#enjoying little things and being together in new place
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thunderstruck | marcus pike
Summary | You're scared of storms but it's okay, because Marcus always knows how to soothe you.
Pairing | Marcus Pike x F!Reader
Word Count | 1.4K
Warnings | Explicit - descriptions of thunderstorms, softness/fluff, rain, established relationship, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, our boy Marcus just being Marcus. No use of y/n.
Authors Note | This is my contribution to @undercoverpena's April Showers Challenge. It's a blessing that I got anything out because this brief gave me so many ideas, but I've missed my man and knew he would be the one I'd want to comfort me through a rain storm. Enjoy.
Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi
Divider by @saradika
Are you busy?
No baby, what’s up?
I don’t like the storm.
They’ve never been your favourite. Something about growing up on the coast, when the rain and wind would bring the waves crashing near your home, and your parents would walk about like nothing was wrong and there wasn’t the immediate danger of your house being washed out to sea. The nights, when the wind would clatter the shutters against the windows and drag tiles from the roof to break onto the ground. It might be Washington D.C. now and you might live in a new apartment building, but it doesn’t make the torrential rain and gale force winds any easier to handle.
You’re sitting on the couch, curtains drawn with all the lights on to try and make it feel less scary, but when the first clap of thunder hits you jump and scream all the same, burying yourself further under the blanket, some childhood wish for that to keep you safe.
There’s a knock at the door a little while later, the only thing that could drag you from the warm cocoon of blankets. Padding gently to the door, you open it, Marcus stood in front of you, dripping wet from the storm outside. He steps across the threshold, arm wrapping around your waist as he dips to press a kiss to the crown of your head.
“This feels stupid.” You grumble as you shut the door behind him, following close to his heels as he walks through your apartment, so familiar with it now that it feels like home to have to him here.
“It’s not stupid if you’re scared, baby.” He soothes, sitting down on your couch, opening his arm to encourage you to snuggle into his side, which you do without question.
You can feel his thumb tracing soothing circles on your arm as you settle a little, but it’s short-lived, when a crash of thunder bellows through the room from outside, making you jump and bury your head into the side of his neck with a groan.
“I blame the coast,” You speak softly, “I was always so scared of it blowing our house away when I was small.”
“You know what helps?” Marcus murmurs against your head, another soft kiss placed to it.
“Hmmm?”
“Sometimes you’ve just got to be louder than the storm.”
You look up at him, confused for a second, until you can feel him moving the two of you, laying you gently down on the couch. His mouth sponges kisses across your neck, trailing down across your collarbone before he drags it away to peel your tank top from your body. You hear Marcus hum in approval at your lack of bra, his hands gently pressing your tits together before his mouth is suckling a nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking over it until it’s stiffened to a peak, giving the same attention to the other side until you’re gasping, bucking your hips into his, the bulge in his trousers evident as his mouth trails further south, tongue leaving a trail from your tits and down your stomach until he gets to the waistband of your pyjama pants.
“Lift up.” He murmurs softly, voice almost drowned out by the constant smattering of rain against the windows.
Doing as you’re told, you lift your hips up, letting him hook his fingers into the waistband to drag them down your legs. You miss the weight and warmth of his body when it’s gone, but then you feel his warm palms on the inside of your thighs, pressing your legs open, and then you don’t mind so much at all, especially when you look up at him, watching him admire the already sticky mess accumulating between your thighs.
Marcus moves to run his thumb across your folds, dragging your slick across your skin, but not daring to dip below to where you truly want him.
“Such a pretty pussy.” He muses, moving to situate himself between your legs, hot mouth pressing wet kisses to the delicate skin of your thighs, teasing you by putting his mouth everywhere but where you need it most.
“M-Marcus, please.” You whimper when his face moves, he’s so close to your cunt you can feel the hot of his breath.
“What do you want, baby?” He asks, running that damn thumb over your folds once more, this time though, his other thumb rests to the side, gently pulling your folds apart to bare you to him, “Want me to kiss it a little?”
“Oh god, oh please Marcus, please.”
“Sound so pretty when you beg for it.” He speaks, and you’re about to say something smart when he leans forward and presses a single, open-mouth kiss to your clit.
It’s tiny in comparison to what you really want, but it makes you throw your head back anyway, back arching, trying to press your cunt closer to his face. Thankfully, he takes pity on you, kisses your clit once, twice more, and then you can feel the tip of his tongue, flicking up against your clit, then dragging back down, sometimes circling, working you gently until you’re whining and bucking your hips into his face.
You’d almost forgotten about the storm outside, the movements of his tongue distracting you just enough, until the loudest clap of thunder echoes through the apartment. It makes you scream, jumping slightly, but you feel Marcus’ hands grip tightly to the skin of your thighs, tearing his mouth away from you. You look down at him, mouth glistening with a mix of your slick and his spit, glint across his brown eyes.
“What did I say?” He asks, squeezing at your thighs again, “What did I tell you earlier?”
“Um…” You wrack your brain, trying to remember, “I needed to be louder than the storm?”
“That’s right, my clever girl,” He praises, heat rising across your skin, “If you scream for me, you won’t notice.”
Once again, before you can retort with your smart mouth, he’s back on you, lips closing around your clit, tongue resuming it’s flicking across your bundle of nerves, but then you can feel two of his fingers sinking inside you, easing into your walls, curling up against that perfect spot inside of you.
It makes you cry out, his name dropping from your lips as you arch off the couch, his tongue working in time to the press of his two fingers in your cunt. You’re chanting his name into the room, moving your hips in time to the movements of his hands until you’re teetering on the edge of bliss. He knows, of course he does, the way your walls start to flutter around his fingers, so he slows his fingers, keeping you dangling over the edge but not quite pushing you just yet.
“Marcus p-please,” You whimper, hands tangling in his hair, “Please make me come.”
“You asked so nicely, baby,” He muses against your pussy, letting his fingers curl just perfectly against the spongy spot inside you, “Whenever you’re ready honey.”
It takes very little more, his mouth suckling at your clit, his fingers pressing inside you, and then you’re crashing, skin aflame with pleasure as you do exactly as he told you and scream his name into the living room, body convulsing, gushing around his fingers as they still inside you. You’re clenching around him as his tongue moves gently across your clit to work you through your orgasm until you’re boneless and pliant beneath him.
Marcus drags his fingers from you, letting them run up the skin of your thighs, as he finally relents and pulls away from you, just in time for more thunder to sound out, this time a little further away.
“Well, listen there,” He whispers, fingers moving to undo the button of his trousers, “Storm still hasn’t passed,” He speaks as he drags the zipper down, “Think you can make a little more noise, baby?”
You reach up, hand clutching the back of his neck to pull him back down on top of you, mouth meeting his, tasting yourself on his tongue as he kisses you before you pull away, “I can make all the noise you want.”
#Marcus Pike#Marcus Pike Smut#Marcus Pike x reader#Marcus Pike x you#marcus pike fanfiction#Marcus Pike x female reader#Marcus Pike x F!reader#Marcus Pike fic#Marcus Pike fanfic#the mentalist#the mental illness is winning#the mentalist fanfic#the mentalist fanfiction#Pedro pascal#marcus pike fluff#Marcus Pike angst#Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal#Marcus Pike The mentalist
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The Belly of a Black Heart - Alastor x Reader
18+. minors do not interact.
thank you @lustylita for the inspiration of this fic. your mind is a beautiful place. everyone check out her art and her concept to this story here. all credits to her, this was not my idea.
part 2
summary : After an unsuspecting death, you end up in hell and at the Hazbin Hotel. You become dead set on redemption. Alastor's feelings towards you are confusing and it pisses him off more than he can handle. In result, unknowingly to him, his feelings manifest through his shadow.
tw : no smut this chapter. angst. alastor being a jerk. mild gore/wound
words : 5.3k
notes : i hope you enjoy this chapter <3
When you wake the next morning, your head is a blur. Sitting up in your bed you take a minute to look around your new living situation. It takes a second to understand that this isn’t the room you usually wake up in but, despite all of that, you feel good.
The reality of being in hell was hard on you yesterday. You’ve had your little breakdown and denial fest.. you won’t let that bother you today. Pushing past things is how you manage. Always one step at a time. Plus, you’re in a place that offers redemption now. What’s done is done and now you can focus on how to get into heaven and maybe sort out a plan there. With God or something, right?
He’s literally God, maybe he could help your situation on earth. You doubt anyone here could help you… or even want to help you.
No headaches, your body doesn’t burn… today feels like you can start fresh. Rolling to get out of bed, your eyes catch a bundle of red in the corner of your eye.
Three red peonies tied together in a bow lay delicately over your unoccupied pillow.
You examine the vibrant flowers and thumb around the stems. You wonder who was thoughtful enough to give a simple yet welcoming gift.
Alastor’s fleeting expression and charming smile snatches your memory from last night. Your face almost burns, remembering how close he was to you, his face grazing against your cheek, breath fanning over you as it does.
Smiling to yourself, you think today would be a good day to get back on track. Charlie is willing to help you, and you might learn more about the gentleman from last night. You can even thank him for the lovely flowers.
The hotel buzzes with life when you walk to the formal dining room. Delicious breakfast foods waft through the air. The warm smell of coffee buzzes through your body.
“C’mon Husky, don’t chya wanna try it? I’ve been slavin’ over this all mornin’ for ya!” A tall, fluffy man leans over the dining room table, sliding a plate of food to a grumpy cat.
“Fuck no! Satan knows what you put in there and I don’t wanna risk dying twice.” Taking a swig from a browned bottle, the cat pushes away the plate.
The tall man’s shoulder slump as he lets out a groan. “Fine, but one day you’re gunna try my cookin’ and you’ll love it. You might even beg for moore.” He teases, taking the plate for himself as Husk rolls his eyes.
“Oh, good morning! How was your first night?” Charlie beams from the head of the table and everyone’s heads swivel to you. Suddenly, you’re on the spot.
“It was great, thank you. I actually had the best sleep I’ve had in a while,” you smile, “I needed it.”
“Everyone welcome our new guest! She arrived late last night.”
It was a small creature with a giant eye who lunged herself toward you first. Her little legs patting the floor and up your body before you could react.
“I’m Nifty, I clean.” A sinister giggle erupts from her lips before the tall man who offered.. Husk is it?.. a plate gently and removes her from you.
“Hey doll, I’m Angel.”
Alastor watches from the hallway as the group introduces themselves to you. Hidden in the shadows, he watches you closely. The way you smile fondly towards people you barely know, how you embrace each one with a greeting. Clearly, you lighten the room. But you’re a mystery, and one he doesn’t want to get involved with.
Does he?
Your sweet doe eyes are burned in a memory. He couldn’t help but get close enough to smell you, and fuck, did your saccerine smell burn through his nostrils as well. He could see your panic, the reality of your new eternal life smacking you in the face… the frustration it caused you last night.
But were you really keen on redemption? He could see the light beam behind your eyes once you stood at the center of your room. You belong here, you’re here for a reason. It’s hell afterall. Every sinner who comes here belongs to this wretched place to burn forever. Surely Charlie’s delusions didn’t persuade you in one night?
Surely you’re not that…simple?
“Will Alastor be joining us for breakfast? He’s the only one I haven’t seen this morning.” Alastor ears perk up at your voice from afar.
“Ehh, smiles doesn’t usually eat with us. Probably up in his room going to town on some animal he caught this mornin’.” Angel grimaces.
Watching your reaction closely, the slight fall of your face doesn’t go unnoticed. But you’re quick to recover with a smile and dig in with everyone else.
“Okay everyone! Gather around! Today we will be learning about each other.” Charlie’s hand gestures to you on the couch as everyone else filters into the common room.
Angel plops himself over the couch’s armchair next to you, stretching his long legs over your thighs. Husk mopes in the room, bottle in hand and leans against the fireplace. Nifty props herself over the table happily swinging her legs and Vaggie stands beside her partner, eyeing everyone down.
Your eyes carefully glance around the room, trying not to bring attention that you’re looking for Alastor. From your comment at breakfast before, you don’t want to keep bringing the man up to avoid conversations you don’t want to have.
But it fails.
“Looking for tall dark and creepy?” Angel shimmies his chest and throws you a wink.
Rolling your eyes you push playfully at Angel’s leg. “No, just making sure everyone is here.” Giving him a side eye you whisper, “nosey.”
Angel laughs and gives you a nudge, “Well looks like you’re in luck toots, looks who’s comin’.”
Perking up, you watch Alastor’s tall form stride in the room and take a seat in an armchair directly across from you. His smile is wide, but it seems strained? Folding one leg over the other, he relaxes back into his seat. His eyes scan the room, probably checking for roll-call, before landing directly over you.
You give a smile but he doesn’t react.
“Okay! Now that everyone is here, we will be telling 2 truths and a lie. Everyone will say two truths about themselves and one lie. The group will have to guess which one is a lie. So fun!” Charlie claps.
“I don’t want to put our new guest on the spot, so let’s start with Husk.”
A low groan emits from the fireplace where Husk stands. He really looks like he doesn’t want to be here, but maybe he’s been here long enough to know that he has to participate.
“Alright, uh, I can down a whole bottle of whiskey with no reaction, I suck at dice games, and I hate water.”
“I’ll give you something to down, Husky~” Angel tosses his head back and blows him a kiss.
“For fuckssake,” Husk rolls his eyes.
“Oh oh! I know, the lie is he hates water! I’ve seen him take bubble baths at night.” Nifty giggles sinisterly.
“Okay good job, Nifty.” Vaggie cringes and turns her attention to you, “Would you like to give it a try next?”
Glancing between her and Alastor’s heavy stare, has he been looking at you this whole time? You shrug. “Sure, I'll give it a shot. Let me think…” You hum.
“I’ve been in hell for a long time, I love to dance and I’m pretty good at it, and I stole drugs when I was alive.” You’re not that great with coming up with things on the spot, but you gave it your best shot. First things that came to your mind and all without being too personal.
Angel drags out a hum, “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that you can dance. Not sure if I would paint you as someone who would steal. You act like Miss-goodie-two-shoes’s-distant relative over there. I’m gunna go with that one.”
You couldn’t help but contain your smile, you could have sworn that your appearance gave you away that you literally died just yesterday.
“Nope! I died yesterday and found this place last night. Thank god I saw your commercial, I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t.”
Angel’s mouth drops open and leans forward. “Hold on, you’re like, super fresh? No kiddin’. So… you stole drugs?” He looks you up and down, “can you do it again?”
“Matter of fact, we don’t know much about you. Anything at all really. I’ll take it you’re here because you stole, but there’s gotta be more than that.” Husk examines his bottle.
You shift in your seat uncomfortably. “Yeah, I stole but- I don’t know.” Memories of stealing drugs, scamming people for money flood your mind. That stuff was bad, but did it really land you here in hell? I’m sure it’s a part of the 10 commandments or sins or whatever…
The man. Your knife.
You killed someone right before dying.
“What drugs do you like? I got some good connections. We could totally-”
“No! Nonono, no one is going to do that. Say no to drugs! Remember we are trying to get redeemed?” Charlie’s arms wave frantically as she lets out a nervous laugh.
It was all for protection. You never wanted to hurt anyone like that before, it’s not like you wake up blood thirty for killing. It was self defense.
Guilt bubbles within your gut, and it’s getting hard to breathe. Would they even care if you killed? You’re sure almost everyone in hell has killed, even in the afterlife.
“C’mon, toots, tell us a little about yourself. This is about sharing after-all,” Angel teases. “I wanna know all the shit you did when you were alive! You sound like a good time, Y’know my girl buddy would love you-”
“I think that’s enough for today.” A staticy voice interrupts the conversation. Your head swivels to meet the demon who carries a strained smile. The hair on his ears stick up in a frenzy while his claws grip over the top of his microphone cane.
“But Alastor we barely got star-”
“I think,” Alastors voice grows with static, every word pronounced precisely, “that is enough for today.”
Angel's legs slide off you as he stands to stretch, “Aww what a buzzkill.”
Before you have the chance to leave the room, your face is met with Alastor’s chest.
He lifts his chin, but his eyes bore down at yours. Your eyes shoot wide with the proximity, and something within his chest spurs as wait for him to speak.
“I would like to speak with you privately, my dear.”
Following him up the stairs and into his radio tower, you tread lightly in new territory. Papers over his desk are neatly stacked next to a forgotten cup of coffee. The walls are floor to ceiling windows overlooking Pride, you’ve come to know. Dusk stretches the horizon and little dots of light twinkle in the distance over the city. On the other side of the room, old equipment lined the wall. Hundreds of knobs and switches cover the machines and you wonder how he’s able to work such equipment. Speakers, extra microphones sat upon a bookshelf along with books, magazines and other nic-nacs you’re sure he has collected through the years.
You’re not sure how old the demon is, and you’re not sure how you haven’t thought about it since meeting him, especially when he has taken up most of your mind these past 24 hours.
You guess he’s from the roaring 20’s? 30’s? He’s dressed sophisticatedly with not a hair out of place. His posture paints him a perfect gentleman in a society where it mattered. His transatlantic accent was smooth and you long to hear it more than you should, or do. And guessing by this set up, the ON AIR sign that hangs directly over his desk, you could be right.
But what of this demon? What is his story? You’ll put a pin in it and ask angel later-
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here so I’ll cut to the chase.” Alastor’s arms are neatly behind his back as he looks over Pride. Without turning to you, he continues.
“I’m looking for more help around the hotel. Husk’s job is primarily tending to the bar, Nifty cleans and Charlie is over her head with trying to recruit sinners. I’d like to say that I have everything handled with paperwork and trying to keep this pace afloat, but I don’t.”
Your brows furrow in confusion. He.. can’t handle it all? He definitely gives the calm, cool collected attitude of one who would never need help.
“So, you need my help? I thought I was just a sinner trying to get redemption?”
Alastor stiffens for a moment before turning to you. “I thought you should know that Charlie and I had a discussion earlier. We think that you fit into the family seamlessly. We both thought you would be great at helping us with our little project.” He tilts his head, scanning you over, “Unless you don’t want to?”
You shake your head. This might not be a bad idea. This could actually help you in more ways than one. This could help you more with gaining redemption and be a part of a bigger picture.
“No, that all sounds great actually. What exactly do you have in mind for me to help you with?”
“More of the mundane things like checking over the hotel to make sure everything is in order, placing orders for food, toilet paper - the essentials.”
“So the mundane things you don’t want to do?” You laugh lightheartedly. “Sure, Alastor, I can do that for you. Do you have a check list for me?”
In one snap, Alastor conjures up a daily ‘to-do” list for you. Your eyes widen at his magic.
“If you can do that, why can’t you make food and toilet paper appear instead of ordering it?”
His smile is smug, “It’s a lot more complicated than that, little doe”
Turning on your heel, you say over your shoulder, “One day, I’d like to properly thank you for the flowers you left me.”
He watches you disappear through the doorway, confusion carved over his face. Flowers?
What an interesting thing to say… An odd woman.
Woman. Your presence had been the first in his studio.
Charlie and the guests know that no one is allowed in this room, for it’s locked 24/7. This room is his pride, his sanctuary and the one thing he’s carried on since dying. Besides killing and torturing innocent people, he supposes.
Clawing at the staff of his cane he shakes the thought of your company being… comforting.
His ear twitches in frustration. This foreign feeling- this odd hunger for catching your eye in a sea of others, to smell you near has become a twisted form of entertainment. He has to ignore the way his lower belly heats and aches when you're near…Is it entertainment? He stares at the door where you just stood.
Is his curiosity growing in the little moments you spend together or is it something he can’t pinpoint? His facade will fail to hold if he continues like this.
A predator assessing his pray like it’s a game. Except, it doesn’t feel like that kind of a hunt.
-
Stepping out from the bathroom after your nighttime routine, a darkness catches the corner of your eye.
“Hello?” you call out.
The darkness in the corner slithers across the floor and manifests itself in the center of your room.
You curse under your breath, while it’s not the craziest thing you’ve seen, it’s definitely unexpected.
“Um, hello there…” You stay standing in the doorway of your bathroom. Looking the creature over as it stands tall.
The creature, no, shadow, is dark, but you can make out that its body is made up of swirling smoke. It’s face gives a chiseled smile, imitating teeth through the smoke, and resting on top of it’s head were a pair of outgrown antlers that stretch wide.
You tilt your head at the creature, curious on why it hasn’t responded to you.
It tilts his head back, mimicking your movement.
“Cute,” you giggle, “what are you?”
The shadows' eyes glow green in response and gives you a bigger grin.
“Are you here at the hotel too? I just got here yesterday…” you shift on the balls of your feet. “Do you have a name?”
The shadow dissipates into the ground and for a moment, you’re spooked. Backing up into your bathroom, a coldness caresses your neck from behind.
Spinning around fast, you’re met with it again. The creature folds forward to meet your face.
Oh fuck no.
You fumble backwards a little too fast but the creature is quick to catch you by an arm. It steadies you easily.
“You’re.. Good, right? Friend?” The words fall stupidly out of your mouth. You feel like you’re talking to a child in simple words and a sweet voice. God knows that this creature is probably thousands of years old but you’re speaking to it like it lacks some form of intelligence.
The creature smiles and nods, backing away from you before wisping itself around your body in a cloud of smoke.
Warmth surrounds your body, unlike the coldness around your neck from before.
“Friend, okay…good.” You smile and embrace the dance it gives you.
The creature manifests itself over in front of your nightstand and the bundle of shadows steps aside to reveal the red peonies from this morning. Your eyebrows raise and realization hits you.
“That was you? What a lovely gift to give.. To me.” Surprise followed by stupidity hits you in the last bit of that sentence.
How could you be so stupid to think Alastor would give you those flowers? He hasn’t even spent much time around you, let alone want to speak to you. Every time you’re in the vicinity of him, he pretends you don’t exist.
Foolish.
Foolish to think that he would even take a liking to you.
And you mentioned it to him hours ago… God, he’s probably so confused and you look like a fucking idiot.
The shadow slumps at your reaction. Its swirls grow faster over its body, like the wheels in its head are thinking of a way to cheer you up.
Warmth caresses around your hips and playfully drags you to your bed. You let it happen because, for some ungodly reason, you trust this shadow.
It’s gentle hand lingers over your face, brushing over the skin of your cheek. A familiar feeling. Almost like the feeling of last night when Alastor’s-
No.
The creature lifts your chin to look at him as he takes a seat by you on the bed and you mentally brush away the cringe.
You both stare at each other for a moment. You're entranced by its odd behavior. Although, its presence feels familiar, a kind of nostalgia you cannot place. His warmth feels like a gentle hug, a friend in the darkness when you're alone.
The faint smell of whiskey, a bar of soap and lemongrass.
A warm song that dances inside your nostrils.
Your room is quiet, as you let the shadow tickle your face and neck.
Soft music begins to play when your eyes fight sleep. But you give into the lull of the shadows lullaby.
-
From that first night of meeting the creature, you’re woken up gently by it patting your head and urging you to get dressed. Funny enough, the creature disappears while you get ready, giving you privacy. But ultimately, you wouldn’t mind it at all if it stayed.
One night, after a particularly hard day working under Alastor, you named the being.
Umbra.
Not the most creative, but it was the first thing that popped in your head… and he, you’ve come to find out, was quite happy with the new nickname.
You weren’t sure where he came from, what he is, or what manifested himself to you that night, but you’re thankful for the company.
Umbra was quiet. He never spoke, but damn is he funny. Every night, he meets you in your room practically bouncing off the walls, or more so sliding everywhere in a mist of shadows and patiently listens when you talk about your day.
Every morning you wake up with new little flowers over your unoccupied pillow. Each of them a bundle of red, for some reason. But lovely all the same.
It became a nightly routine to where he’ll lull you to sleep with gentle caresses and soft old-timey music.
And it’s given you the best sleep of your life.
Alastor however, has been more distant than before. When asking for new lists everyday, he’ll stare down at you through lowered eyelids and hand you a list bigger than the last.
He never questioned your flowers comment, but you’re sure he hasn’t forgotten.
Though, through his aloof attitude, he still invades your personal space when talking to you - and he only talks to you when it’s absolutely needed. His stare burns new holes through you everyday before he locks himself up in his radio tower until dinner or Charlie's group exercises.
“Smiles has been such a fucking jerk lately, what did you do to’m?” Angel slumps over the armchair, preoccupied with texting.
“Me? He hardly talks to me! Everyday he’ll just hand me a list to do and disappears.”
“That’s exactly the problem, ever since he’s offered you a job here he’s been acting like there's a stick up his ass more than normal. You must being doin’ shit at your job.” He nudges you and you both laugh.
“Yeah, no idea. I try to talk to him. He’s the one person in this whole place I don’t even know about… but he ignores me.”
“I don’t think he completely ignores you, doll face. Do you notice how you’re the only thing he can look at when you’re around? Hard to get him to help Charlie lately, too.”
You blush and drag your gaze to the floor. “No, I didn’t notice that. What’s his deal anyways?”
Angel went into detail about how Alastor wa/is one of the most powerful overlords in the Pride ring. 7 years ago he disappeared or some shit but 7 months ago he came back and randomly ended up here. Some bullshit about wanting to help Charlie with her ridiculous delusions about saving a sinner. He’s just here for the ‘entertainment’, but he’s been a big help honestly. Especially in his battle during the extermination - before he got wounded.
Wounded? He could get hurt? A powerful overlord who has thousands of contracted souls could get… hurt? But there airs another question…
He doesn’t believe in redemption?
Your thoughts were cut short by a shadow carrying a mischievous grin lurking in the hallway. Umbra swirls in a mist of shadows as his eyes glow green and gestures for you to follow him.
Raising from the couch you head his way.
“Maybe he just needs some good head!” Angel calls out to you.
You follow Umbra as he slithers over the carpet, manifests himself over the walls and guides you upstairs. His cute grin makes you laugh, and you're excited to see what he has in store for you today.
Not noticing that you pass your own room, your eyes only watching Umbra flee with excitement, he leads you to a door at the end of a hallway. He turns to you, looking you once over and dissipates through the door.
Knowing you want him to follow, and without a second thought, your hand turns the knob and you fly inside Alastor’s radio room.
There, hunched over his desk wearing only his long sleeve undershirt and pants, Alastor’s back is turned to you.
“Who the fuck,” Alastor’s head turns over his shoulder, black eyes blown wide as his red pupils snap to you.
“Alastor- shit, I’m,” you back away, accidentally shutting the door behind you.
“Has anyone taught you proper manners? Don’t you know that walking in on someone is-” Every word cuts through you like a knife, the static in his voice grows louder in every syllable. The lights flicker around you as Alastor’s body grows larger in scale, his antlers growing wide.
“I didn’t know!” You yell honestly, you didn't know. Or, you weren’t paying attention.
“The door was locked, how did you get in here?” Red liquid oozes out of his mouth as his empty black eyes stare you down. But you’re not looking at the anger on his face, or the way his body engulfs the room. No, you're looking at how his arm covers a wound on his side. Your eyes scan to the side, where ointments and bandages lay askew over his desk.
“You’re hurt, Alastor.”
The radio demon stops, and for a moment, you catch surprise painted in his features.
“Let me help?” You offer, taking a step forward.
He doesn’t move.
“Get out.”
You step forward, unafraid of his form. He's hurt, and you can see the blood squelching against his hand, dripping to the floor.
You reach out, covering your hand over his bloodied one and your eyes flicker upwards to the beast before you.
A silent plea to let him help. If he’s been doing this on his own since the extermination, he hasn’t been doing a great job at mending it.
He gives a frustrated sigh, and shrinks back down to his normal self. Internally rolling your eyes at how easy that was to do… an all powerful overlord listening to you was a confidence booster to say the least.
You look down to assess the wound. His red undershirt wet and stained with blood on the right side of his torso.
You flash him a look for silent permission, and he nods ever so slightly, his eyes fixated on your face. You begin to unbutton his shirt from the top down. You scan your fingers delicately over his chest and down towards the wound. Alastor lets out a shaky sigh that goes unnoticed by you.
You expose his torso more by opening up his shirt to get a better look. Alastor leans back in his chair and curves his hips upwards ever so faintly. You swallow, fighting the demons in your head to take a closer look at his exposed body.
“Looks… bad.” You manage to say, focusing only on the wound before gentle fingers slide under your chin and angle your face upwards so he can see you fully.
And you swear, that for a moment, something swirls deep within his gaze. Something more than he lets on. A flash of hope? Eagerness?
Now’s not the time.
You clear your throat before grabbing supplies and getting to work.
Alastor was silent as you mended him. His eyes never left your face as you cleaned the wound and bandaged it neatly.
“All better!” You chime, doing your best to ignore the buzz on your chin from his touch, “Next time you try to do this yourself, try to find me? I don’t think it’s healed right for at least a couple weeks. You’re lucky it hasn’t gotten infected.”
“We’re in hell, dear, I’m sure there’s worse things to worry about than an infected wound.”
He didn’t even bother to say thank you.
Is this the sophisticated and well-mannered demon Charlie raved about? The helpful demon that made this hotel?
You let out a breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding and your shoulders shrug downward.
“Is there a reason why you’ve been so avoidant since I arrived? Everyone has been talking about how you’ve been acting differently since I showed up. Why is that? Did I do anything to you?” You avoid his eye contact by putting away the medical supplies inside a metal box.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear. I’ve always been the same.” He leans back in his chair.
Something doesn’t add up.
“Everyone talks about how you’re this powerful overlord, yet you lock yourself up in this tower all day and night. They all talk about how you were always around and ever since me you’re nowhere to be found.”
“I’d watch your mouth, little doe.” He snarls, but doesn’t move from his chair.
You stand, and for once you’re just taller than him even when he’s sitting down. Stories you’ve heard, the things the other residents say about him - nothing is adding up. Angel even went out of his way to ask what the fuck you did to him to act like this.
“I can’t help but think that you’re trying to avoid me. Are you scared of me or something? Or do you just like to see me do all of your bitch work so you don’t have to look at me?”
“And why,” Alastor stands, towering over you. You never realized how much taller and broader he is compared to you. His entire frame engulfs your size. “Would I be scared of a pathetic, weak sinner who died so easily doing something so reckless and ended up here?”
A beat, “I’d go far as to say you’re forgettable in this cesspool. Why would I go out of my way to avoid that?” He hums, lowering to your level at the waist. You want to punch that smug smile on his face.
You ball your fists and keep his eye contact. You scrunch up your nose and grind out every word with anger, “That’s hilarious coming from someone who did the same. Not so different, you and I.”
You didn’t care enough to see his expression before turning on your heel and head straight to your room.
Sinking onto your bed, you throw your head between your hands with a groan.
Asshole. Fucking asshole.
It doesn't take long before a presence in front of you lingers, and a warm caress slithers over your cheek.
“Not now, Umrba. I’m not in the mood.”
Umbra’s smokey hand tugs gently at your arm, pulling it forward and causing your head to droop. You allow him to pull you up and into an embrace.
Scents of whiskey, soap and lemongrass once again fill your head. A lovely haze that you’ve come to cherish. A friend.
A comfort.
A beautiful melody fills the air, and swallows you whole. Umbra’s body shakes with a staticy old tune.
“I’ll never smile again, until I smile at you” The voices sing a beautiful sorrowful melody, filling the air. Umbra’s arms skate over you and places his hands in yours.
The stance of a dance.
Umbra guides your one arm over his back, there he rests the other around your waist. A close embrace that you happily welcome.
“For tears would fill my eyes, my heart would realize…”
Guiding your hips in a gentle sway, you rest your cheek on his torso. The both of you sway to the melody slowly in your dimly lit room.
And, like always, the shadow doesn’t say a word. And maybe you like it that way. With all the chaos pounding loudly in your head, Umbra can always grant you the safe space you need. No judgment, no games.
No words.
Umbra pulls you around in a dizzying spin on your toes, earning a giggle from you. The music crescendos softly.
“I’ll never love again, I’m so in love with you…”
Guiding you around your room, you follow his lead. Wisps of smoke trail after him and curl at the bottom of your feet. Warmth is all you can feel.
You’re picked up swiftly and spun like a child before being placed softly in your bed. Umbra continues to play the melody until you are cast away in blissful sleep.
“Within my heart, I know I will never start to smile again, until I smile at you.”
taglist : @hazbinsimp777 @rapturenyx @kaytemchugh
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|| this man is an exposed live wire in my brain ok
|| notes: uhh prequel to [this] and [this], semi Canon compliant, pre-s1 but mentions of pre-war Cooper, I love the dynamic 😔👌✨️
|| warnings: hopefully IC Cooper, asshole x asshole dynamic we love to see it, weapons/supply dealer!reader, Canon typical violence, mention of blood/reader is injured kinda, spoilers? Abt Cooper's backstory, kinda enemies to friends/lovers
He doesn't know why he's here.
No, that's a lie ㅡ he does know why he's here, he just doesn't want to admit it. To himself, or to anyone else, for that matter. That he needs help.
Those fancy little bullets for his gun are hard to come by, few and far between when he can't get them by looting and places like Ma June's enjoy extorting as much as they can for so very little.
There's a difference between business transactions and highway robbery, even now. Which is why he's here ㅡ he'd gotten talk about a place that sold weapons and weapon-related supplies at a fair rate, and necessity had made him swallow his pride to go and find out for himself.
Which is why he's not just turning around and fuckin' leaving.
The building is crammed between two others, as ramshackle as the rest being made of recycled tin and wood that's rotted by time and rain in places, but still suggests a stability that won't crumble if somebody breathes too hard on it.
Cooper's spurs jingle as he walks, lost momentarily to the chime of something over his head when he pushes the door open. He looks up, forehead creasing.
Is that a bell?
Rusted but still in working order, it clatters again when he shuts the door, looking around. It's about as put together as any other kind of shop, an eclectic organization to it ㅡ a couple of rifles, a pistol or two, along with an admittedly impressive assortment of knives ㅡ but it's the shine of something on the floor that makes Cooper stop.
His head cocks as he studies the stain, the still-slick shimmer to it that makes him crouch and drag two gloved fingers against it, studying the residue. Coppery, with a hefty dose of some kind of chem to clean it, but still unmistakable ㅡ blood.
Well damn. He doesn't know what's happened here and he's pretty sure he doesn't care to, much beyond the fact that if the runner of this place is dead, that puts a damper on things. Or maybe not ㅡ if nobody's here, what's to stop him from taking what he wants?
"If you're thinkin' of stealing," comes a call that snaps his head up as it echoes from further back in the building, "I'd advise you not to. Less you wanna meet your maker, then I'd be happy to assist."
It's a flat bravado that both amuses him and piques his interest, and he leans against the counter to rap his knuckles. "Not stealin'," he drawls, "just wonderin' what kind of business model you've got if you make customers wait."
"The kind where patience is still a virtue, that's what." Foosteps, unhurried ㅡ and then Cooper is staring at you as you round the corner. You've got a jumpsuit of some indistinguishable color opened to rest around your hips, dingy tank-top underneath ㅡ and a stimpak in your hand. No doubt for the mess of your other arm, bicep wrapped with gauze that's already seeped into a bloom of bright red.
Well now. Cooper wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but you still manage to surprise him. Enough that he's staring, which makes you scowl.
"I know that look," you challenge, "if you think I'm easy picking, you'll get a new place to breathe from, courtesy of the hole I'll put in your head."
Cooper's head cocks. "Well now sugar," he says, "that's not very nice now, is it? Wasn't even thinkin' of that." He turns, jerks a thumb at the half-assed cleaning of the mess on the floor. "That's your doin', I reckon."
You nod. "Don't get trouble much," you say, "but when I do, I make sure to prove a point." You jam the stimpak into your arm, and he watches the tension melt from your shoulders. "Now, what can I do for you besides point out the exit?"
Well damn, Cooper thinks again. You've got a pretty face, but it's at odds with the attitude coming from that nice little mouth of yours. About as welcoming as a rattlesnake and probably just as quick to anger, from the way you bristle as he eyes you.
"Need supplies," he says, and you snort.
"What a wellspring of information you are. What kind of supplies?" You eye him, brow furrowing. "You're a bounty hunter, aren't you? Get your kind in here all the time." You tap a worn boot against the floor, hands now on your hips. "Hope you got means to pay for shit, because I don't do tab and I sure as fuck don't do charity work."
Cooper isn't sure if he likes you or he hates you. Bit of both, he guesses. The like is tentative and the hate is more solid ground, because he hates just about everybody. Makes it easier to do what needs to be done.
"Well, sweetheart," he leans into the counter, tips his hat, "depends on what you got to show me that's worth buyin'."
You stare, unimpressed by whatever angle he's going for. He's handsome, you'll give him that ㅡ but not much else. He also reminds you of somebody, with that hat of his and the way he talks ㅡ the low, drawn out drawl that you've only seen in those movies you manage to scrounge up here and there for your amusement.
Rolling your eyes, you hold up a finger and shrug your arms back into the jumpsuit, though you don't bother to zip it up. "Gimme a sec."
You don't know why you're doing this. Entertaining the notion that if you show him good enough product, he'll become a regular. You like regulars, but most of what you get seem to run on about six months worth of visits and then vanish.
Probably dead. Such is the way of the world, and it's still enough to get by. But you like new faces.
To his credit, he doesn't flinch when you slap the first pack onto the counter, followed by a second, and then a third.
"This is baseline stuff," you explain. "Your usual grade of bullet. Black powder, the standard kick." You shove the first pack at him, let him inspect the bullets. "Then you've got these."
The second pack shoved over, thin fabric parted so he can eye the neat little row of what would be hollow-point bullets if they didn't end with a tiny, pointed bulb of red glass.
"Explosive rounds." Your expression is unreadable. "They do the job, but they need special packing. Unless you wanna be blown up before the damn things even get loaded into the gun."
Cooper hums, eyes the bullet he holds up, the barely there shift of powder in the glass. He watches as you push the third over. "And these?"
"Same, but they pack even more of a punch. I'd recommend only shooting them at shit you want up in smoke." You shrug. "Or people, deathclaws, whatever the fuck you do out there."
Cooper studies you. "Where did you get this stuff? Thought bullets were hard to come by."
You give him a flat look of annoyance. "I make 'em myself."
Cooper stares, then smirks. Another little tip to his head. "Really now," he says, watches you bristle like a viper, ready to strike. Wonders if those fangs of yours pack a punch, what he'd need to do to get you to spit at him. "How 'bout you show me, darlin'? Wanna make sure what I buy is good quality."
You should tell him to shove it. Tell him to get the absolute fuck out of your shop, take his fuckin' yeehaw personality to someone else in the mood to deal with it ㅡ but you don't.
Instead, you sigh and tug the packages back, moving away from the counter. "Well c'mon then," you prompt, irritated. "Don't have all goddamn day."
The back of your shop is half a home and half a workshop, sprawled mess of equipment rusted with time but otherwise well maintained, smell of grease and hot metal and gunpowder that clings to everything.
You don't have to look back to know he's followed you, the jingle of his spurs as he takes his time, eyes missing nothing. The boxes of empty casings and empty glass bulbs ㅡ and the Mister Handy that's slumped in the corner, sparks spitting from it.
"Poor thing got shot first with that...situation earlier." Your voice is quiet. "Gotta fix 'im if I can."
Kind of funny, you sound sadder about the damn machine than the fact you'd killed someone over it. Then again, they'd been trying to kill you, so...eh. Justified, in your book.
The rest of the room is a haphazard attempt at something like a house ㅡ a couch with blankets on it, a short stack of books gone yellow at the edges, a coffee table ㅡ and sitting on it is a shitty little television, staticy and without color ㅡ but that doesn't matter. What matters to Cooper is that he knows what it's playing.
Your flitting around fades a little as he watches himself on screen ㅡ forever ago, a lifetime ago. Before the bombs, before vault-tec ㅡ when he'd been happy.
He'd loved his life, his family ㅡ and they'd loved him too.
"I've got enough stuff to make another round of flash-baㅡ" You stop, blinking at the way he's staring at the television. "Somethin' wrong? I know this isn't much, but it's my way of living, soㅡ"
"Stop your yappin'," Cooper rasps, and you glare as he shakes himself out of whatever reverie he was lost in. You scowl.
"Look, I know this doesn't seem like much of anything, but this is my business, and my shop." Your eyes narrow. "So try to be a little fuckin' nicer if you want me to sell you anything."
Whatever patience he'd had left promptly snaps like a bowstring as he snatches your arm, grips it tighter than he should. "Listen, sweetheart," he hisses, "what exactly is stopping me from just takin' what I want and leaving?"
Something whirrs behind him, distracts him just enough for the cool, sharp kiss of metal at his throat.
"Do it," you taunt, expression unreadable, grip tight on the blade you hold to his neck. "You're not the first one to try, and you won't be the last."
And there, Cooper notes, are your fangs, ready to sink into his skin. The two of you stare at each other for a good, long minute while the Mister Handy spits and sputters. And then Cooper huffs something like a laugh. "Glad to see you've got some bite to you, darlin', but I still think I could handle you."
A threat and something a little less hostile all in one, even as you yank your arm out of his grasp. "You couldn't handle me even if I came with a fuckin' manual," you snap back, but there's a playful gleam to your eyes. "You gonna buy anything or just lookin' to be a pain in my ass?"
A crooked grin tugs at Cooper's mouth. "Both."
ㅡ
The truce between the two of you is tentative. An understanding in the barest sense, because neither of you are dumb enough to pass up a lucrative, beneficial deal. He gets his supplies, you get caps. Simple.
You won't go as far as to say you're even friends, up until the point that you greet him on a visit with, "You know, you remind me of somebody."
He eyes you. "Really now. And who would that be, sweetheart? You workin' with more ghouls than just me?"
You snort. "Careful," you tease, "you almost sound jealous." Your tone quiets as you drum your fingers on the counter. "Nah, you remind me of that one actor, Cooper Howard."
Cooper stills. Watches you warily, turning a spent bullet casing over and over between gloved fingers.
"He played a cowboy," you say, nodding to yourself. "Talked like you do, too. Good movies, at least the ones I've gotten my hands on." You eye him, playful light to your eyes. "Wouldn't happen to be a fan of him too, would you?"
Cooper debates. He's not sure if you've put the pieces together and if you have, you're polite enough not to say it. He appreciates that, makes that fleeting temptation of putting a bullet in your head all the more temporary. He likes you. Be a shame if he had to cut ties.
"No," he answers. "I can safely say he and I are nothin' alike." Not anymore. He lets himself lean over the counter, too close to your face. Intimidation, maybe, or perhaps just because he likes being able to look at you like this. "Got anythin' else to tell me?"
Your eyes flick over his face, down to his lips as you lean a little closer, the suggestion of your mouth just shy of his. "Yeah," you murmur, quiet. "Next time you come by, work on your fuckin' manners."
#ㅡmine.#fallout x reader#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#now to get the norm thing done for Lexis!!
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Painted Smile
Painted Smile VI
<- Previous Chapter
Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader
Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.
Notes: It's a long chapter because it's Alastor's Point of View from the beginning until the end of Chapter IV. There is dark theme here, like racism, blood, dark thoughts. But I guess you know about it, it is about Alastor's story ! Please enjoy and tell me your thoughts, if you like having a long chapter about Alastor's thoughts.
“ Do you promise to be a good boy bébé?”
Alastor smiled at his mother and nodded. He would always be good for his mother, even if he didn’t like what he was supposed to do. Today, his mother had invited an old friend of hers, someone she used to know before she married his father, and this woman would bring her child with her, hoping that they could play together. His mother was so excited.
He didn’t care about them, but if his mother was happy, he'd put on a show.
He went into his bedroom to be sure everything was clean, but mostly to be sure that his secrets were kept safe. He took his journal, where all of his thoughts were written down. He hid it under a pile of clothes, if his father were to fall upon it, it would be a disaster and frankly, he didn’t want to get into another beating.
He lifted his head up as he heard noises downstairs. So the parasites have finally come. He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled brightly. Easy. He tried different types of smiles before going downstairs quietly. He has learned not to make noises when he was walking, sometimes he could walk behind his fathers without him noticing.
And there you were. He tilted his head as he saw you took a photo and stared at it. You didn’t even sense him, you weren’t paying attention to what was going on around you. Your life must be so easy.
“ Do you not know that it is rather rude to touch others' belongings?”
He stopped himself from chuckling as you jumped, surprised. Heh, too easy.
“And it is rude to come unannounced behind a lady!”
A lady? His mother was a lady. Always proper, always smiling… You? You were… a naive, uninteresting girl so far. He did say to his mother that he would play nice… But he couldn’t help himself.
“ I see no lady.”
He wanted to laugh at your expression. How strange. You were giving him your reaction without faking it. In this house, everyone was faking it to make it out alive, even his Mother, faking a smile so his father could be “happy”. And when the emotion wasn't faked, it usually meant that problems were on their way. But you, you just expressed your expression out loud, without fearing it could put you in trouble. How strange.
He turned his head toward his mother who introduced you both. He was ready to go shake your hand but you came toward him and kissed him on both cheeks. The only person who kissed him like this was his mother. Who did you think you were ? His cheeks flushed with anger but he contained himself, not here, not in front of his mother… You wanted to play that game? Alright.
He waited for both of your mothers to go back in the kitchen before stepping closer to you, his face near yours. Hah, how you liked it when someone came too close toward you. He stared at your eyes, your eyes that seemed to say so many things, things he couldn’t comprehend, that he couldn’t grasp because he… he wasn't like you.
“ It’s rude to look at someone face this close!”
He almost coughed, you were the one who kissed him first but now HE was the one being rude? He easily made a lie saying he needed to be close to see. He saw your eyes relax and you almost seemed sorry. Were you watching him with pity? Oh no, he wouldn’t accept it. He’d prefer seeing you angry at him than watching him as if he was some kind of helpless kid who couldn’t fight for himself.
“ But now that I have seen you up close I can clearly say… I see no lady.”
He smiled when he saw your angry face.
----
Your parents were really curious about him. He didn’t really want to talk with them but he put on his mask and talked about school and other boring stuff. He almost lost his calm when he felt you kicked him in the shin. He stared at you as you were beaming with pride and joy because you were now the centre of attention. How naively cute.
His mother always told him to never hit a girl but… If it was an accident ? And you were the one to begin this war. He kicked you on the same spot you had kicked him. His smile widened when he saw you spilled your drink on the table. You were panicking so much and you had every reason to be.. if his father were to be here. He stared at you, drinking. You were a living experiment with your emotions shown so easily. You were still naive… But a tiny bit interesting.
He stood up from his chair when his mother invited you both to play outside. He walked in front of you but he was looking at your shadows which made it so easy to dodge your so-called kick. He looked at you with a beaming smile when he spotted your face. You seemed so surprised.. and a bit impressed.
“ So unladylike.”
He watched you as you stuck your tongue to him, he was sure you were thinking he couldn’t see you. How funny. He let you go toward the swing and watched you as you went higher and higher with each swing. He walked toward you as you closed your eyes and arched your back toward the ground. You seemed so light, like you could just fly at any moment. Now he was curious.
“Jump.”
You didn’t seem keen on jumping, saying things like you could hurt yourself or dirtying your dress. He kept his smile but felt kind of disappointed. Oh well, maybe you weren’t interested.
Or maybe you were!
He stared at you as you jumped when the swing was in its highest spot. He opened his mouth as he saw you, almost floating in the air, you seemed so free, so alive, so colourful, so… out of reach. He wanted to drag you down in hell with him. In his personal hell. In his life. Why were you so happy and he was–
“ Wow! Did you see that Alastor ! I did it ! Haha ! That was super amazing !” you laughed. He looked at you, you were looking at him like you wanted him to be proud of you. You were beaming, you were… cute. You just jumped off a swing because he dared you to do it and you did it. No question asked. Most of the people would have said they didn’t want to play with him and left. But you stayed. Strange…
He tried to suppress his laugh when you dared him to climb the tree. So easy. Once he climbed it he watched you. Now you were the one on the floor while he was near the sky. He looked at you as you watched him, impressed. It made him feel something so he decided to tease you once again.
“ I should thank you, now that I’m here, I don’t have to see your face.”
“ My face is pretty !”
Yes, it was.
“ Pretty ugly.”
“ Alastor !”
You played all afternoon, you always had another game to play, another riddle to solve. Your mind was always thinking about something new… But then you put your hand on his eyes and said that you had a great time with him. What kind of manipulative game was that? Saying a secret, trusting the other person to hold their tongue and never breathe a word of what you just said? How could you be so naive ? Life wasn’t fair. Sharing secrets would make you weak. Never reveal your scars, your secrets or your emotions.
He asked for another game, not wanting to see your face. Did you know that he could see everything in your eyes? Was that why you said your secret with a hand in front of his eyes, so he couldn’t see if you were in pain or happy?
He looked at you as you proposed a game of hide and seek. How cute. He would find you. He was a master of “hunting”. He closed his eyes and counted until fifty. He could already hear where you were going as you ran toward the forest. He smiled as he made you think he didn’t know where you were, he waited some time so you could be so sure of yourself you wouldn’t see him come.
And there you were.
“ Found you.”
You ran.
But what shocked him even further was that he couldn’t catch you. It was like you were flying through the grass, you weren’t watching where you were putting your feet while he was watching the floor, dodging the puddle of mudd, jumping over the branches that would have made him fall. He watched as you ran, he wanted to catch you. He didn’t know why, maybe to prove something to himself.
It seemed like it was time to say goodbye, he didn’t even see the time passing which was surprising, he always knew what time it was, knowing when his father would come back. You came toward him, you seemed sad.
“ Well.. Goodbye…”
Were you really sad ? How cute. But if it was the last time that he saw you, he would rather see you smile.. And , well , he wasn’t going to see you again right? He could tell you a secret. He covered your eyes.
“ I had fun and… you are pretty.”
He went to his mother as he watched you and your family leaving his house. When he went back home, his mother was watching him with an expectant smile. He tilted his hand, smiling at her, she seemed to have had a great afternoon, he was relieved.
“ Did you have a great time Alastor?”
He froze for a second. Did he? He stared at his hand, the hand that didn’t manage to catch you. Well, you were like a fresh breeze. Needed but short. He would have to live once again without feeling it.
“ Yes, I had a great time.”
—----
Alastor was doing his homework in the kitchen while his mother was cooking. Most of the time, his Father was away all week because he worked far from home, so his boss would give him a place to stay to avoid doing long travel. Which meant, when it was the weekend, his Father would do nothing but lay around in the house and if he had a bad week, well.. Let’s just say that his body remembered those days.
There, done!
He stood up from his chair, now that his homeworks was done, he could go and listen to his radio. He went to his bedroom and sat on his desk, listening to the radio until he heard noises downstairs. He didn’t remember his Mother telling him that they would have guests over… And then he heard them. Your footsteps. What was that feeling? His heart was beating louder as your footsteps were getting closer and closer.
He smirked when he heard his door open, did you really think you were being quiet ? He stayed silent waiting to feel you closer to him, and once he saw your shadow, he opened his mouth.
“ How rude, entering a boy’s bedroom without permission.”
“ I see no boy.”
He smiled as he approached his face towards yours making you blush. He didn’t know why, but he was… content seeing you in front of him with all of your emotions written across your face.
But he didn’t like this thought.
The fact that just your presence could make him feel things. You didn’t have the rights. That would mean that you had the upper hand on him, playing with him. No, you couldn’t know.
“ Why are you here?”
And there it was. You looked like a kicked puppy. He didn’t like it. He clearly didn’t like it. You were cute like this but he’d rather see you smiling even if he didn’t like what it made him feel. He suppressed his need to sigh at your face. You stuck your tongue at him, trying to hide the fact that he hurted you. You really were the cutest. Didn’t you see that he already saw your heartbroken expression? Seems like he needed to make things right. He touched your shoulder but you didn’t move. You were such an obstinate brat. He really was trying to be nice ! He sighed. Well…
He covered your eyes, smiling when he saw you flinching and spoke.
“ I didn’t expect…to be content to see you today.”
Your smile was really blinding. He wondered if you were aware of it? How could you smile so easily without fearing that you showed too much emotion? How could you trust him not to use the information you just told him with your smile: You liked being with him.
He was almost worried for your future. He looked at your hands as you raised it toward his face, clearly trying to cover his eyes. You really liked to touch him, didn’t you? He helped you as he took your hand and placed it in front of his eyes. Now what?
“ I wanted to see you too.” you confessed.
…
So that’s what it was.
He wanted to see you too.
How could you speak so freely? He took your hands off him and stared at you, maybe if he stared long enough in your eyes, he could get an answer. The only answer he got? He didn’t flinch when you kissed his cheeks not because he was scared but because didn’t feel the need to push you away. How strange…
He smirked as you told him about making him food. So you asked about him. You didn’t forget about him. Interesting..
He tilted his head as you ordered him to dance. He could dance, his Mother had teached him, he couldn’t wait but show you. He gave you a big smile and held his hand toward you but you went off script. You took his hand and just started to jump around, holding his hand. You encouraged him to do just like you but he was so confused. Was that dancing ? Maybe it was your way of dancing… Well, it was chaotically cute.. But let him show you how it’s done.
He took your hands and twirled you just like his Mother taught him. You seemed impressed once again, he really liked that. He didn’t know why but he wanted you to keep on watching him like this. You let go of his hand and walked toward his bed before throwing his pillow in his face. He didn’t expect it. He stared at your laughing face. You thought you were funny huh?
He took the pillow and ran toward you, pinning you on the floor and hitting you softly with his pillow. “ Rule number one, never drop your guard.” He hitted you with his pillow. “ Rule number two, I’m the strongest here.” he hitted you once again. “ Rule number three, give up.” He smiled as he watched you trying to sit up. You were really trying to get away ? He held the pillow above his head and then he saw it.
Your gaze fell on a bruise from his father. Ah, were you going to ask questions? What excuses should he invent this time? He tried to help his mother but failed? No, it was impossible. As he was swimming through his thoughts you took his hand, placed it on your eyes and began to talk. You talked and talked and talked, you really couldn’t stop huh?
But he listened.
To every word.
He stood up and helped you when he heard his mother calling you downstairs. He followed you to the sofa and sat down, listening to your mothers talking. Seemed like you weren’t as patient as him, he could already see boredom settling on your face. But then you ran off the living room saying stuff about a kitty. He smiled at the ladies and went outstairs, staring at you and the cat. This bloody cat who was always hissing at him…
Maybe if he stopped affraying it, the cat would calm down? Huh…
He came closer and as expected the cat began to hiss but then it hurted you. He stared at your bleeding hand and took it in his. You were trying so hard not to cry. Why? You’ve been showing him every single of your emotions since you have met, why would you hide something that he wanted to see? Why did you not want to share yourself with him? He didn’t remember the last time he or his Mother cried. What would you look like? Without even being aware he dug his nails in your cut making you scream. He stared at you, you didn’t seem angry at him, but confused.
“ Don’t be ashamed, you can cry. I… I think I want you to cry.” Now he was the one being confused. Why would he want to see you cry? Because that means you trusted him enough to show yourself at your weakest. You began to cry, louder than necessary for such a little cut. But he let you. You were crying in front of him without feeling ashamed. You trusted him not to hurt you even more. You were an open book for him, a book he wanted to keep on reading.
But he’d rather see you smile.
He opened his mouth, ready to make a joke but he froze once he heard his voice.
“Alastor.”
He kept you against him. He remembered his Father hitting him because he was crying, he needed to hide your tears from his Father. He didn’t deserve to see you in that state. He didn’t trust his Father and neither should you.
“ Why is this chick crying ? For God’s sake, what have you done boy?”
“ The cat scratched her.”
“ This stupid cat… I’ll shoot it next time.”
He stared as the man went inside the house. It was going to be a hard night… He didn’t want to explain everything to you about his Father, you didn’t need to know. All you needed to know was how to be safe from this man. He covered your eyes with his hand.
“ Never cry in front of this man.”
He didn’t let go of you until you nodded. Then he took you to his Mother so she could clean your cut. Better safe than sorry.
Before leaving you told him about the pizza that you made with your Mother. He sneaked with you to the kitchen, he knew that his Father would eat all of the food you made so he wanted to share it with you before it could be stolen from him. You were so eager for his feedback, he almost wanted to say it tasted bad but after what he did to your hand he decided to be honest and made the promise to cook you something next time. You beamed and kissed him on both cheeks before leaving with your Mother.
—--
He was so excited.
His Mother had told him that you would have a sleep over while his Father wasn’t home. It was perfect! He also had another game he wanted to play with you. His Mother had bought him a microphone thanks to his good grades at school. He wanted to do a radio broadcast with you. He wanted to share his dream with you just like you shared your emotions with him. He was in his bedroom, re-reading his note to be sure that everything was perfect. He asked his mother to do his hair like adults, so now his hair was slicked back. He looked at himself in the mirror. That would do.
“ Can I come in yet?” you asked, outside Alastor’s bedroom, waiting for him to open the door.
His grin got even bigger. He opened his bedroom door and stared at your outfit. You were cute, as always. You kissed him on both cheeks, like usual and he tugged you inside his now radio booth!
“ Welcome to my humble Radiobooth !” He said with glee as he shoved you on a chair. “ Welcome New Orleans to Alastor’s podcast ! Thank you for tuning in, today I’m thrilled to announce that I will not be alone, I am blessed with the best singer in all Lousianna !” he claimed and shoved the microphone to your face. You gave him a big smile and began to introduce yourself even saying he was the best radio host of all New Orleans. He couldn’t help giggling, you were playing your part perfectly. Maybe when he would have had his own radio station he would invite you as a very special guest.
He kept talking as you read the notes he had just given you, he kind of expected you to fumble but once again you surprised him. You were natural, talking about what was written on his notes but then you went off script and made him laugh. You were amazing.
He kept doing his part as the radio host, explaining about why your sleepover has to be delayed to this day. You didn’t ask much more information but was happy he punched the boy who badmouthed his mother. Calling her such a disgusting word…
You both kept playing, sometimes he would forget about your presence, but when he noticed that his voice was the only thing he could hear he would turn toward you, ordering you to talk. You had a pretty voice, why not use it?
Well, he didn’t expect you to raise your voice against him when he said he couldn’t understand people liking sweet things. You were so convinced that there was something wrong with him for not liking sweets. Well, shouldn’t you feel appreciated ? You were the sweetest thing he ever laid his eyes upon and he kept you by his side, didn’t he? He closed his eyes still smiling as you kept blablating with his Mother’s laugh echoing in his bedroom. He liked it. He really liked this moment, if he could, he would like to record this moment so he could play it again and again.
After his Mother’s departure he went toward the letter he wrote with questions for you. You thought the game was over? Think again.
He asked you many questions, well of course the questions weren’t from him, but from the audience ! You answered to all of them honestly and there came the last one. He took the letter and read it to you.
“ And now, our last question before our guest’s performance. What do you think about our dear radio host Alastor ?”
He could see your answer in your eyes before you even opened your mouth. He already knew what you were about to say. He already knew. But he was waiting eagerly so you could say those words he desperately needed to hear. Say it, say it, say it…
“ He is the best!”
Yes, and so were you.
And you needed to know it.
He tugged you downstairs saying you needed to sing or the broadcast couldn’t end. He sat in front of the piano as you were flustered with his microphone in your hands. He smiled at you and then closed his eyes. He wanted you to feel powerful. But first, he needed you to be less insecure about your abilities. So the first lesson would be: singing.
And sing you did. When you stopped being a coward and really sang like the singer that you were, he couldn't help but open his eyes to admire you. Even if some of the notes weren’t the best, you were giving it your all. You were giving him all of you at that moment.
He couldn’t be more proud.
You were the best.
He couldn’t stop himself from crushing you against him as he said goodbye to your audience. Everything was perfect, you were here, his mother too and there were smiles on every lips.
—--
“ We are still playing with Alastor! When we are finished, I will join you.” you said with a shy smile, holding a plushie. He was behind you, waiting for his Mother's command. Truthfully, he didn’t want you to go to sleep with his Mother right away. He still had other games he would like to play with you. As soon as his Mother accepted, you ran into his bedroom with him following you. You were on his bed with this…
“ What is it ?”
“ Well, first of all, it’s a He and he is a deer.”
He listened to your story. So you didn’t know how to swim, he would have to train you. You shouldn’t have so many weaknesses, it was dangerous. But then you started talking about how your deer plushie was protecting you. What were you saying, were you so tired that thinking was too difficult for you?
“ So, a deer saved your life from drowning…”
“ Yes, so my parents bought me this deer plushie so now, when I'm scared I can just squeeze him and feel safe!” you demonstrated your words by squeezing your plushie against you. “ Do you want to try it?”
Did he want to try to squeeze a plushie? Not really. Not at all.
“ How can he protect you?”
You rolled your eyes at him before pushing your plushie in his arms. You forced him to hug it, once you were satisfied, you nodded and looked at Alastor who was clearly confused. “ Now, squeeze him !”
Once again , you were looking at him with those eyes he couldn’t refuse anything. He suppressed a sigh and squeezed the deer against him and closed his eyes. It has your scent. He could feel himself relax. Yeah… It felt nice. If he were to hug you like this, would you also be this soft? He was getting taller than you, have you noticed it? Maybe one day, he would be able to hug you just like this plushie? Would you feel safe in his arms? Or would you try to run away?
“ Mister Deer could be our very first guest in our radio show?”
Our.
He opened his eyes, staring right in your soul. Ah, you were panicking. Did you think he didn’t like that you use “ our” instead of “ his” ? You were so cute!
“ I’d like that.” he whispered with a soft smile. “ Our first guest.”
You both laid on his bed, he still held the plushie against him. He really needed to find him a name, names are important. He listened to you blablating about how he was supposed to take care of the deer. It looked like a fawn for him but whatever.
“ Now that I have Mister Deer, who will protect you?” he asked, with no trace of fatigue on his face, he was used to not sleeping, because of nightmares or just because he needed to be aware of what his father’s doing in the house. You smiled tiredly at him, putting your head on his pillow.
“ Well, because you hold Mister Deer, it’s your job to protect me now.”
It was his job to protect you..? He would do it. He would protect your smile, he would protect your dazzling eyes that seemed to never lose their sparkes.
“ … So, do I need to hug you?”
“ M-maybe but…Do you want to …?”
Does he want to?
He covered your eyes with his hand. Within the next five minutes you were asleep, he took off his hand and stared at your face.
Did he want to hug you?
He looked at the fawn in his arms. You were cuter than your plushie, so that made you huggable. He touched your cheeks with his finger but you didn’t move. He nudged you with his feet but you stayed asleep. You must be feeling very safe to sleep like this. He would awake at any noise in the house.
Did he want to hug you?
He wasn’t touching you but he could feel your body warm from here. Were you too hot? Did he need to take off the blanket ? But maybe you liked being warm? You were so problematic, did you know that? He stared at the ceiling, he knew he wasn’t going to fall asleep soon…
Did he want to hug you?
He put the fawn between his body and yours, whispering in your ear. He hoped you would stay asleep, he didn’t want anyone to witness what he was going to say.
Did he want to hug you?
“ Yes, if you hug me back.”
—-----
He was blushing as his Mother was asking him if he slept well. She had a teasing glint in her eyes, she must have seen! When he woke up, he had you in his arms. He quietly left the bed, leaving the fawn with you.
“ Alastor, this was a very cute scene!”
He didn’t care if this was cute, it was embarrassing ! He hid his face in his Mother dress. Could she just forget about it?
“ Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.” she kissed the top of his head with a beaming smile. He smiled at her, his mother seemed happier since she found your mother back. He liked it. He decided to go back to his room to see if you awakened but what was surprising was that he saw you with his microphone, talking with the fawn. How could the fawn protect you, it looked like you were the one protecting it with the way you were holding it against you. You were so strange.
“ I knew you would play with it.” you blinked at him. He looked at your bed hair and couldn’t help but smile. You looked silly like this ! “ Eamon told me you were using the microphone.” You tilted your head.
“ Who ?”
“ Our deer. He needs a name, don’t you think?” he stroked your plushie’s head while mumbling “ even if he looks more like a fawn than a deer…”
“ He is a deer ! I’m sure you never saw one !” you huffed as you squeezed Eamon against your chest.
“ Actually, I did when Father took me hunting.” he tilted his head as he saw your horrified face. Why did you take a step back?
“ You killed a deer ?”
“ No, I saw one. And most of them have brown fur, not like ours who have a white one.” Why did you seem so confused?
“ But… Why is your father taking you with him.. to hunt..?” you asked, confused.
To kill of course.
But he couldn’t tell you that. His father wanted him to be a man, and man went hunting. His father showed him how to kill while threatening him.
If you don’t want to end up like this, shut your trap.
When he first went hunting , he was terrified but now, he would just stare at the dead animal wondering if he will be the target next time. So far, he was alive. How lucky ! But once again, he couldn’t tell you that, could he? Would you be worried for him?
“ It’s not for little girls, that’s for sure. You wouldn’t bear it.” He teased you.
“ Hey! I saw things too, I’m not a little girl!”
Did you? Were you like him? Did you see things that made you reconsider your morals? Did you see things that made you throw up? Did you see things that made you want to run away and never look back. Did you–
“ My father tried to eat my mother one day.”
…
Now, that was horrifying.
—--
You went downstairs to eat breakfast as he went to the bathroom to wash up. He stared at his body. The bruises were no longer on his body, that was nice. He went to the kitchen and sat next to you. Strange, you were looking at him like you knew something that he didn’t. Did his Mother tell you what happened ? No, she wouldn’t. So why–
“ Next time, we should have a sleepover at my house ! I could show you my room !” you smiled excitedly.
He tensed. He would love to go to your place, being able to see your house. How did you decorate your room? But he couldn’t leave his Mother alone with his Father. What if he decided to come back drunk and beat his mother while he was enjoying himself, free of worries, at your place. No, he couldn’t. He looked at you and there was the kicked puppy stare…
“ I… I don’t like leaving my mother alone at home.”
“ But we will choose a day where your father is home!” you nudged him, trying to coat him to come with you at your house. “ Please Alastor… I really want you to come.” you pleaded as you held his forearms with your small hands. “ You don’t want to..?”
I want to.
He bit his lips, he wanted but he couldn’t. Wasn’t it the meaning of his life? Wanting without having the power to be able to do what he wanted. Fortunately, his Mother had sensed his discomfort and she offered to come with him for your next sleepover.
He relaxed. Yes, like this, it would be perfect.
The day went on as you both “gossiped” as his Mother called it. But unfortunately, it was time for you to leave. You asked Eamon to take care of him and then you asked him to take care of Eamon. You were cute but as asked, he would take care of your Fawn.
—-------
He was in the forest with his Father, holding a rifle. It was a familiar feeling to hold the weapon in his little hand. He was used to it now. He was walking, alongside his father who was making so much noise, how could they hunt like this?
“ Here, be a useful brat, shoot it.”
He shot the partridges which fell down near him. Should he be afraid of himself ? He couldn’t feel anything as he watched the life leaving the animal’s eyes. It was almost boring, he was stronger so he won. It was that easy.
Would you be scared of him?
He stopped himself. You were the first real friend he has ever made. If you were to see him like this, would you be afraid of him? Would you let him explain? He turned his head toward his father as the man pointed to a deer not too far. He could shoot it. It would be easy.
But then he saw your face. He knew this deer wasn’t the one who saved you but this time, for you, he would not kill it. He knew you wouldn’t forgive him.
“Alastor, shoot it..!”
He just stared at the beautiful beast not too far from him. He stared into its eyes as the animal saw him before running off. How he envied the animal right now…
He heard his Father before feeling the punch in his face.
Ah, today it was going to be harder than usual.
“ You brat!”
A kick in his stomach.
He wondered if you were sleeping right now? You always fell asleep so easily, he was almost envious. Maybe next time, he’ll ask you how you manage to find the sweet relief of falling asleep.
“ How useless!”
Another kick in his stomach.
Ah, his Mother was going to be so sad once she saw him. Maybe his Father would let him wash himself up in the water?
“ You nigga !”
Aand there it was. That disgusting word. He felt his Father grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him toward their home. His Father threw him inside his bedroom, Alastor’s head hitting the wall.
Seemed like his mother was out buying groceries. Good, she wouldn’t have to see that. He stared at his Father, smiling. The man took off his belt and began to hit him on his back, forcing him to lay on his belly. Alastor stared in front of him and saw Eamon, staring back at him. He didn’t know why, but he moved. He stood up as his Father shouted at him to stay in his place. He took the plushie against him, keeping his back toward his Father but he stayed standing.
His father hit him on his back with his belt once again but Alastor didn’t fall on the ground. He crushed the plushie against him as he closed his eyes.
It was going to be over soon. He would see you this weekend, you would play together, you would show him your neighbourhood, you would give him something sweet to eat.
He opened his eyes and saw with sadness that Eamond was dirty with his own blood. He touched his nose, oh yes, his father did punch him in the forest. Aah, he needed to clean it before you came back.
His back felt wet and stinky. Was he sweating that much? Normally he could handle it better? He sniffed.
Ah, blood.
He didn’t remember when he passed out but when he woke up, Eamon was still in his arms.
“ ça va aller mon bébé, regarde Maman.”
He looked at his Mother, her smile wobbling. He just closed his eyes and squeezed Eamon, the plushie didn’t have your scent anymore, but it has his blood’s.
—---
He didn’t know why, but each week his Father would hit him with his belt on his torso or back even when his Mother was begging for him to stop. He had to go to school with bandages all over his body but his face. But he never cried, nor asked his Father to stop. He would just think that soon, you would come and the Hell he was living would come to a pause. Each time, he was thinking.
Next week.
But you never came.
It’s been almost a month. Did something happen to you? Were you sick? Maybe he could ask his Mother to see if you were okay? He was on his bed, clinging to Eamon, his back was hurting so much he almost wanted to bite off his hand from the pain.
But no, he just stared in the void, losing his smile. And then, a thought struck him.
Was killing a human any different than an animal?
His eyes widened, but before he could deepen his thoughts on the subject, he heard footsteps downstairs. Yours footsteps. It was you. He was sure of it. He heard the door smashed open, well, weren’t you full of energy today?
“ So unladylike. I could recognize your footsteps anywhere.”
He frowned when he didn’t hear any witty come back from you. Well?
“ I.. I made your favorite dish..” you whispered, your voice trembling with each word as you tried to speak out loud.Why did you sound like that? “ Can… Can I see you?”
You wanted to see his pathetic self right now? You really had a bad timing, you’ll have to work on it, really.
“ No.”
“ Please…” you begged, it sounded like you were crying, why were you crying?. “ I was so worried… My father told me what happened–”
“ What did he tell you?” His voice was colder than usual. He didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want anyone to know.
“ That… That you went hunting with your dad and–” you approached the bed and flinched when you felt his hand covering your eyes. So you were crying, he thought. He could feel your tears wetting the palms of his hands. “ Because of your father you- you have been hurt.” you cried, holding his wrist with one of your hands. “Alastor, I was so scared..!”
Me too, I was so scared.
“ Keep your eyes closed.”
He couldn't help himself. He hugged you. You were finally here. Hell was over for some time. He wanted to see you so bad. He wanted to see you…
“Yes, I wanted to see you.”
“ Are you hurting?”
“ No. Remember Rules number two: I’m the strongest here.”
He smiled as he heard you laugh. Yes, everything would turn out nicely. He just had to be more careful. To be more observant. He would be the strongest for you. You’ll never have to worry for him to the point of crying. Nobody would keep your friendship from you. He sighed in relief, you were here…
“ I want to see your face.”
Mhn.. Well, as long as it is just his face. He stepped back and smiled at you. You didn’t have to worry.
“ Be my guest.”
His smile widened when he saw your confused face. You must have thought he would have injuries on his face heh?
“ You said you wanted to see my face, not my injuries.” he smiled cunningly at you while holding Eamon against his chest.
“ Why do our deer have pink…red spots on him?” you tilted your head, stroking its fur.
Ah, right. His Mother had tried but she couldn’t wash all the blood he had lost on the fawn each week. Were you going to be upset ? He didn’t protect your fawn even though he told you he would take care of it. Were you going to be disappointed in him?
“ I’m sorry. I bled on him.”
He watched as you sat next to him and gently kissed his cheeks, resting your lips against his skin. Did you know it was the spot his father had punched weeks prior ? Of course, you wouldn’t know. He only could feel your lips, the pain in his back wasn’t there anymore. He squeezed your hand. He missed you… He missed this…
“ I missed you.” you both said.
He smiled softly, as you began to explain all the week he has missed. He felt his heart soared when you explained how you had made a scene so you could come and see him. He had to tease you, because if not, he felt like he would explode with happiness. You have missed him, his presence was something you wanted, he was important for you.
Unfortunately, you had to go.
Well, Hell is forever, right?
He went downstairs, keeping his hand around yours. You seemed so worried. He looked at you after your mother asked about his well being. Why were you so quiet ?
“ I promise, I’ll see you soon.”
“ You promise? How do I know if you are going to be sick, or injured once again?”
Oh that’s why.
You were so cute. Unfortunately, he couldn’t promise to never be injured again, he would be breaking his promise tonight. What kind of promise could he conjure that would make you both ties to each other forever.
“ Let’s make a deal.”
He approached his face close to yours and kissed your forehead. You blushed and he couldn’t feel bad about it, red suited you.
“ You always kiss me good morning, so now, I’ll kiss you goodbye. Now, you owe me a good morning kiss.” he smiled at you teasingly as he took a step back. “ Do we have a deal?”
Please, say yes.
“ Deal.”
He smiled, now he knew that even though he would suffer because of his father, you would always come back to him, healing him without being aware of it. You were his special.. Something. You were the one painting a true smile on his lips. You were his special person.
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Under The Same Roof
〚 Notes - These two cuties are my new favourite obsession for the time being so please excuse this. For some reason these fics do far better on ao3 compared to here :P anyway! enjoy ;D 〛
〚 Pairing - Maya Bishop x Carina DeLuca 〛
〚 Summary - After moving into Maya's apartment, Carina is meant to spend her day off unpacking her stuff. Instead Maya comes home to a very sleepy, sick Italian asleep on her sofa. 〛
〚 Wordcount - 2600 〛
〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙
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Thing’s had been going really well between Maya and Carina lately. The two were currently in the midst of moving in together, there was a plethora of boxes with various possessions strewn about the apartment. They’d both been so busy that unpacking had been forgotten about in favour of making the most of their newfound closeness. However today had been Carina’s day off from work, she had been planning to make the most of it – to spend the day cleaning, unpacking, organising. Doing everything, she could make this place into their home.
But her body had clearly had other ideas.
Carina had woken up that morning with a scratchy throat and a heavy head. She rolled over with a groan, her arms searching for the comfort of her girlfriend but the bed beside her was cold and painfully empty - the firefighter’s shift wasn’t due to finish until later tonight.
She sniffled, pulling her fluffy pink robe around herself as she dragged herself out of bed. The fabric did little to ward off the shiver that ran over her olive skin. The Italian coughed weakly, tracing her fingers down her throat afterwards as she whined softly to herself. This really wasn’t how she had planned to spend the day...
Shuffling through the maze of boxes that littered the floor, she headed to their bathroom. She stood over the sink, staring at her bleak reflection in the mirror, grimacing as she took a dose of the cold medicine she’d found in the cabinet.
Carina sniffled again, reaching for a tissue as she blinked away the tears she could feel welling up at the corners of her eyes. She had been looking forward to this day, to finally settling into their new home together. But now, with her body feeling like it had been hit by a truck, the thought of unpacking boxes and cleaning all day felt almost impossible. Carina didn’t know why she felt guilty about it., it wasn’t like it was a job she’d been asked to do specifically. But still, the thought of being sick and miserable all day, unable to do that one thing she’d wanted to get done had the corners of her lips wobbling slightly. Maybe she was just overtired and feverish – that always made her easily tear up but there was something else. Something she hadn’t felt in a while – a longing. All she really wanted was to be with Maya right now.
She longed for the warmth of Maya's embrace, the soothing touch of her hand on her forehead, and the comfort of her presence. But Maya was out there, saving lives and fighting fires, while Carina was here, feeling utterly helpless. Neither of them had been sick in their relationship yet. Infact according to the firefighter herself “she was incapable of getting ill” which the OB/GYN obviously knew was impossible but nodded along lovingly anyway. At least she could relate to it somehow, the feeling weakness was something she hated. Carina prided herself on being strong and independent, yet she was here clinging to a stupid bottle of blue liquid just to make herself feel better.
Hold on, blue liquid? Carina’s eyes furrowed as a sinking realisation hit her. Her eyes cast down to the bottle she’d just discarded. Nyquil? She quickly swung open the cabinet to see the bottle of Dayquil sitting innocently, untouched on the shelf. Of course she had taken the wrong one...
Well, at least that explained why she had still been feeling so drowsy. With a resigned sigh, Carina simply just grabbed the tissue box from the countertop and shuffled back over to their bed, snatching her pillow and the duvet from the unmade bed before stumbling out to their living room. She didn’t even bother opening their curtains before flopping down onto the sofa, letting the tissue box fall onto the floor beside it.
Carina sank into the plush cushions of the sofa, her body feeling heavier with each passing moment. She buried her face into her pillow, seeking solace in its familiar scent mingled with Maya's. The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional sound of a passing car outside or the faint creak of the floorboards as their upstairs' neighbours moved about. Alone in the dimly lit room, Carina closed her eyes, allowing herself to succumb to the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon her.
...
Maya had, had a good day. Honestly work had been fairly uneventful – mainly calls for the aid car. She’d tried ringing Carina around lunchtime, but she’d gotten no response so had left her a voicemail instead. It was a little weird that her call had been unanswered, but she simply presumed the Italian had forgotten to charge her phone again.
The first thing that caught her attention was the boxes still stacked up in the entranceway. She could’ve sworn she remembered Carina mentioning that she was going to unpack them on her next day off. It’s probably fine, she must’ve just gotten busy with something else, Maya thought to herself as she hung up her jacket. But the second thing she noticed was just how quiet it really was. Typically, whenever she came home Carina would be bustling around, maybe cooking something delicious or buried in a book whilst playing some music in the background. But today, there was an unusual stillness in the air.
“Honey I’m home.” She called out playfully as she finished taking her shoes off, placing them neatly on the rack, “Carina?”
Maya’s brows furrowed at the lack of a reply. As she moved closer to the living room, she noticed the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the curtains. Any worry she had been feeling quickly melted away as she caught sight of familiar brown curls hanging loosely over the edge of the sofa.
“Hey, didn’t you hear-” The firefighter began but stopped, her mouth open still as she brought her hand to her face to silence a laugh.
Maya couldn’t avert her eyes – no matter how hard she tried. The scene in front of her was just too cute beyond belief that she couldn’t quite look away. Carina was asleep on the sofa. But she wasn’t just curled in on herself or huddled under a blanket. One of the Italian’s legs was half hanging off the edge with the fabric of her pyjama pants rolled up above her knee, meanwhile, one of her arms similarly was actually touching the floor, hanging limply by her side. Her usually perfect brunette hair was now messy and tangled as her head rested an angle which just couldn’t be comfortable. Meanwhile the clearly discarded duvet was sitting in a heap on the floor beside numerous balled up tissues.
Honestly, she was torn between waking her up or letting her rest, by the looks of it, Carina clearly needed the sleep. The flushed pink hue sitting on her pale cheeks told her all she needed to know. Carina was sick. As quietly as she could, the firefighter crept into the kitchen, searching through her dedicated “Junk drawer” before finding what she was looking for. The thermometer.
Pruitt, their old captain, had pestered her into getting one a few years ago after a bug had gone round the station, and it was easier for the crew to check their temps at home instead of lugging themselves to the station to use the one they kept there. Truthfully, it had never been used, which is exactly why it had ended up in the drawer to begin with. Of course, Maya would prefer it to be under any other circumstances but least she was finally getting to use it now.
Maya tiptoed back to where Carina lay. She knelt down beside her and gently brushed a strand of hair away from Carina's forehead, revealing the slight sheen of sweat there. With a soft sigh, Maya slipped the thermometer under Carina's tongue and waited anxiously for the beep indicating it had finished its reading.
Honestly, she was quite amazed that Italian hadn’t woken up throughout the whole ordeal, but it made a lot more sense when the device beeped quietly, and she looked down at the screen to see “102.2” displayed on its small screen.
“Oh sweetheart.” Maya murmured softly, her hand gently cupping her girlfriend’s cheek, “You should’ve called me silly girl, look at you, I could've looked after you. Poor thing.” Her musings fell on sleeping ears, but it didn’t really matter. The blonde leant forward to press a loving kiss to Carina’s forehead before standing up, tiptoeing back to the kitchen.
Truthfully, she wasn't the best good. She usually opted for taking any leftovers from the station or just heating something up. It wasn’t to say she didn’t cook sometimes but it wasn’t necessarily her favourite thing. But Maya knew what she needed to do. She quietly searched through one of the brown boxes sitting on the kitchen floor, searching through Carina’s stuff before eventually finding what she had been looking for.
Carina loved cooking. It was why Maya had remembered that one night, as they were cuddling and mumbling sleepily to each other. Carina had mentioned one of the recipes in her cookbooks. It wasn’t anything super complicated, quite the opposite. Soup. The doctor had told her it was something her mum used to make for her, she’d described it as “homely and warm” and the Italian had promised to make it for her the next time Maya had a rough day. Now Maya was going to make it for her.
She flipped through the pages for a moment before landing on the right one. Gathering the ingredients, she laid them out on the worktop before dawning an apron and grabbing a knife. The recipe said to ‘cube’ the vegetables and while her technique wasn’t perfect, she made it work. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board was oddly soothing It was strangely therapeutic and she had really gotten into the zone. It was probably why Maya almost jumped out of her skin at the sudden noise from the living room
“Hih’tshhu!”
Maya’s head perked up from the vegetables she’d been chopping, glancing over her shoulder to peek into the living room. She could see her girlfriend sniffling quietly against her knuckles before watching as her shoulders tensed up, her upper body bending forward slightly she silently stifled another sneeze against her wrist.
“Bless you princess.” She called out from the kitchen, pivoting on her feet to come over and press a soft kiss to Carina’s cheek as the sleepy Italian rubbed her eyes tiredly.
Carina blinked a few times, trying to focus. "Maya? What... what time is it?" She mumbled groggily, pushing herself to sit upright.
“Around 6-ish sweetheart,” Maya checked her phone, flipping it around to show her the time, “How long have you been asleep for love?” She asked before picking up the duvet from the floor, and tucking it over her girlfriend, not having to worry about waking her up anymore.
Carina rubbed her eyes again, trying to shake off the grogginess that clung to her. "Feels like I've been out for ages," she muttered, snuggling into the blanket as it was pulled over her. "I just feel so... bleh." She found herself leaning into Maya’s touch as the blonde cupped her cheek once more.
The firefighter came to sit beside her, smiling fondly as Carina instantly leaned against her, letting her head rest against her shoulder, “I’m sorry sweetheart, did you wake up feeling bleh?” She asked, gentle concern lacing her voice as she reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from Carina's face.
Carina nodded tiredly; her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she managed to open them again. "Yeah," She admitted softly, her voice slightly hoarse, "I think I caught something from work. My throat feels scratchy, and my nose keeps racing.”
“Running, baby, your nose is running.” Maya corrected her fondly, her hand gently combing through the brunette’s tangled curls. Carina’s knowledge on English phrases had come far but she still slipped up every now and then, and honestly nothing was more adorable, “Did you take any medicine or anything before you fell asleep?”
Carina let out a tired chuckle, her cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. "Right, running," She murmured in acknowledgement. She was probably too tired to actually remember it for the future, but it was enough for now, “I accidently took some of the blue goo, instead of the daytime one. I forgot its name.”
Maya nodded, knowing what she meant, “You took Nyquil then? No wonder you were so knocked out, poor baby, did sleeping help a little at least?”
The Italian mumbled and shrugged a little, instead choosing to wrap her arms around Maya as she cuddled up to her. The two stayed like that for a few minutes, neither one wanting to ruin the silence as they just simply held each other.
But suddenly, Carina’s stomach emitted a loud growl, breaking the quiet moment. She hid her face in the blanket slightly, embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. "Oops," She blushed sheepishly, "Guess I'm hungry."
Maya chuckled softly, "No worries, sleepyhead," She said affectionately, "I've got something that’ll help, I just need to finish it off.” With that, she stood up, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Come on, let’s get you something warm to eat."
As they made their way to the kitchen, Carina kept the whole duvet wrapped around herself, looking like she was in a cocoon as she shuffled her way there. Maya wrapped an arm around her waist and hid a giggle before helping Carina get settled on a chair.
“Just sit tight.” She said lovingly before turning back to her ingredients. It didn’t take long for her to prepare the rest of the soup, stirring the simmering pot and occasionally tweaking the flavours until it was just perfect. They had recently bought a fresh baguette from the nearby bakery, so Maya buttered a few slices, sitting them on the edge of the bowl before serving it up with a giddy smile, “Here you go sweetheart.” Her eyes gleamed with pride as her girlfriend looked up at her in surprise.
They ate in a comfortable silence, the only sounds filling the room being the occasional clink of utensils against bowls and the occasional sniffle or cough from the doctor. After finishing her soup, Carina leaned back with a contented sigh, feeling a bit more energized already. "That was amazing, bambina," she complimented, her eyes shining with appreciation.
Maya beamed at the praise, feeling a swell of pride at being able to provide comfort for her girlfriend. "I'm glad you liked it, sweetheart," she replied warmly, reaching out to intertwine their fingers. She gently squeezed her hand, concern etched on her face. "You should probably rest some more baby," Maya suggested softly, her voice laced with tenderness. "I can clean up here, and then we can snuggle up together on the couch?
Carina smiled gratefully and let her girlfriend help her to stand as she yawned, "Thank you, Maya," She murmured sleepily as the blonde helped her back over to the sofa, "You're the best."
“You don’t have to thank me love,” Maya smiled as she made sure Carina was comfortably settled, “We’re under the same roof now, I’m always gonna look after you.” She knew it was likely that by the time she finished cleaning up that Carina will have already fallen back asleep already but that didn’t matter – she was still going to do all she could to make sure her girlfriend was okay.
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#carina deluca#maya bishop#station 19#marina#maya x carina#maya bishop sickfic#carina deluca sickfic#marina sickfic#station 19 fluff#maya bishop fluff#wlw#lesbian#sickfic#whump#fluff
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Have a random blurb (Lucy pov only, more of a character study maybe…)
Lucy and the ghoul spend time together, they have to going on the worlds most bizarre road trip.
And she thinks he’s going to be cruel to her, as he has this far. She’s mentally prepped herself for it.
But what she doesn’t realize is that she’s been the first bit of pure humanity he has had in a while. She had unintentionally breathed some life back into him.
This doesn’t make him nice, he still swears, teases, and even threatens her still. But the threats are empty and they both know it.
She doesn’t know when she starts to think of him more, but she knows she is when she’s asking for his name. He hesitates to give it, or maybe he doesn’t remember. She gets no response.
Lucy spends more and more time with him. Sometimes they sit in silence, comfortable in it. Other times they bicker, and on slim occasions they argue. But every once in a while, Lucy gets him to talking about before.
Not about family, but other things. She asks him about animals, cars, music, and other things that died out. He will start off nonchalant but have a spark of joy in his voice as he rambles on.
Lucy gets him to laugh once, and not to mock her. It’s funny, his raspy laugh makes her smile. She knows it’s a rare moment, and a small part of her is thrilled she made him happy. Small victories.
Funnily enough, she finds herself liking various aspects about him. His brutal honesty hurts, but she’s so appreciative of it. His way of letting her handle herself, especially in a tight spot.
But she also enjoys the moments where, she does need his help. He intervenes only when necessary, he’s verbally terrified people who looked at her with malicious intent.
“They were gonna harvest ya.” He’d say with grim confidence.
It’s when he realizes they need to leave a bad situation that she knows more has come to her heart. She talks the people down and as they turn to leave his hand ever so lightly goes to her lower back. He does not grab or place his hand, but his glove rubs against the fabric of her suit.
It sends a delightful chill through her.
Lucy chops it down to them being on the road, and getting out of a dangerous situation.
But later, they pass through a town. And it’s no different, same looks of her, a vault dweller traveling with a ghoul. He walks a little closer, and occasionally puts a hand on her shoulder while looking around.
It’s not a grand gesture, but it still comes off so damn intimate.
That same night Lucy can’t sleep, her heart and mind race with new thoughts, new implications. Did she have feelings? Were they returned? She knew they didn’t have time for this. Lucy for once does not try to initiate with the ghoul. She’s afraid she would spook him.
The next morning she lies and says she couldn’t sleep due to the chill of the night air. The ghoul shrugs and tells her she’s welcome to sleep closer to him, as his body temp runs high due to his condition. She would just need to have a stash of rad-away.
She feels silly, because she isn’t going to turn that proposition down. She also needs to remember how to act calm. She hits him with her most convincing line and a smile.
“Okie dokie.”
Sleeping, rather trying to sleep next to the ghoul was harder than anticipated. The dog had grown attached to him, and tried to wriggle her way between them. Lucy doesn’t mind, she finds it cute and feels better with the dog there.
But she can feel his warmth, and smell the leather, the smoke, and something else. When her head starts to droop, she tries to not pass out on his shoulder.
Instead she wakes up and they are tangled, but more so from her doing. She wakes to find her head in the crook of his neck, one hand splayed on his chest. Lucy has also hooked one leg across, and between his legs.
She looks up to find him still sleeping, hat pushed forward. His jacket is laid across her, and his right arm is lazily wrapped around her shoulder.
It’s here where Lucy accepts she does have feelings for him. But she’s not saying anything until they get to their destination. And the sad thing is, Lucy doesn’t know if he feels anything back. And for once, she doesn’t plan on asking.
It becomes their new routine, sleeping next to each other. And for the most part, it’s Lucy trying to pull him closer. He says nothing, and places one arm on her. The novelty wears off, and she gets comfortable.
Everyday is a danger in the wastelands. People would try to kill you, animals, the weather, and hell even your own body.
Lucy remembers falling asleep, but she wakes up insanely groggy. She feels wrong.
The ghoul is hovering over her, and is holding her face. He’s speaking, but it’s muffled. He pulls a tranquilizer from her shoulder.
“Lucy!” His voice breaks through. Not killer, not sweetheart, not darlin’, Lucy. She smiles and reaches up to his face with her hand. He looks bothered, and stands up before she can reach him.
He leaves her, and she doesn’t know how long. Dogmeat is there. Lucy can hear loud things happening. The fog she was in begins to fade. Gunshots echo all around, screams reverberate, and the only thing missing is the ghoul doing his usual banter.
Lucy feels fear as she realizes he must be hurt, and she wills her body up. It’s slow, but she gets there.
Dogmeat walks in front as Lucy stumbles, holding to the wall for support. The gunshots getting closer.
And she finds him, and he’s alive and upright. A look of fury on his face. He doesn’t see her, but someone else does. Whoever it is grabs her ponytail, and forces her to her knees. She lets out a yelp, and the world shifts as she lands.
The fog was still clearing, and her body didn’t feel like hers. She didn’t know how to move it, or she would be kicking this person’s ass.
The yelp brought attention to her though.
“Lucy.” The ghoul breathes, before baring his teeth. A low growl rumbles from him.
“Do as I say or-” whoever it is that had her hair, starts but stops as the ghoul whips his gun and shoots him. No playing around. The body falls with a thud, and their weapon falls away.
He rushes towards Lucy, his face softening. He doesn’t say anything while helping her stand up. He tries to step back but she doesn’t let him. She pulls him in for an embrace, he is surprised by the motion. But she finds his arms wrapping around her.
In the remaining fog, she doesn’t know who needed the hug more.
But the ghoul changes, he starts to revert back. He’s quiet, he doesn’t put his arm around her, and in public he barely acknowledges her.
Lucy hates it, and wants to confront him. He doesn’t give her a chance. He scours and tells her to “fuck off”, he threatens her and there’s an edge in his voice.
Lucy goes back to sleeping alone, and her dreams become vivid. She dreams of the vault, her brother, her dad, her mom, but worst, her wedding night.
Some of them have her wake up, crying. Tears rolling down and chilling her face. She misses her mother, her brother, and partially her father. Or rather the version of him she knew before.
She should have known back on her wedding night. Seen the signs.
One night she doesn’t dream, she has a nightmare.
Lucy feels herself open her eyes, but she’s back in her home. The vault. It’s freshly cleaned, and ready for her. And Monty. She looks down, and gasps. She’s back in the wedding dress.
The dress is rumpled, but it’s clean. She needs to leave she knows what happens next.
Lucy tries with all her might, but she can’t move. Her breathing speeds up, and she can’t scream for help either. The false moonlight filters in the room, and for a moment she thinks she is alone.
But she can’t see in the shadows.
A lithe figure steps from the shadows. Monty, his face fine. But he looked wrong. He shouldn’t be alive.
“Lucy, did you think you would get a happily ever after?” He says, keeping a intense stare on her. She can’t speak, but a strangled sob leaves her. Her body refuses to move for her.
As Monty advances, a new figure appears in the room. She keeps her eyes on Monty, one thing at a time.
She watches as he slowly crawls up the bed, and his features distort, taking on a haunted appearance. His flesh began to sag and turn, making him look dead.
“Don’t worry honey. I’ll keep us safe. This is our home.” Her fathers voice says from the shadows. Monty recoils and faces her father, who uses the shovel again to attack Monty.
With a sick smack, Monty falls and stays down. Hank looks at his daughter, and a flurry of emotions swirl in his eyes. Rage, bitterness, sadness, fear, and love.
Before the nightmare can progress, Lucy wakes up, gasping, crying. The ghoul is holding her, and she sags with relief. She cries for a few minutes. Her tears were from the nightmare, from anger, frustration, and sadness.
“You alright?” He asks, when her breath for the most part evens out.
“You’ve avoided me. Been mean again. Why?” She asks, she’s not expecting a confession but she would like a friendship or basis for one at least. She doesn’t answer him because they both know she isn’t alright.
He shifts and tries to get up.
“You’re fine. Go on.” He says, and he’s trying to get rid of her.
Damn spooking him, Lucy was tired of it. She holds onto him.
“Why are you trying to get rid of me? What did I do?” She says, anger rising in her tone.
“Sweetheart you better let go and drop it.” He warns and grabs her shoulders.
“Maybe I don’t want to!” She yells.
“Yeah? And why not? Are you so ignorant to see you aren’t wanted?” He growls out. She bristles.
“Are you so ignorant to not see that I want you?” She seethes and it’s like he’s been shot. Lucy holds his gaze, and he goes quiet. The menacing look and sternness gone.
“I don’t even know you’re name, but I want to be with you. I want to see you smile, like really smile! I want to hear you laugh, I want to know your name, and say it, scream it at you. I want to hold and be held, I-” she rants trying to get her point across.
His lips find hers in a deft move. It’s sudden.
He pulls her close, her chest pressing hard against his. His hands grasping at her through her suit hungrily. Her hands grasp just as desperately at him.
He kisses her, and the kiss is a little rough. But it’s in character for him, he wasn’t the type to be gentle. Lucy knew what she was getting herself into. They kiss, and she doesn’t know how long she holds onto him. But he pulls back so she can breathe.
Her head falls into his shoulder, and he’s panting a bit as well.
“M’name is Cooper.” He tells her.
#my writing#it’s eh but wheeee#vaultghoul#ghoulcy#lucy maclean#the ghoul#cooper howard#no beta btw so if you see any errors…no you didn’t
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Here to beg for smutty Gale and Maureen thoughts 🙏🏻🙏🏻 I love those two
Oh Nonnie, I’ve got a whole one shot charted out that i think you’ll enjoy immensely. Oh how I need time to write! However, let me give you this little backstory.
Our girl Maureen was sulking very hard over not being cool enough to be a pilot -those were the credentials as far as she could see- and having not applied herself very well to her arithmetic as a child, she was having some trouble even cutting it even as a bombardier. It was training, she went through a few crews, there were reshuffles, there were people getting nixed and people getting added and out of the fog came one pilot who actually had been at this longer than five seconds.
And he looked like that. He sounded like that. He took himself so seriously like that she wanted to bite him. And Maureen, I’m sorry to say, had been an excellent trophy hunter of men and exotic game only a few peacetime months ago and just because a war was on, she’d experienced no change of inclination.
She tried to buy him a drink. Got turned down. Allowed the petulance she felt for the whole situation to simmer over and fully had a little cry while he sat on the barstools begging her to understand it wasn’t her he was refusing but the liquor. She bought him a ginger ale instead.
And she called him by it every time after seeing how it made him squirm. Like a little boy getting his head pat for being ever so “good.” To Gale this was a pure mindfuck and one he was pretty sure came from him not yet adjusting to integrated life. Something about the way he lost all his bearings around her, admired things he used to hold in contempt when she exhibited them, and even ended up looking forward to a run in with her like some masochistic fool hopes he trips up and gets lashed for it.
When they start more training runs together, he ends up taking her far more seriously. He had to chew her out the first flight -in that horrible and measured way of his that’s so much worse than a yell- about her clumsiness. She cited her new bombsight as the issue, he called her an ignorant little wall flower without enough math skills. Maureen knew when not to cry, and this was one of those times so instead she just asked for help, and there’s nothing Gale Cleven is so susceptible to as the chance for helping people. Maureen also went back to her bunk after that dressing down and rubbed herself off furiously to the recollection of his intensity and the firmest hand she’d ever been shown.
By England they have become expected to be seen together, not in the way of Bucky and Buck or even Ida and Egan, but rather like Blakely and Douglass. Gale has somewhere along the way list count of the number of jeep rides he’s had to put her hands out of his lap and back in hers. That’s another thing he’s not sure how he allowed, technically he didn’t but she kept disobeying and he has dreams -actual dreams!- of taking her over his knee and dishing out a few smacks her father didn’t see fit to give that pert little ass in her flysuits.
He tells Bucky that once, thinking it a safe and generic thought. Bucky howls over it and places a bet on how soon Maureen’s hand stays in his lap and how soon Buck repays her with a handprint to her derrière.
All this while flying missions. It’s a bit fucked, and sometimes they admittedly both haven’t got much left for this nonesense, the skies take it out of them. Although Maureen would best like to combat those blues by having a man between her legs, and somehow, it feels moderately untrue to Gale to just hop on the next one even though she does from time to time. The way he seems either clueless or unsurprised by it is excruciating.
It makes her have a very venomously honest chat with him once when her courage is sufficiently liquified and he’s got no mission tomorrow. She asks if he loves Bucky instead and the man about swallows his tongue. “I’d understand-“ she’s very firm about it while Gale protests too much. The short of it is some admittance to not being in the market for girlfriends while fighting a war, the fact a kiss between them could get both court marshaled and well, yes, maybe what he needs he gets from his friendship with Bucky. He’s never been in love before and does she really expect him to suddenly learn to do it both ways?
She does. Even after telling him quite strongly that if her were to ask, Bucky would give that friendship to him “both ways”. Which is another topic to get court marshaled about and Gale says goodnight….After having let her chew on his earlobe an indefinite amount of time while she was suggesting this filth. He ends up back in the showers doing what used to be an occasional self care and is now and almost nightly occurrence.
And then. Egan is drunk, Candy is drunk, Biddick is drunk. One of them asks get to punched so they can feel something. One is reluctant as that’s a crazy ass thing to ask. The other is delighted at the opportunity to do so with no repercussions.
And that’s how Maureen badly hurts her hand on Bucky Egan’s face. While Egan goes to meet the new CO, a little knocked about and mildly dazed, Maureen gets hauled to the base hospital by Gale to get those busted knuckles sorted. It’s not a dire emergency, not even worthy of taking staff away from those who need it -this Maureen insists and maybe the staff agrees as after Cleven tells them he’s looking for gauze and antiseptic, they tell him it’s in the back room, have at it major.
And while back there, watching his intent little face cleaning her cuts and his voice gently berating her foolishness and also admiringly asking how she learned to punch like that -she tells him,
“Did you know I’m ambidextrous?”
And that’s how Gale Cleven got his first handjob in the backroom of the hospital.

#long story long#i don’t have a smitty headcanon list in my head yet but have this#Gale x Maureen#masters of the air#those who can#Gale Cleven
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More honeymoon cows, these Arne sketches are most likely photos that Tor took.
Tor belongs to @littleulvar
#original character#modern au#arne#tor#pastel goth druids#tor’s wearing something different than black#someone please tell this cow he looks good in colours#I have so many feels right now about them#enjoying little things and being together in new place#trying weird food and amazing drinks#getting lost in narrow Italian streets full of flowers and cats#taking longs walks at evenings to watch the sea and feel soft sand under their feet#buying silly souvenirs and stuff just because#and arne melting each time seeing tor so relaxed and happy#still hardly believes this amazing man is his husband
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Alastor x Reader - Sleeping On His Lap
Here is my attempt at a Alastor x reader fanfiction. Took me awhile to kinda get into his character so please don't be mad if Alastor seems a bit off. Enjoy!
Sigh, it was another eventful day at the Happy Hotel, or Hazbin Hotel as it was now called as a certain deer demon decided to change the name. You had spent all day doing certain tasks around the hotel such as helping Charlie create posters for the hotel, clean the rooms with Nifty, break up the brawl between Vaggie and Angel Dust as he had pissed her off one too many times and organize the bar for Husk as he was passed out drunk. You could have refused to do these things, but you enjoyed helping people, so it made it all worth it.
You had started working at the hotel after you had saw Charlie singing on the 666 news about the hotel and redeeming demons, only for her idea to be made a laughing stock upon everyone who watched the broadcast. You actually had mixed feelings about the whole redeeming thing, seeing as you weren't sure if someone like you could be sent to heaven, despite not being a very big criminal during your time when you were alive, but apparently doing a little shoplifting is enough to send you a one way ticket to hell. Charlie's words did inspire you a little bit, so even if you felt that you couldn't be redeemed, others probably had a better chance, so you decided to head to the hotel and ask for a job after the broadcast was cut off from the brawl with Charlie and Katie Killjoy. You were hired in a split second and immediately pulled into a bear hug by Charlie, and then introduced you to the others.
Back to the present, you began to feel extremely exhausted from moving around everywhere, so you headed over to one of the rooms with the long couches so you could take a rest. Heading into one of the rooms, you peeped around and saw that no one was there, which made it better as you really needed some peace and quiet. Heaving a deep sigh, you sat down on the couch, turning and falling back, as you laid your body down, with your head facing the front of the couch. "What a long day", thinking to yourself as your eyes slowly began to close and you were lulled into a deep sleep.
**2 Hours Later**
As you were sleeping, you felt the sensation of someone petting your head, the soothing feeling had awoken you a bit, but you quickly fell back asleep at the warm touch. You could feel that you were holding something in your dreams, and you assumed it was one of the pillows on the couch, so you brought it closer to your face and nuzzled it. "Mm, smells nice ", as the scent from the pillow was making you more relaxed, as it reminded you of a being in the middle of a deep forest. After sleeping for 30 more minutes, you slowly began to open your eyes, and try to make out what was in front of you. Expecting to see a pillow, you saw red stripes in front of you, "Huh?" As you were still trying to make out what was in front of you, a loud voice interrupted your thoughts: "Ah, awake now are we?", said a static voice above you. Eyes opening wide, you looked up from your position and saw Alastor staring down at you with his trademark smile. Slowly, you began to piece together that you were laying on his lap, and nuzzled into his chest as you were sleeping. "AHHHH", jumping up from your position, you rolled off his lap, and your body fell to the ground as you stared at Alastor in shock, as he continued to look at you with his glowing eyes, amused at your reaction. "Um, h-how long was I sleeping on your lap?", you softly asked, as your face was red, but your eyes were showing fear, as you remembered that Alastor did not like to be touch, and you happened to hug him in your sleep. "HAHA, For quite a while, darling. It was a very busy day, I assume?", Alastor said as he placed his arm on the armrest of the couch, and his hand against his cheek, smiling even wider.
Nodding your head, you slowly got up from your position, and started apologizing to Alastor, eyes aiming towards the ground and fingers twiddling together. Alastor raised an eyebrow and wondered why you were apologizing, to which you answered that you had hugged him in your sleep, and that he made it very aware that he did not enjoy physical contact from someone unless he initiated it, feeling extremely bad if you made him uncomfortable. Listening to you, Alastor's smile relaxed to a small grin as he looked at you with gentle eyes. He did admit that he was not use to being touch by others, and was quite surprised from the sleep hug, but he didn't detest it as much coming from you, which boggled his mind completely. It must be due to your kind and innocent nature that made him react different around you, as he was used to more of the common riff raff being terrified of him or trying to battle in a turf war, but how you were with him, made his black heart melt.
Feeling that Alastor was upset as he didn't respond to your apology, you quickly excused yourself and began to head over to the door to leave. A loud SNAP was heard and before you knew it, you had been teleported back on to the couch, this time being seated on Alastors lap. "A-Al, what are you doing?!", your face began to become as red as his hair, while your eyes stared at Alastor in shock. Smiling at you, Alastor moved his hand to your chin and tilted your face up: "There is no need to apologize, darling. If I had been upset about you hugging me, you possibly w̩͉͍̱̍̂̉̊o̫̼̐̎̋͜u͚͌l̳̓d̠͉̗͋̔͞'̼̳̣̼͊̏̾̾t͜͝ ͕̱͐͠ḇ̅e̙͗ ͍͓͔̱͍͛̔͌͘͞a̝̜̘̎́͒ḽ͒í̱̙̈́v̧̌e̠͠ ̢̹̜́́̈̀ͅr̲͇̳̅̽͌i̩͈̒̅ĝ̲̦̎ẖ̛̳̲͙̀͌̽͘ͅt͉̅ ͖̞͍̞́̋͛͛ň͚̫̦́͂̿͟o̱͌w̡̕" he said, as his eyes flashed for a second into radio dials. "However! I am not opposed to be touched by you. So no need to apologize, my dear.", Alastor said as he continued to smile at you widely, but his glowing eyes were looking at you softly, letting you know that he was not angry with you. Feeling shy, you turned your head away from Alastor, muttering a soft okay, as your heart was beating rapidly. "Smile my dear!" Alastor said as he moved his hand from your chin to your cheek, to have you look at him again. Baring through the embarrassing situation, you gave Al a small smile, which pleased him. "You always over do it, darling. While Charlie and I appreciate your efforts at helping the hotel, it does no good to work yourself to the point of fatigue. If you are ever feeling exhausted and need a break, don't be hesitant to come find me, as my radio tower is open to you. Understand, my dear?" said Alastor, as he leaned closer towards you, making you flustered again.
Nodding your head was enough to let Alastor knew you understood as he chuckled, while sliding you off his lap, and as he stood up from the couch. "Now then, we should probably head back to the lobby before the others get worried about our lack of presence.", He said, as he straighten his coat out, while turning towards you, extending his hand out for you to take it. "Yeah we should", as you grabbed his hand, and made your way with him back to the lobby. You were still trying to process what just happened between you and Alastor, but you feel like you both have become much closer then before, and you didn't mind it one bit.
#alastor x reader#alastor the radio demon#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel 2024#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel fanfic#fluff#x reader#hazbin alastor#alastor#alastor the radio demon x reader#radio demon#hazbin hotel headcannon#fluff x reader#lap pillow#kawaii#viviziepop#charlie magne#angel dust#Husk#Nifty#vaggie#nap time#sleepy cuddles
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fear
- gojo satoru x reader
his best friend’s defection is still a hard topic for him to swallow, and it leads into an unexpected argument that spurs you to leave, only to unlock a new fear in him when you get into an unfortunate accident afterwards.
genre/warnings:
angst, gojo being mean, one scene with a worried nanami *wink*, injured reader, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end
notes:
*sigh* my coping mechanism is still gojo’s past arc, which is why this piece takes place on that timeline. just a little context: reader is in the same class with nanami & haibara and was in the same mission that took haibara's life. this is probably the longest oneshot i've written so far sooo… enjoy! :)
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
A year and a half had passed since Suguru embarked on his path as a curse user. In that one year and a half, Satoru had finished his last year at Jujutsu High, and now was in the halls of his alma mater, speaking to the newly appointed headmaster who was none other than his teacher.
"You're applying to become a teacher?" Yaga asked again with a frown. He still couldn't wrap his head around it. Granted, he was his most troublesome pupil. "Why, Satoru?"
"If I said it's because I want to train young sorcerers to be strong, would you believe me?"
That was not a lie. It was actually 50% of his main reasons anyway. The other 50% was to repent what he missed with Suguru when he chose his dark path—his contempt with the current system of this jujutsu world.
"I would," Yaga responded gruffly. To him, Satoru was irritating, but he also knew that he was also extremely capable, and thus everything he did wasn't just out of nowhere. "But you still have to submit your applications. We can't make an exception even if you come from a prestigious clan."
"That's fine with me," he grinned. "Thanks, sensei."
On summer days, he'd get reminded of Suguru and silly things they had done together. Eating shaved ice, cycling together, driving either you, Shoko or Nanami mad. Satoru missed those days, it hadn't been the same ever since. Not knowing if his best friend was alright—if he was still alive at all—was exhausting.
Sometimes, he felt like he was the only one who was affected by his departure, the only one who stayed right where Suguru left him. Shoko didn't seem ruffled, if anything she just went to more bars and pachinko parlors as of late. Nanami was always a recluse, he never disclosed his feelings. You mourned him, but it was clear that most part of you would always be more focused on Haibara's death.
Satoru understood that he couldn't force anyone to feel what he felt, and he had no right to. But sometimes, he just wanted someone to connect with at his level. Someone to get him just like Suguru did.
And so when he got back to his condo that night—just right next to the one he rented for Megumi and Tsumiki, since he had moved out of his dorm—to find his girlfriend there with a big smile and a tray of cupcakes, unaware of everything and anything, he merely scoffed to himself.
"Satoru, you're back," you acknowledged, beaming like the sunshine you were. "I just baked these for the kids. Do you want some?"
Usually he'd smother you, throw some pickup lines here and there and say yes, but today, he just felt drained. "No." And with that, he stalked away to the bathroom, not glancing back at you.
It was wrong. But tonight he just wanted some peace and quiet, and so keeping his silence seemed to be the best choice as he didn't want to start a pointless argument with you. But you weren’t anything but observant, and definitely noticed that something was amiss with him.
"Are you... alright?" You approached him warily after he came out of the bathroom with wet hair. "Where were you today?"
"Just somewhere," he replied curtly. Afterwards he turned on the hairdryer, drowning the whole place with the noise even as you stood behind him with a visible question mark.
But you were still there after he dried his hair. "Is something bothering you?" you asked with a tilt of your head, concerned. By all means, you mean well. You just wanted to know if he could use your help at all.
When you pulled that expression, he couldn't help feeling annoyed, like he wanted you to take a hint, but you just didn't. "If you know, then just shut it."
It was probably the first time since the two of you got together that Satoru actually said something harsh. But you still tried to be reasonable though, bless you.
"Satoru, I don't know what got into your nerves like this, but I think sleeping through it might help. Have a rest."
"Why are you talking as if you know it?" he snapped, finally turning to you with his cold gaze. "You might not know anything, so don't be a know-it-all. Just mind your own business."
Now you were frustrated with his reply. "Once again, I don't know what happened to you. But if you're taking it out on me because I'm the closest you have—"
"Who said that?" Satoru didn't know where he got all this venom from. It was just at the forefront of his mind and he just got the urge to spew it. "You're considering yourself closest to me? Where did you get that big head from?"
You were aghast, and you blinked a few times to get your bearings. "Let me guess, it's about Geto-san, isn't it? Or the higher ups. Either of that must be what causing you to blindly place your anger on me."
"So what if it was? It isn't like you'll understand anyway."
"Satoru," you started, trying to even your breathing. "What happened to Geto-san isn't your fault. I've been telling you this. It can't be helped—"
"Can't be helped?" he jeered. "Do you know why it has come to this?" his tone took a dangerous edge as he stepped closer. He reached for you, grasping your wrist.
"Maybe because I was too blind back then. If it weren't for you—if only I didn't spend that much time on you, maybe he would still be here."
Did he just say that? Did he just imply that he had regretted the two of you getting together?
You felt your lower lip start to tremble and something seemed to obscure and blur your vision, making it hard to see him clearly. "You... don't mean that."
"Really?" the corner of his lips curled into a disparaging smile. "You never know. Before you know it, this can be over already. After all, I could have anyone out there that I want. Maybe someone less nosey than—”
That did it. You wrenched your arm out of his grip violently, as your first tear fell. His smirk vanished too, replaced with a total stillness to cover his sudden panic that was followed by a sudden sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach.
"You selfish, self-obsessed jerk," you hissed through watery eyes. He was taken aback, even amidst your anger and possible fear of him, your still managed to throw daggers at him. "Fine. You have it. I'll see myself out."
Satoru never wanted you to leave. Honestly, he would've made you stay. But he wasn't in the right state of mind and it was too late to take back what he said. He didn't want to mess this up even further.
You left the cupcakes, even throwing it away just to spite him. Driven by pain and humiliation, you choked back your sob and didn't spare a glance at him as you shut the door.
Peace and quiet. There he had it, he thought as he clenched his fists, at the cost of everything else.
Leaving that condo, every step you took felt like needles piercing your shattered heart. You wiped your tears roughly. No, you refused to cry over such asshole. He made it clear, didn't he? Whatever it was that you two shared, it was at the cost of his best friend leaving him. So now the blame was on you.
If you were thinking clearly, you would've understood that his words were likely a result of his own pent-up pain and frustration that he had kept to himself for some while. But you had no patience for that or even pinpoint what you felt right now—anger, disappointment or dread, or perhaps all three. You just felt wrongly accused.
Your feet brought you back to your dorm in the school. Now it wasn't as bustling as it once were. After Satoru and Shoko's graduation, you didn't really get close to anyone. There was Ichiji, but he treated you more like a mentor rather than a classmate.
As you sank into the comforts of your bed, You replayed the events, trying to find where it went wrong—and found nothing. After all, you had already said all that could be said. It wasn't just him who lost Geto, but you, Shoko and Nanami did too, but it was more convenient for Satoru to blame everyone else rather than trying to understand that they too shared this pain.
Nevertheless, you were disappointed. You didn't expect half of what he spouted, and it got you doubting everything you had.
"You've royally fucked up."
Satoru exhaled, glaring at Shoko through the corner of his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."
The reverse cursed technique user threw him a blank stare, taking in everything from his disheveled hair to his wrinkled trousers. "Gojo, as much as I can’t care less about your sorry ass, I'm saying this not out of concern for you, but rather for Y/N. You are an asshole."
The puff of smoke she blew expanded to create a cloud-like shape. "Yaga-sensei was our teacher. His student is now a mass murderer and wanted dead. Can you even imagine how he feels? And I can't believe I'm saying this—but weren't there three of us?"
A week had gone by and instead of doing the right thing like trying to get into your good graces, Satoru was in Shoko's infirmary in the headquarters instead. He didn't exactly know what he was looking for by going here. Maybe some lingering taste of his happier student days, and Shoko was the only one remaining.
Three of us, huh... she was right. That was precisely why he came here after all.
"You're just sulking because it seems no one cares about your best friend being the best there is. But have you thought about how our juniors also lost Haibara? Right in front of their eyes? Haibara was our friend too."
He was wrong, of course he was. Satoru realized that now. But it felt wrong to ask for your forgiveness now, not to mention the disrupting thought he had—should he let you go for good altogether?
The phone suddenly rang with such fervor that made Shoko utter a swear word. She was on call duty for the rescue team today, and it was supposedly a peaceful day until Satoru decided to barge in to become her company. "Hello? Ichiji? What—speak clearly, I can't hear you."
She switched it to loudspeaker. "...iri-san! Ieiri-san—h-help—please—"
It was noisy, and blaring at the same time, and Ichiji was... Sobbing? Choking? His voice was terribly muffled and—
"L/N-san!" he cried, and Satoru remembered at that moment that you should be in a mission with Ichiji, he remembered you telling him before.
"Hic—s-she fell... hic—she fell! B-blood! She i-is bleeding so much! I-Ieiri-san—hic—s-send help! Please!"
"Hey, stay awake. Breathe. Just breathe."
Everything hurt. Most notably, your head. You could hardly think straight when all you felt was blinding pain and how your breaths came in short wheezes.
Your vision was blurry. The numbness had started to set in and chills ran up and down your spine. You couldn't make out who in front of you was. Was it Ichiji, who went with you in this mission? The only thing that glared was blue.
"You can't sleep, you hear me?" the voice was commanding, willing you to do his bidding. It was familiar, but usually his tone of voice was much lighter, happier.
Satoru.
But why was he here? He wasn't in this mission. It was supposed to be a mission for you and Ichiji.
You remembered getting the cursed spirit after manifesting your domain expansion, until in its last ditch attempt, it went after Ichiji. You had no choice—even when your cursed energy had burned out, you still shoved him away at the cost of being flung from the top of a building.
Not again. Not after Haibara. You’d gladly pay the price if it meant you didn't have to see anyone die in front of you again.
"I..." You managed to croak out—breathing hurt, and you felt your hands being grasped tightly.
"Hey, just breathe. Y/N. Look at me.” Through your blurry haze, you focused on that cold blue, and you saw him. Satoru's sharp eyes, pursed lips and frown. He's really here.
Satoru always said that if there was a cursed spirit apocalypse, then Ichiji would be the first to die. You used to scold him for that, but now as you a laid here possibly dying in your own pool of blood, you found it to be true.
Yet at the same time you knew that with him here, Ichiji must be safe already, and it gave you reassurance so great even when you were on the verge of dying. "I... can't..."
"Yes, you can. Just look at me," he firmly rebuked, his voice came out in a hiss. For all the time you had been with him, you had never heard him so forceful. "If you close your eyes now, I won't forgive you. So please, just hang in there."
It was a struggle to take in any air and darkness encroached on your vision as your consciousness began slipping away.
And everything faded to nothingness.
Satoru honestly thought he had no fears. His worst fear had fully realized after all—Suguru going away into the darkness. What more could he possibly fear?
But when he heard Ichiji's distress call for rescue team, about how you fell from a rooftop of a building and unconscious, he realized that it was a fear he didn't know existed. His mind got disoriented and he teleported to the scene on impulse. He just had to see it for himself. With their petty argument still lacking closure, he felt even worse.
And the sight before him gave him so much fright he never thought was possible.
It was a mistake, he should have brought Shoko along.
You had laid there like a broken doll, your eyes dimmed, and not been able to breathe. He desperately tried to keep you awake, his presence beside you, yet it didn't seem to matter. He watched helplessly as you passed out in his arms.
Satoru felt nothing. The panic that had set in was suddenly gone as your limp body slumped against him, replaced by incessant ringing in his ears and tremor wracking his nervous system. It wasn't long until the rescue team came to retrieve you and even then he still felt numb. He rejected the idea that you might possibly die on him.
That went on until Shoko, who assisted in the emergency treatment, came out of the surgery, sweat on her forehead.
"It's even worse than the aftermath of the guardian deity mission last year," Shoko explained with a grim expression. "Her brain has sustained damage and it affects everything. It may take her quite a while before she can go back to the field."
When she said that, Satoru felt terror washed over him again. You almost died—was all he perceived.
The two of you had no contact for a week just because of his ego. He could still recall that day with vivid clarity, feeling a burning ache in his chest. If someone were to ask him what heartbreak was like, now he certainly would he able the to tell them the two instances in which he experienced them. What he felt now mirrored the same stinging sensation he had felt when Suguru left him.
He visited you when he was allowed to, and you were still unconscious, with many machines connected to your body. It was a sight he still couldn’t bring himself to get used to. He had seen you injured before, but never seen you in your own pool of blood, so this made him feel sick to his stomach.
"Stupid," he whispered, gently rubbing your forehead. His eyes remained fixated on you as you rested, his insides still churning with emotions. "You're not weak, and you're not hopeless." Once upon a time, Satoru might have thought of you as weak, but now he knew better.
"So why you always pick the worst decision?" The more he thought this could've been avoided, the more irked he was. The thought that he could have done something to prevent it intensified the sting of guilt, and he continued to punish himself with it.
And the more he dwelled on the idea that he had hurt you prior to this, the tighter his breath became.
But that was who you were. Self-sacrificing to a fault. And he loved you for that. There was no way of him letting you go now.
It astonished even himself—that he was capable of this love thing. At first it was an attraction, but now that you had been going on for more than a year, it felt like it was no longer a silly infatuation after all.
"Hurry and wake up, will you?" Satoru gently brushed your hair aside, his eyes fixed on you. He didn't know it even as his gut twisted, his frown deepened and his touch quivered, that he was worried sick. "I have a lot to make up for."
And he left you with a tender brush of his lips against your forehead.
Nanami Kento was the first person you saw when you awoke from coma.
You struggled to regain your senses, still feeling absolutely broken. The dull throb on the back of your head was still there, and as if you had found yourself trapped in a fog, you were only able to move sluggishly.
"You're awake?" his gruff voice greeted, laced with concern. In his hand were a bucket of fresh flowers and fruits basket, which he soon placed at the table next to your bed.
It was unexpected, because ever since the tragedy that costed Haibara's life, the two of you had been drifting apart.
You nodded, and let out a hum in response—all you could manage at the moment.
"Thank God." Nanami sounded relieved as he pinched the bridge between his eyes, and you were moved that he had shown this degree of concern.
Your remaining classmate, who suffered the burden of Haibara's life just like you. He was always quiet or brooding somewhere, hiding his own feelings.
You felt tears pricking the corner of your eyes. The fact that he visited you meant that he hadn't decided to cut you out of his life yet.
"Gojo-san is out today, but he'll be back by afternoon," he said, mistranslating your tears as some sort of a want to have your annoying—ex?—boyfriend at your side.
The two of you were still not on talking terms, weren’t you?
You so badly wanted to say thank you to him—and tell him that no, you weren't looking for Satoru—but it came out hoarse and barely above a whisper.
"Huh?" Nanami then realized what you were trying to say, and a faint smile graced his lips. "Just... get well soon, L/N. Have a good rest."
Just before you drifted back to sleep, you could hear him sigh and mutter, "Hello, Gojo-san? L/N has awakened. Just letting you know is all.”
You weren't sure how much time had passed when you woke up the second time, but the curtains were already drawn and only darkness came from the window. Your body felt lighter, but you still felt like a mess and and couldn't help but groan in discomfort.
Satoru was there, he perked up at the noise you made. And you realized that it was the first time in about a week that he faced you after that disasterous almost-breakup.
He walked up to you, his expression was more hopeful than you had ever seen him before, like a kid whose wish had been granted. He slowly shifted to sit beside you.
"Hey, welcome back." His voice was soft. It was a change of pace for him, as you were used to seeing him all loud and silly.
Now your voice no longer sounds like a lead. "Hey."
"How are you feeling?" he asked and you took a moment to look at him. He was smiling, but exhaustion reached his bright eyes, dimming them. "You know, with the whole you passing out and almost dying thing?"
His words were almost humorous as he spoke, like he didn't know what else to say except try to lighten the mood, but there was also a strain on his tone, like he was holding back.
"I'm quite fine now, I suppose..." You still felt the lingering pain and dizziness as you slowly sat up. Satoru reached out to steady you—and you realized how his fingers trembled when they made contact with your body—as his brows furrowed with worry when you winced.
"You don't look like it though." His voice dropped and the humor was gone, replaced by this haunted look. You blinked. It was probably the first time you had seem him this ruffled.
He immediately pulled you into a hug, cradling your head to his neck gently, as if to protect and shield you from the world altogether. Exhaling heavily, he leaned on you. "You scared me, you know that?"
You wondered out loud if you really had that hold over him. "Did I?"
"You can't do that to me, you hear?" Satoru stroked your hair, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. His voice quivered. “Don't ever do that again.”
He pulled you tighter against him, but still careful not to crush you.
You let out a snicker, letting go of everything you felt during this horrible week. "Heh, afraid to lose me, huh?"
"Shut up,” he grumbled. “What were you thinking anyway? How did you calculate that freefalling is better than letting that cursed spirit attack Ichiji?”
"He was defenseless. He could die, you know that."
"And you also can," he quipped, upset, pulling away enough to look you squarely in the eyes, his eyes devoid of any expression, yet filled with a raging wave that you could only interpret as undiluted concern.
The emphasis in his tone made you recoil and feel guilty. If you were in his shoes, you probably would've said the same thing and so you had nothing to say to that.
But the more pressing agenda in the list was the unspoken silent treatment the two of you saw fit to use against each other for the last few days. Satoru was the one who decided to address it first.
"About that night..." he faltered, looking away. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry."
Satoru always had trouble processing emotions. This time too. He must've a hard time dealing with the anxiety caused by the possibility of him losing you for good, no matter how much he tried to be unaware of it.
"..." You wanted to respond, to make him understand your point, but somehow right now you were just too weary. And he sensed your reluctance. So you blurted the first thing that gnawed at your mind.
“You said you could have any other women out there—”
"No, really—" he started to panic, and it was blatantly too, which surprised you. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Us. I don't regret anything. I’m not breaking up with you. Being with you is the happiest I've been ever since Suguru left."
“That's...” you blinked, before letting out a small sigh. “Okay. Fine then. Let's just put it behind us for now.”
“I—” he almost wheezed, his bright blue eyes were overtaken with sheer urgency to explain how wrong everything had been that night. “You must know that I didn’t mean any of it. And that I hate hurting you the way I did. I won’t—”
"Satoru, I understand," you let out another sigh, fidgeting with your fingers. "Sometimes when I’m reminded of Haibara, I also get sad. I don't want to presume but I think I know how you feel. Just next time, maybe," you shifted your gaze on him, seeing how you had his attention fully. Gojo Satoru, the strongest now, was looking at you as if you had his fate in your hands. "Just tell me if you need space and I would have understood."
"Yeah, okay, sure," he responded immediately, relieved, before a lopsided grin appeared on his face, turning him back into your dork slash boyfriend. "So, am I forgiven now?"
"A thank you would be nice."
In the end, he chuckled, seemingly resigned. "You should sleep more."
He positioned himself into bed next to you, and you let him pull you into his chest again. You could feel how his taut back started to relax upon the contact. He pressed his lips on your forehead in a fleeting kiss.
"Promise me you won't pull that stunt again.”
You smirked. "I can't. What if Ichiji—"
"Then just let him die."
You swatted his arm playfully, pressing your head to his chest as he continued to run his fingers on your hair. He cushioned you carefully, and you felt the tension in him slowly melt away with each breath you took. In your mind, you figured he needed this closeness more than you did, if anything, for the sake of his sanity.
“I love you,” he whispered by your ear, kissing it lightly.
“Mmhm.”
As you felt Satoru's calming presence, it helped ease you into slumber. You soon found yourself in a deep sleep, comfortably held in his embrace.
Epilogue
Ichiji gulped as Satoru stared him down, sizing him up as if he was the most despicable creature on this planet.
Okay, he might be. He was a coward, all he could do was trembling in the face of evil. But he had come in peace, even bringing fruits as an offering! He felt bad too that he was the partial cause for you to be this injured.
He was used to Satoru terrorizing him—calling him names, slapping him, and whatnot—and he could take it. Just this time, he really looked like he could murder him on the spot if he wanted to. A small part of Ichiji mourned that you were his girlfriend, because that pretty much sealed his fate that Gojo Satoru could indeed murder him on the spot because he had a valid enough reason to.
"You are—"
"No! I'm sorry, Gojo-san! I'm sorry for my incompetence!"
"Hah?"
If he was mildly irked before, now Satoru was visibly irritated.
"You're not cut out to be a jujutsu sorcerer," he started. "You're useless. You just get in the way most of the time."
Ichiji kept his head down. No, no. He can't cry!
"Get your driving license or I'll slap the shit out of you."
"Oh?" and before he knew it, Satoru had stalked away, leaving him in the dust. How rude! But...
Get a driver license? Quit the jujutsu work?
Hey, that sounds like something I can do!
#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru angst#satoru gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jjk angst#jjk fluff#hurt/comfort#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk gojo#gojo fluff#gojo angst#jjk x you#jjk imagines#jujutsu kaisen imagines#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#nanami kento#jjk gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo satoru imagines#gojo x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff
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HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!
thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)
ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE
simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.
he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.
he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.
but he couldn’t take everything lying down.
did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?
he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.
he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.
he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.
but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.
but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.
simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.
and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?
you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.
the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.
and all the signs pointed to you.
and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.
price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.
johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.
then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.
simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.
maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.
but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.
all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.
and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.
so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.
and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.
even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.
he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.
but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.
the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.
it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.
the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.
“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.
“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”
simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.
“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”
“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”
price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.
“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”
“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.
price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”
the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.
he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.
“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.
price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”
simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.
“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”
they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.
pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.
although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.
but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.
an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.
you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.
damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.
you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.
he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.
‘you should have killed me.’
maybe he should have.
thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—
im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!
as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)
#cod mw2 fic#captain john price#gaz call of duty#soap call of duty#ghost call of duty#captain price#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#johnny mactavish#john soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#John price#simon riley x gn reader#simon riley angst#ghost x gn reader#ghost x you#ghost angst#ghost x reader#ghost cod#141!reader#141 x reader#task force 141
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happy birthday to the man!! — katsuki sees your sex toys once and is haunted by what you look like using them
pairing: bakugou x f!reader
w/c: 1.5k
warning/s: nsfw 18+, m! & f!masturbation; sex toys, i think that's everything
notes: this is a bit short BUT i had to get something out for the man, this took me like 2 weeks to write but hopefully now i'll be out of my slump a little bit! pls enjoy c:
crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox
18+ MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DNI
fuck… he really doesn’t know when the lines started to blur between friend and fantasy, from wanting to hang out with you to wanting you, from talking to you about your day to being bricked up hearing your voice. yet, here he was, hot water streaming down his neck, plastering damp hair to his forehead; the water pouring over his head nowhere near enough to wash his mind of you.
he’d been plagued by you, morning to night, even in his damn dreams since he tried to find a phone charger at your place.
it’s not like he was snooping, he wasn’t trying to find that sort of thing, bakugou was only trying to find your spare charger, he’d seen you put it in one of these drawers before, how was he meant to know you left your spare chargers right below all of that?
he’d slammed the drawer shut the absolute second he realised exactly what he was staring at; the bedside drawer stuffed to the brim with bright, phallic toys, a collection of smaller, rounder vibrators, something that looked awfully similar to a gag, and he heard the telltale metal clinking of at least one pair of handcuffs against the wood when he slammed it closed. embarrassing heat crawled up his neck, burning his cheeks and setting the very tips of his ears alight. stuck in the same spot, mouth half opened dumbly, his eyebrows creased in the centre of his face, all blood rushing from his brain down to his half-hard cock already straining against his pants, the need making him ache.
every hour since that, he’d spent thinking of what your wet cunt looked like swallowing the toys; so pretty and drippy, how it looked tensing around nothing when you came from the buzzing of your vibrator, how you’d look writhing and moaning handcuffed with that gag in your mouth, how your drool would stain your shirt, sticking the fabric to your skin. god, it was just so lewd, even under the purifying water, he felt dizzy, sticky, hot, sweaty, the image of your toys burnt into his retinas, no matter what he tried to distract himself with, he always saw your toys at the forefront of his mind, the perverted imagery refusing to budge from its newfound home.
bakugou groans, a deep, rough sound drowned out by the even buzzing echoing in his ears, the sound slowly building, kicking to a new level when your whine drowns it out. you always start nearly silent in his dreams, just tiny gasps escaping your parted lips when you’d nestle the toy right against your clit. you only get louder from there, your eyebrows scrunching together like his own were, marking two little tallies in the middle, tilting upwards at the centre as you pulled your lip up between your teeth. the motion did absolutely nothing to muffle your sounds, your whimpers and moans only growing louder with every heave of your chest, every passing moment with the vibrator pressed to your pulsing clit making your hips jolt into it.
you reach between your thighs with a whine that sounds all too similar to his name torn from your lips, dipping your fingertips in your slick cunt, collecting all the cum gathering at your trembling hole without even taking a breather from humping your vibrator like your life depended on it. your movements grew jerkier and jerkier the longer the intense vibrations were held to your drooling pussy, your eyes fluttering closed with a breathless shout of his name, shaky, wet thighs squeezing around your hand, even as the vibrator slipped from your grip, falling forgotten onto the sheets beneath you, the constant stimulation growing too much for you—
“fuck.” he really couldn’t help it, his hand travelling lower down his abdomen, trailing behind droplets of water still running down his torso to his hard cock, the tip already leaking from the thought of you. wrapping his fist around the base of his cock, he squeezed once before twisting his wrist, slowly jerking his cock, wondering if you were in your shower doing the same, fucking yourself on one of your toys imagining him in its place just as he wished it was your warm cunt squeezing around his dick instead of his hand.
“katsukiii—” bakugou can feel you beside him, your figure displacing the dense steam surrounding him, a heavy, thick silicone dildo hanging from the glass wall of the shower, your figure slick and soapy from the shower, damp hair sticking to the soft skin of your neck and face when you bent at the waist, lining the tip of the plastic cock up with your drooling hole. the head of the cock would slide into your cunt all too easily in his fantasies, always greedy to watch you take more and more, inch by inch sinking onto it. your mouth falls further open the more you take of the toy, the pleasure too much for you to even hold your head up by the time your ass was pressed against the cool glass, your back arching with the tip of the dildo nestled deep inside your cunt. he wonders if the curve of it would rub on your g-spot at this angle, if it would drive you crazy grinding against the glass, whining when you can’t take it anymore.
bakugou’s head falls back thinking of you reaching for the shower head, his cock pulsing in his hand when he grips the base, his muscles tensing and relaxing while he tried desperately not to cum; the image of you playing behind his eyelids making that a near impossible task. even with his eyes squeezed shut, there you are at the forefront of his mind, switching the settings of the shower head to a concentrated stream, aimed directly at your aching clit, your broken moan jolting his hips forward into his hand, stroking the length languidly. your voice wavered, repeating his name again, the stimulation inside and outside your cunt just so overwhelming.
bracing against the tile with your spare hand, you lift yourself back off the toy, the base suctioned to the glass remaining stuck as you grew quicker in your movements, starting to bounce and roll your hips in a smooth tempo. he matches the pace of your hips with his fist, his breath coming out in nothing but deep huffs. his uneven groans were nothing compared to your sweet chorus of moans and whines, an endless symphony playing in his head of “ah-ah-ah”’s and “mmmng”’s the closer you got, your cum coating the toy just like his pre was smearing all over his fist.
he can’t help the guttural sound that escapes him next, a garbled, broken version of your name when your thighs tremble, your knees only moments away from buckling from the pure bliss; the water is still aimed at your clit, even when you can’t bounce on the dildo anymore, wave after wave of pleasure drowning you until your eyes rolled into your skull and your cum gathered in a creamy ring at the base of the toy, your ass flattening against the glass as you greedily took more of the toy, intensifying the euphoria wracking through your body. he knows your toy fills your cunt so perfectly, knows how you’d hump the air to get more and more of the water aimed at your clit, unrelenting in chasing your orgasm, jolting and jerking until your knuckles turned white against the tile wall, until your voice was so high and loud it didn’t even sound like you anymore.
he wonders if you’d ever screamed taking the fake cock, if you’d ever been so overwhelmed you squealed, your pretty cunt clenching around the toy, milking the poor plastic for everything it can’t give you, or if he’d be the first to make you cum so intensely.
“ka-aa-ki—” you can’t even spit his name out, your name the same mess on his plump lips, caught so hard between sharp teeth he worries he’ll split the thin skin. all his muscles tense, his abdomen clenching low on his stomach, the veins stretching along the underside of his cock throbbing with the need to join you in the throes of pleasure, to cover your cunt in milk white cum you desperately tried to squeeze from the silicone.
your name is a choked mantra tumbling from his lips, over and over again, dark crimson eyes rolling into the back of his skull the longer you bounced on the toy, pinching sensitive nipples between your slippery, soapy fingers, dragging your orgasm out as long as you could, as long as he would, until your knees were weak and your couldn't even manage to dumbly spit out his name anymore.
“fuck.” he damn near whines, a mess of cum covering his fingers, coating his knuckles as he kept fucking his fist through the waves of his own orgasm, shivering even with the hot water running down his body, cleaning his hand even as he continued to stroke his cock, relaxing his muscles as his toes still curled, his knuckles stark white against the tile.
his head fell forward onto the cooling tile, a temporary relief for the haziness swirling around in the steam.
shit, how was he meant to look you in the eyes after this?
© all works belong to @k-atsukibakugou, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost or recommend my work on other platforms or translate my works, i do not give permission for my works to be bound and sold. 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact.
#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugou smut#bakugo smut#katsuki bakugou smut#katsuki bakugo smut#bakugou katsuki smut#bakugo katsuki smut#「mercury writes」#「kat <3」
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Eden
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...
I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.
Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.
Word Count: 4.2k
Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3
Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers.
Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.
“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer.
“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered.
“Are you sure?”
You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him.
“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.
“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict.
Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.
“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.
“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.
The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.
“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.
——
“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.
“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.
“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.
“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room.
“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.
“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.
“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”
“Hey…!” Benedict protests.
“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”
You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby.
“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you.
You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.
“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.
“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.
You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.
As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.
——
“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?”
Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later.
“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.
“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.
“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse.
The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank.
“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”
You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.
Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”
You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”
“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”
“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.
“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.
You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours. “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.
He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome.
Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.
“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.
Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot.
“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is.
You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.
He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.
“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.
“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.
“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.
This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body.
“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.
He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.
“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”
You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.
“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.
With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area.
As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.
He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.
“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.” His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.
“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise.
“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”
Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.
“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you.
“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.
You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time.
You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.
“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.
With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.
Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.
“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”
“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.
“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly.
He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does.
“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.
Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.
“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone.
“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.
He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage.
Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.
You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.
“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.
He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.
You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.
“Perfect..” he intones.
In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm.
“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.
His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…
“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.
“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.
Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.
“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”
He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.
You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.
You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.
“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.
That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.
“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.
——
As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.
“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.
“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.
“Even if it is a girl?!”
“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.
He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.
“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.
“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.
“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”
There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.
“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.
“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”
“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.
The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.
——
9 months later
Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.
But it was all worth it.
What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.
“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.
You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”
His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.
“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”
“Four?” he petitions with a wink.
You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.
“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world.
Which to you both, they are.
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exquisite weather today, no? | part i
warnings : smut, dom anthony and sub reader, pet names, fluff, ben and colin being little shits, reader is kind of naive given the action takes places sometime in the 1810s.
summary : anthony does not want to corrupt his innocent little wife... but what happens when his brothers lend him a helping hand?
a/n: please enjoy part one of my new series until i am done with the james and sirius fic, thank you! <3
“You are telling me that you have not slept in that way with your wife?” Benedict stops in their way down the halls, looking very much concerned. Anthony hums, checking his clock.
“But you’ve been married for almost a year now!” the younger brother exclaims, looking up at the viscount with a frown.
Anthony smirks and looks at his brother from the corner of his eye. “Not that it is any of your concern, but we do things. Together. Alone” his lie is obvious, but still, he leaves Benedict stunned in the middle of the hallway.
When he finally realises that the maids are looking at him funny, Benedict clears his throat and offers them a polite nod, before following Anthony into the drawing room.
Ah, here you are — sitting next to Colin on one of the sofas. With Anthony distracted, speaking to Daphne about the ‘Hearts and Flowers’ ball, he approaches you carefully, sitting beside Colin.
“Exquisite weather today, isn’t it?” he gives you a nod and you mirror his action, smiling, “Indeed it is, Ben.”
Colin looks between the two of you, back and forth, a confused smile gracing his lips. “This is not about the weather, is it?” he whispers through gritted teeth.
Benedict’s smile turns into a grin when the words leave his brother’s mouth. “I am, in fact, glad that you asked, Colin!” he says happily, “I came here because I need some... advice, from Y/n.”
Raising your eyebrows, you look at him in curiosity, “and what could someone such as yourself need advice for?”
Benedict thinks about it for a moment; should he say it? He means no harm but... a little fun won’t hurt... will it?
“Sex” the words leave his mouth and Colin chokes on his tea, eyes wide as he looks back at Benedict. ‘Are you mad?’ he mouths to his brother, but the second-born chooses to ignore him and look back at you. “So. Y/n?”
Benedict finds you looking up at him with wide eyes, lips pursed as you tried to search for that word in your mind, but with no results. “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Ben.”
This time, it is Colin looking back at you, a deep frown settling on his face. “Pardon? Anthony is your husband, there is no such thing as not knowing what sex is.. Does he refer to it differently?”
“You know... when you’re alone, naked, and he towers over you. That thing he puts in between your legs” Benedict quips, already very much content of where Colin has taken the conversation.
“He towers over me?”
The two burst out laughing at your cluelessness and, from the other side of the large room, Anthony’s brows furrow in concern.
“His cock, sweetness. What he has between his legs. I’m sure he spoils the crap out of you with it every night” Benedict taunts and Colin laughs breathily, adding on “or maybe he does not, brother. Seeing that Anthony is so busy all the time. He has more important things to take care of, I suppose.”
At this point, your eyes are teary and your hands are shaking as you listen to your brothers-in-law tease you endlessly. You are not aware of the meaning behind it, though.
In a moment, you feel a hand wrap around your waist and pull you up against the warmth of someone’s body; Anthony. As you look up at him, his heart shatters and his jaw clenches. “I do not know what you did, but be sure that I will find out. And when I do, I hope you will be taking a walk far away from here. More walks.”
And with that, he takes you away from his brothers and rest of the family, not bothering to excuse himself or you, his face red with hatred. He doesn’t know what his brothers told you, but he is positive that it managed to hurt you... And Anthony cannot bare seeing you hurt.
His hand grips yours tightly, in a possessive manner, not hurting you. He is always gentle with you, no matter the circumstances.
Once you reach the wooden door, Anthony ushers you into the bedroom with a hand at the small of your back, following closely behind before he closes the door.
“What did they tell you, my love?” his tone is alarmed and so are his hands, twitching at his sides.
When your eyes finally meet his, they are still filled with tears, sadness pulling at your heart. “Am I a burden to you? Am I- not pretty enough?”
Anthony’s heart breaks and he realises that he’s never seen you so sad before, not even when you were merely a couple and you had family issues.
“Angel, you have to tell me what it is that they told you. I need to know” he repeats through gritted teeth, ready to walk down those stairs and strangle Benedict and Colin.
“Sex” you repeat Benedict’s words unsurely, glancing up at Anthony. “Told me you are too busy for that. And I- you have never told me of that.”
At this point, his hands fly to your waist and he positions you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your lower body as he turns you to face him entirely. “My darling- They told you that? I-” he seems at a loss for words, and finally, his lips fall into a straight line and he lets go of your hand for a second, walking away from you, and to the floor mirror in his room. You pout as you lose his warmth, and your brows furrow when you notice him pulling the mirror towards you.
He takes his hand in yours and he helps you to your feet, your bottom lip wobbling when you catch sight of your teary eyes, but Anthony notices immediately, and his hands move to hug you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.
“You are so beautiful” he says softly, placing a kiss on the side of your neck, nosing at your skin as he continues speaking, “Undress for me, my love.”
Breathing having picked up, your eyes widen anxiously as your hands find his. “Anthony-” “I want to show you how good I can make you feel. Trust me. Please” he pleads, his eyes looking helplessly into yours. You give a curt nod, your heart pounding against your ribcage.
Your shaky hands move to undress yourself and Anthony helps peel off your dress and chemise, leaving you bare and vulnerable before him.
Anthony lets out one of the most obscene sounds when he presses his clothed body to your bare one, and you can feel his erection pressing into your backside, not that you are aware of what that is. Yet.
“Your hand. Move it down your body” he commands rather softly, watching you through the mirror. Your cheeks heat up but you obey nonetheless, your left hand stopping right above your lower stomach, “Lower. Touch your pussy for me, sweetheart.”
“Alright” you take a deep breath, your hand sliding further down your body, resting at your cunt, your warm touch making you shiver. “Feels odd” you whine, eyes pleading as you find his eyes through the mirror.
He bites his lip, his eyes closing for a moment before he is able to look at you again. “It shall feel good in just a moment... Can- Do you want me to show you?”
“Yes, please” you whisper and his hand instantly reaches to your cunt, using both of his hands to spread you open, your folds damp and spread out for him. “S’pretty” you say absentmindedly, dreamily staring at yourself in the mirror.
“Yes it is” he hums, grinning widely against your shoulder. His middle finger taps your clit twice, and he smirks as your body jolts up. “See this, darling? It’s your clit, your little button... You can rub it whenever you wish to feel good.”
“Whenever I wish?” you ask, your eyes wide with curiosity.
“Yes, sweetness” he hums, his cock hardening at the thought of you wanting to touch yourself, let alone to the thought of him. “And if you want it to feel even better, you must-” with your hole dripping wet, Anthony manages to slip a digit right inside of you, causing you to gasp in both slight pain and excitement. He is finally giving it to you.
“Anthony- what is this?” you ask curiously, Anthony’s finger still inside of you, leaving you to adjust to the sudden intrusion.
“Bit of stimulation before I can give you my cock, bunny. Or, as my dear brothers wish to call it, have sex” he chuckles lowly and starts pumping his finger into you, your fragile body shaking, your knees ready to give out, but you know that he is here to catch you.
“Great” you reply breathily, one of your hands slipping into his.
“You must relax, my love” he tuts, moving his finger in and out slowly, the feeling leaving you bucking your hips into his hand, eyes rolling back. “Let them enjoy the show” he eyes you intently through the mirror.
You look at him rather confused, but his other hand moves to cup your jaw and gently turn your head to the side, towards the door.
A door cracked open. Benedict and Colin.
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Could you do something about the drivers' new girlfriend who is obsessed with the reader? Who is the driver's ex-girlfriend? and eventually the driver's and reader end up together again. (a little inspired by Obsessed by Olivia Rodrigo
Hello !! I really struggle to choose between the drivers but I ended up choosing Lando (it's no longer surprising). Hope this suits your request, enjoy ! ᥫ᭡
OBSESSED
( when your ex' new girlfriend become obsessed with you, you know you have win everything. )
warning : angst, fluff, some toxic behavior, like two innuendos
note : sorry to all the Maddie it's just the first name that came up on my mind 🫰
word count : 1.9k
You're sure this whole thing has been going on for a few weeks now. And you don't know when it's going to end. It's been several weeks since your relationship with your ex-boyfriend Lando ended. And he's had a new girlfriend for several weeks now.
Sitting in front of a table on a terrace, near the Mclaren building in the paddock, you can't help but stare at your ex and the brunette girl in his arms, walking hand in hand along the path. Her long hair styled in a magnificent bun, her model figure, her confident walk.
You can't help but imagine yourself in his place. Because after all, a few weeks ago, it was you in this place. It was you who walked alongside Lando, who came to support him on all his races, who was proudly in love with him. And his new girlfriend simply replaced you. Because she is also the reason for your breakup.
Everything was perfect in your relationship. You were madly in love with each other and incredibly happy. He gave you the world and in return you gave him everything he couldn't have dreamed of. You were simply soulmates, made for each other. Until this brunette comes and ruins everything.
You knew she was friends with Lando. However, it was absolutely no problem for you. She's not the first girl he's had as friends and you can't deny the fact that you have a few guy friends as well. You trusted each other with your eyes closed so there was nothing to worry about her.
But when she started to interfere in your life, your personal relationship, when she started to get closer to Lando at a maddening speed and when she stole his precious time so that you remained the one who finally spent less time with him, you knew there was a big problem.
And that this problem is indeed her.
It's as if the roles had been reversed, and in the end you gradually became a simple friend, while she in turn became his new girlfriend. You couldn't take it anymore, even though Lando tried to reassure you about her and her actions.
He himself didn't want her.
But it was so suffocating that you finally put an end to it. You knew that at the time of your separation, when you said those words to him that broke his heart into a million pieces, you still had powerful feelings for each other, but love isn't everything.
And here you are now in this situation. You being his ex, staring at him and his new girlfriend when you just came to support the Mclaren driver. Lando has publicly announced that you have remained on good terms and are good friends, which is why you sometimes come to the races. But the reality is there: you don't even look at each other once.
Because if Lando does, he knows he won't be able to let you go. And if you do, you won't be able to hold back either.
“Huh, what is she doing here again?” Maddie, the driver's new girlfriend, mocks your presence as her vicious gaze glares at you. "Hmm ?" Lando frowns, curious. He tries to follow Maddie's gaze, and his eyes end up landing on the woman he deep down still hopes will always be his.
“I already told you to forbid her from coming to the races.” She adds. The driver rolls his eyes and sighs, not taking his gaze away from you. It seems that you are strangely attracted to your phone. "I know, but... we're still friends, she has every right to com-" "Friends? You don't even talk to each other, and it's even she who decided to break up with you."
Lando clenches his fist and his jaw. “And because of whom do you think?” He looks at her coldly, while Maddie can feel a deep fury just by looking at his eyes. She was about to retaliate when suddenly Lando fans came to surround you. "Y/N!! I love you, can I take a picture with you?"
You slowly raise your head, surprised to see three young girls smiling pleasantly at you, waiting for a response from you. You finally realize the situation, and you show them your biggest sincere smile. It warms your heart, knowing that despite the hate you received after breaking up, there are still people there to support you.
Of course, they may be fans of your ex, but the fact remains that they are all simply adorable, and you can't help but be grateful to them, because after all these people support the boy that you love so much.
“Thank you so much, sweethearts” You can't help but giggle and even chat a little with these girls. But while you're enjoying this intimate moment, you obviously can't notice Maddie's dark and unhealthy gaze on you. She kills you with her gaze, while jealousy takes over her entire being.
For what ? Why can't she be like you? Why can't she be you? What does Lando like about you? What can she do to be like you? She would lose her mind. She scrutinizes each of your actions. She records each of your actions and gestures in order to copy them with the exact same precision.
It's toxic but she can't help it, for her it's vital and essential. She is obsessed with you, with everything you do, with your whole person. You're her current boyfriend's ex, and she knows how much he's still in love with you, so she's trying any way she can to be like you. She just wants to be better than you. But she can't.
And you know she can't. Just look at the way Lando looks at you, eyes full of love and admiration, as you listen attentively to the fans in front of you. Lando himself knows, no girl will be like you.
-
"No but seriously, she's doing it again!! Is this the how manyth time this week?" Your best friend is almost going to tear her hair out. Maddie's latest Instagram post has the exact same types of photos you posted last week, and her stories are identical to yours. You sigh, running your hands over your face. “Look, maybe she didn’t do it on purpose, it’s probably a coincidence.” You try to convince yourself.
"A coincidence? You still manage to defend your ex's new girlfriend while she does everything to discredit you!" Your best friend looks completely hopeless as she plops down on the couch in your hotel room. “Don’t tell me otherwise, Y/n. She’s wearing the exact same outfit as you in her post.”
“Maybe we just have the same taste in clothes, we don’t know.” Your best friend looks at you with empathy. She gets up from the couch and places her hands on your shoulders, caressing them gently. "Look Y/n, I know you're way too nice to be mad at anyone. But this girl is so obsessed with you, it's super toxic and unhealthy."
You can't deny your friend's words. In recent weeks, she has only copied you and used the same expressions and facial expressions as you. She only hints at you. Why is she so obsessed with you when you don't care about her?
It eats you from the inside. You've been thinking about it lately and it's almost sickening. Your best friend seems to have noticed it too. "I know what you need. I'm going to buy your favorite snacks and we're going to have a relaxing evening together tonight, okay?".
She does not wait for your approval since you already know you have no choice. And without another word, she rushes out of the hotel to go buy your favorite snacks. “What a life…”, you sigh before opening your phone again, coming face to face with Maddie’s latest insta post.
As you were about to open the comment section, you heard voices raised. As if two people were arguing with each other. You remain paralyzed for a moment, before finally continuing what you were starting to do. But as soon as you go back to your phone, the voices continue to shout and be heard louder and louder.
Panic rises within you. Maybe there is a real problem after all? You approach the door of your room to try to hear better, but without being aware of it you end up opening it, opening onto the long empty corridor upstairs.
Listening carefully, you know that the voices are coming from the room directly across from yours. But you also, and unfortunately, recognize Lando's voice. You can recognize it among thousands of voices, and you are sure that the male voice is him.
A higher pitched, more feminine voice mixes with the driver's voice. Without realizing it, you are now standing a few centimeters from their hotel room, facing the door. But you can hear perfectly what they say to each other. Despite their voices muffled by the walls, you manage to make out a few sentences.
“I mean, why are you so obsessed with her?” Lando shouts even louder. He's really fed up. "I'm not obsessed with her Lando!!" "Oh, so why are you trying to copy everything she does? Why do I always see you stalking her social media, location and contacts?" He continues to rise.
This last sentence makes her speechless. “She broke up with you, so I’m looking at her social media to find out why” Lando lets out a mocking laugh. Did he hear correctly? "Because you still haven't understood that it's because of you that she broke up with me? It's all your fault but you continue to play blind!!".
Lando's furious voice brings silence to their hotel room. It seems Maddie has stopped screaming. "I should never have accepted this PR stunt. I would have received hate but at least I could have been with Y/n right now, with the woman I truly love with all my heart and not a girl who is hopelessly obsessed with a woman much better than her.”
Several minutes of silence follow, but the din of your heartbeat seems to echo throughout the hallway. They were arguing about you. The reason for their argument is you. And Lando talked about you. He confessed information you didn't even know. That you didn't know.
He still loves you, and the whole damn new girlfriend thing is really just a PR stunt. So, everything is clear now.
You gradually regain consciousness, but the bedroom door suddenly flies open, Lando stands in front of you looking completely furious. But when his gaze falls on you, his body language shows that he is already relaxing a little more.
“Oh, Y-Y/n…” You lower your head, ashamed that he surprised you like this. He's not sure what to say as an awkward silence settles. “Did you…hear what we said?” You clear your throat, avoiding his gaze. "You were screaming so...yes. I heard everything." “Oh, okay…”
He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed and very uncomfortable. “Maybe we should talk then” He suddenly offers and you lift your head to nod. "Yes, that would be better. In my hotel room if you want."
You both go back to your room, and Lando sits directly on the couch, while you join him by sitting a little further away, leaving a reasonable distance between you.
“I meant it. I meant every word I said, Y/n.” You nod to encourage him to continue. "Of course I think Maddie is completely obsessed with you and you must have realized that." He plays with his fingers nervously as he lowers his head. "But I also meant the fact that I still love you. So much. I'm still so in love with you that it hurts me to know that I can't wake up next to you anymore. I still want you so bad and I need you in my life. I know that our story doesn't have the right to end now and that it won't end until we're old and in love."
You wipe away a tear that had just formed in the corner of your eye as you take Lando's hands in yours. You can't suppress a small laugh - or rather a sob - as you smile lovingly at him. “Fucking PR stunt, huh?” He smiles shyly, his eyes watering from the tears that threaten to fall down his face.
“Yeah, fucking PR stunt and fucking crazy girl” He answers and you end up laughing softly. Your hands came up to cup his face as you moved closer to him, your hearts almost touching. "I still love you so much Lando. And I need you too. I'm sorry I broke up with you. I must have broken your heart and-"
"Don't apologize when it's not your fault, sweetheart. I should have cut ties with her a long time ago." He places a small but sweet kiss on your forehead. “I have the best girlfriend again and I have absolutely no plans to part with her.” You smile tenderly as you roll on top of him. “Good, because me neither.”
You kiss him gently on his lips, while he puts his arm around your waist and brings your head closer with his hand to deepen the kiss. He can't stop kissing your soft lips, because he missed it so much, he can't resist.
He slowly pulls away so he can just get a clear view of your face, while resting his nose on yours. “In the end I think I’m the one who’s completely obsessed with you baby.” You giggle, stealing a little kiss from him. “No need to tell me, I already knew that. A certain fake account of yours on Instagram was only watching my stories”.
He blushed violently at your words. "Fuck. Am I really a bad stalker?" “Well, not as bad as Maddie.” He bursts out laughing and tightens his embrace around you. “Good to know I'm better than that girl” He ends up diving back in for another kiss, this time more intense and more passionate.
He moans weakly as he lets himself into the kiss. Suddenly, the bedroom door bursts open to reveal your best friend. You both look at her, surprised. But to your relief, she rolls her eyes in a mocking grin and half-closes the door, before adding, "I think I'm finally going to cancel the netflix and chill and leave you to a romantic sex night."
You throw a cushion from the couch at her, but she manages to dodge. “Fuck you!” You shout at her as she continues to make fun of you. “You should say that to me, right?” Your boyfriend gives you a mischievous grin full of innuendo. You gently hit him on the chest as your best friend finally leaves, closing the door.
“Tomorrow, she is dead” You add, already thinking about what revenge you are going to prepare for her. “I think you're the one who will be dead after what I'll do to you tonight” Lando continues to add in order to tease you and despite your annoyance, you can’t help but giggle shyly. “But first, I want to cuddle you” You tell him before pecking his lips.
“I don’t ask for anything more” He ends up confessing before kissing you again, not being able to hold back the smile that forms on his lips.
After all, maybe it's true. Lando is ultimately the most obsessed with you. But as long as it's him, you know it'll never be a problem for you.
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x you#ln4 imagine#lando norris fluff#ln4 x reader#ln4 fluff
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Lee Minho/Know + “quit it or i’ll bite.” + “do it. i dare you.” + suggestive
Thank you if you take this request!!! Up to you who's doing the biting :)
feline tendencies. (m)
pairing: minho x f!reader
genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, suggestive (probably a teeny bit more than suggestive), minors dni; practically dry humping, biting kink??, mimo's pecs (yes they deserve their own warning)
word count: 0.9k
as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡
navigation › masterlist › ko-fi
"quit it or i'll bite," minho grumbles, wriggling away from you in an attempt to ward your paws off him. "jesus, what's gotten into you?"
"i wish you would," you mutter, crawling toward him again to lay your head on him once more. the man is reading his book, just trying to enjoy his saturday afternoon and yet there's a menace quite literally in his lap, making grabby hands at him. disrupting his peace and quiet, though that's not really anything new.
"insatiable," minho tsks, his fingers carding through your hair, lightly massaging your scalp as he makes an effort to appease you. his attention is then promptly returned to the pages in front of him.
that's how your weekends are usually spent - lounging about, being lazy together, relaxing by each other's side.
you're just acting up today.
your twitchy fingers have a mind of their own. they dance up his stomach, over his abs until they reach their desired destination.
you place your entire hand over one of his pecs and squeeze, giggling to yourself when you feel his skin under your palm. this earns you a glare though it doesn't faze you.
minho may be scary to other people, but never when he's with you. it's just physically impossible, even if he wanted to.
"seriously, what is with you?"
you give his chest another tender squeeze. "boobs," you say simply. you think that's a pretty good explanation.
maybe you're no better than a man after all.
so it started a couple of weeks ago.
minho rarely skips going to the gym and while you are eternally grateful for it, you must admit that sometimes it drives you a little crazy. you respect his commitment, the consistency of his workout regimen (this could never be you, but that's beside the point); it's one of the traits that you admire most about him - he sees things through and adheres to the schedule that he makes for himself. minho doesn't half-ass the things he does or ditches them when he's feeling a little lazy (unlike you).
however...
it's this same dedication to his routine that's been sending you into a frenzy. lately, your boyfriend has been focused on working a particular area of his body and honestly? it's making you spiral more than you have ever spiraled.
chest. who knew it would be your downfall?
when minho came home last evening straight from the gym, you swear you almost passed out the second he walked through the door. his pecs looked especially good even under his shirt that you practically salivated, shamelessly ogling him like a hungry wolf.
minho sighs as if he's at his wits' end with you, though this time, he lets you continue feeling him up. "you wouldn't like it if i did the same thing to you, now would you?"
"actually, i think i would like that very much."
"i will bite you, no joke."
you have no doubt that he actually would. but again, that isn't something that you would been entirely opposed to either. you might be one of the only people on planet earth who can handle lee minho.
"your feline tendencies are jumping out," you comment, your hand still on his chest, alternating between playful pokes and full on kneading his pecs like dough. "do it. i dare you."
minho bares his teeth at you in the cat-like way that he sometimes does. it's cute, oh so cute.
before you know it, the book is haphazardly flung onto the carpeted floor (bookmark be damned) and your boyfriend is forcing a yelp from your lips when he practically pounces on you. your head is no longer on his lap; instead, he's got you pinned underneath him, his hips flushed against yours.
you can feel him through his sweats. delectable.
minho leans in until his lips ghost over yours. "stop testing me," he murmurs.
"stop tempting me," you shoot back.
"but i'm not though?"
"your boobs are."
"my god." he lowers his head to your neck, his soft lips brushing against your exposed skin as he chuckles. "that's not what they are."
"they might as well be. they're gonna be bigger than mine one day."
the sound coming from his mouth morphs into a laugh, airy and completely defeated by your words. "god, you're just so..."
"i'm so what?"
"weird," minho says.
you smile. "perfect for you then, aren't i?"
"mhmm."
then he's closing the gap between his mouth and your neck, lightly sucking on your skin as he rolls his hips against your body, spreading your legs open so he could slot between them more comfortably, so he could fit against you perfectly.
"oh," you gasp when he ruts forward, presses himself into the warmth between your thighs, over your shorts and his sweats. you weave your fingers through his hair to keep his head close to your neck as if he has any intention on moving elsewhere. minho continues to kiss and lick at your skin, nibbling on it gently in alternation.
"i thought..." you breathe out heavily, your body starting to move against his too, "thought you promised to bite me."
"promised? it was more of a threat, wasn't it?"
"same difference."
you can't see him, but you can just bet that minho is rolling his eyes. then, you feel his teeth graze the skin of your neck like he's deciding where the best spot would be. he presses his hard pecs tightly against yours as his mouth closes in. you almost fall apart right then and there.
well, this certainly awakened something in you, didn't it?
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all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 20.01.2024]
#stray kids fic#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#skz fic#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz x you#lee know fluff#lee know smut#lee know scenarios#lee know x reader#lee know imagines#lee know x you#lee minho x reader#lee minho x you#stray kids#lee know#lee minho
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