I’ve always adored your voice. How does it feel to be a star?” “Don’t get me wrong, the fans are nice and so is the money. But I’ve always felt like there was a hole in my heart when you left.” You admit, it was difficult because he took a piece of you with him. He reached out and gently took your hand in his, his touch comforting and familiar. “Would you ever consider giving me a second chance?” Alastor asks. Your heart skipped a beat at his question.

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you squeezed his hand reassuringly before replying, "Alastor, you never truly lost your chance with me. Despite everything, my feelings for you never changed.” His eyes widened in hopeful disbelief, and a faint blush dusted his cheeks. "I've always believed that second chances are worth giving, especially when it comes to matters of the heart," you continued softly. "But promise me one thing - never leave without saying goodbye again. I couldn't bear to go through that pain a second time."

Alastor's expression softened, "I swear on my very soul, Violet. I will never leave you in the dark again."

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor radio demon #demon alastor #alastor hazbin #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #syddsatyrn #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel radio demon #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel series

[larissaschristies]

Symphonies by LarissasChristies

(AO3 Link in Title)

Summary: You are Lillian Crowe, a young cellist hired by Larissa Weems as the new Music Director at Nevermore. You quickly develop feelings for Larissa, but the other woman is guarded, walls built high from years of having to protect herself. Will you be able to show Larissa that she deserves to love, and to be loved in return?

Chapters: 1/?

Word Count: 1,506

HUGE thank you to @weemssapphic for being my beta!

—————————————————————————————

You looked around the grandiose office, taking in the decor the principal had chosen while waiting for her to arrive. Compared to the rest of the school, it was rather plain, but you could tell that each piece had been selected with purpose and care; the two leather armchairs, one of which you were now sitting in, matched the leather chair sitting empty behind the principal’s desk, the oxblood curtains covering the floor to ceiling windows, the two chandeliers casting a warm glow across the room, all meticulously selected and placed by the principal herself. You lost yourself in thinking about the woman behind the decor, zoning out to a point that you didn’t hear the door to her private quarters open and click shut as the principal appeared.

“Good morning,” she said, her words lilting with a British accent. “I am Principal Weems, and you must be Lillian!”

You stood and whirled toward the sound of her deep voice, having been jolted from your thoughts by her sudden arrival. A small gasp escaped your lips as you took in the woman before you; she was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, and her crystalline blue eyes pierced your own as she strode toward you with her hand out in greeting. You took the opportunity of the space between you to really look at the woman as she made her way to you. She was wearing a form-fitting tan dress that stretched deliciously across her hips, the heels she wore making her even taller than she already is, and her white-blonde hair was perfectly pinned in a gorgeous updo. As your eyes made their way back to her face you realized she had already closed the distance between you. She raised her eyebrow at you and glanced down at her extended hand expectantly.

“Oh, sorry,” you muttered as you rushed to take her hand in your own, and your mind reeled at how small yours felt in hers. “Yes, uh, my name is Lillian and I am here to interview for the position of Music Director.” You fumbled over your words, still trying to recover from being caught off guard.

“Yes, of course.”,” Hher smile as she gestured for you to sit made your stomach clench and you did as she requested. You quietly dug your nails into your palms in a feeble attempt to pull yourself together as the principal launched into her introduction.

——

You walked out of Nevermore with a huge smile on your face. The interview had lasted a little over an hour, Principal Weems asking questions and watching you with a shine in her beautiful eyes as she listened intently to your answers. You found yourself getting carried away a couple of times, but it seemed like the principal had enjoyed the passion with which you responded because by the end of the interview she had offered you the position. Once at your car, you did a little victory dance and took out your phone, and sent a quick text to your best friend before sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Hey Soph, guess what?! I GOT THE JOB!!! Drinks at my place this evening to celebrate?”

You hit send, locking your phone and dropping it in the cup holder before putting your key in the ignition and turning your car on, the radio coming to life playing the lively 4th Movement of Beethoven’s 7th Symphony, one of your favorites. The drive home was short, your apartment only ten minutes away from Nevermore,which was just enough time to finish the symphony. You turned the car off and grabbed your phone from the cup holder before getting out, gently closing the door behind you and walking toward your apartment. Just as you put the key in the front door your phone chimed, a text message popping up on the screen.

“Hell yes, babes!!!!! I knew you would get it, you’re the best cellist I know!!!”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, pushing your door open and tossing your keys into the bowl on your entry table before unlocking your phone to reply.

“I’m the ONLY cellist you know, doofus. Be here around 8.”

You gently slipped your feet out of the heels you had worn for the interview, sighing in relief as your feet relaxed. You hit send on the message as you slid your feet into your slippers, padding over to the couch. After getting comfortable and turning on your television, you found your mind wandering back to the principal, thoughts of finding something to watch gone. She was absolutely gorgeous, and the more you thought about her the hotter your cheeks got. Her deep voice, her crimson lips, those beautiful blue eyes…. what you wouldn’t give to get lost in those eyes and feel how soft those lips are. To hear her moaning your name.

Nope, you thought to yourself, this is your new boss! You can NOT be having these thoughts!

You shook your head and slapped your hands on your knees, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. Your stomach growled as you opened the fridge only to find a moldy apple and some week-old takeout from your favorite Japanese restaurant. For half a moment you contemplated eating the leftovers before your self preservation kicked in and you closed the refrigerator. Your phone dings from the couch and you lean over to grab it, a text from an unknown number on the screen.

“Hello, I apologize for getting your number from your file. This is Principal Weems. Larissa. I was wondering if you might be free this evening? I’d like to get to know you a bit better before the start of the term. Dinner at Koto, say 7pm?”

Your heart skipped a beat at seeing who the text was from. You quickly unlocked your phone and read the message again, your brain taking a minute to catch up with what was happening. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, the blinking cursor taunting you as you try to come up with a reply.

Come on, Lillian, she’s your new boss and simply wants to learn more about her new employee. It’s not that deep! You thought to yourself as you began to type.

“I’d love that, Koto is actually my favorite restaurant! I’ll meet you there at 7!”

You hit send before you could overthink and retype the message six times. As you took a deep breath to steady your heartbeat, a text from Soph came in. Shit.

“8 sounds great! Do you want me to grab anything on my way? I know your fridge is probably barren.”

You rolled your eyes, oddly comforted by how well she knows you, and clicked the message to reply.

“I actually can’t do it tonight, I'm sorry. Larissa— Principal Weems wants to hear more about my career prior to applying at Nevermore over dinner at Koto. Rain check?”

Three bubbles popped up almost immediately as Soph began to reply.

“Dinner at Koto?! Sounds like she wants to do more than just ‘hear about your career’ Lil ;)”

“Oh shut up, there’s literally no way. I am her e m p l o y e e.”

Your phone started to ring then, Soph’s face filling your screen as her contact photo popped up.

“I am her em-ploy-ee,” Soph mocked, her voice echoing around your apartment as you hit the speaker button.

“It is completely normal to want to learn more about the person you have hired to teach your students, it’s not a big deal.” You blushed, your cheeks getting hotter by the second.

“Wait. Am I sensing a hint of…. a crush?” Soph’s voice went up on octave at the end of her question, excitement clearly getting the best of her.

“NO!” You nearly shouted, your cheeks practically catching fire before calmly repeating, “No. I do not have a crush on my new boss. This is just a professional meeting between two coworkers.”

“Oh, my ass, Lil. You totally have a crush on your new boss. Is she taller than you? I bet she’s taller than you. You’re SO predictable.”

“And what if she is?” You said incredulously. You glanced down at your watch, “I’m hanging up now, I need to get ready. Goodbye!” You practically slammed your finger on the red button, briefly missing the days when you could dramatically snap your phone shut. You looked at your watch again: 5:15pm. You had about an hour to get ready before you had to leave and you had no idea what to wear.

Why does it matter, Lillian? Just wear what you’re wearing now, it’s not a date! You told yourself.

With a heavy sigh, you walked toward the bathroom to wash your face and reapply your makeup. Before you knew it, it was time to leave for Koto. You slipped your feet back into the black heels and grabbed your keys. You forced a deep breath to fill your lungs to calm your nerves before you headed out the door

#LarissasChristies #fanfic #Wednesday #wednesday netflix #Larissa Weems #Larissa Weems x OC #Lillian Crowe #Larissa Weems Fanfic

[melodygatesauthor]

The Webs We Weave

Peter B. Parker X Miguel O'Hara

Not Beta Read

I MIGHT write more for this, but as of right now I don't plan for it to be a series.

Summary

Miguel is babysitting May one night while Mary Jane and Peter are on a date. When they come home and Peter is drunk, things take a turn that Miguel wasn't expecting.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, smut, top!Peter, bottom!Miguel, anal sex, we're ignoring anal prep in this one folks, anal creampie, cheating (Peter cheating on MJ), porn with some plot, gay sex, dirty talk, drunk sex, unprotected anal sex.

Word Count: 2k

“Thanks for watching May,” MJ whispered as she walked by Miguel who was sprawled out lazily on the couch.

“Yeah,” Miguel murmured, the fatigue of a long afternoon with the toddler weighing on him.

“I hate to ask this but, Peter is–”

“HEY MIG!” Miguel groaned upon hearing Peter’s voice outdoors, understanding perfectly well what Mary Jane was going to ask of him.

“On it,” Miguel grumbled, making his way to the door.

A drunken Peter was still sitting in the car, playing music far too loud for the neighborhood he lived in, and far too loud for one o’clock in the morning. Not to mention it had been a bit of a struggle to get May to sleep, and Miguel didn’t like the idea of listening to a screaming child all night. He practically ripped the car door off its hinges, turning the radio off before promptly grabbing Peter and pulling him out of the car.

“Will you shut the hell up? Your kid is sleeping.” Miguel hissed through clenched teeth, dragging Peter by the collar of his shirt into the house.

“I’m sorry!” He slurred. “Just trying to have fun with my wife, you know, that’s what I was trying to do!”

“Peter!” MJ whispered harshly, aiding Miguel to the bedroom with her intoxicated husband. “Put him on the bed. You getting drunk every time we have a date night isn’t fun for your wife.”

It was tough to see them like that. Miguel knew how much MJ meant to Peter, and vice versa, but he knew they weren’t happy. They hadn’t been happy for a long time. They’d invite Miguel over for dinner, or sometimes host parties and it would always end in one, or both, of them crying about how miserable they were. 

“Gotta stay together for the kid. I know it might not make sense to you since…”

Peter didn’t say shit like that on purpose, but it always made Miguel wanna knock the guy’s lights out whenever he did. The man’s a fucking idiot, Miguel reminded himself.

“Are you staying?” Mary Jane asked, eyes nearly pleading with Miguel.

He sighed, “yeah, yeah I guess I can. I had plans to go home and get a good night’s rest but yeah I can babysit your husband too. Why the hell not.”

~~~~

Miguel stayed. Of course he stayed. What else was he going to do? Leave his closest friend’s wife to deal with his bullshit? She was choosing to put up with his nonsense as much as Miguel was, but Miguel had a soft spot for Peter and his antics, even if he sported an irritated face ninety-percent of the time. Beneath that tough exterior, he cared deeply for the guy.

Miguel was curled up in the guest room when Peter sauntered down the hallway to the door.

“Mig,” Peter slurred, jumping Miguel in his bed.

“Jesus, Peter. You scared the shit out of–”

“Sh,” Peter shushed, sitting on the bed next to Miguel. “Don’t wanna wake up MJ.”

Miguel could see Peter’s features through the moonlight coming through the large window on the other side of the room. His eyes were underlined with dark circles and hair sticking out in every direction. Miguel’s eyes traced the outline of Peter’s body, white teeshirt sitting loosely over his frame.

“So you thought it was a good idea to wake me up? Peter–”

“I want a divorce, but I don’t want to do that to May.”

Miguel groaned. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard Peter talk like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“You’re drunk. Go to bed.” Miguel grumbled, laying back down and rolling over so his back was to Peter.

“Miguel,” Peter whispered, putting his hand on Miguel’s shoulder.

He tried to shrug Peter’s hand away but the man was persistent. He moved in, curling up behind Miguel and pressing his chest against the larger man’s spine. His arm snaked under Miguel’s arm and around his waist.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m just getting comfy, just relax will ya?” Peter sniffed out a laugh as he cozied up closer behind his friend.

Miguel could feel it, the hard press of Peter's dick against his ass cheek. He tried to ignore it, thinking that drawing attention to it might be more awkward than just letting it go. What Miguel couldn’t ignore, was Peter’s fingers grabbing at the waistband of his boxer-briefs and tugging them down before reaching for Miguel’s to do the same.

“Peter, what the fuck are you doing? Are you stupid?”

“Yeah, but also, really fucking horny, Mig,” he slurred drunkenly. “Be a good friend for me okay? Please?”

Miguel wanted to tell him to stop…didn’t he? This was weird, and it was wrong. MJ was right in the other room, and Peter was his best friend. They’d always been just friends…that’s it.

Miguel heard Peter spit and felt him jerk himself once, and then twice, before sliding his cock between Miguel’s cheeks. Peter couldn’t see the way Miguel was gripping the sheets, nor the way his jaw was clenched so tight he thought his teeth might break.

“I’ve never done anything like this before so do I like…do I just…”

He moved his hips forward, the fat tip of his cock rested against Miguel’s tight ring of muscle. Miguel exhaled sharply, cock springing to life almost immediately with the prod of Peter’s thick head. He tried to relax, making himself more pliant. Peter pushed forward, his wide girth slipping into Miguel’s hole like it belonged there.

“Holy shit,” Peter breathed, feeling his cock throb inside Miguel’s tight ass. “You’re so tight, Mig.”

Miguel couldn’t respond, the feeling of Peter’s cock stretching him out made his brain short-circuit. He huffed out through his nostrils, fingers digging into the sheets as Peter started rocking himself back and forth. The bed creaked, forcing him to slow just a tad, fearful that Mary Jane would find out what they were doing.

Peter’s dick twitched inside of Miguel again, forcing him to choke back a moan. He still didn’t want to tell Peter he liked it. Part of him, despite his friend already being balls deep in his guts, still wanted to pretend that they weren’t doing what they were doing. Miguel’s cock ached, the glossy tip leaking precum all over the bedding. He rutted forward, the delicious friction of the sheets forcing a soft exhale from his lips.

“God, Mig, you like that hm?” Peter asked, his pace still a slow roll into Miguel, body shuddering every time he bottomed out. “I can hear you whining, it’s cute,” Peter laughed.

“Cállate,” Miguel grumbled, trying to ignore how good it felt to have Peter stretching him out like that.

“Oh come on Mig, you…fuck…you like it,” Peter teased.

Miguel didn’t say a word, not wanting to give Peter the satisfaction of thinking he’d won Miguel over. He was still trying to process the fact that his best friend of the last couple years was buried deep in his ass with the man’s wife sleeping just two doors down. Miguel’s talons extended outward, digging into the extra pillow by his head. He pulled it down to his cock, shuddering at the feeling of his slick length brushing against the fabric.

“Y’know if you roll that thing up just right I bet it would feel amazing,” Peter slurred in Miguel’s ear. “Try it.”

Miguel grumbled but eventually conceded to Peter’s idea, rolling the pillow so it had a hole in the middle and stuffing his dick inside. The fucker was right. It did feel good. He breathed out, bucking his hips forward into the makeshift fleshlight.

“You thinking about me, Mig?” Peter’s hips rolled behind Miguel even faster. “You thinking about how good it would feel to fuck my ass? F-fuck, maybe I’ll l-let you try me out next t-time.”

Peter started struggling to speak, breaths coming out in sharp gasps the closer he got to spilling everything he had into Miguel’s tight hole. Miguel felt Peter’s hands digging into the meat of his narrow hips. His thrusts were getting more ragged and sloppy, and Miguel couldn’t shake the delicious feeling of his own cock throbbing and leaking into the pillow the more he fucked into it.

God he felt depraved, happily letting his drunken friend fuck him dumb while he rutted desperately into a damn pillow. Of all the times Miguel had felt self-loathing, this was near the top of his list. Every time Peter’s cock stuffed him to the brim though, he forgot all about it, mind going numb with nothing but the feeling of his asshole getting railed.

“Peter, this is so f-fucking dumb,” Miguel said, still holding on to the smallest bit of dignity he had left, the part of him that felt bad for Mary Jane.

“Sh,” Peter whispered, nails digging harder into Miguel, “I’m so close Mig, please.”

Peter whined in Miguel’s ear, and how could he possibly say no to that?

Giving in, Miguel started moving along with Peter’s rhythm, fucking the hole he made in the pillow like it belonged to a living, breathing human. Miguel’s mind went blank, filled with nothing but the feeling of his aching cock against the fabric while he rolled his hips faster.

“Oh god Mig, do you want me to come in your ass? I can pull out if you want I…oh shit I’m…” Peter didn’t wait for an answer before he felt his cock twitching and shooting hot ropes deep into Miguel’s tight hole.

“Fuck, Parker, for fuck’s sake…”

Miguel lost it, cum spilling out into the stark white pillow while his asshole contracted around Peter’s dick. He’d never had such a strong orgasm before that night, the feeling forcing his entire body to stiffen and shake with every throb of his cock. They laid there for a while, the room filled with nothing but their combined heavy breaths before Peter finally pulled out, leaving Miguel feeling empty.

“Fuck, Miguel,” he whispered, kissing Miguel’s neck once before pulling his sweats back up around his hips.

Miguel didn’t turn around. He didn’t know what he’d do even if he had. It didn’t feel like the right time for post-sex cuddling and a soft makeout session, so Miguel just kept his body turned away from Peter as the man got up and left the room silently. If not for the cum still dripping out of Miguel’s spent asshole, it would be like Peter was never there in the first place.

When morning came, Miguel wasn’t sure what would happen. Would Peter even remember stealing into Miguel’s room the night before? Would he go on as if nothing ever happened? As far as Miguel was concerned, it would be best if they let it go. How could they possibly continue running the Spider Society as partners if they were…doing things in secret behind the scenes? It didn’t make sense. Not to mention…Mary Jane.

She was smiling when Miguel made his way into the kitchen in the morning, the red headed toddler hanging off her shoulders while she made coffee. Miguel and MJ exchanged pleasantries, but Miguel’s aching rear amplified his guilt tenfold. He felt like he should tell the blissfully ignorant wife that her husband had cheated on her the night before.

Then again…Miguel didn’t exactly do anything to stop it.

“Morning!” Peter exclaimed, coming out of his bedroom with a wide stretch and a loud yawn.

“Morning, Peter,” both Miguel and Mary Jane said in unison, turning to face him.

“I’m so sorry if I caused too much trouble last night, I was deeerunk,” he said nonchalantly, walking up behind MJ at the counter and kissing her on the cheek.

While she was turned away, Peter and Miguel shared a glance where Peter looked Miguel up and down.

“I don’t remember much so, I hope I wasn’t a…pain in the ass…”

Miguel gulped. Peter clearly didn’t intend on ignoring what had happened between them the night before, and Miguel couldn’t shake the new feelings he felt stirring inside.

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#miguel o'hara #astv #astv miguel #peter b x miguel #peter b parker #peter b parker x miguel o'hara #spiderdads #miguel x peter #miguel o'hara x peter b parker #miguel o'hara x peter b #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #spider man 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #across the spider verse #peter b atsv

[noisynaia]

Driving Home for Christmas

A Modern Mandalorian AU

summary: It's your first Christmas with your son Grogu and you are a little heartbroken that Din won't be home to experience it with you. Din is, however, determined not to miss the holiday with his little family.

word count: 2k

pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader 

note: Title from 'Driving Home for Christmas' by Chris Rea. Just a little thing I wrote in a rush, just a lot of fluff. Adoption, new parents. No use of (y/n). This has not been beta or proofread. English is not my native language.

Happy holidays to all who celebrate! ♥︎

Din curses under his breath as he rolls the car a few feet forward before the queue again comes to a halt. The red tint from the taillights of the car in front of him is painting his face and the dashboard of the rental in a garnet glow, he turns on the radio to drown out the sound of the windshield wipers. The snow has begun to fall again and he feels stiff and sore after so many hours sitting in the same position behind the wheel. 

He had been sitting in the sad hotel room after just ending a facetime call from you. The view of you and Grogu with his little button nose and big eyes had been too much. The thought of not being able to hold either of you in his arms until the new year had been unbearable, so he stood up and packed his things. There was no way he was going to spend Christmas without the two of you.

It had not been possible to get a flight with such a short notice this close to Christmas eve. Din had made a quick decision, renting the first car he could get his hands on and started on the eight hour drive home. It is not the first Christmas after getting with you, he has had to be away, do to work. He has always hated having to leave you, even though the holiday season is not something Din has ever really cared for; he is usually already over it by the end of November, but that was before he had met you, and becoming a father is what really has tipped his view on the holiday season. He is not going to miss Christmas this year. 

· · ❄︎ · ·

You are staring blankly into the oven where the cookies you have made are baking. You had got up early this morning to get everything ready.

Grogu is sitting in his highchair at the kitchen table, happily munching on the grapes you just had cut for him. It’s around 11 am on the 24th and you have managed to finish about all of the things that needed to be finished by now. All of the gifts have been wrapped, the guest room made ready for your guests and the entire house has been cleaned. You are happy, you are going to spend your first Christmas with Grogu, and even though he is too young to really understand what’s going on you want it to be a good one. But you are feeling a bit sad as well. You had really wished that Din would have been home to experience it with you… 

You know how bad he feels when he has to leave for work, but this time had been especially bad. It has been a recurring thing through your entire relationship and, even though you miss him when he is gone, you have never had a problem with it. That has changed after adopting Grogu, Din’s absence feels stronger now, and you know that Din is feeling awful every time he has to go. He had looked sad when you had facetimed in the morning, his eyes had told you how bad he wanted to be home, he had smiled for Grogus sake, but you know him too well and can look through his facade.                   

You are lost in thoughts about Din and how you had hoped he was here with you right now when the sound of the doorbell brings you back to reality. You get yourself together and pick Grogu, who has just finished his snack, up from his chair and settle him on your hip, bringing him with you to the door to let your guests in.

Peli is standing in the door with a giant smile on her face, Greef is standing behind her, his face and torso completely hidden behind the crazy amount of presents he is holding in his arms that you know most of are for Grogu. Peli and Greef are not Din’s real parents, but they might as well be, and they definitely have taken on the role as grandparents after you and Din have gotten Grogu.               

“Look who is here Grogu!” You say to your son, bouncing him gently on your hip. 

“Is that my big boy!” Peli exclames, holding her arms out for him.    

The little boy hides his face in the crook of your neck as you greet your guests and lovingly scolds them for going way overboard with the gifts, but it doesn’t take long before he peeks out from his hiding spot, offering Peli and Karga a shy smile and a little ‘hi’. He is usually a total chatterbox, often cooing and babbling to you and Din or at his beloved frog stuffie, but he hasn’t really begun talking yet. His vocabulary contains of about five words which are; hi, which he uses generously when shyness doesn’t overtake him. Tanks, his version of thanks, which he also is using a lot, he really is a polite little boy. Then there is booie, which he happily squeals every time his favourite cartoon dog is on the tv. Fog, which is his version of the word frog, (his favourite animal) he might have an unfortunate pronunciation, but he is so cute when he says it that it doesn’t matter. And last but not least ‘patu’ which neither you or Din can figure out what actually means, but the little boy loves saying it and it has a very cute sound to it.  

“Don’t go all shy on me now! We were best of friends the last time I saw you.” Peli whines and Grogu is luckily quick to lose the last of his shyness, sticking his little arms out for Peli to hold him. You hand him over and instead take some of the many gifts from Greef so he can get through the door and get his coat off.  

· · ❄︎ · · 

The four of you are having a cosy day together. You decorated cookies and went for a walk in the snow, Grogu had laughed every time a snowflake landed on his nose or one of his cute chubby cheeks, you truly are grateful for seeing him being such a happy little boy. You and Greef are in the kitchen now, the cheerful sound of Ella Fitzgerald's ‘Santa Claus Got Stuck in My Chimney’ sounding from the radio while Peli is playing with Grogu in the living room. You are preparing the potatoes and side dishes while Greef is in charge of the meat. You can’t help but tell him about how you wish Din could have been here with you all, allowing yourself to feel a little sad again now that Peli is distracting Grogu. 

“I know that he wishes he could be here too.” Din’s father figure assures you with a sympathetic look.     

“But do you think he would be willing to give it up ?” You can’t help but ask, you know how much Din cares about his work, but him missing out on important things with Grogu doesn’t make it seem worth it to you. 

Greef is about to open his mouth to answer you when you are interrupted by the glow from a pair of headlights from your driveway which surprises you, you’re not expecting any other guests and you have never heard of Christmas carolers coming by car. You only get to wonder who it can be for a few seconds before you hear the doorbell ring. You remove your apron and wipe your hands on a dishtowel before you go to open the front door. The surprise of who is standing on the doorstep is overwhelming and you can barely believe that he is real. In front of you stands a very tired looking Din, his hair is messy and he. You are standing frozen by shock and surprise for a few seconds before you crash forward into his arms. He hugs you tight against his chest and you feel your eyes getting watery. 

“What are you doing here?” You croak through happy tears. 

“I came home for Christmas.” He says it so matter of factly that you can’t help but laugh. 

“But what about-” You begin, but are cut off by his lips being pressed against your own. 

“It’s not worth it, not if I’ll have to miss out on this.” He whispers into your mouth as he gently caresses your cheekbone with his knuckles.   

You are completely engulfed by Din’s embrace and so dumbfounded by the fact that he’s here that you make a little jump of surprise when a loud happy shriek is heard from behind you. In the door stands Peli with Grogu in her arms whose face is about to be split in half by the giant smile on his face. Karga stands behind them with a hand on Peli’s shoulder, smiling warmly still wearing his Rudolfh the reindeer apron. 

Grogu is fidgeting in Peli’s arms and she sets him down and the second he makes contact with the floor he excitedly whaddle-runs towards you on his little toddler legs. The view of your little boy running up to you makes you feel like your heart might burst. And even though a part of you wants to never be released from Din’s embrace, you have no hard feelings when Din let go of you to kneel down and take his sons into his arms. Grogu laughs loudly as Din stands up, planting a kiss on his son's chubby cheek and blows a raspberry for good measure. 

“Missed you too buddy.” Your husband says in the gentlest of voice as Grogu plants a tiny hand on each of Din’s cheeks. “Pa!” He shrieks happily at Din, probably too excited to pronounce his usual ‘patu’ you assume, but then he catches you by surprise as he happily exclaims an almost perfect. “Papa!” 

Grogu laughs at Din’s surprised face, before turning his head to look at you with a proud look on his little face. From your eyes, that already were damp by the surprise of Din’s homecoming, fresh warm tears are falling down your face. Din makes a choked sound from deep inside his chest and looks at you, his entire face lit up and his warm brown eyes blown wide by surprise and happiness. “Did you hear that?!” 

“Yeah, I did.” You nod with a big smile on your face. 

Din takes a step over to you, holding Grogu with one arm and sliding the other one around you, holding the two most important people in his life tight. 

The three of you stand like this for a long moment before Grogu gets impatient and begins to wiggle to be sat down. Din obliges, setting him down on the doormat from where he walks back to Peli and Greef who both have big smiles on their faces. You and Din stay for a brief moment, needing a little moment alone before going in to join them. Din holding you tight as he wipes away a tear from under your eye with a gentle thumb 

“I can’t believe you’re here.” You whisper.

Din kiss your lips softly before answering. “Me neither, but I just couldn’t miss this.” He shakes his head lightly, the corner of his eyes shining with dampness. You can’t believe how lucky you are to have him, he had had a hard time showing his emotions in the beginning of your relationship, but he has always had a big and loving heart and getting to see him getting more and more comfortable with showing and sharing his emotions over the years has been such a beautiful journey.  

 “I love you so much Mesh’la.” He says bringing your hand up to his mouth to leave a kiss in the palm of your hand.

“I love you too Din.” 

He kisses your lips again before leading you through the door hand in hand to go inside and celebrate Christmas with your little family.       

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin #mando x reader #mando x you #mando fanfiction #grogu djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x female reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #christmas fic

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

And Darling, All My Dreaming

This is super late but I had such a hard time with the smut, your feedback would be very helpful, I really hope you enjoy.

The epilogue of The Way the Stars Love the Heavens series.

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6.

Contains: Mild angst, fluff, smut (fingers, p in v) not beta read.

Follow #the way the stars love the heavens for updates

3.8K words

But it came easy, darling As natural as another leg around you in the bed frame - Hozier To Someone From A Warm Climate (Uiscefhuaraithe).

Dinner was an affair filled with anticipation, the afternoon patrol shift finished after the run of hot food, so you piled a plate high and waited outside your window for Ghost to walk by. He protested at first, commenting that he couldn't stop to eat, but a quick call over the radio had Alejandro running to fill in for ten minutes while chuckling about love.

But that was two hours ago, and as the seconds passed, your excitement grew. Simon's shift would be over, which meant he was making his way to you right now and right on cue, his signature knock sounded at your door as you rushed up to open it. "Hi, come in."

He was maskless, his hair slightly damp from the shower he must have taken before coming to your door, and he stepped into your room with a smile. "Hello love." He leaned down and pressed a chased kiss to your cheek, and you took a deep breath as the smell of his shampoo filled the air around you.

You gestured to the small table and chairs in the corner. "Would you like some tea?"

"That would be nice, thank you." He pulled out your chair before sitting down, and you went to the little cupboard bolted to the wall, pulled out the box of tea bags and the cups and placed them on the table before twisting around to switch on the jug.

"If I show you something, do you promise to keep it a secret?" You knew he would say yes, but you also knew what the others were like, once the cat was out of the bag, there would be no getting it back in.

"Of course love." The room was small enough that he could stretch over to touch you, and he spun you around to face him with his hand on your hip as he continued. "You can tell me anything, I won't tell a soul."

"Ok." You spun back around and grabbed the two boxes right at the centre and placed them on the table before pouring the hot water over the tea bags that Simon had put in the cups. "My maternal Aunt runs a chocolate shop called Le Chalet du Chocolat, and whenever I'm away, she sends me chocolates and tea biscuits. There's never enough to share with everyone, so I keep them to myself, but I figure that if you don't tell anyone I have them, then I can share with you."

He grinned and threw open the box of chocolate biscuits before dipping one in his hot tea and taking a bite and his eyes rolled into his skull as he let out a moan. "Good?"

He took another sip of tea and nodded. "Amazing." His smile turned mischievous, and he leaned in close. "What flavour are the chocolates?"

You opened the box and plucked one out, the outside was a mix of milk and white chocolate, and you took his hand in yours before placing the chocolate in his upturned palm. "This one is white chocolate and bourbon caramel. Eat it slowly, if you down it in one, you'll ruin it."

He did as he was told, biting half and holding it in his mouth so the chocolate melted slowly. "Ooh luvly, thith ith the beft thing ever."

You giggled as he stuffed the rest and you offered him another, but he shook his head. "When my aunt finds out I'm with someone she'll send a whole barrel."

He took a sip of his tea and leaned back in the chair, running his hand through his short hair as he watched the far-away spotlight coming through the opening window wash over your face. "I've never heard you talk about your mum, what's going on there?"

It was bound to come up, especially after what happened with your father. "A car accident when I was ten. It happened on base and the rumour was she was hit by one of the visiting politicians who was drunk off his face. She was killed on impact."

He placed his cup down and reached out, his hand resting on yours. "I'm sorry."

You shrugged. "These things happen."

"What happened to the guy that did it?" His thumb was stroking the back of your hand and he put his cup down so he could place the other one on your knee.

"He's dead, it happened a few weeks after the crash. There were some suspicions that my father did it but it never went past idle gossip." You knew it was him, maybe that was why you put up with his bullshit but that was the first and last good thing he ever did as a family man. "What about you? I know you look after your mum and you've got a nephew."

He smiled. "Yeah, little Joe is great." He took a deep breath and squeezed your hand. "My dad's a piece of shit, it's safe to say your father isn't the first I've hit."

You smiled softly and finished your tea, moving to brush your fingertips over the small, faded scar on his cheek. "Well, I think you're wonderful, paternal violence and all."

He grinned and pushed himself off the chair, pointing to the empty cups on the table. "I'll help you clean up."

You nodded, he was always so sweet and considerate, sometimes you couldn't believe what he did for a living. "I'd like that."

****

The air was different when you returned to your dorm, Soap's declaration when he saw you both in the kitchen of keeping Price busy made you laugh so hard that by the time you walked in the door, you were out of breath. Simon leaned down and kissed you through his smile as you placed both hands on his cheeks, and he pulled back to press speedy kisses all over your face. "I love you."

You smiled wider and pulled him into another kiss, your lips brushing his as you exchanged breath. "I love you too Simon." He made you feel safe, like nothing in the world could touch you, and the comfort it created in your chest made you want to melt into his arms and never leave.

You pulled his top off, his warmth flooding your palms as you rested your hands on his heavily muscled pecs. He felt like a furnace, his heart thumping steadily under your hand as his chest rose and fell with each breath. His arm wrapped around you to hold you closer but the kiss slowed as you tensed with a thought. "I don't have any condoms."

He nodded and smiled warmly as he replied. "We get tested before every deployment."

The memory of a clinical white room filled your brain as you giggled. "So you also had to talk to a really old guy about your sex life?"

He went beet red and hid his face in your neck. "Yeah. What about.." He trailed off, trying to figure out how to put it.

"I'm on birth control." He smiled against your skin and pressed soft kisses to your neck as he began to unbutton your top.

"Rog." His tone was light and full of fondness, and you could hear the edge of lust as he pushed your blouse off your shoulder while his eyes racked over your body.

His lips returned to your neck as he reached behind you to unclasp your bra. "One handed, impressive."

He chuckled, it was all baritone and ego. "I can do it with my teeth too." When his hands found your breasts, they were gentle and languid, all soft and slow, like he was trying to savour every second. You pulled his belt from the loops and opened his pants while he kissed over your skin, moving from shoulder dome to shoulder dome, then bending his immense frame to kiss down the middle of your chest.

His pants pooled around his ankles as his lips moved to the tops of your breasts, then down more until his stubble was scratching your skin and his mouth was sealing around your nipple. Your head tilted back as the warmth from his mouth spread across your torso, one of his hands moving to support your upper back while the other paid attention to your other breast.

His mouth and hands switched positions, and the slow slide of his hands on your body meant you felt every callous as his lips made their way back up your body. Your heart raced as you slid your hand down his abs, slowing to trace his happy trail before you palmed his hard cock while he let out a grunt. You had to give it to him, even without seeing it, you could tell that he was perfectly proportioned and you weren't surprised that he was big everywhere.

He placed his hand over yours and moved it to his hip as the other hand removed the rest of your clothing, pulling your open jeans and panties down with the same careful slowness as he took you in like he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory." Fuck lovely, you're the most pretty thing I've ever seen."

You smiled and ran your fingertip back and forth over the raised scar you could feel under your hand. "You're not too bad yourself." He leaned down to kiss you as he walked you back towards the bed, and as your knees hit the edge, you pushed your hands into his underpants and ran your hands down the sides of his thighs to slide them down his legs and off into the floor.

Catching sight of his cock as it stood hard against his stomach was mind-melting, and your breathing quickened as you took in the vision. The tip was red and leaking, and now that you had laid eyes on it, it looked even bigger. He must have sensed your mild trepidation because he smiled softly as he leaned down to take you in a gentle kiss before pulling back and holding your check between his fingers as he looked into your eyes with so much affection. "I'm gonna look after you, don't worry."

His lips found yours again, and he took control of the kiss as you moved to lay on the bed, his hand going behind your head so you could relax on your way down to the pillow. When your head touched the plushness, he settled between your legs while you threw one leg over his hip. You felt even warmer with all the skin-to-skin contact, and you imagined how wonderful the cold English nights would feel cuddled up to him in bed.

His hand slid down your body to your ribs, then to the thigh wrapped around his hip as he shifted both of you on your sides. He ran his hand up and down your leg a few times before sliding around to the front of your body, his fingers tip pausing on your mound as he pulled away from your lips once more. "You gonna show me how you like to be touched, lovely?" His voice was even rougher than usual, and you could hear the lust in it as the words washed over your lips.

"Of course." There was that consideration again, and you felt comforted that he didn't let any ego get in the way of your enjoyment. You sild your hand from the hard round of his shoulder, down his arm and placed it over his as you moved your leg a little further up his body to give him more room. His nose bumped yours as you guided his fingers through your slit and to your clit, and your breath caught in your throat when his fingers made contact. You didn't think there was a fingertip without roughness, but there was no thought towards the violence that caused it, not with the way he was touching you.

You inhaled sharply at the sensation, and he picked up on it. "Just like that, love?" You moaned an affirmative and lifted your hand away to wrap around his cock, but his hand left your body and went to your wrist to stop you. "There's plenty of time for that, let me focus on you tonight." You went to protest, but he nipped your lower lip softly before kissing his way to your ear. "Let me show you how good I can be to you."

Who were you to deny such a gentlemanly request? "Alright then."

His hand returned to your centre and he kept the same speed and pressure with his thumb as his middle and index finger circled your entrance. He grunted, and the sound filled your body with heat. "Fuck you're wet. Is all this for me, lovely?"

You tried to reply, but it was cut off in your throat as he slid his fingers inside you. He moved slowly, his fingertips exploring until they reached the rough spot that made your legs twitch. "Just there?" You nodded and he stopped. "I need you to use your words, love."

It took a moment but the soft look in his eyes and the gentle kisses he was pressing to your face got the words out. "Yes, there."

"You're so good for me." He smiled when the praise made you clench around him and kissed a line from your cheek to your neck to suck a mark into your skin. Along with adding to the warmth spreading in your core, all the growing bruises served to do was prove Simon's possessive streak.

"More please." The soft but expectant look on his face told you that you didn't provide enough detail. "Please go faster."

He did as you asked and feeling slowly spreading outwards from his fingers through your body caused the coil tightening in your core to grow. "See, love, all you need to do is ask me, and I'll give you whatever you want."

"Kiss me again." It was getting hard to talk now and the impending orgasm was greying out everything else but Simon.

He grinned and placed his hand on your cheek, his lips brushing yours softly as his thumb brushed your cheek before he replied. "Now that's something you never need to ask me for." His lips weren't as soft this time and he swallowed your moans as you got closer to the edge.

"Simon, I…"

He cut you off with a kiss. "I know, love. It's alright." He had always been reassuring, but it felt different like this, like he thought anything else was improper and ungentlemanly. You gasped as it hit, any sound stolen from your throat from the overwhelming sensations as he worked you through it. He waited until the orgasm was well and truly over, making sure the pleasure was drained dry before he pulled his fingers from you, chuckling as you twitched before he licked them with a moan. "Fuck lovely, you taste pretty too."

You knew what he was about to ask, the way he was looking you up and down told you, but you didn't have the patience for that tonight. You ran your hand down his body and smiled at him. "That can wait, we have all the time in the world."

He blinked, slightly confused at your denial but he recovered quickly. "Alright love, it's your loss."

He started smiling as you did, and a gentle laughter filled the air. "You've got a bit of an ego, did you know that?"

He pecked you, then brushed a strand of hair off your face. "I'm aware. Well, lovely, if you don't want that, what do you want?"

Your hand shifted from his side, your fingers running up and down his Adonis belt and to his cock. "I want you inside me."

His eyes grew dark, the honey brown swallowed by the black of his pupil as his breath hitched. You continued to stroke him, and he kissed your cheek as he wrapped his hand over yours to guide it. "I can do that."

He rolled on top of you as his lips found yours, and you wrapped your legs around him as he settled between your thighs. He pulled your hand off of him and brought your fingers to his lips, kissing each one before placing your hand on his shoulder. He grabbed his cock and ran it up and down your slit. "You ready, love?" There was something about being asked that felt like the security of a solid wall in the middle of a storm, like you'd always be safe.

"Oh yes ple…." The sensation was overwhelming, he went slowly but the stretch still stole the breath from your lungs. He rocked his hips, going deeper each time until he had bottomed out, and then he was pushing himself up on his hands to look into your eyes as he paused his hips so you could adjust to his size.

"You right there, lovely?" His voice was tight and his arms tensed as he tried to compose himself.

"I'm great, are you alright?" You took your hand off his chest and ran it up and down his arm, slowing to trace the patterns of the tattoo on his forearm.

"You're squeezing the fucking life out of me." He took in a shuddering breath and started moving, and despite it feeling like you had nowhere to go, like he was overwhelming your every sense, the pleasure was overpowering everything. He shifted his weight to one hand and slid the other down your body to your clit as his hips picked up speed. He angled his hips to hit your G-spot as his fingers found the correct pace and pressure and you rolled your hips to match his tempo as he let out a feral grunt.

You whimpered, and it had a tinge that seemed to spur him on because his hips quickened again, and you fought the urge to sink your teeth into the bulging muscle of that place where his neck and shoulder met as the pleasure built.

He took note of your rapid breath and the sheen of sweat that had dusted your chest, the way your moans were slowly becoming more desperate as you grew tighter around him. "Come on love, I'm not going to last much longer and I want you to cum for me again." You could tell his ego wasn't taking a hit, just that he wanted you to feel good. "I know you can, you're such a good girl."

There was that praise again, so genuine and soft and there was no way you could refuse that. You finally gave in to the urge to bite him, and it only made him thrust harder, the force of it and the fast circles on your clit the final things you needed to fall over the edge like the rush of a waterfall during a flood.

"Fucken 'ell love. I love you so fucking much." He spoke the words into your neck, his hips stuttering as he pulsed inside you, pushed into bliss by the way you clenched around him.

You wrapped your arms around him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, the afterglow coming in thick and fast as he rested his weight on you like a heated blanket. "I love you too dearest."

He chuckled, and it sent vibrations through your chest like the rumbling of a thunderstorm. "Dearest, I like that."

He went to roll off you and you stopped him, wrapping your arms around his body and pulling him to you. "Please don't go anywhere."

He smiled softly and kissed the tip of your nose. "I'll stay here as long as you need." He took a deep breath and pulled back just far enough to brush a sweat stuck strand off your face. "How are you feeling lovely?"

"I'm great, you?" Great didn't even cover it and despite how heavy he was, his weight created a pleasant tiredness that made even the thin rubber mattress feel comfortable.

His fingertips grazed the bandage in your arm and he sighed. "I'll change that before we head to bed, I don't want you waking up through the night with it giving you trouble."

You sighed and tapped his shoulder so you could roll on your side. He went with you, collecting you in his arms as you buried your face in his chest. "You are so wonderful, I don't know what I did to get so lucky."

He chuckled. "Nah love, I'm the lucky one." He petted your legs, then got up, booping your nose with a smile before he left the bed entirely. "I'm just going to get something to clean you up."

He walked over to the pile of towels and picked up a face one, then walked over to the jug, touching with the back of his hand to make sure the water that had boiled for the tea wasn't too hot before damping the towel and returning to the bed. He cleaned you up, chuckling as you twitched at the oversensitivity. "Sorry love."

He threw the towel in the corner and took you back into his arms, rubbing his nose on the top of your head as the smell of your shampoo filled his nostrils. "I love you y/n."

You smiled as he took your hand in his and linked your fingers together. "I love you too."

****

Simon was right, you didn't realise how much your arm was hurting until he was grazing the bruise with his fingers while he waited for the antibiotic cream to soak in. He took care of the injury with such gentleness that by the time it was rewrapped, you had forgotten it was there. 

When it was finally time to end the night, you rested your head on his chest while he ran his hand up and down your leg as his heart thumped under your ear. "Did you enjoy yourself tonight love?" 

You expected him to ask, and you knew this was about to be the norm. "Oh yes, that's almost a silly question." 

He chuckled softly. "Good to know." 

Knock knock

Suddenly, Simon's oversized shirt made you feel naked and he pulled the blanket around you as he shouted at the door, uncaring that he was in your room. "What do you want?" 

Price's voice came through the wood with urgency. "I'm sorry, you'll have to sleep your night off on the plane; there's been a threat against the crown, and the 141 has been asked to carry out the protection." 

You sighed and Simon's jaw clenched. "Right boss, we'll be out in ten." He turned to you then pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I'm sorry love, I'll help you pack." 

You smiled softly. "As long as I can sleep on your shoulder on the way there, I'm happy." 

Fin

One shots to come

@chaos-4baby @theesirenteller @shuttlelauncher81 @carma-fanficaddict

#simon riley/you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon riley/reader #the way the stars love the heavens #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x reader smut #call of duty smut

[quietlyimplode]

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 9 - Polaroid

Warnings: alluded to child abuse and child neglect but nothing explicit.

Word Count: 1.2k (gif not mine)

Summary: Natasha holds hope for Christmas.

A/N: I wish I had the time to actually think this fic through but it just is what is it coming through. No beta, and a minimal read through. Mistakes are my own; I know.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

1994

OHIO

Christmas season seems to put them all on edge.

Alexei leaves and Melina growls at them at clean. It’s nothing new and Natasha doesn’t mind the monotony of cleaning the house.

From where she’s come from, cleaning is almost a luxury to the hits and bruises of hard labour to get her small muscles strong.

Melina even allows music as they do so.

Yelena fiddles with the radio and she gets up and does a dance whilst Natasha cleans around her.

Christmas music plays and Natasha doesn’t quite understand the sentiments behind it.

Melina is tolerant until she isn’t and it’s the variability that sets Natasha on edge.

The week before Christmas, Natasha hears Yelena asks about Santa.

Natasha knows there’s no such thing.

How could there be a magical man in the sky that delivers presents, or answer wishes.

She hears Melinda talk about it, and anger curls low at Yelena’s hope and optimism.

“We get presents?” Yelena asks.

Natasha rolls over.

She doesn’t hear the response.

There’s no way that Melina would get them gifts. Alexei wouldn’t allow it either.

Natasha dreams of a man coming into her room, but this time he leaves gifts of flowers and food.

Candy mostly, but fruit too, it drags her deeper into sleep and for the first time in a long time she sleeps soundly.

.

Boxes sit under a Christmas tree. Natasha eyes them suspiciously at first.

There’s lights set up around it. Not Christmas lights but large stage lights.

Yelena shakes boxes, and Melina tells her not to touch them.

It fills Natasha with hope.

Maybe in the boxes there is toys, maybe there’s some pencils to draw with, candy? maybe a book?

She eyes the boxes carefully, not really believing that’s the case but wanting to believe it with all her heart.

As Christmas crawls closer, her hope grows.

Melina leaves for a couple of days to meet with Alexei and leaves Natasha in charge of Yelena.

It’s peaceful and fun.

They dance and sing and watch the television.

Natasha teaches Yelena some Russian and they have ice cream for dinner.

They sleep in the same bed and Natasha reads to her the books that they have.

Yelena begs her to open the boxes.

It’s the only rule Natasha has.

She desperately wants to, but she wants to preserve the magic of Christmas Day.

Two days pass before Melina returns.

Yelena runs to hug her and Natasha holds back, jealous of her easy trust.

The night before Christmas, Melina makes them dress up.

It sets Natasha on edge.

The last time she had to dress up and stand in front of people, bad things happened.

They’re made to stand in front of the tree and pose, whilst Melina takes pictures.

Natasha flinches every time the flash goes off.

Melina berates her to stay still.

She tries to smile as ordered, but it feels like dread.

“Can we open the presents tomorrow?” Natasha asks, on a whim.

Melina shrugs.

“You can open them now, there’s nothing in them.”

In that moment, Natasha feels her heart break.

She had hope.

She thought….

She doesn’t know what she thought, maybe that someone cared enough about her that they would get her a gift.

Maybe that she was good enough to get one like all the tales of Santa.

She feels tears on her face as the disappointment floods her body.

Santa would never come here.

She is not good.

Backing away, she flees to the bedroom, hides under the bed and sobs quietly to herself.

.

Yelena finds her still under her bed on Christmas Day; a box in her hands.

She holds out her tiny hand and helps Natasha out, her body stuff and sore from being curled up all night.

“It wasn’t real,” Natasha whispers to her, gesturing to the box.

“There’s nothing inside.”

Yelena shakes her head.

“I know, this is from me,” she presents the box to Natasha.

Natasha’s heart skips and she takes the box from her sister.

“Aren’t you disappointed?” she asks, “aren’t you sad?”

Yelena looks up at her legs crossed and shakes her head.

“Santa didn’t come for us,” she sighs, looking to the sky “maybe it’s because we were bad like Alexei tells us we are; or maybe it because he didn’t know we were here. Maybe he thinks we are still in Russia and there’s presents waiting for us there.”

Natasha’s heart sinks further.

There is nothing good in Russia, despite what Melina and Alexei tell Yelena.

“This is for you,” Yelena taps the box.

“I wanted you to have it.”

Natasha opens it.

The picture of them together, side by side faces smiling. The row of four taken when Melina had taken the others to send back to Russia.

“Please don’t show her,” Yelena looks nervous. “I saw that you liked them and I took them for you.”

On a whim, Natasha hugs Yelena, a deep crushing hug that she tries to convey how much the pictures mean.

She hides her tears in her hair and then brings her forehead to Yelena’s. She doesn’t know why, just that it feels right.

“I… I got something for you too,” Natasha whispers, hastily wiping her eyes.

If they see her crying, she knows they’ll make her run laps.

She feels Yelena won’t tell on her.

Taking the little present wrapped in newspaper, from underneath her pillow, she presents it to Yelena.

She swallows hard, wondering if Yelena will understand or if she’s too young.

Yelena opens it carefully, the tiny blue ribbon peaks out and she touches it carefully.

“My mother left it for me,” Natasha whispers.

“It’s the only thing I have of her, and I want you to have it.”

Yelena must understand, because immediately she passes it back.

“I can’t have this,” she says.

Natasha take a breath.

“There was a wet nurse; in the Red Room, she was mean and kind and told me that my mother wanted me and couldn’t keep me. I don’t know if it was the truth. She showed me the things my mother sent with me, it was this and a picture.”

Natasha lifts her bed and pulls out a book, inside the book is the picture.

She shows Yelena.

“This is my mother.”

Yelena takes the picture carefully.

“She’s so pretty.”

Natasha nods.

“The nurse. She said I couldn’t have the the things my mother left me, but showed me where she kept it. Before… before I came here, I took them. I wanted them to be with me, wherever I was. I thought… maybe it was all she had to give. I want them with me.”

Natasha takes back the picture and tucks it carefully into the book, then takes the one that Yelena gave her and places them together.

“I want you to have it, because it’s a part of me.”

Yelena nods but doesn’t really understand.

What she does understand is the sentiment that Natasha is trying to convey, and she feels the pull towards her sister.

“Put it in my hair?”

Natasha smiles and nods.

“Okay.”

Gently she braids her hair, tying the ribbon in so it sits firmly in Yelena’s hair, they hear Melina calling and Natasha touches her arm.

“She can’t know,” Natasha says urgently, “just like the pictures.”

Yelena sees the seriousness and nods.

“I promise,” she nods, and holds out a pinky finger.

Natasha takes it in her own and nods too.

Bringing her in for another hug, she feels Yelena’s little hands pull her close.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and kisses the top of her head.

.

#whumptober2023 #no. 9 #polaroid #alluded child abuse #natasha romanoff #black widow #my fic #natasha romanoff fic #yelena belova #Yelena belova fic #young Nat #young Yelena #clintasha fanfiction #marvel fic #black widow fic #melina vostokoff

[violently-sobbings]

You're such a pretty thing (to be running from anyone.)

You had known Mary for the better part of six months now, having met at a mutual friends birthday. And there was something undeniable about the tension that had risen between you two. With your polar opposite personalities and extremely obvious dislike for one another, it was deemed impossible to have the two of you in a room together. Though now you find yourself, stuck in close quarters with him, and no way to pass the time...

UPDATE: IVE FIXED A FEW OF THE SPELLINGS AND ADDED SOME MORE SHIT TOO!!!!

This was written at 3 in the morning and it hasn't been beta read. This is also on my phone, so sorry if the formatting is fucked. Also, you can find it on AO3!!!

It had been six hours.

Six long hours stuck in the passenger seat of Mary Goore's van.

You had tried to turn the radio on a few times, only to be met with his insistent bickering and whining about how 'radio stations don't play any of the good shit'. So you had resigned yourself to silence. Resting your head against the window, each breath fogging out against the glass. Mary grumbled again, huffing something about fogging up his window. You sighed, casting a sideways glance at him.

Finally, you broke the silence.

"What's your problem, dude?"

Mary was silent, though you noticed the way his eyes briefly flickered to your direction.

"Feels like you've been at my throat since we met." You added, slouching back in your seat.

Mary shook his head,

"No issue with you." He stated, as if it were an absolute fact.

You raised a single brow.

"No?"

"No." He affirmed

You sighed again, turning your head from him, instead choosing to look out the window.

"Fuckin' traffic" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

The van fell into silence.

An uncomfortable one at that.

"So..." He began, sounding almost pained in the way he spoke. "What Sorta music you into?" He asked.<

You turned to look at him, a bewildered expression on your face, "what sort of a question is that?" You huffed out, disbelieving.

Mary shrugged, "just tryna start a conversation- jesus" he groaned again. Letting his head fall to rest against the steering wheel.

After another beat of silence, you responded.

"Mostly goth stuff." Your voice was soft, uncharacteristically so.

Mary hummed in approval, sitting back up.

"Like the cure?" He asked.

You nodded, "among other things."

There was another pause.

"What about you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another two hours had passed with you and Mary, chatting aimlessly in the van. You both had a surprising amount in common. You enjoyed similar music, and movies. Despite everything, he was actually a surprisingly charming guy. Cracking jokes and making flirty quips. You could almost feel your barrier melt away, it seemed in the forced proximity, you had grown comfortable in his presence.

Mary had come to a small services station, you still had a few hours to go. You and Mary both happened to go to the same university, and a mutual friend had suggested you both drive down to visit. You however, couldn't drive, and the distance between the university and your home town, was far beyond walking.

You had stopped to grab some food, and use the restrooms. You sat, one leg dangling out the car door, munching on some shitty sandwich Mary picked up from inside the little service station. He was still in the restroom, and while he was gone, you decided to have a little snoop around his van.

It wasn't massive, just enough for two people. The back benches were taken out, replaced by a bunch of equipment and cables, for his band, he'd told you. You flipped ppen the glove compartment flicking through some of the cds he had. It was mostly Morbid Angel, though he did have an ABBA greatest hits cd. You giggled at that. When he finally returned, you didn't notice. He watched as you pawed through the glove box, one arm resting on the roof as he leant his lithe frame against the car. You jumped when he cleared his throat, hurriedly shutting the glove box, before turning to face him, only to be met with his signature shit-eating grin.

"You tryna steal my shit?" He chuckles. You groaned, sitting back, shaking your head.

"Nah dude, just curious y'know." You waved your hand about absentmindedly.He chuckled again, moving to sit in the van. "Oh? You often get curious about guys?" He snickered.

You rolled your eyes.

"What are you? Five?" You huffed, fixing him with an unamused stare. He just grinned. "Inches? Nah babe- gimme some credit."

You scoffed at his joke, it had managed to be both immature and unfunny simultaneously. You fixed him with another unamused look, "besides."

You let your eyes flick up and down him, making a point to do so. "I'd say three inches at best." You snort.

Mary raises a single brow, his grin morphing into a sly smirk. "Yeah?" He asks. His tone taking on something far more flirtatious.

"You wanna make sure of that?" He asks, leaning towards you just slightly. You could smell his cologne, the smell of leather too. It was dizzying.

"Y'know I just might." You quip back. Your eyes never once straying from his.

#mary goore x reader #mary goore #repugnant #the band ghost #ghost #repugnant band

[hazbin-hazwas]

Take Me or Leave Me

Rating: T

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Vox/Original Character(s), Vox, Original Character(s), Valentino, Rosie, Alastor, Zestial, Mentioned Velvette, Mentioned Charlie, Major Original Characters, Original Characters-Centric, Confrontations, Love Triangles, Love Squares, Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Business, Rivals to Lovers, Established Relationships, Complicated Relationships, Lies, Threats

Description:

Vega (Vincent), a singer Overlord who has consistently been pestered by Vox to join the Vees, is once again approached by him with the same offer. However, there's a new pre-tense: The Vees are planning something big, and Vox doesn't want them to get caught in the crossfire. For the first time, Vega genuinely considers his offer, but someone else steps in to stir the pot:

Vera, a woman who Valentino so hatefully refers to as "Vox's bitch."

Or:

I looked at my OC, looked at @timeslugarts's OC, and went "Oooo, the girls are fighting."

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54235564

Notes: Thank you SO MUCH to @timeslugarts for letting me use Vera (and Jericho) for this, I had SUCH a blast writing these characters. Additionally, a HUGE thanks to @beansisarat7 and @starchaserbaby for beta-ing this. Reblogs are VERY much appreciated and I enjoy any feedback that you may have ^.^

The bi-monthly Overlord Meetings weren’t mandatory - far from it, actually, if Alastor’s prior disappearance and Valentino and Velvette’s consistent absences were anything to say about it. However, that didn’t mean it wasn’t in any Overlord’s interest to attend. The Vees shared information, anyway, so as long as one of them showed up things were usually fine, and Alastor was… Alastor. But Vega preferred to stay up to date on what other Overlords were doing, so she found herself sitting to the right of Rosie at an office Carmilla Carmine owned.

This meeting wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, save for some surprisingly positive updates on the Princess’s passion project. Now, they were going around the table, sharing any updates they had on their own territories or concerns they had towards others’ actions. As per usual, Vega had none either way - she doesn’t have any permanent territory and the only Overlords she had to be concerned with were the Vees and Alastor since they have (an uncomfortable) amount of control over whether her music got out into the rest of the Pride ring. Vox had nothing new to say, though, and Alastor was too busy with the Princess to focus too much on his radio show anyway.

All she wanted to do was exit this building and go back to cannibal town with Rosie for a cup of tea. These meetings were almost never enjoyable, especially when the time could be spent doing literally anything else.

Finally, just as Carmilla was about to conclude things, Vox spoke up. Vega barely bit back a curse.

“Actually, just before we leave, I wanted to let everyone know that Valentino is throwing a party later. It’s a much more quiet event than what he’s used to - Velvette and I made sure of it - so the… sexual content,” he glanced not-so-subtly at Alastor, “You all are used to will be mostly toned down. Think of it as a bonding exercise of sorts. And, of course, some more higher-class sinners will be in attendance as well, so some souls are up for grabs. I mean, who would the Vees be if we didn’t have something to offer?”

It’s silent for a moment as Overlords look at each other and consider the offer. The air isn’t tense, no, far from it, but it’s definitely not relaxed, either.

“What i’ thine catch, Vox? Surely, thou might not but summon something from these events,” Zestial asked, speaking the collective thoughts of the rest of the room.

“No catch,” Vox says, using his signature charming smile. “It’s simply an invite to relax and return to a semblance of normalcy after last month’s failed extermination.” There’s a pregnant pause, and Vega rolls her eyes while fighting back a smile. She had a soft spot for his theatrics, as annoying as they were at times. “ But! I know how secretive this group can be, and what better place to form new alliances than a formal event? Hell beat the Angels in a failed extermination, surely there are new business opportunities - and new dangers - on the rise. As I said before, who would the Vees be if we didn’t have something to offer?”

The ‘something’ dipped into his distorted tone and, for a split second - she wouldn’t have been surprised if most of the other Overlords in the room missed it - his left eye swirled.

“You don’t have to accept now. It’ll be held at Vee Tower at 8pm, tonight. Drinks and catering will be provided if any of you decide to show up.”

And with that, Vox sits down and folds his hand. It’s silent for a second again, and Vega takes the moment to look him over. His hands are folded and, on further inspection, his usual charming smile is much more akin to a smirk. He’s up to something. But then Vox makes eye contact with her and raises a brow so she looks away at Carmilla.

Carmilla clears her throat. “Alright, then. Now, if no one else has any last minute announcements,” she pauses, leaving room for someone to interject, but when no one does, she continues, “Then this meeting is adjourned. I will see you all either later tonight or in two months.”

Vega doesn’t waste time standing up and exiting the room. She feels Vox’s eyes on her as she leaves and ignores the urge to turn around and tell him off. She waits by the stairs for Rosie and Alastor to leave as well. Vox leaves last, not counting Zestial, who most likely stayed back to talk to Carmilla alone like he usually does. They make eye-contact again, though Vox is forced to look away first this time to make it to the elevator in time. She looks away just in time to see Rosie walk up to her with Alastor in tow.

“Oh, don’t tell me ya thinkin’ of takin’ the stairs down! This is a very tall building, y’know, and there are betta ways to avoid claustrophobia. You have wings for cryin’ out loud! Just open a window!” Rosie laughs, placing a hand on Vega’s shoulder. “I’m just kiddin’ with ya, I know you have a reputation on the line just like the rest of us, you gotta save the flyin’ for performin’, I’m sure. Now, are we still on for tea? Because I’m definitely not flyin’!”

Vega smiles - it’s hard not to smile with Rosie - before sighing. “Unfortunately, no. I think Vox is up to something, so I’m going to get ready for tonight to see if I can learn more.”

“Honey, when isn’t Vox up to something? Why, just ask Alasta, I’m sure he could tell you all about Vox’s shenanigans!”

“Yes, but that would require Vox’s shenanigans to be worth telling, now wouldn’t they, my dear?” Alastor jokes as well, leaning into Rosie.

Vega laughs quietly compared to their loud laughter before continuing, “True, but it’s always nice to be ahead of the game. The last thing any of us needs is to be caught off-guard because we underestimated him.”

“Oh, just come ova for tea and we’ll get ready togetha. It’s been a while since I’ve gone to any sort of party outside of Cannibal Town, it could be a’ good use to get out again. What about you Alasta, will you be joining us?”

Alastor laughs and shakes his head. “As if I’d ever set foot in Vee Tower. I’m afraid I must be off back to the Hotel, anyway. The Princess can be quite annoying if people aren’t back by the time they said they would be.”

“Ah, well, then I guess it’s just us girls tonight,” Rosie says with no disappointment - it’s not like it was hard to predict Alastor was going to say no - before hooking her arm with Vega’s and turning the group in the direction of the elevator. “Now, let’s get going. I’m parched!”

.

Vee Tower is weirdly empty, Vince notices, as he and Rosie enter. There was always someone working either in or around Vee Tower, so the fact that there’s only a few people present, each of which looked in the other direction or helped direct them to the party, felt off.

It’s a long elevator ride to the top of the building, but Rosie makes it all the much shorter with her chatter. It was like she never ran out of things to talk about. In terms of outfits, Rosie was wearing a dress with a layered, black skirt. The top layers are lace, showing off a branch pattern that Vince was sure she made herself. He would have deemed the off-the-shoulder sleeves as out of character if they hadn’t held the same embroidery as the lace and looped in front of her. There was a red, metal band that acted as a sort of belt and accentuated her high waist. It probably wasn’t considered ‘semi-formal,’ but when Vince pointed that out, she waved him off with a smile and said, “Live a little, wontcha?”

Vince went for something slightly more toned down. He’s wearing a long, blue, almost Victorian jacket with silver accents. It was backless so that his wings could breathe, meaning that he didn’t actually bother putting on a shirt. Instead, he buttoned the jacket in the middle and wore high-waisted, black trousers. His blue heeled boots and silver accents matched the jacket. He brought one of his microphones with him - the mic gloated in-between two angular prongs - although it really functioned more as a staff. When Rosie saw him grab it, she joked that between the switch in presentation and the mic, Alastor might as well have joined them.

Finally, the elevator dings and the doors open. Rosie cuts herself off, mid-sentence and steps onto the floor. Immediately, she notices the small amount of Overlords present - obviously there’s the Vees, but Zeezi and Zestial were also present, and while not technically Overlords, Odette and Carla are floating around the general vicinity of Zestial as well.

“I’m gonna go say hello to Carmine’s girls if that’s okay with you, Vincent. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been able to talk to them and just look at how much they’ve grown! Honestly, Carmilla needs to start making ‘em sleep in the drawer, y’know, get ‘em to stop growin’.”

Before Vince can respond, Rosie unlinks their arms and makes their way over. Zestial broadens his chest when he notices someone talking to them, but immediately relaxes upon realizing who it is. Carmilla must have asked Zestial to watch over them while they were here, and Vince doesn’t blame her. Who in their (non-horny) mind would willingly stay around Valentino.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you around here,” a voice says into Vince’s ear.

Vince stifles a flinch while he fans away the pink smoke emanating from behind him. 'Speak of the devil.' “I have personal business I need to attend to with the Vees,” he lies.

“Hm? And what could be of trouble now?”

Vince turns around. Valentino didn’t even bother dressing for the theme, still wearing the same stockings and pimp-jacket he usually wore. He assumes that Valentino doesn’t see him roll his eyes. “I need some dancers for a couple concerts.”

“And what do you have to offer me, instead?”

“I continue to give you business instead of finding some souls of my own.”

Vince could have been nicer about that, he supposes, but he wasn’t too keen on dealing with Val’s bullshit tonight. Val’s eyes narrow for a second before he takes another pull from his cigarette.

“How many are you looking for this time?”

“Twenty, maybe. Ten at the least.”

“Hm. Alright, then. I’ll send them by you by the end of the week. The usual spot, I presume?”

“Of course.”

Just when Vince thought that Val would leave him alone, he smirks and blows some more smoke in Vince’s face. This time, he curls his wing around to block it from reaching him.

“Y’know, I’m surprised you’re not more of a dancer yourself, ruiseñor ,” he all but purred, looking Vince up and down. “You have fantastic hips . For a man, maybe not, but for Vega -” he reaches to trail his free-hand down Vince’s side, but Vince raises his microphone to block him.

“Don't touch me,” he bites.

They glare at each other, neither moving from their positions. The smoke from his cigarette swirls around them and Vince can’t help but let the surrounding air chill.

“H-H-Heyyyy! What’s going on here?” Vox’s voice breaks the tension as he slips in next to them.

Almost instantly, Vincent relaxed. He lets Vox move his microphone away from Val, who’s arm he also moves back.

Immediately, Vince notices Vox’s change from his usual attire. The navy blue with electric pinstripes he usually donned was replaced with a sparkling turquoise. His red bowtie deepened in shade but remained nonetheless, this time with gloves to match. The top hat, of course, stayed the same. It’s simple, at least by Vox’s dorky, overdramatic standards, but it somehow works.

“Tonight is not a night for fighting,” he says, looking between the two of them. “Val, why don’t you go talk to Velvette? She said she wanted to have a word with you about your outfit.” He’s more hostile now that he’s only addressing Valentino, causing Vincent to force back a laugh.

Val crosses his arms and pouts, all the while still glaring at Vince. “Fine,” he states, taking another pull. “But be careful,” he teases, getting in Vox’s face, “You don’t want your bitch getting upset.”

Vincent tilts his head, unsure of what Val is implying as he walks away. Vox groans and mutters something indiscernible under his breath about Val before turning to Vince.

“Drinks,” he implores, gesturing towards the bar. His charming smile is back, although not as wide. Vince ponders for a second if it’s genuine.

Vincent returns the smile, ultimately unable to tell, and turns in the direction of the bar. Vox puts his arm around Vince’s back as they walk together. Vince lets him.

The bar is decently crowded, but a group of three sinners move out of the way when they see them coming. Vox leans an arm on the bar and orders two martinis. Vince mirrors him for a second before leaning his back against the bar and placing his microphone between them.

“It’s been a while since Vincent has made an appearance. It’s only been Vega for at least a year, now,” Vox jokes

It’s a shallow attempt at breaking the ice, but Vince chooses to humor him. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Vox at an Overlord meeting. It’s been Velvette for at least six months now.”

Vox laughs. Vince is unable to tell where it’s coming from. “Yeah, well, what can I say? VoxTek has been busy with the Extermination having been moved up and all that jazz.”

“So have I.”

The bartender comes back with their drinks. Vox immediately takes a sip of his, but Vincent only pulls him closer.

“How so?”

“TV and porn aren’t people’s only source of entertainment. People also enjoy listening to music and going to concerts. I spent all of the six months leading up to Extermination Day touring the city.”

Vince was surprised Vox didn’t know - half of his dancers on that tour were Valentino’s and at least a fourth of the outfits he had worn were from Velvette’sSex on the Beach collection. Still, Vox looks as though this was his first time hearing about it. He hums in acknowledgement and looks away from him. Vince, content with the silence - their conversations are never good for long, anyway - looks down at his martini and contemplates actually drinking it.

“Do you ever dream of touring the other circles?”

Vincent’s head snaps up to look at Vox, again, who is still looking away from him. He looks distant. “Pardon?”

“The other circles. Greed, Envy, Lust, Wrath, Sloth, Gluttony, do you ever dream of touring them? Seeing what they have to offer? Expanding your reach, your power, your career?”

Finally, when Vox finishes speaking, he looks back at Vincent. For a second, Vince forgets what he came here for. There is something undoubtedly genuine in Vox’s eyes and it actually scares him. Everything about Vox, all of the way down to his name, is fake. So why is he being real ? Vincent looks away first, this time.

“Doesn’t matter. Sinners can’t leave Pride,” he responds. Hell was Hell, after all; even dreams have their limits and contorts into nightmares eventually.

Vox hums again before putting a hand on Vince’s shoulder. Vince almost doesn’t let him.

“Do you want to?”

The reality of why he’s here hits Vince like a truck. He pulls away from Vox as he collects his thoughts. “Why did I even begin to think that you would just want to talk? You even said you wanted to form alliances,” Vincent says, more to himself than Vox.

Vox stands up straight. “Technically, we already have an alliance, this would just be making it official.”

“You provide me with dancers and clothes every once in a while and in return I let you use my songs in your commercials and movies. That isn’t an alliance, that’s polite business.”

“Just hear me out for a second,” Vox asks, voice partially digitalizing.

Vincent looks Vox over. His fake persona was back. Maybe Vince shouldn’t have reacted the way he did, then this conversation could be pleasant and one of them might actually have a chance at changing their minds. He narrows his eyes.

“You have 30.”

“You have a lot of inference. Specifically, you have a lot of influence in the realm of entertainment. The Vees do entertainment. Movies, social media, television, fashion, and you bring music . It works well, together. We would work well together.”

“Twenty.”

“It’s obvious that you’re powerful. You let this,” he grabs Vince’s microphone, “Inhibit your powers or use it as a crutch or something , but imagine what you could do if you fully unleashed. I want to help you with that. The Vees want to help you with that. You don’t keep many secrets, obviously you must be one dangerous opponent if your demon form has yet to see the public’s eyes.”

“Five,” Vinent counts, yanking his staff out of Vox’s hand and already turning around.

“I want you with us.”

Vince freezes.

That’s… New.

“You are everywhere . If it’s not Angel Dust or that damn hotel on a billboard, it’s you. And I don’t know when that stopped being annoying, but it did. I want it to stay that way. The Vees have a plan. Valentino may not like you and Velvette may not really talk to you, but I want you to be a part of it. Don’t make me hurt you, Vincent - Hell needs more Angels like you.”

Vincent turns around, mouth agape. Suddenly, if feels as though the rest of the party - the rest of Hell - doesn’t exist, He got what he came here for: a confirmation that the Vees were up to something and even an, albeit loose, idea of what that plan entailed. By all means, he should be leaving. There should be absolutely nothing stopping him from leaving. Yet, he’s stuck to his spot, frozen in time.

Vincent didn’t like Vox, or any of the Vees for that matter. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. They were rude, disrespectful, egotistical, brash, dramatic, know-it-alls who, unlike most Overlords, directly profited off of sinners’ suffering. It’s not like he could say too much - he was in Hell for a reason and was close friends with Rosie, the Overlord of Cannibal Town - but he was known as ‘The Angelic Demon’ for a reason. He had to have some standards, and the Vees didn’t live up to a single one.

But, just as Vox said it had for him, somewhere along the line it changed. At least, in terms of Vox. There was a fondness in the fights and comfortability in the competition that transpired between them. Their back-and-forth between Vox2Night and live performances had become his favorite part of performing. Vox was the only reason he even downloaded social media - so that their silly feud could continue on their off-hours. Every time he visited Vee Tower on behalf of business with Valentino or Velvette, they found a way to talk, alone for a little bit before things eventually turned sour and they stopped interacting for a while, only to rinse and repeat once one of them did something overly petty. It was a nice routine that was built on definitely not hate, Vince realizes now, and obviously Vox had to have felt the same way.

Because now they were here.

Vox looks genuine again and Vince loses the ability to form words. It’s scary how open and vulnerable he’s being when there’s still so many people around. If Vince didn't know any better, he’d assume Vox was begging him to accept the offer. Vince almost accepts it.

“Is there something wrong here, darling?”

The illusion of solitude shatters as a woman - a sinner, Vince concludes since he doesn’t recognize her - with blue hair, a sleek, black dress, and fire around her neck walks up to Vox. Recognition and fondness flashes in his eyes for a second before he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer.

“Just talking with Vincent about joining us, again. We could always use someone with such a strong hold on the music industry on our side,” he responds, and Vincent can’t tell whether it was a complete lie or not. More importantly, if it wasn’t, whether he had fallen for something that was never even there.

“It doesn’t seem like he’s very keen on the idea,” she glares, and Vincent takes the hint.

“I’ll… I’ll think about it, Vox. I appreciate the offer.”

Vox’s expression shifts to that of shock for a second before his usual facade slips back on. “You know where to find me when you make up your mind.”

Vincent turns to leave and find Rosie, but not before grabbing his martini and downing it in one gulp. He wanted, no, needed to leave. After all, he had gotten what he had come here for.

.

“I don’t like the way you look at them,” Vera states, slipping off her gloves and tossing them aside.

Vox yells from the bathroom as he undoes his bowtie. “Excuse me?”

“The Angelic Demon. You look at them the way you look at me. I don’t like it,” Vera repeats, more annoyed this time. There’s no immediate response, so she scoffs to herself and sits down to take off her heels.

“I don’t look at anyone the way I look at you,” Vox reassures, exiting the bathroom. His suit jacket is hung over his arm and his gloves have disappeared as well

Vera deadpans, “Alastor.”

Vox hesitates as he opens his closet. “That’s different. He’s… unobtainable. And a bitch.”

Vera finds it in herself to laugh at that, but doesn’t loosen up for long. “They aren’t unobtainable. Bitch? Arguably. Probably. But not unobtainable.”

“And how do you know? They have never once even begun to consider any of my offers.”

He sits down on their shared bed beside her now as he unbuttons his shirt. Vera raises her brows.

“They said they’d consider it, this time. Besides, there has to be a reason why you keep offering and they keep listening.”

Vox’s eyes widen and he looks away. He doesn’t respond.

Vera scoffs again and mutters, “Exactly.”

They finish getting ready for bed in silence. The air is thick with tension, but Vera doesn’t say anything - she wasn’t going to be the one to break it. Just as she’s about to turn off the lamp on her bedside table, Vox speaks:

“I love you. You do know that, right?”

“I never said you didn’t.”

“But you said-”

“I didn’t say anything except that I don’t like how you look at them. I was letting you know; there’s no need to put words in my mouth.”

Vox frowns but doesn’t say anything else. He turns off his lamp, which signals Vera to do the same. Vera sighs as she closes her eyes.

“And I love you, too. For the record.”

.

Vera sits outside of a coffee shop, waiting for Vega to walk by. She had checked the security cameras in the area immediately surrounding Cannibal Town - where Vega had been known to frequent - and was banking on her walking down this street like she usually did on the way to whatever studio or club she was working at that day.

Vox didn’t say anything about her when they had woken up that morning, seemingly forcing himself to forget that their dispute even happened.

Vera didn’t forget.

She didn’t entirely know why she was here. She didn’t entirely know what she was going to do, either. She does know that it’s dumb to act this impulsively, but something was telling her that Vega was going to accept Vox’s offer this time and she needs to let her know her place, Overlord or not. Vera laughs bitterly at that thought. Since when was she the jealous type? And since when did she consider Vox something worth being jealous over?

One of the flames around her neck shoots off to the side, taking her away from her thoughts. It hovers on the other side of the street. A few seconds later, Vega passes it.

Vega navigates Pentagram City too carelessly for an Overlord, but Vera isn’t complaining. It made her easier to find, after all. Just as Vera is about to slip out of her seat to tail her, Vega turns to cross the street.

“Shit,” she swears and attempts to hide her face in her cup of coffee. She attempts to tell herself that it’s a coincidence, but she knows she’s been caught. Not once in any of the archived footage had Vega stopped here.

Only when the flame returns to her neck does Vera look up. Of course, Vega slides into the seat across from her. She’s smiling politely and Vera is already annoyed.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Yes.”

They lock eyes for a second. Vera’s gaze hardens, daring Vega to leave. Vega laughs and looks away.

“I’ve worked both with and against the Vees long enough to know when I’m being watched.” She pauses, waiting for Vera to say something. Vera says nothing. “I just wasn’t expecting it to be you.”

“And who am I, exactly?” Vera pushes, leaning forward. Maybe this was good. It took away some of the impulsivity but still let get done what she wanted to get done - intimidate Vega.

“Vox’s bitch,” Vega laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Valentino’s words, not mine.”

Vera scoffs. “Of fucking course he said that.”

“So you’re not Vox’s bitch then?”

Vega is smirking, arms crossed. Vera glares the best glare she can while taking another sip of her coffee. “That’s a way to word it.”

“But you’re not fond of it.”

“ No. Who the fuck would be ?”

Vega bites her tongue. “What would you like me to call you? I’m Vega, as I’m sure you-.”

“I know your name. I’m Vera.”

Vega looks Vera up and down at being cut off. She was wearing a burgundy leather jacket with  a black tank top and her hair was up in a ponytail. Vega couldn’t make out the rest of Vera’s outfit, but she was sure it wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary, either. Save for the flames circling her neck, she didn’t look like much of a threat. Humming to herself, she pushes out her chair and stands up.

“Excuse me, where do you think you’re going?” Vera asks, standing up as well.

Vega looks over her shoulder, walking away. “Leaving. You’re not who I expected to be talking to, nor are you a threat to my well-being.”

“Oh, I’m a threat. I may not be an Overlord, but a reputation means a lot to someone who is. Don’t underestimate the kind of power I have on these streets just because I’m not invited to your special meetings,” Vera growls.

Vega huffs. She doesn’t believe that Vera is bluffing - she’s seen first-hand the kind of things that can be done to someone’s power because a sinner with none gets determined - but she still doesn’t think that her bite is necessarily worse than her bark.

“There isn’t anything you can do,” she starts, looking back in front of her to cross the street again, “That the ‘Angelic Demon’ can’t do to herself by agreeing to work with the Vees.”

Vega doesn’t wait for a response before crossing the streets. And when Vera yells, “Leave him alone!,” she doesn’t dignify her with one, either.

Vera watches as Vega crosses the street and turns back the way she came. Once she’s out of sight, Vera leaves the cafe as well and starts to make her way back to Vee Tower. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Vox, even if he is a concern, it’s that she doesn’t trust Vega. Whatever her reputation may be, when it comes down to it, she’s a sinner. And while Vera is 100% sure she can handle whatever Vega throws her way, that doesn’t mean she wants to have to catch it.

.

“I don’t get your point!” Vox yells, slamming his fist against his desk. He turns around and throws his arms out. “Vega joining us helps us. All of us.”

“Oh really?” Vera yells back, running her hands through her hair. Her flames are scattered around the room, floating in place. “Because the speech you were giving her at the party sure didn’t seem like it was to benefit all of us!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, we’ve been together how long and you don’t know I’m good at manipulation? And obviously I have her falling for it if you did!”

It’s been like this since Vera got home. Velvette was here, originally, but she left once they started raising their voices. Valentino called to ask Vox about something or another, but was quickly hung up on. He sent someone up to bother him but then that worker was friend almost to his second death, so now they were completely alone. They were both sure that they could be heard throughout Vee Tower, but neither was exactly keen on quieting down, either.

“Shut the fuck up, Vox, you and I both now that that wasn’t manipulation,” Vera sasses, crossing her arms. “Because if that was manipulation, then everything us has been as well.”

“That means it was good manipulation, Vera!!”

“You think you’re so slick, you know that?” Vera says, walking up to Vox. “You can admit whatever you want to yourself and you can deny whatever you want to yourself, but everyone around you can see right through your screen. You love her, or at the very least are interest-.”

“Oh my Satan, you are such a fucking HYPOCRITE!” Vox interrupts, voice glitching. He grabs the hand that Vera is pointing at his chest to stop her before dropping it and continuing, “You don’t get to stand here and yell at me about how you think I’m going to fucking cheat on you with that prude when you have Jericho in your fucking life. If you think I don’t see the way you two look at each other, the way you two touch each other, then you must think I’m the stupid one and fucking newsflash, I’m not.”

Vera backs up. “Me and Jericho aren’t-”

“Anything that you’re going to say, I’m going to call bullshit on because, first of all, it’s bullshit, and second of all, I’ve definitely said the same things about Vega. You don’t trust me? That’s fine, but then you’ve lost the trust I have for you. Which is insane , by the way, because you know how few people I trust. I fucking love you, Vera, so much that it scares me, but what goes for you in this relationship I am trying to have for you goes for me, too, so if you get to have your side-piece, then I get to have mine.”

Vox stares at Vera, waiting for her to say something, anything, but when she’s silent, he groans and starts to make his way towards the elevator.

Vera wants to say something but isn’t sure what exactly to say. Vox isn’t right. He can’t be. But maybe he’s not wrong, either? She hasn’t thought about what she and Jericho were to each other, so it’s not impossible to say that maybe there was… Something there that they hadn’t put a proper label on. But for Vox to bring it up now was fucking absurd , right? Jericho was one of her only still-living friends, it was wrong of him to imply that he shouldn’t be a part of her life.

Before she can get her thoughts together, the elevator door shuts and Vox is out of sight.

Out of the corner of her eye, however, Vera notices him show up on one of the screens on his desk. She sits down and notices camera footage from the lobby as well - Vega was standing at the secretary’s desk. She frowns to herself and pulls herself in closer to the desk. The flames return to her, floating closer to the screen as if watching, as well.

Okay, so maybe Vera was a bit hypocritical. But if anything, she was territorial, and this bitch was not about to take was hers before she could correct what was wronged.

.

Vega leans against the front desk of Vee Tower. The day had gotten unbelievably slower since she met with Vera, having gotten back to Cannibal Town to discuss potentially, temporarily joining the Vees with Rosie. Just her luck, Alastor was also there, and was incredibly upset at the very prospect of one of his allies joining the Vees. It was a mess and a half of a conversation, with the verdict being that Rosie would continue to be friends with her, and while any agreements - not deals, never deals - she had made with Alastor will continue to be upheld, any camaraderie they had had would be no more.

So, in other words, she pissed off the Radio Demon.

First a sinner with fireballs around her neck and a romantic attachment to Vox threatens to destroy the reputation and therefore status she’s built for herself, and next, one of Hell’s most powerful Overlords is no longer on friendly terms with her.

Fucking fantastic.

Now, she was waiting for Vox to be free. Apparently something had come up last minute, and the addition of a fourth Vee was just so much less important than whatever he had going on.

Not that she was upset that she wasn’t one of Vox’s priorities.

Because she wasn’t.

Vega is brought out of her thoughts by the elevator dinging. Vox exits, looking incredibly annoyed, but freezes in his traps when he notices Vega.

“Uh, Mr. Vox, Sir? The Angelic Demon said she had important matters to discuss with you-”

“Yes, I’m aware,” he says, cutting off the secretary and dismissing him with a wave of his hand. “You’ve thought about my offer, I presume?”

“I think you’ll be happy, for once.”

Vox gestures in front of him to the entrance. “Walk with me, why don’t you?”

He wraps around her back and begins to lead her outside. Vega notices the cameras following them. Vera, she assumes. Leaning in slightly closer to Vox - if Vega had any flaws, pettiness was definitely one of them - she walks with him.

The cameras outside of Vee Tower continue to follow Vox and Vega, as well as the other cameras in the surrounding area.

“So,” Vox starts, still sounding on edge from his fight with Vera, “Has your answer changed at all, or did you not wanna say no to my face.”

He’s attempting to make humor of the situation, but there’s disappointment there. For a second, Vega feels guilty at repeatedly saying no, before remembering that she’s only saying yes this time for more information. She’s not becoming a permanent part of the Vees, so there’s no need to feel any sort of guilt.

Right?

“It has changed, actually,” Vega answers, pushing that train of thought aside. She pretends to not notice Vox freezing for a second. “I don’t have confidence that what you’re planning is going to work, but there’s always a chance. And if I’ve learned anything from this awful place, it’s that you have to do what it takes to survive. I’m in.”

Vox freezes completely now and turns to face Vega. For a second, he’s back with Vera, thinking about everything she had said. But then the second passes and he forces himself back to the moment and sticks his hand out.

“Shake on it?”

“I know better than to shake on something, down here,” Vega teases, so Vox drops his hand. She looks behind him and sees one of the security cameras from the club behind them focused on them. She smirks and holds out her arms. “How about a hug? A little bit of my style and a little bit of yours.”

Vox doesn’t hesitate before closing the distance. Vega closes her eyes for a second, feeling a sense of satisfaction that she wasn’t expecting, before opening them to continue staring at the camera.

When they pull apart, Vox rewraps his arm around Vega’s back and pulls along the sidewalk with him. “I came down here for some air, so how about you continue to walk with me and tell me what exactly it is you expect from a partnership with the Vees. I’ll message my employees to start setting up one of our vacant floors for you.”

Vega laughs before winking at the next camera she notices following them, fully aware of the double-meaning of what she’s about to say next: “Of course, what else are partners for?”

Vera stands up, knocking her chair over in the process, and rushes to one of the couches to find where she left her phone. She’s not one to make an empty threat. Pulling up her contacts, she scrolls down to the J’s and clicks on one.

“Hey, I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I’m gonna need your help with something.”

She pauses, looking back at the computer screens and zoning in on Vox. He’s completely rid of the frustration and anger he was displaying earlier and his arm has now dropped to be around Vega’s waist.

Two can play at that game.

“Actually, Jericho? Make that two things.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #vox x oc #vox/oc #vox hazbin hotel #oc #original character #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin oc #hazbin hotel original character #hazbin original character #rosie hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel #post canon #love triangle #love square #confrontations #rivals to lovers #established relationship #business

[avocado-writing]

Said the Spider, to the Fly (pt 2)

It’s a sequel to the Sub!Tangerine choking fic. A Sub!Tangerine spanking fic.

NSFT (Naturally), 18+, MINORS DNI. CWs: gags; spanking; sub/dom relationship; aftercare

1.6k words

Reader x Tangerine (reader is f! in the previous fic, but no gender/parts are mentioned this time)

thank u to @lady-jane3​ my beloved for betaing 💕

There’s an iciness so prevalent in the car, it might as well be fucking winter. 

Out of the corner of your eye, Tangerine shifts. He knows he’s fucked up. You gave him one rule this week: no touching himself. And what happened? You got back to your hotel room early from doing your recon work, found him with his head thrown back and his cock in his hand. 

Safe to say you were not impressed. The job itself was a piece of piss, but Tangerine’s been on edge ever since you caught him.

In the passenger seat he opens his mouth to say something. 

“Don’t.”

It’s the voice you use when you want him to listen like a good boy. He harrumphs, shutting his jaw with an audible snap, but complies. It took a while to make him so well behaved. He knows the punishment will be worse if he’s a brat. 

That’s not to say he doesn’t like to push the limits sometimes, though. 

The two of you are… well, you’re not sure. He’s not exactly your boyfriend, but he’s more than the man whose mouth you spit in. The dinners you’ve been on suggest that. Quietly tucked away in the corner of some fancy five-star restaurant, enthralled in each other’s conversation, fingers tracing together quietly. He holds your hand on the way home, laughs at your jokes, then when you get back to your flat you put his cock in a cage and he eats you out until his tongue goes numb. 

It can be tricky to traverse. But you’re both happy with the situation. And mostly your personal and professional lives don’t mix. 

Mostly. 

You pull into your designated parking space under your building. Turn the engine off. Step out without another word, wait for the sound of him shutting the car door as he follows before you bother locking it over your shoulder. He trails behind you like an obedient puppy; exactly how you like it.

In your flat, you flop down on the sofa as he begins to fuss about around you. Puts the kettle on; brings your slippers over; turns the radio to your favourite station. Trying to earn his way back into your good graces. When you’ve got a cup of Earl Grey in hand he sits at your feet and buries his head against your thigh. He won’t meet your eye. If you were to forgive him so easily you’d run your hand through his hair and give him a kiss. But he has been very naughty.

The radio plays, time passes as you drink.

“What was the rule, Tan?” you ask, gently but firmly. You feel him tense up next to you.

“...No wanking.”

“And you broke it, didn’t you?”

You hear him swallow.

“Yes.”

You let him dwell on that until you finish the dregs of your tea. You put the cup down loudly, with purpose, and get to your feet.

“Clothes off. Follow me.”

You head into the bedroom, opening one of your drawers and rifling through it. Tangerine follows obediently, removing his suit as he does, folding everything into a neat little pile to the side. He sits on the bed and waits with fraught patience. He may be nervous, yes, but it doesn’t stop the way his cock bobs up; ready for whatever you have planned for him.

Eventually you find what you’re looking for: the ball gag. You bring it over to Tangerine while swinging it from the buckle around one finger. His eyes go wide, his cock throbs.

“Open up.”

He does, mouth obedient and quiet, and you place the gag between his lips before tightening it into place. His breathing gets heavier as you go; eyes soft and dreamy. When you’re done he swallows ineffectually around it.

“You alright?”

He nods enthusiastically.

“If it gets too much, hit the mattress twice and I’ll stop, mm?”

Another nod, but a little more reluctant. You want him to know he can always ask for you to pause, you won’t mind. You’re worried his bravado is too much though. That he won’t allow himself to give up, as it were.

You sit down on the bed next to him and, with a show of strength he wasn’t expecting, grab him by the biceps and haul him over your lap. He makes a muffled sound of surprise but doesn’t get much of a chance to react before you have him exactly where you want him: face down over your thighs, his arse bared.

You rub your hand over the peach of it before slapping. The crack of your palm is loud and bounces around the room, followed by the sound of his gasping against the gag. He looks up at you from over his shoulder, brow furrowed, as if to say: really? You don’t reply but pause with your hand raised again, giving him ample opportunity to tap out. This is, after all, quite humiliating. 

Instead you see him grit his jaw and turn back over. He’s giving in; he’s waiting for you to continue.

Your hand comes down again, a hearty slap against the meat of his cheek. Another choked-off noise from behind the gag. You can feel his cock pressing between your legs as he gets harder with each spank, desperately wanting not to enjoy the indignity of it but his body betraying him. 

As you continue your punishment with one hand the other comes up to hook at the strap around his gag, running a finger between the leather and his hair. He hums, chokes.

Though he squirms and roils in your lap, your aim is incredible. You keep bringing your palm down to strike at the same spot, watching the way his skin begins to redden and petechiae blossom. What a pretty little sight. 

“Are you sorry you broke the rules?” you ask after the tenth strike. Tangerine remains still on your lap, refusing to accept his guilt.

Stubborn.

“On all fours, then,” you say, tapping his arse to get him moving now. He does as he’s told, scrambling to his knees and elbows in the middle of the bed where he watches, cautiously, as you head over to your wardrobe this time.

Not the one where you keep your suits. The better one.

You go through your toys slowly and make a show of a decision. Tangerine watches you from where he’s been told to wait. His eyes are wide and curious, if a little trepidatious. Eventually your fingers settle on your choice.

He swallows as you show him the paddle. It’s small but it stings, he knows from experience. It’s black leather and only a little bigger than your hand - but dear god do you know how to wield it. 

You see his back begin to rise and fall with the effort of breathing as you cross the room over to him; you climb up beside him, rubbing the plain of the paddle over his cheeks. You take your time. Drawing circles, pressing down harder to get him to gasp. When you finally raise it and bring it back down, he fucking squeaks and his hips thrust down into the air. You watch to see if his hand slaps down twice.

It does not.

So you do it again. And again. The paddle is lifted and you smack it back down. The clap of leather on flesh is incredible. Tangerine lurches forward, dropping his head to the mattress, clasping his hands together as if he’s in prayer. The more you go the further wrecked he gets: precome dribbles from the head of his cock, saliva drips onto your cotton sheets from around his gag. A couple of tears join them as the pain gets worse.

“Are you sorry?” you ask again, not angry, but stern. He’s on the edge of breaking; you can tell. One final strike makes him let out a muffled cry and he nods, furiously, choking out an “mm-hmm!” the best he can.

It’s enough for you. You put the paddle down and take his cock in hand instead. It only needs a couple of pumps before he comes all over the bed with a cry. 

He rolls over onto his side, panting, and quickly you remove the gag so he can breathe better. With one hand you massage his back and with the other you grab the bottle of water from your bedside table, the one you always make sure to have on hand. You feed him sips of it as he comes down from his high, back into the room with you; you hold him close the whole time.

“You with me, love?” you ask gently, a few minutes later. He nods, pressing his face into your leg again. 

“Not gonna be able to sit down for a week,” he grumbles. You snort with laughter, then relax in comfortable silence for a moment.

“... I did it because I missed you.”

“Hm?”

“In the hotel, when you caught me. I was only… it was because I missed you, alright? You were away for ages.”

“Oh.” It makes sense. Tangerine won’t meet your eye as he confesses, but you can hear the sincerity in his voice. It takes a lot for him to be this vulnerable.

“I’ll try not to do it again,” you promise, but you both know, with the job you both do, there’s no way you can keep it.

All you can do is enjoy these moments of bliss. And, as you run your fingers through his hair, you plan to do just that.

tags from masterlist:  @honestlywtfisgoingon​ @white-wolf-buckaroo @felhomaly @venusthepirate @lunarpansexual @wanderedaway​​ @georgiee-riviere @mushywutty​​ @apieceoffabulousshit @4ng3l-0n-34rth @minjaz @starl1g4t @earth-elemental18 @luhvbot​ @underratedboogeyman @july-is-summer @vocalvixen20cp @northerngalxy​ @tangerinesgf @chaoticroaddreamerpasta​ @rxcently​ @skrrten​ @nightmarefeast​ @lost-lila​ @hardcore-flower​ @kalli0pes​ @insanitia​  @tvngerinescoat​ @assmaster37​ @lucyyoshida​ @oldyellowbricks2​  @sassyspocksworld

#tangerine x reader

[romirola]

Headcanons for the Shaw Pack Members’ Favorite Electric Appliances

David: His slow cooker. David loves the way that using the slow cooker always makes the whole house smell like whatever he is cooking. It was one of the few things of Gabe’s that David kept after the accident. Despite its age, this slow cooker is a steady, dependable appliance. Whenever David uses it, he always thinks of the many times his father would double-check that he had set the slow cooker so that he and David would have a delicious, hot meal for dinner that night. No matter how demanding Gabe’s alpha duties become, Gabe always made it a point to sit down with his son over a nutritious, home-cooked dinner. David always appreciated that, but when he became alpha himself, he realized just how difficult it must have been for his father all those years. He always looks forward to sitting down with Angel and sharing their meal together. 

Angel: The shower-speakers. Music soothes Angel’s soul, so as soon as they had a day off from work, they took it upon themselves to buy and to install bluetooth speakers that are safe to use in the shower. Every morning, Angel sets the tone for their day by selecting a playlist (they have MANY) to jam out to as they shower. David claims that the shower-speakers are excessive, but he loves it when he can hear Angel sing along to the songs as he eats his breakfast. As Angel steps out of the shower and joins David in the kitchen, they don’t let on that they notice David humming the tune that had played during their shower while he sips his coffee. Once Angel realizes David is too stubborn to admit that his criticism was hasty and he does, indeed, like the shower speakers, Angel takes it upon themselves to queue up a playlist they made for David for his showers. 

Asher: His sunrise alarm clock. Asher is not a morning guy, but as beta, he cannot afford to be late. He sleeps through the radio and the shrill beep-beep-beeps of a traditional alarm unpleasantly jolt him awake so, on a whim, he gives the sunrise alarm clock he sees online a whirl. While getting up in the morning is still not his favorite thing, getting up with a clock that mimics the sunrise helps Asher’s body adjust to wakefulness better than he could’ve imagined. It helps him to feel refreshed, recharged, and ready to take on the day. Asher wonders if his inner-wolf positively responds to the sunrise-effect because it imitates the natural process of daybreak that would greet a wolf in the wild. 

Babe: The universal remote. Babe is a big fan of convenience. They love to take every opportunity available to them to save time because they feel like so much of their time is devoted to their work. The more time they save, the more time they can spend with the people they love. With a universal remote, Babe cuts down the chance of having to search through a million remotes to find the right one, which is something they see their friends do all the time. With just one remote, Babe ensures that they’re always ready to accommodate Asher’s ever-changing tastes for movies, streaming services, video games, and more. Plus, with one only one remote, there is significantly more room on the couch available for a pair of snuggly mates.

Milo: His SmartHome app. Milo loves the idea of having everything in his apartment connected to his smartphone. As soon as he heard about all the appliances you could hook up to the app, Milo sat down, installed every single one available, and set them up. No matter where he is, he can always check to make sure the stove is off, answer the door if someone rings the bell, see what Aggro is up to (and give him treats, when Aggro “earns” them), adjust the thermostat, and so many other tasks! Milo makes good use of the thermostat feature, often when he’s on a late-night security job and Sweetheart stumbles home late at night after a double shift. Some nights, they barely have enough energy to make it into the bed and turning down the heat for the night completely slips their mind. The SmartHome app gives Milo the ability to take care of his mate (and Aggro!) even when he’s not there with them. The app helps Milo feel close to his family and allows him to protect them from a distance. 

Sweetheart: Their GPS. Sweetheart has an incredibly poor sense of direction. They struggle to get around from place to place, even when it's a place they go every day. Without the GPS, they always joke they’d ‘never get anywhere,’ but for the longest time, no one could really tell because Sweetheart just never went anywhere. Sweetheart enjoys looking back at the history of their searches to check out all the places they’ve been, especially after they met Milo. What was a predictable, repetitive list that primarily consisted of D.U.M.P Headquarters, the grocery store, and their yoga studio became a record of all the places they went with Milo and, eventually, the rest of the pack. The Dahlia Zoo, the cinema, a handful of restaurants, the Art Gallery of Dahlia, and more. Sweetheart is thankful that the GPS liberates them from their endless wrong-turn hell, but they are even more thankful that they now have places to go and people to join them on their journeys. 

Darling: Their tablet. Darling has everything they could ever need on their tablet, which they always have with them. They use the tablet to read anything from breaking news to clickbait articles, to listen to music and podcasts, to doodle, and more. Everything on their tablet is precisely labelled, organized, and personalized. It is rare for Darling to have something they can call completely their own, so they cherish their tablet as if it is their territory. When Darling once gave Sam their passcode to check something when they had their hands full, Sam never felt more honored. 

Sam: The printer. Sam may loathe technology, but having a home printer is a convenience that even Sam appreciates. He prints out everything. EVERYTHING. Recipes, articles, even stupid buzzfeed quizzes that Vincent insists he takes. Printing things out lets Sam feel like he can participate in the fast-paced world of the internet on his own terms. He takes pride in knowing exactly how to change the ink, to add paper, and to fix a jam. Vincent playfully mocks Sam for preferring hard copies of reading material, but, as Sam often points out, as soon as Vincent needs to sign anything important, he always treks over to Sam’s place to print out the document.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted headcanons #redacted david #redacted davey #david shaw #redacted angel #redacted asher #redacted babe #redacted milo #milo greer #redacted darling #redacted darlin #redacted sweetheart #redacted sam #sam collins #redacted shaw pack #shaw pack

[maybelinefox]

2003 Lighthouse AU Chapter 1: First Meeting

This is inspired by @beebopurr 's Rise lighthouse au, and you should definitely go see theirs for yourself. I love their art! The first meeting in this chapter is taken almost directly from theirs as well as an ask they got. The rest is from me.

TW: mentions of guns and the use of them and an injury caused by one in this chapter and the next. Weapons (mostly guns) will be a continuing plot point that will eventually lead to the usage of one in the last chapter that will result in a major injury, but no death. If you don't want to see that, don't read. Minor swearing throughout the story as well.

Here it is on AO3:

Thank you @wendigomahana for beta reading!

Chapter one under cut!

I take a deep breath before stepping off my boat onto the pier. From a distance, the only thing I could see of this island was green. Now that I'm up close, I still only see green, aside from the giant-ass rock cliff the lighthouse is sitting on. I've never seen this many trees gathered in one place in my entire life.

I can't tell if it's gorgeous or intimidating.

I probably shouldn't do any exploring until I've studied a map of this place or something. Knowing me, I'd get lost in like ten minutes.

Once I reach the walkway leading off the pier, I look back up at the lighthouse to see a person walking out of it. He waves, and I wave back. Looking back down to the ground, I see the walkway leads to a path curving up onto the rock. I shove my hands back into my pockets as I follow the trail.

"You're a couple hours early," the man states as I reach the entrance to the cliff.

"I purposefully overestimated my arrival time in case the ocean tried to pull me back. Or in case I forgot how to sail."

He nods, breaking a smile. "Well, I s'pose that makes sense. You sail much?"

I shake my head. "Just got that boat a couple months back. Haven't been able drive one myself much lately, but I practically grew up on the water."

He chuckles and looks out towards the pier. "Certainly looks a lot better than my old dingy. Haven't used that thing in a few years 'cept for reef fishin. Hope it still works."

His shoulders move in a near silent chuckle as he turns towards the lighthouse.

"Already got all my stuff packed up. Friend a mine came and got the bigger things last week. Place should be cleaned out for ya, 'cept the bare essentials and furniture it came with. All of which 'sides the food is pretty old. Most of it's been here longer than me."

He gives me a tour of the place, which entirely consists of four and a half rooms. The main living area with a kitchenette, a bathroom, and a small storage closet all on the bottom floor, and then a curved set of stairs leading up to the bedroom. The stairs keep going up to the top of the lighthouse where the main workspace is, and then up to the light itself.

"And that's the whole building," he states with a shrug. "Not much, but they don't really expect one person to need more than this, I guess. Here, let me show you how all this works."

After about a half an hour of him going over all the rules and procedures and showing me what all the knobs and buttons do as well as how to work the phone and radio, we head back downstairs. Over the next hour or so he shows me a few chores that need to be done a certain way, and then goes over the rest of the chores that are pretty self-explanatory. Then, we find ourselves standing in the living room again.

"Well, I guess that's it," he starts as he turns to take one last look at the inside of the lighthouse. "Ya know, when I first got here, it only took me a couple months of boredom to become so done with this place I wanted nothing more than to leave it. Now…" he takes a deep, sentimental breath and shakes his head fondly. "Now I really think I'm gonna miss this."

"You can come back to see the place whenever you want," I tell him with a small smile. "Just keep in mind I took this job 'cause I'm a major introvert, so I'd like to be warned at least a few hours in advance, if ya could."

He chuckles. "I will certainly take that offer into consideration. And honestly, I may just take ya up on it within the next week or so. Got a feelin I'm gonna be homesick real soon. And this ain't even my home anymore."

"Where ya going?"

"Oh, I'm stayin with a friend a mine till I can find me a place. Gonna be doin nothin but house hunting for a bit now. Sure I'm ‘onna get bored with that pretty quick."

I smile. "Yeah, I can imagine."

He looks around one last time.

"Well, I s'pose I should get outta your hair now. Let you get yourself all comfortable and set up and all. Do ya need anything before I go?"

"What did you say your name was again, sir?"

He reaches his hand out for a handshake, and I take it.

"You can just call me Phil, little lady."

I shake his hand.

"It was nice meeting you, Phil."

"You as well, Ayla."

He turns to leave the building. Then, like he forgot something, he pauses and turns back to me, pointing towards something leaning against the wall next to the front door.

"Almost forgot, I'm leaving ya that rifle there, just in case."

"In case a what?"

He turns fully towards me now, eyebrows furrowed to show his seriousness.

"There's things out here. Don't know what they are, but they ain't human. Only seen one clearly once. Big green thing, walked on two legs, something wrong with its back. Now, I dunno what that thing was, but I sure as hell wouldn't let it get close enough to find out if I were you."

He walks towards the gun bag, unzipping it to show the rifle inside. A Marlin. Ruger-made.

"Ammo for it is on this shelf here right above it. I've shot at them with it a few times. They don't get much closer than the trees no more, but best to keep using this to teach them not to get closer. I got it all nice fer ya in it's bag, but it'd be smarter to keep it loaded and ready to grab at moment’s notice."

He gestures towards the door, hand still on the gun.

"Pretty sure I hit one a them last week. Not sure where, but I saw blood splatter on the ground the next morning. It's probably bled out somewhere, so hopefully that's one down."

He leaves the bag unzipped and walks back over to me.

"I've called people to deal with them. They got one a them, so they told me a few years back. But there's more, and those people come by every once in a while to try again. So, in case ya ain't feelin too safe, there’s no need to worry."

I nod, not sure whether to take this seriously or not. At least it's a nice gun.

"I'll keep that in mind."

He nods, satisfied, then turns back towards the door.

Standing near the edge of the cliff, I wave at Phil as he readies himself to pull away from the pier. At least we discovered the engine still runs, so he won't need to call someone to come get him.

Nice guy, but I got this job to be alone. Didn't want to have to wait a few more hours for someone to get here to tow his boat.

After I'm sure he's far from the island, I turn back towards the lighthouse. I'll get my stuff from my boat tomorrow. I've got all the essentials in my bag. For now, I'm exhausted from the trip and would rather just crash.

This lighthouse, like almost every other lighthouse in the country, is automated. Phil already did all the daily chores before I got here, saving the ones that needed demonstration for last so he could show me how to do them, so nothing to worry about until tomorrow.

The next week is pretty much just me getting the hang of things. The biggest of the chores is keeping the lens and windows in the tower clean so the light isn't any dimmer than it should be at night, as well as keeping an eye on all the electronics to make sure none of them are busted or wearing out or need replacement. Honestly, I'm already starting to understand what Phil meant by boredom. There's not much to do around here. I'm almost wishing I was living a few decades ago, when lighthouse keepers had way more to do without all the automated electronics. When they actually controlled the light and had to remain focused on their task. There's really nothing for me to focus on now.

I also haven't seen those "things" Phil was talking about. My first night, I thought I saw something moving around in the trees at the base of the rock, but I was so exhausted that night I wouldn't be surprised if I was delirious enough to think something moving in the wind was a monster. Or worse yet, maybe I was hallucinating. But after I got some sleep, everything was normal.

The second week begins just about the same. Chores about a third of the day at most, then finding ways to entertain myself for the rest of the time. I've begun researching hobbies that can be easily practiced on an island just a few miles from the mainland.

I get supplies delivered to me once a month. They take a list from me of essentials only, such as certain foods I like, what brand of toothpaste I prefer, etc., as well as anything anyone on the mainland wants to send me. If I want to order something online, I have to have it sent to someone I trust on the mainland, family or friend or whatever, and have them take it to the people loading the supply ship. Or just have them bring it to me themselves in their own boat. So basically, if I want a material hobby, like knitting or some other kind of crafty thing, I have to go through multiple channels just to get the supplies for it. So it'd be best to take up something I can do on the island with the bare essentials, just to avoid the hassle. 

By this time, I've set up a comfortable chair on the cliff behind the lighthouse, overlooking the water. I've spent the last couple nights sitting out on this chair for a while to watch the waves.

It's on one of these particular nights I'm looking out over the water and watching the lighthouse light gleam across the sky in the distance, thinking on maybe taking up fishing again, when I hear something thud against the rocks beneath me.

I sit up straight, listening to see if I can figure out what that was before I have to investigate.

Or if I even want to investigate.

Not long after the initial thud, I hear what sounds like a groan, followed by a whimper and some thrashing in the water.

Shit.

Quickly, I grab my lantern, (extra strength, battery powered, obviously), and rush back inside to grab my med kit. 

Something alive is down there, and probably hurt pretty bad by the sound of that thud.

I make my way down the path to the base of the lighthouse rock as quickly as I can before darting towards the water. Once I turn around the base to see the rocks beneath the lighthouse, I freeze.

There, leaning up against one of the larger rocks, is....

Something....

I can't tell what I'm looking at. The light from the lantern is barely hitting it, but I can see what looks like...green...scales? I can't tell, but it doesn't look like normal scale-less human skin. It's humanoid, but I'm not sure I'd call it human. And its back is...huge…

The second the light hits it, the creature whips its head towards me. I see what looks like brown eyes before they go completely white. They still look open, but there's some kind of...inner eyelid? I think? Covering them. Its head is a bit rounder than a human head normally is, and it looks naked, but there's something of a much lighter greenish color covering it in the front. And there's something wrapped around it, but I can’t really tell from here what it is.

Once it sees me, the creature quickly slides backwards to get away from me, but ends up trapped against the rock behind it. From the direction of the trail left by whatever it's trapped in, (I think it might be a fishing net?), it looks like it hit one of the smaller rocks closer to where I'm standing and pulled itself into an alcove created by the larger rocks further away. So it can't jump into the water and the cliff rock is too close to the rocks it's leaning against to be able to squeeze through.

It's trapped.

It seems to realize this after quickly turning to examine the rock it backed into, and whips its head back to me with wide, fearful, inner eyelid covered eyes. 

I step a bit closer, allowing the light to cover more of the creature. The opening of the fishing net it's trapped in seems to be hooked over its neck. The netting is ripped and wrapped around its left arm and back, trapping the arm against its chest. The rest is dangling off, trailing out into the water and around the rocks.

I take a deep breath and step closer, causing the creature to curl up defensively against the rock. I hold up my med kit.

"Hey," I say, trying to sound as calm and soothing as possible. "I'm not gonna hurt ya. I'm here to help, actually."

The creature turns its head slightly, towards the med kit. I can't see where it's looking with its eyes all white like that, but I can see something akin to recognition crossing its features before it seems to look back to me. It doesn't move, though.

I take another slow step closer. It still doesn't move. After a couple more steps, it suddenly decides to use another tactic to protect itself.

Unfurling itself, the creature crouches on its three available limbs and looks up at me with its teeth bared. The strangest, most menacing clicking noise I've ever heard escapes from its throat, and I immediately freeze in place.

When it sees that method had an effect, it takes what I can only assume by its still fearful face is something it believes to be a bold risk, and takes a step towards me.

Now I'm the one who doesn't move despite a terrifying, unknown creature advancing on me.

It snaps its teeth at me and clicks louder, stepping towards me again, but I can see that its resolve began waning when I didn't back away.

Making a bold move myself, I step towards it again.

It stops moving and flinches backwards a bit, causing a hiccup in the clicks.

"I want to help," I say again, holding up and pointing to the med kit. "This will help you feel better. I'm sure that net around you is painful."

It seems to understand some of my words, because it stops clicking and tilts its head as if it's listening. Now that there's more light on it, and in its current crouched position, I can clearly see what looked so strange about this creature's back.

It's got a shell. Like a turtle shell. That must be what's on its front, the plastron of the shell. And the sounds it was making just adds to that fact to tell me what's happening here, impossible as it may seem. 

This thing is quite literally a giant, humanoid turtle.

I'm suddenly reminded of the description Phil gave me of those monsters he was talking about, and I begin to wonder if maybe he truly wasn't crazy, or if I'm already going crazy myself.

After a moment, the turtle creature straightens back up just a bit, sitting back on its legs and raising its functioning arm up off the ground about an inch or so, resting its elbow on its knee. It stares at the box.

"...help...?" It says slowly, curiously, in a raspy voice that obviously hasn't been used much.

I feel my eyes widen a little in shock. I don't know what I was expecting when I spoke to it, but apparently I wasn't expecting it to speak back.

"Y-yes," I say, taking another slow step forwards. It doesn't move back, but its head slides down slightly, as if it's watching my feet move. "Yeah, I want to help. I'm gonna see if I can get that net off ya, then this box has stuff in it I can use to fix your wounds."

I speak slowly, because I don't know what it can and can't understand. Hearing myself talk, I weirdly begin wondering if maybe it understands perfectly, and just doesn't need to talk, hence the raspy voice. So perhaps me speaking slowly and trying to use simple words is only being condescending. I shove those thoughts out of my head in favor of focusing on the situation at hand, deciding that if proof arises that this turtle thing does understand perfect English, I'll immediately start speaking to it normally.

The creature watches my slow approach, though now it holds just as much curiosity in its gaze as fear.

Once I'm almost within reaching distance of it, it falls backwards and pushes itself up against the rock again.

"Can...get it....no help...." It says slowly, reaching up with its free hand to grab the net around its other arm.

"Don't do that," I crouch down next to it, but it jerks away from me.

"No help," it says again, more firmly this time.

"You could hurt yourself doing that," I say, reaching into my pocket to grab my knife. "Let me get it,"

"No."

The turtle pulls on the net.

I reach out and grab its hand.

Jumping in surprise, it lets go of the net and turns towards me. Then just as suddenly, it's eyes screw shut in pain and it hisses, free hand shooting up to grab its neck where the net is hooked.

I sigh, figuring what probably happened, and bring the knife out of my pocket, holding the lantern up to see better.

Its eyes open, then immediately squint in the light.

"Here, can you hold this right here?" I ask, holding the lantern a bit closer to its free hand.

It turns its head to see me better as its hand comes up to grab the lantern. Unfortunately, in doing so, it sees the knife.

It gasps as it flinches backwards, it's hand shooting into the water behind it to support it leaning away from me.

"Oh shit-" I blurt out in realization as it uses its hand to scoot into the adjacent rock a couple feet away.

"Wait," I stand back up, adjusting the med kit on my back, hoping it didn't touch the water when I was crouched. "I need it to cut away that net. It's not gonna come off by pulling at it. I promise I'm not trying to hurt you."

"Bad men use," it states fearfully, pointing towards the knife. "Bad men hurt us with sharp thing."

Ok, so it seems to be capable of full sentences, weakly formulated as they are.

I sigh, stepping closer only a little and holding my hands up as open as I can while holding the lantern and knife.

"I'm not the bad men. I want to help. Knives can be used for good things too."

Staring wide-eyed at me, it slowly brings its hand back towards the net, gripping it but not pulling.

"That hurt you, remember?" I say, pointing with my lantern hand at the net. "Don't pull on it. This can get it off of you without hurting."

The turtle shrinks in on itself a little, staring at the knife. Its gaze slowly shifts over to me, and after a few moments of staring, it slowly nods.

"Ok," it says quietly. "No hurting...."

"No hurting," I repeat, slowly taking the couple steps necessary to get to it.

I crouch down next to it again and hold out the lantern for it to grab.

"Can you hold this for me? It'll make it easier for me to take the net off."

The turtle slowly reaches up and gently takes hold of the lantern handle, fingers brushing mine. That's when I notice it only has three. And they are indeed covered in scales. Very smooth, soft, green scales.

I try not to think about how strange that felt as I let go of the lantern.

"Now, just keep it right there, ok? This hopefully won't take long."

The turtle nods, keeping its white eyes trained on me, but it feels like its actual eyes are glaring at the knife.

Slowly, so it can see everything that's happening, I move the knife to sit underneath the net, blade pointed up, and begin sawing away, using my other hand to anchor the net in place. It doesn't take long before the thickest part of it is cut, taking most of the tension off the turtle's neck.

The second that tension is gone, the turtle sighs in relief, leaning back a little like it's deflating as the stress leaves the muscles of its shoulders. It keeps watching, though.

I cut away a few more pieces of the netting still holding its arm in place, then slowly reach up to its neck as I put my knife away. The turtle tenses up again, not sure what I'm doing and once again fearful of my intentions.

"I wanna look and see what it did to your neck," I explain. "It hurt you, so I wanna make sure you're not bleeding."

It flinches slightly away from my hand, then looks down at the net now in the water and its newly freed arm. After a moment, it looks back up at me and slowly nods.

I slowly place the tips of my fingers on its face and turn its head towards me to give me a better view of its neck. I can feel its hidden eyes on me as I lean around it to see the wound better. Luckily, it doesn't look like it's bleeding. At least, not badly. However, the skin (scales?) there has been rubbed nearly raw and there seems to be a small opening where the net sliced into the flesh.

"Ok, that's not too bad," I say. "Let me see your arm."

I release its face and move a bit in front of it so I can see the arm more directly. It raises its left arm, far less hesitant than I expected, and allows me to hold it in my hands. There are a few scratches but nothing major, the realization of which has me letting out a breath of relief. The turtle tilts its head curiously at the sound, but doesn't say anything.

"Well," I start. "It doesn't look too bad. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to get you inside to look at it in better lighting and to bandage you up. Of course, you don't have to if you don't want to, but it would make me feel better to know your wounds are covered. At least the neck one."

What I can only assume to be this hairless creature's brows furrow in confusion at my words.

"Inside?" It asks. "Where?"

I point up to the cliff, where the top of the lighthouse is visible from underneath.

"In there. That's where I live."

It follows my finger, and when its eyes land on the lighthouse, its jaw drops in a light gasp. Unexpectedly, the inner eyelids covering its eyes slide open, revealing my previous assumption of its eyes being brown to be correct. Its surprisingly human-like chocolate irises stare up at the lighthouse in wonder as I watch on.

"In there?" It asks in disbelief.

The more I hear its voice, the more I believe this creature is male. It sounds young, (which doesn't help), with a very soft and somewhat higher pitched voice, but the tone sounds to be more in the masculine area.

"Yeah, in there," I say, slowly standing. "Don't worry, I live alone."

I reach out my hand to help it (him?) up. He turns his head back towards me, and his eyes move to my hand once he sees it hovering in front of him. After a moment of staring, he looks back up at me.

"Can't go there."

Now it's my turn to tilt my head, but more in confusion.

"Why not?"

"Angry man lives there," he explains, looking back down at my hand. "Very loud. Bang stick hurts. Can't go there."

My eyes widen in realization.

Phil told me he kept the "big green thing(s)" away from the lighthouse by shooting at them. He said he hit one last week.

I quickly look the turtle over again, but he doesn't look like he's been shot anywhere. Not anywhere I can see in this lighting, at least.

"Here," I say, holding one hand closer to his right and reaching for the lantern with the other one. "Grab my hand with yours. I'm gonna help you stand up."

He glances between my face and my hand a couple times and waits for me to pull the lantern out of his hand before he slowly moves it towards mine. Gently, his three fingers slide into my five, and we both close our fingers around each other's palms.

I'm suddenly hit with the thought that this guy is probably very heavy. But luckily for me, his left arm is not too injured for him to push himself part of the way, mainly using my grip for stability as he gets himself up.

"That guy left almost two weeks ago," I say as he lets go to test if he can stand on his own. "I live there now, not him."

The turtle, now standing just about eye-level with me, turns to look at me in shock after he's determined he's quite stable on his own two feet.

"Angry man is gone?" he asks, sounding doubtful.

I nod. "It's only me. No one else."

He stares at me for a moment before full comprehension sets in. He then snaps his attention back to the lighthouse and a look I can only describe as pure joy and disbelief lights up his features.

He points up at the building above us.

"I can go in there?" he asks in a quiet voice, seemingly in awe of the concept.

I nod again, smiling. "You sure can. Just follow me."

I turn to lead the way around the rock back to the path. I hear his steps behind me, and a couple jumps in the water as well, as if he were a child jumping for joy at the thought of going into a lighthouse.

I begin to wonder if he is.

A child.

That would explain how young he sounds, and his minor speaking comprehension.

Oh damn. If he's a child, how big will he be as an adult?

All thoughts and worry leave my mind the second my foot steps onto dry land. I cringe at the squelch and the rushing feeling between my toes.

I hadn't really thought. I'd just run out the door. I didn't grab the wading boots. So now my sneakers and socks are soaked.

Ugh, I hate wet shoes.

The turtle doesn't seem to care about the sound of my shoes, however, as his focus remains transfixed on the lighthouse building the entire trip up to it.

Once we reach the door, I pull off my shoes and socks, leaving them outside beside the doorstep to dry, before opening the door and stepping inside to set the lantern down and dry my feet on the doormat. I turn towards the turtle and gesture for him to come inside.

"Come on in," I say as I leave the door to head to the bathroom.

When I come back out wearing dry pants and holding a towel for him, I find him standing at the door still, wide eyes taking in every detail of the living room.

I step towards him, gently grabbing his good arm to tug him inside. My measly pull doesn't move him even the slightest bit, but he gets the hint and steps forward. I close the door behind him and turn to put the towel over his shoulders. Or, I try to. The shell ends up taking most of the coverage.

He turns towards me at the feeling of something touching him, then looks down in surprise to see the towel. I walk in front of the turtle to pull the towel up tighter around his shoulders.

"You can use this to dry yourself off. Like this."

I rub a small part of the towel over his wet arm, then pull it away to show the now dry scales.

He blinks in surprise, then grabs the towel and begins rubbing it over his scales, trying to recreate the magic in other wet areas of his body. I smile at this as I head over to one of the stools at the kitchen counter, pulling it out and turning it towards him. Setting the med kit on the counter, I turn back to see he's already mostly dried himself off.

"Alright come sit here so I can patch you up," I tell him.

He looks away from the bottom of his foot he's currently wiping the towel on and up at me before glancing down at the stool. He uses the towel for one last scrub of his other foot before slowly making his way to the stool to sit down. I step around in front of him as he puts the towel back over his shoulders and hugs it to him as much as he can.

"I'm gonna need to see your arm and neck, bud," I tell him, motioning to the towel. He pouts, but takes it off and bunches it in his lap, hugging it to himself. I make a mental note to get him my warmest blanket after we're done here.

I spend the next few minutes cleaning and dressing his wounds. Mostly the one on his neck. There's only one on his arm bad enough to need to be covered. His neck wound is the most concerning, but so long as it stays clean and covered the scales will probably grow back.

"There," I say, finishing the last one. "That should be better."

He looks down at the bandage on his arm. He hadn't reacted well to the cleaning alcohol used on his wounds, especially when it hit the raw open spot on his neck. But with some gentle encouragement, he had allowed me to continue. I'm not sure if that means he trusts me, but at least he's not afraid of me anymore.

"Can I see the light now?" he asks in a very excited, childish voice.

I glance into his eyes to see them wide open, a hopeful gleam in his irises.

I can't help but smile at the childish enthusiasm.

"Sure, but you have to be careful. We don't want to break it. The light is very important for the ships going by in the water."

He nods enthusiastically, dropping the formerly precious towel as he stands.

On the way up through the bedroom, I grab him a blanket, and he happily wraps it around himself as he walks up the stairs.

The turtle is practically shaking with joy the entire time we're up in the light. He stays true to his promise to be careful, but he apparently took it as "don't touch anything". On multiple occasions, I can see his hands twitching towards some mechanism on the light out of curiosity, before he remembers jerks them away. So, I show him some areas I'm not too worried about him touching, just to help him get that out of his system.

When his hand first touches the cool metal at the base of the lamp, he seems to melt into the touch, entirely in awe of the giant metal beast in front of him. He watches the lamp turn, marveling at the sight.

"Why does it do that?"

"Do what?"

He slowly looks towards me and holds one finger up before moving it in circles, similar to how the lamp spins.

"Oh, the lamp spins to give sailors the impression the light is blinking. Or turning on and off. That way they won't mistake it for a star, and will know they need to go towards it."

"Cool...." He says in an impressed, breathy tone, as he looks back up at the lamp. Then he tilts his head, seemingly confused.

"But..." He thinks for a moment. "It can...blink...itself?" He glances at me, then turns back towards the light, almost shy now.

"Sorry..."

Ah. He's embarrassed by his question.

"That's a good question, actually," I start, and he turns back towards me, blinking in surprise, before a slight smile graces his features.

"Back before they could just screw in a lightbulb whenever the light went out, they used giant lanterns. Those aren't nearly as easy to turn on and off, and would have to have someone sitting by them all night in order to keep it up. So that's why they came up with the spinning thing. The lens magnified the lantern light, and that's what was spun. It moved around the lantern to create the blinking effect."

As I explain, I gesture to certain parts of the lamp that are still somewhat similar, though the whole thing is essentially a giant flashlight. The turtle watches with genuine interest as I answer what he believed to be a stupid question with an entire historical/scientific monologue.

"They did that for so long it became iconic, and what sailors specifically looked for. So some lighthouses, like this one, still spin the light around. Just for sentimental reasons, to be honest."

"Woah...." He says under his breath, genuinely impressed by the reasoning. "That was so smart...."

"It really was, huh?" I look around a moment before an idea comes to me. I head back downstairs to the office area and look around the walls until I find it. Stretching up, I carefully pull the paper off the wall, smiling down at it in my hands before heading back up.

He had turned and stood to watch me when he’d noticed me leaving, and observes me curiously as I ascend the stairs. I hold the paper out to him.

"Do you know what that is?" I ask him as he takes it. His "brows" furrow in concentration as he stares at it.

"A....old....lighthouse?" He asks, unsure. He looks up at me and tilts his head.

"Yep. It's the first lighthouse. Or what they believe is the first lighthouse."

His eyes widen in excitement, and he looks back down at the drawing.

"There's a few different designs of what they believe it looked like, but that's the most agreed upon. The thing is in ruins now, so there's no way to be sure."

He listens to my words before pointing at a few written on the page.

"Pa...pa-ras?" He tries to pronounce the word above the building on the paper.

Ok, so he can kind of read. Interesting.

I point to the letters of the word.

"'P' and 'h' together make an 'f' sound, and that's an 'o', pronounced just like that." I don't wanna move too fast and try to explain the accent it should be pronounced with, so I stick with the basics. That should get him to pronounce it almost exactly.

He stares for a second longer before trying again.

"Pha...ros?"

"Yes!" I say, and he smiles at the praise.

"Pharos was built in Alexandria, Egypt. They think about twenty-five hundred years ago or so. It's the first known lighthouse, so everyone who studies or works in lighthouses are called 'pharologists' in honor of the first one."

He looks back up from the paper and points at me.

"You?"

I chuckle. "Yes, that would make me a pharologist too, since I work in a lighthouse and have studied how they work."

He beams at this information. "Cool!"

He asks a few more questions about lighthouses and the mechanisms of the light itself, and I do my best to answer all of them. After about half an hour, he begins slowing down. I notice he looks at the bandage on his arm a few times. Then he goes silent for a bit, staring out the window at something in the trees and pulling the blanket tighter around himself. I look out too, trying to see if I can find what he's looking at, but I just see trees.

Just when I'm wondering if I should question him or just leave him to it, he turns to me.

"Are you a doctor?"

I blink a few times in surprise at the random question, before shaking my head.

"If you mean a medical doctor, no. I have some minor medical training, but nothing to the level of an actual doctor."

"But you can fix...uh...wounds?"

"If they're not bad enough to need a hospital, yes. Why?"

“Hos...pital…?”

“It’s a place where sick or hurt people go to get better. The real doctors are there.”

He stares at me for a moment, seeming to contemplate something. Then he looks back out the window.

"We need a doctor...." He says quietly, almost too low for me to hear.

This is the second time he's referenced there being more of him. Phil had spoken as if there were multiple, so I had automatically been thinking like there were. But now that I'm actually thinking about it, I begin to wonder if there's like a whole tribe of them, or if it's just a single family. And if he's a kid, then what do the adults look like? Would they be more wary of me than this one?

"Do you need me to go somewhere?" I ask, almost hoping he says they can bring the injured party here. If there are bigger and far more untrusting and protective adults out there, I'd rather not risk going into their territory.

He turns back to me.

"He hurt to move. Sleep all day. Hurt when he's awake. Not eat much anymore."

"So, you don't think he can come here?" I ask.

He looks down to think for a moment, then shakes his head.

"Can't move."

"Ok..." I cross my arms in contemplation. "Do you know what's wrong with him? How he got hurt?"

At that, the turtle looks back up at me, and upon seeing me his eyes widen in some kind of realization before he flinches backwards.

Oh, he's scared of me again. What did I do?

I back up a step, holding my hands out.

"Are you ok? I'm sorry if I-"

"Human…" he says, wrapping his arms and the blanket around himself. "Bang stick...."

Oh....

OH.

The one Phil shot is still alive.

"Where?" I ask.

He looks back at me, confused.

"Where did the bang stick hit him?" I ask again.

A different kind of realization passes over his features, and he moves the blanket to raise his left hand and points to a spot on his right arm. Just below the elbow. Then he moves his finger across his scales from one side of the outer arm to the other, drawing a line.

So the bullet grazed him, but left a sizeable enough gash. That gash probably became infected.

Damn. That infection’s probably been raging for over two weeks. I'm almost shocked the arm hasn't fallen off. Unless it's already spread up further. Cutting the arm off to save the body is probably out of the question now, as it's highly likely it's already reached organs. There's no way he'd be able to survive much longer without antibiotics.

Of which I'm not exactly in rich supply.

Also, these are turtles. They have a different form of healthcare in certain areas. I know a lot about turtles, but I'm trained in human medical health. I wouldn't be too confident I'm doing the right thing if you threw a heavily injured turtle in front of me.

"Is it swollen?" I ask. I know the answer, but I'm hoping he can tell me it's not as bad as I think.

He makes a curious sound, almost like a chirp, as he tilts his head.

"His arm," I gesture towards my arm, then hold my hand open around it to signify a bigger size. "Is it bigger than it should be?"

He nods and makes a similar gesture himself to show how much bigger.

Ok, not too much bigger, I suppose. But then again, I can't actually be sure until I see for myself.

"Ok, let me get some stuff."

This definitely can't wait until morning. If he's had an infection in his arm since it was shot, every second counts.

I grab up my med kit as well as any and every antibiotic, painkiller, and anti-inflammatory I can find and throw them in a separate bag along with a few bottles of water and some clean rags. Stopping to think for a moment, I decide to bring some strong sleeping pills too. Just in case surgery or something painful of the sort ends up needing to happen. On that note, I grab multiple sharp objects of differing sizes to throw in the second bag as well.

This is really gonna suck.

Leaving the storage closet, I find the turtle blanketless and standing in the living room, staring at the door.

I should really find a name for him. Or maybe ask him and see if he's already got a name.

"Hey," I start, walking up to him. "So, I can't believe I haven't already asked you, but do you...."

I trail off as I notice his attention has not turned to me, and he's still staring at the door. Following his gaze, I freeze when I realize what he's staring at.

The gun is still by the door.

I debate whether I should try to pull his attention away from it or go over and physically move it.

Sighing, I figure touching it would make things worse.

"It's not gonna hurt you," I say softly.

He slowly turns to me.

"It hurt Mikey."

Mikey.

Ok, so they do have names.

Interesting.

"That's because the guy holding it wanted to hurt him," I say. "It can't hurt anyone unless it's being held by someone who wants to use it to hurt people."

Slowly, I move towards it. I hadn't closed the bag, so it's still leaning against the wall halfway exposed. Reaching out, carefully, so he can see what I'm doing, I grab the zipper and zip up the bag so the rifle is no longer visible.

"Now, no one's holding it, so it won't shoot. It won't hurt you. And it's gonna stay here. I'm not intending on bringing it with us."

Unless....

I look back at him.

"Is where we're going dangerous?"

He tilts his head. "Why would it be?"

I think for a moment on how to explain, and settle on: "It's probably not dangerous for you, but is it dangerous for me?"

He stares for a moment, thinking, before shaking his head.

"I'll be with you. They'll have to let you in."

Ok, ominous, but I'll take it.

"Then it'll stay here."

I move away from the gun to open the door.

"Why bring it to danger? That would make the danger worse?"

He steps around the gun bag to get through the door, giving it a wide berth and staring at it the whole time like it might jump out at him.

"Well, while some people use those to hurt, others use them to protect," I explain, closing the door behind us. "If we were going somewhere dangerous for me, I would be able to use that to protect myself. But I trust you to have my back, so no worries."

I also feel if he had that kind of reaction to seeing it, his family may be just as bad or worse if I walk up carrying the thing that put Mikey into such a scary state. It may end up causing the danger to me, whereas if I didn't have it I would be perfectly safe.

He thinks on what I said for a long time, leading me from the lighthouse into the trees, before finally speaking.

"Why can it do both? Why protect from something that hurts with something that hurts? Isn't that what shields are for?"

"Well, remember how I used the knife to help you? It can hurt, but it can also be used to help."

He turns back to me, still seemingly confused, but connecting the dots.

I sigh.

"If whoever is trying to hurt you tries hard enough, you may need to hurt them back to get them to stop."

He stares at me for a moment before going back to his task of leading me through the forest.

He doesn't talk any more after that.

A while later, as we near some kind of grove-looking area with what appears to be a small cave hidden in a thick patch of trees, the turtle stops and turns to me, nearly swinging the lantern into my face with how quickly he spins.

"Is that why?"

"Is that why what?"

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out for a moment as he contemplates his question.

"Is....is that why he hurt us?"

"The angry man?"

He nods.

"Did he think we hurt him?"

I stare at him for a moment, opening my mouth to answer, but ultimately closing it as I try to find the right words. He watches, patiently, waiting to know if he and his family had done something wrong.

I take a deep breath.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. He thought you were going to hurt him, and he wanted to stop you before you could."

"But..." He looks back towards the grove.

"Mikey got too close. He did not hurt angry man. He just wanted to see what angry man was doing. He said angry man was tearing up the lighthouse and he want to see why. Then angry man used the bang stick. Mikey was just watching. He did not mean anything-"

I hold up my hand to stop him.

"Of course he didn't. But the angry man didn't understand. He thought something else was happening. He's the one that misunderstood. Mikey did nothing wrong."

He watches me as I talk, big brown eyes looking about ready to cry.

"What's your name, by the way? I'm sorry I haven't asked."

He sniffles a little, then rubs his eyes.

"D-Donny," he says. "Father called me Donny."

Uh oh.

That was past tense.

Wait, Phil did say one of them was caught a few years ago.

Shit. Are there a bunch of children out here without an adult?

Is there a mother nearby who doesn't talk much, if at all, so she never says names, and that’s why he only mentioned his father?

Is there another type of adult and offspring care system I'm unaware of happening here?

…am I in danger and Donny doesn't know?

I shake my head, just barely enough so Donny doesn't see.

"Ok, Donny," I say, hopefully in a soothing voice. "My name is Ayla."

A small smile appears.

"Hi Ayla."

I chuckle.

"Let's not think about the angry man right now. Mikey needs help, right?"

Donny nods quickly, turning back to the grove.

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