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thewinchestah · 3 months

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"Good things come for those who wait" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: ,18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, BDSM, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, Possesive! Alastor, Jealous!Alastor, Protective!Alastor, spanking,degradation kink, praise kink, Angst with a happy ending, fluff, I didn't proof read this, english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here, etc etc etc

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: there's no point guys. I can't stop talking.

A/N: WOAH!! Hello everyone!! What the fuck?? I wasn't expecting my "debut fic" to blow up like that! Thank you so so much to everyone who took the time to read it and leave a comment! I'm truly flattered by your praise. So, I hope this sequel to "PREY" does it justice! (but it can also be read as a standalone). Let me know if you guys like it, and if you have anymore ideas/suggestions! I'm tagging everyone who asked me to, so if you want to be tagged on my next fics let me know! Without further due, here comes that mostrosity of a fic! Hope you like it <3! (UPDATE: PART 3 IS NOW UP!!)

Part I | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Taglist: @smallershorteranduncut @markster666 @jyoongim @stygianoir @pepperycookie @fraspent @aether-th3-enby

It all started, as many things do, with a joke and a simple misunderstanding. Dying and instantly going to hell is not easy. Being in hell and not understanding why the FUCK you are in hell is confusing, frustrating and sometimes drawright ridiculous. There’s no guidebook for the hellish afterlife, and more often than not you felt lost at sea, drowning. Until you found your questionable lifeline, the Radio Demon.

Somehow said demon clocked really early on that you were completely infatuated with him, but too scared to act on it. And oh, how he gave you enough reason to be infatuated, enough reason to be scared. Luring you into the most delicious trap, Alastor had claimed you as his. His to breed during the height of his heat, his to care for, his to inflict the most heavenly torture.

Being caught up in the middle of the living myth that was the Radio Demon was a dangerous thing, you had been warned over and over again. So of course that you had to almost fuck everything up in the silliest way possible.

The obnoxious TV set, also known as Vox, had just started another round of his futile attempts to win Alastor’s attention by airing the most absurd reality tv character assassination ever. You would put money on the fact that the obsessive flat screen was a deceased TLC producer. Usually, any of his pompous i-hate-alastor-so-so-much!!! fits would be met with enthusiasm around the Hotel. Everyone would cramp in front of the TV and make fun of the entire ordeal. Even Alastor would tag along and make a private edition of his radio show while he counter-narrated that nonsense. It became a fun bonding activity for everyone involved, it was a nice thing. But there’s a reason why you can’t have nice things.

Today the Hotel was mostly empty:, only you, Angel and a very on edge, sexually frustrated, irritated Alastor haunted its posh walls. Still, you and Angel carried on with the little tradition sitting side by side in front of the tv not knowing what to expect from today’s “My Strange Addiction - Alastor’s Version” episode. It was truly a laughable attempt of a character assassination, actors who could not act saying things like “Alastor isn’t even as bad as everyone says, his torture tactics are not that special either. My mom’s aunt was tortured by him and was going to work 10 hours later”, “i walked down the street today and alastor didn’t even try to kill me when he saw me crossing the street, he’s all talk” “i have video footage of the self-proclaimed cannibal eating a chocolate covered strawberry. He’s cannibalbaiting.”

“no self-respecting overlord would go out wearing those ridiculous out-of fashion clothes”.

Angel was having the time of his life leading the daily Vox roast session, the spider was funny and you couldn’t hold the laughs. The camera cut to a close-up of Vox, babbling on about technology and the anti-Radio Demon speech you knew by heart at this point. As if on cue, Alastor entered the room. But the pair of you remained oblivious to his presence.

“Toots, you totally should apply for this show! I mean it!. I’m sure Vox will buy literally anything you say. Anything! If you say Alastor likes to eat red nail polish cause it looks like blood he would believe it! You laughed at his words, what a ridiculous thing to say. You loved red nail polish, alastor drinking it because it looks like blood is absurd. “I mean, look at you!! Look at this face, these eyes!! This body!!!” Angel gave your thighs a playful slap. “If you say hell is actually cold using all that i would eat it right up. Vox will be too busy staring at your boobs to notice you dropping that even the oldest radio looks better than that fucking flat face”. The thought that you were the mind-numbing type of beautiful made you laugh. Sometimes you felt like your friends were being way too kind with the flattery about you. You were nothing special at all. It was nice of them to be kind to you, adapting to your new lifestyle was taking a visible tool, anyone could tell. Their efforts were honorable and sweet, but you just couldn’t let yourself believe what in your heart, you knew was a lie. A beautiful, comfortable lie, but still a lie. You weren’t much, you were just lucky. You started to laugh even harder, out of pure nervousness as your brain started to snowball into all the things you weren’t.

“ Seriously Angel, you have the strangest ideas ever!” you tried to sound normal, putting up a confident facade. That helped, a lot. You had picked that up during your days with Alastor.

Speaking of the devil, Alastor wasn’t amused by your little display. Standing on the corner of the room as you laughed, he made himself known by walking out of the room, in hurried steps. If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t think much of it. But you weren’t anyone else. You were Alastor’s.

And that’s why he was seething with rage. His rut always drove him, an already unpredictable man, to the brink of true, pure instinctual insanity. He had to grip his marvelous constructed self control painfully hard. Since your paths crossed, the most chaotic part of his existence seemed in control, your pretty little body always ready to take him, your eyes always holding his gaze in a maddening comfortable way, the way you would push your limits just for him.

Only for him.

And the worst part was your softness when it was all done. Alastor would fuck you rentless, for hours, making you take all the mess of his most animalistic desires without a second thought. Both of you would be spent, bathing in the afterglow, room smelling like sex, and you would ask him if he needed anything. Him, that just fucked you so hard so won’t walk straight for a week, that feasted on the blood of the love bites he inflicted, him that covered you in a painting of bruises.

How could he not want to just lock you inside his lavish room and give you all the rings of hell? to carve his name deep into your soul? to dote on you? to make him the only thing on your mind as he makes you his time and time again in the most sinful ways?

It was simple really, why he was shaking with anger: how you, who was his, was even thinking of being in the same vicinity of that scum of creation? LAUGHING AT THIS ABSURD CONCEPT. Vox thinking of you was already a crime punishable by painful death, but Vox looking at you was heresy, and the entirety of hell would pay for his transgressions.

As Alastor stormed off towards the Hotel’s large room corridors, he took several calming breaths. Losing control like this wouldn’t do anyone any favors. In the troubled waters of his mind, Alastor could only think of 3 things: you, fucking you and murdering someone.

So he didn’t even realize your hurried steps trying to catch up with his long strides.

“Hey sugartits! Don’t take too long doing whatever you need to do! there’s a woman going live after the break saying she saw Alastor eating an entire packet of PAPER TOWELS!!! HAHA! This shit is too good to be true!” you heard angel scream.

Adding insult to injury, nice.

Trying desperately to reach your demon lover gait, you could only think about how bad you had messed up. Alastor was your only true respite in hell. He was a blessing in a mist of the worst humankind could offer. He made you feel hope, more than making you feel alive, he made you feel glad you’re dead. The Radio Demon felt like coming home. You just wanted to make it up to him. You could not lose this, lose him. You were not sure you would survive it. And who knew where you went after dying in hell?

It doesn’t matter where you go after hell, it doesn’t matter at all if Alastor is not there. Your brain added to your inner monologue. True.

“Alastor! Wait” you shouted. He stops dead on his feet.

Finally, those long long legs of his do not make chasing after your love any easier.

“Alastor, I'm so so sorry. Angel gets way out of line sometimes and I was nervous” he is perfectly still, ears pinned back, listening. But doesn’t say anything back.

“Al I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, at all. Look, let’s try to do something to make your day better. I know how hard this season is on you, I know you feel like you are losing contr-

Uh oh.

oh shit.

You used the two forbidden words together. The temperature in the room drops, Alastor snaps towards you. You feel something gripping your throat mercilessly, as you fall to the ground. Looking at the other end of the corridor Alastor has you on a leash of his magic. Eyes burning red, forehead marked “x” he grips your chains hard, pushing you towards him.

“That was a brilliant speech, little doe. Truly marvelous! I’m sure your television debut will be quite the show you were planning!”

His antlers were growing, his demon form showing itself as he becomes taller and taller over you. All bared teeth and flashing red eyes. This is what everyone warned you about. Don’t get in the Radio Demon’s way, he is dangerous and insane. You will regret it.

Hot. your brain thinks. He pulls your leash even tighter, and you feel wetness pooling on your core.

“Do you have any idea what I was about to do before I heard you so selflessly offer your services to that pathetic excuse of a demon?” Dragging you by the magic chains, his towering frame comes down to meet you at eye level. You can’t say anything back, your brain short circuits and goes AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“You know better than leaving me waiting for an answer at this point, pet” He grips your face using his sharp claws,the pressure threatening to break skin. “But you seem so hellbent on being a bad girl today, I shouldn’t expect your usually good girl’s behavior, should I?”

You are, once again nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes

“One should always know better than expecting their fantasies to be true”

His sclera goes black, only the tiny blazing red radio dials devouring you as he stares so deep into you, you feel feverish.

“But since we are already here. I. Will. Tell. You.” static picks up around the room and surrounds you both, the corridor is illuminated by an eerie green light. You start to kinda fear for your life, but Alastor has you completely hypnotized by the radio dials on his eyes. You shiver in anticipation.

“I was coming to ask you, to please, spare me a part of your day, away from you friends. Because the only thing on my mind has been you. Fucking you. Sinking my cock so deep into your tight, wet cunt it would mark your soul. Because you are the only one who can take me like this, who deserves being bred by me, who deserves every drop of my seed”

You feel the wetness on your panties grow until it runs down your thighs. There’s nothing right about this, but your dear Alastor showed you long ago how the concepts of right and wrong are meant to be skewed.

“But oh well, you seem to have your affections directed elsewhere…” he tsks at you using that delicious mocking tone. “But, you can’t blame a desperate man for trying” he goes from 100 to 0 really fast, his voice softens so much in a way that’s almost too heavy to hear after all that. Even with his demon form still very much present “Do you still want to make my day better, pet?”

you are at a loss of words, but you manage to nod desperately. The anticipation of what he is going to do to you makes you giddy.

He manhandles your leash until you are on your knees in front of him, tugging on the chains so you look up towards his crotch. He makes quick work of his pants, pulling his cock out. Hard, angry hot red coloured. Angry because of you, angry for you.

“Open wide, little one” and without much more warning, Alastor is fucking your face, hard and fast.

You position your arms behind your back as quickly as you can. You know how hard it is for him to be touched when his rut is peaking. The overwhelming need for relief mixing with his ever present desire for control. This is about him asserting his dominance over you, making sure you don’t ever forget where you belong: In the warmth of his burning gaze, under him, on your knees, while he merciless fucks your throat into compliance. He’s taking it out on you, and you fucking love it.

He’s not saying anything, only growling like he’s about to murder someone. He grabs fistfuls of your velvety hair, but never leaves the white knuckle grip on your chains. You can only resist the urge of playing with your pussy while he thrusts so deep you feel his monster cock. hitting the back of your throat. This is about him, and you want to give him this so badly your cunt is throbbing with desire

Tears wet your cheeks, your lips around his cock are the definition of renaissance art to Alastor. He’s almost over the edge now, the head of his cock twitches on top of your tongue as a warning of his approaching orgasm. It’s hard, it’s hot, it’s fast and it’s angry.

Alastor cums, you swallow as much as you can, but he takes his cock out and spills everywhere, coating your hair, your face. It’s so deliciously erotic Alastor can’t resist catching some of his cum and running his hands throughout your velvet locks, bathing you in his essence, marking you once more. There’s still a bit of cum on the tip of his claw, he feeds it to you, and your lips wrap around his fingers as you take as much of him you can take, gladly.

“Oh how beautiful you are when you ruin yourself like this for me, my little doe” You look up at him with adoration and a lustful gaze, his eyes hold an equally lustful gaze and… something more. Something that you are sure will drive you insane.

Alastor notices the pooling mess underneath your tights, he knows how desperate you are for relief, but he still wants to self indulge on you. He’s certain you still don’t understand the reality of what he is feeling. Swiftly he topples you down the corridor’s carpet and places himself between your legs, his crawled finger tearing your lacy panties away.

Then, he feasts on you like a starving man, and he might be, because you taste like the ambrosia of the gods and he can’t get enough of it. Of how you make a mess of yourself for him and there’s still something for him to take. You just taste so sweet, what a perfect meal your nectar makes. His wicked silver tongue polishes you, aided by your whispered sighs, his name moaned like a prayer on your lips. You are so so close, alastor sucks on your throbbing clit you are already seeing stars, all you need is a gentle push.

Grinning like a devil, Alastor looks up, tilts his head, gives you the most wicked-and-douchey look in existence. He gets up, your leash dissipating into the air and walks away in perfect composure, like nothing happened. Nothing at all.

“Well, I think that’s my cue!!” he says in his usually chirpy tone. You just stay there, flabbergasted. “I just remembered I still have a lot to do today! Work never stops when you maintain a facility like this in tip-top condition!” Already halfway across the corridor, Alastor’s head turns towards you “Still want to make my day good my dear? Be a doll and clean this mess up, will you?” you just stare at him, too fucking stunned to speak. You can’t believe it. That fucking devil. He’s about to make the turn towards the elevator and disappear when his eyes flash red as he warns you “Oh! and don’t you dare make yourself cum without my permission. If you cum before I say so, you won’t be cumming for a week. Choose wisely!Let’s see who loses control first Ha Ha! This will be fun!”

Alastor can be a psychopathic demon in heat, but before all that he still is a psychopathic demon who loves torture.

And he just left you all hot and bothered.

–

Alastor knew better than believing in such things as heaven or holiness. In fact, Alastor was positively sure nothing was sacred. The concept of sacredness was non-existent in his book.

But his skeptic mind danced on the edge of belief when he touched you. To be inside you felt heavenly, heavenly in a type of way that should not even be allowed in this place. The way your lush body burned underneath his wicked gaze was sacred.The way you always presented yourself to him, with selfless abandon was sacred. Somehow, someone allowed him, of all people, access to a soul he frankly didn’t understand what was doing in hell in the first place. He never was the better man. He was never giving that up.

In all of his nature, Alastor felt the most sinful pleasure in defiling your sacredness. He wanted nothing but to take the heavenly thing you were and taint it with his darkness.

He was well acquainted to torture and had no shame in inflicting the most delicious and depraved type of it on you ,until all of your holiness was irrevocably marked by him, down to the core of your soul. Of course Alastor didn’t buy your soul. He didn’t need to use those means to completely own you. He did it effortlessly, because you craved it. Because he craved it.

That’s why the thought of Vox even looking in your way was heretic, and not in a good way. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to Vox. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Period. You were his.

But adding that man into the equation just made everything more intolerable. The things he would do if he found out about you… Found out that not only you were his but how you could make someone feel. How precious and undeserving of anything less than good you were…

You were made to be cherished and protected. Protected by him.

In fact, it took all of the Radio Demon’s willpower to restrain from walking to the Vees building, and kill Vox for something he didn’t do. Because Alastor wouldn’t allow the thought to even cross his mind. All that, a messy display of his desperation and loss of control. Giving that prick the smug satisfaction of knowing somehow he got to him, in his last moments.

Damn, his rut truly did make him on edge.

Suppressing his murderous thoughts, Alastor focused his mind into something he as actually good at: torture. Yours specifically. He still wanted to punish you for making him feel like this. He still wanted to make you understand.

And he just thought of the sweetest way to do it.

After cleaning up the mess on the corridor, and yourself (you did it all on autopilot, still trying to understand what the FUCK happened) you still had to give Angel a satisfaction about why you didn’t come back. You must’ve looked really miserable cause Angel just hugged you really tight and ordered you to bed. When in reality all of your efforts were now focused on masking your humiliating arousal. So you find yourself lying in your bed, trying not to think anything Radio Demon related. You’re totally not thinking about the way he looked at you while he fucked you. The way his eyes would search yours in a crowded room, winking playfully at you. An inside joke. A promise.The way you both playfully banter at the dinner table over silly things. You are also totally not thinking about how he takes you, how you love to hear him saying “good girl” to you after you push your limits again, only for him. Not thinking at all about how his cock fills you so perfectly, you truly feel empty without it. Who’s thinking about what hides behind his eyes when he his voice goes all soft in the middle of a rough fucking? Ha ha!! Definitely not you.

You punch yourself with your pillow.

C’mon don’t think thoughts of Alastor now…

You are so fucked, and not in a sexy way. The worst part is that you want to endure it, you want to be good for him. Your pussy is aching to be touched, your mind begging you to have thoughts of Alastor while your pussy is being touched. But right now you would give everything in this world to hear him praise you again. You know how hard his rut is on him… He already carries a lot alone, the Hotel, the doomsday clock of extermination ticking closer and closer everyday. Plus the other things… You know there’s something more, something that haunts his nights, but it’s not your place to ask. Hell, you are too scared to ask. You just hope, you just pray that when it happens you are beside him. You don’t ever expect the Radio Demon to ever ask for help, or open up. Or seek comfort. Oh, he’s anything but comfortable. But you like to think that in time, he would feel comfortable enough around you he could let something slip, a tiny detail to add to your “The Mystery of the Radio Demon” clue board. Something that would let you show him he doesn’t need to pick himself apart, carry all these burdens alone.

Great, you are doing amazing at the “not thinking any Alastor thoughts” game.

You hug your pillow closer and look across you window as you start saying out loud a list of things you need to do around the Hotel. Maybe this will take your mind off the devil.

Tend to the Venus Fly traps of the gardens. (You could ask Nifty for the bugs)

Write the thank you letters to the new guests that agreed to help with hotel chores.

Tell charlie about your book club idea using cool flashcards

It’s your turn to organize “Theme nights”, maybe Alastor would enjoy a “great gatsby” theme, right?

Great, Alastor again. You sighed.

Suddenly a red note written with perfect penmanship flies next to your spot on the bed.

“My darling doe, I’m waiting for you in my chambers.

Don’t take your time, we have much to discuss.-

Yours, Alastor.

You take your time, though, to thank anyone who’s listening as you sprint towards Alastor’s lavish room. You feel dizzy, anticipation like butterflies in your stomach. You don’t have to knock more than once for him to let you in.

He’s on the edge of the bed, looking like his normal self (as normal as it gets for Alastor)

The taps the spot next to him on the the bed

“Come here, you darling thing!”

you don’t waste a second, and as quickly as you are sitting on his bed, you are sitting on lap. Holding you close, in a vice like grip with one of his arms, Alastor starts talking

“How was the rest of your day, my dear?” you open your mouth to start talking, you have so much to say to him. That you were a good girl, that you were ready to do anything to make up for laughing at Angel’s stupid idea of seducing Vox. You are ready to beg for your release. to ask how his day was. But you don’t get to utter a word.

Alastor quickly and swiftly maneuvers you: now your feet are dangling from the bed, your ass and legs sprawled out across his lap. A powerful arm locking you to him by the small of your back.

Holy fuck.

“Well my day was downright awful! You see I overheard my pretty pet laughing at the prospect of seducing one of my most infuriating enemies. I’m in the peak of my unforgiving rut ,and all I wanted was the shared pleasure of our bodies as I fuck the darling thing senseless!” he pinches the back of your thigh, hard. You blur out a soft, desperate sigh.

“Of course, the good girl she is, she went begging for my forgiveness. I didn’t fully give it, of course. That was a harsh offense, what my little doe did. But I did have my fill with her” You try to spea-

Alastor audibly shushes you.

“I did leave her all hot and bothered after spilling my cum all over her maddening little body, of course. I contenplated murdering the bastard demon so he wouldn’t get a chance of even knowing about her existence and what she does to me. But I still suffered with the hellish need of fucking her into oblivion, and pondered a lot about divine justice. So, if I had to suffer this entire day because of her offenses I think it’s only right for that darling doe to get her fill of suffering and punishment hmmmm?

You try to look back to his face, but you feel the familiar sensation of magic wrapping around your throat. The leash, you are so so fucked. You couldn’t be happier about it.

He tugs at the chain, so your skirt rides up and your ass is totally bare for him and your head is buried in one of his fluffy pillows. With a snap of his fingers your panties disintegrate.

You shiver at the thought of what’s happening next, a delicious sensation that flows across your back and ends up inside your cunt, beginning to turn into a wet mess. He’s gonna spank you like the bad girl you were. He’s not going to be gentle about it either. You can’t wait. It’s gonna hurt, it’s gonna sting, it will leave you bruised. It will be deliciously wicked, like all of Alastor’s punishments.

You feel another surge of magic, behind the powerful green glow something materializes.

Your horsegirl days back on earth don’t let you down. You recognise it instantly. On his previous free hand he’s holding a riding crop. A big, leather pointed riding crop.

He’s going to literally whip you into submission. You squirm inside his arm. You can’t fucking wait. You’ve made yourself come a few times after the thought of being literally tamed, broke by alastor.

You whimper. Alastor’s laugh fills the room.

“So this is how this is going to go, pet. I’m going to whip you lovely ass like the ungrateful slut you are and you are going to thank me for it after every crack of the whip. I’m gonna do this as many times as I see fit. Until your ass is as red as my hair. Until you understand what you did. By the time I’m done you will be begging to be punished more. Are we clear?

You can’t look back at him, but you can feel how his red irises make your skin burn. You like to imagine that his eyes did the thing where they soften for a heartbeat, if you blink you miss it. Waiting for your permission, even now. You are able to muffle a “yes, oh please Alastor, yes”.

“Lovely.”

crack.

He didn’t even gave you time to process. The whip lands hard on the back of your left thigh. You let out a scream.

“Well?” he asks impatiently as he waits for your “thank you”. Seeing the way the spot where the whip landed turn a lovely shade of scarlet isn’t helping him hold his resolve either.

You wanna do this right, you need this as much as he needs it.

“thank-”

crack. the whip lands on your right thigh, a little lower.

“tha-”

crack.crack.

He whips you even harder, cutting the wind as it lands twice on your left buttcheek. Only four cracks down and you are a whimpering mess. You wiggle instinctively on his lap, seeking some friction, some relief. It hurts so bad, but it feels so good. You don’t know if you can take more. You want it anyway. “thank you, thank you” you whimper. Tears wet your face, arousal wets your core adding to the mess from before he even started.

crack. crack.

He mirrors his movements to your right buttcheek. “thank yo- Holy fuck Alastor”

one more hit, now hitting both of your buttcheks.

“I’ve told you many times before pet, there’s nothing holy about what I do to you. I’m gonna break you and then breed you. I won’t give you a moment of respite. And maybe by the end, when your legs are shaking from holding that orgasm you have been desperately chasing since this afternoon, I will be merciful and let you find your release. And we will know who’s really losing control here”

How can he do this to you with only his voice? You are not sure you’ve ever been so aroused in your entire life. You’re so wet, you’re staining Alastor’s pants. As close as you will get to marking him.

There’s a draft coming from the forest of his room, it softly kisses your abused skin, making it sting. You want to see the state of your lower body so badly. The way you’re submitting to him right now, the most sweet form degradation possible. Your eyes are clouded with tears, that line between pain and pleasure being blurred in ways only someone like the Radio Demon could cross. He tugs on your leash, to attract your attention from the sinful, unholy sensations you are feeling so openly, back to him.

Alastor drags the leather point of the whip across your throbbing cunt, collecting the obscene amount of wetness there. “By the 7 rings of hell, what do you have here? Are you such a slut that you are creaming at being whipped into compliance? I could do this all night long. Your ass is already red with regret for your actions but I’m not sure you learned your lesson yet.”

crack. The whip this time lands on your juicy cunt. Your hips trash with the sensation, your demon lover’s name escaping your lips like a prayer.You forget to thank him this time, despite your best efforts.

“Are you so big of an ungrateful brat that you want this sinful punishment to continue? Not even bothering to thank me, in hopes it will end sooner. You know what you are. Nothing but a hungry greedy whore for the Radio Demon”

crack, crack. One hit on each cheek. “But I already knew that” and with that mocking tone Alastor lands a masterful final hit on both of your cheeks. He does have a way of proving his point.

You are fucking sobbing now. Tears coat your cheeks, now a colour so vibrant as the rich scarlet the covers your ass. Alastor knows everything that makes you tick. He knows how close you are to cumming. Cumming for only his masterfully inflicted punishment and his voice. Incoherent whimpers leave your lips “please please please” and soft “ohh and aaah, alastor”

He tugs on your leash again, he knows your body like the palm of his hand, and that you are probably entering the mind numbing phase of the pain and the pleasure. But he still wants your undivided attention. He has whipped you into submission, he still needs to fuck you into submission.

“And you even made the mess of yourself stain my pants! My god, you are pathetic. Delightfully pathetic”

Alastor gently runs his clawed hands across your ass, the sharp edges making you hiss. He looks in adoration at the masterpiece he inflicted on you. Your ass and thighs a shade of scarlet to rival his hair, the wetness between your thighs a heavenly invitation. Beautiful. Sinful. Sacred. He will never forget this, and he will make sure that you never forget it too.

“Now, now, we are done with this my little doe” his voice goes extra soft because you can’t see him with your face buried in a soft pillow. “you were so good for me, you always are”

The softness and sweetness of his praise makes you sob even harder. It’s maddening.

He gently maneuvers you further into the bed, making space for himself.

“But now I’m painfully hard, and I still need to bury myself inside that tight throbbing cunt of yours, so deep it will mark. your. soul.” static picks up around you, a delicious omen of what is about to happen.

Alastor positions himself behind you, immediately entering you and bottoming out.

His first thrusts are sharp and deep, as to make his promise of marking yourself from the inside real. He pulls your chains so your scarlet ass is presenting itself to him like the most sinful gift.

Alastor picks up that breakneck pace of fucking, common to him, specially during his rut. He fucks you like he hates you. As hard as he possibly can, to make you know that you are his and his only. That even thinking of someone else, even as a joke, will not be tolerated. You wanted all of him didn’t you? You’ve made that clear, with words, with actions, with the things your body endures for him. So he makes sure to give you that.

Moans drip from your lips in a crescendo, you are screaming now, you don’t know how long you will last. It feels so good. That delayed gratification drowning you in maddening pleasure.

“Who do you think is losing control here?” he asks after a painfully sharp thrust. “Me, or the mess of a slut underneath me? That is screaming my name loud enough for the entire pride ring to know how she loves being fucked like a common whore for the Radio Demon,hmm?”

One hand pulls your leash upwards, the other your hips. He’s even deeper now, you can feel him in your core.

You don’t reply to the question even though you want to, even though you know the answer.

“Again, since you like being bred like that so much you are not hearing me” he takes all of his cock out and enters you at once. “Who’s losing control here? Me, or my little plaything with the scarlet ass from being whipped into compliance like the pretty little brat she is?”

You don’t forget to answer him now, you need to cum, desperately. You withheld your building orgasm for an entire day, you wanted to be good for Alastor. You wanted to be able to take everything he gives you. The pleasure, the pain, the sinful, delicious depraved torture. “Me, I am!” you scream out.

Alastor’s pace is becoming erratic, you feel the shadows of his growing antlers cover you.

“Again” he tugs at your collars. Another sharp, deep thrust.

“Me, i’m losing control”

“And what are you?” his voice is filled with static now, he’s close too.

“Yours! I’m yours Alastor, yours to fuck, to break, to punish” you cry out in sweet pain and pleasure.

Another tug, Another painfully sharp thrust

“I’m only yours Alastor” you finish.

“Good. girl.” he spaces the words out between thrusts, knowing how you relish in them.

“You can come now”

Your orgasm comes crashing down. You grip the sheets like a maniac, your legs shaking so hard Alastor needs to hold them in place. You scream so loud you are sure they can hear you in heaven. You hope they can, so they know. So they know this man owns you. So they know you love him.

Alastor is not far behind, your cunt tightening around him like a vice. He fucks you specially hard and deep know, delayed gratification hitting all at once. He cums so hard inside you, he’s sure he finally marked your soul. The feeling of his cock twitching and spilling inside you, adding to the indescriptible sensation. You are completely over the edge now, you feel weightless, free falling.

You know Alastor will catch you.

“Ah! There she is” you open your eyes and feel a soft kiss on your cheek. You are lying on top of Alastor’s chest, he cuddles you gently, making lazy circles on your hipbone but still buried to the hilt inside you. He still plans to give you all of his cum, all he has during his rut,after all.

“woah, that was… amazing” you say after a while.

“Well, I did whip and fuck you to the brink of insanity my dear. And you came so beautifully for me, you passed out. You’re such a sight pet. I will never forget it.” you blush at his words. You feel so happy.

Alastor kisses your cheek again, and with a final thrust he leaves you with a obscenely wet noise. You are dripping with his cum, it’s running down your thighs, staining the sheets.

You whimper in complaint.

“Ah ,don’t be like that” he laughs, is a genuinely happy laugh. “There’s still plenty of where that came from, but I need my darling doe to rest first” he says. He’s lying you gently on the bed as he gets up. “Don’t leave” you whisper.

He’s out of the bed anyways, and seems to be on his way to do something. You don’t care, you want him back here, holding you. You don't want him to ever let you go.

“Al, i’m truly sorry about today. You know that, right?” You know that I love you, right? You want to say, but you are scared that confession is a little much for today. You see where he’s headed now. He opens the bathroom door.

“Don’t even think about it, my dear. It’s all water under the bridge” he says in his usual chirpy tone, louder than the noise of the bath running. “Now you just need to promise me that you will never even let the thought of that pathetic demon cross your mind, my love”

my love.

“And if he ever does, you will let me know. So I can fuck those wretched ideas out of your mind” Alastor is walking back to the bed now. He picks you up bridal style and carries you across the room. You can’t help the hiss that escape your lips as your irritated skin touches him. “I know, I know my dear. We will fix that right up. I can’t have my favourite doe hurting. We still have a long way to go until the end of my rut, dearest” you don’t reply, you are just happy. perfectly happy. You could hear Alastor’s voice for days without complaining. “But you did look so perfect with that scarlet ass on my lap. Crying from how much you love what I do to you. I hope you never forget that”

You both reach the bathtub, he drops you with all the care in the world inside the water.

“I’m so proud of you. I truly am” the water is warm. The soap smells so nice. He lit candles too. You give in to the soothing sensations. You might have tuned out for a bit, cause you hear alastor calling your name so softly… He says it again, slow, soft, gentle, pleading. As to catch your attention, he has something important to say. “You know how precious you are to me, don’t you my little doe?” “yes” you respond, trying to fight the tears that begin to spill down your face ‘

“Oh my darling girl, why are you crying? There’s nothing to cry about. You are here, safe with me. As you will always be, as is your place.”

“Alastor I-I-” your heart swells, you want to say something. You want to say everything you are feeling. How consuming, in the best way possible, your feelings are for him.

But Alastor is always 10 steps ahead.

“I know, I know darling” he kisses your hand “I feel it too.” he says. It feels like a confession, it sounds like a confession. The look on his eyes is the one of that mystery that hides there every time his voice in the midst of your passion.

When you,know you know. your mind reiterates.

“Let me help you dry those tears. Save them for another day” He holds your face and kiss your lips. “The only thing you need to worry about right now is resting and recovering that luscious body of yours, as well as your brilliant, witty mind”

He hands you a sparkly fancy pink soap, and gets up to find the softest sponge he has stored.

“Now, I hope you like the smell of these candles, cause I’m not letting you out of my sight for at least the next four days!”

Alastor continues to chat away sweet nothings as he helps you bathe. Maybe it will take a while for the Radio Demon to say those 4 words out loud. He has enough reason for that, inside that beautiful, complicated mind of his. His actions always speak louder than words, your relationship was proof of that.

Until then, you will always have sacred moments in crowded rooms, you will always have jokes that only the both of you understand. He will always keep sweeping you off your feet in the most deliciously wicked ways possible.

Right now, you have him by your side after everything that happened, you have his heart too. You are sure of that. So you don’t mind waiting for him.

Good things come for those who wait.

#atenção creuzebek vamos lá vai começar a baixaria #author is also in heat can you tell #METE COM FORÇA E COM TALENTO EU TO OFEGANTE E VC PERCEBENDO #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader smut #the radio demon #the radio demon x you #hope uou guys like it!!#VEM DE CHICOTE ALGEMA CORDA DE ALPINISTA #baixaria

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where-does-the-heart-lie · 1 year

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East Blue Crew modern au!

Ive been working on this on and off for a while now.

There’s a lot here so [rings dinner bell] come get y’all’s meal

ASL Modern Au Post

Grand Line Crew Modern Au

Friends We Made Along The way post

Friends We Made Along The Way Part 2 post

Additional Headcanons:

Nami needs her own episode on extreme couponers. Sis has an entire binder dedicated to it.

Zoro cannot for the life of him beat Luffy in an arm wrestling match. No matter how much he lifts or trains, he always loses.

Zoro is actually pretty good at grilling. Sanji was pleasantly surprised when the burger that was presented to him wasnt a pile of ash/ so raw its still walking around. One day the two will have a grill off.

Usopp and Luffy love playing yugioh with eachother. Neither of them actually know the rules of the game, they just make it up as they go.

Nami used to collect american girl dolls and she keeps them in a closet in her apartment. One day when usopp luffy and chopper were snooping around, they found the accursed closet and were scared shitless.

Usopp has an ant farm and luffy thinks its the coolest shit.

In this modern au, sanji takes the place of that one guy on tiktok who makes duets with cooking videos, and films until they put the entire block of cream cheese in the crock pot.

Sanji is also this guy

Even though nami has scary dog privilege when walking with zoro, its not just beneficial to her. In fact nami has outlawed zoro from going on walks in general alone, as he would get lost and need nami to walk to him to direct him home. Nami has scary dog privilege and zoro has sense of direction privilege when they walk together

Sanji and Nami rewatch Pretty Little Liars/ Gossip Girl/ Glee/ and other CW drama shows together.

Nami and Usopp always be shit talking someone/something. They are hateful bitches.

How luffy meets each of them:

Zoro- they met each other because the 24 hr gym Zoro works in is right down the street from Luffy’s apartment and one day Luffy was walking by at around 3 am and noticed Zoro in there. Luffy asks him if he wants to join him fucking around at 3 am on the streets of this city area they live in and Zoro accepts after a little convincing from Luffy. When they get outside Zoro’s like

“where’s the rest?”

“Of what?”

“Of your friends”

“Its just you rn”

“… :| i mean, i had assumed you werent alone”

“Nope!”

“HA OkAy”

Nami- they took the same economics course together. They were paired up in a project and hit it off after that and often had study sessions together. Their defining friendship maker though, was they teamed up to steal the answer key to the test they were both definitely going to fail because the class was bullshit.

Usopp- they had taken a graphic design course together. Luffy had no idea what he was doing the entire time and Usopp was very happy that he could impart his wisdom uponst this newcomer to the arts. Although luffy did already have some… incredible(?) art skills of his own already. It was instant chemistry for them honestly, their synergy just clicked and before they knew it, they were besties.

Sanji- works in the restaurant thats underneath the ASL brothers’ apartment complex. Their fist encounter with the restaurant was not of them going in to eat there, though. The trio were throwing around the ol’ pig skin in the street in front of their complex when luffy failed to catch the ball, and accidentally ricocheted it into the front window of the Baratie, through the eating area, over the counter, and into Mr. Zeff’s face. Zeff stormed out of the eatery and asked which of them destroyed his glass and hit him in the head

And luffy looks over and notices his brothers selling him out and is like “HEY!!! D:” So luffy was stationed as the place’s chore boy and met sanji while working there. 2 years later the debt was repayed, sanji and luffy are friends, and the Baratie is ASL’s fav eating place due to the great food, delightfully violent vibes, and great company.

thats all for now, hope you enjoyed!

#my art #one piece #one piece fan art #monkey d. luffy #headcanons #east blue crew #roronoa zoro #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #usopp #nami #one piece modern au #straw hat crew

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dyaz-stories · 5 months

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put your arms around me and i'm home || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

summary: In the dead of winter, you have to do a run to go get fuel for your generator. Things go wrong, but fortunately, Hyun-Su is here to save you.

word count: 3.7k

warnings & tags: canon-typical violence, gore, monsters, hyun-su and reader get injured, reader briefly thinks hyun-su is dead, monster!hyun-su makes a brief appearance, hyun-su needs a hug and he gets one!, angst, hurt/comfort, season 2 canon compliant.

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A/N: this can be read on its own, but there is another one-shot, if you're interested! for context, this takes place during season 2. reader and hyun-su know each other from high school and reader runs into hyun-su after the events of the first three episodes. reader also doesn't know that he is a monster/neohuman.

You’re not one to get caught off guard, not usually. You’ve always been cautious, measured, far-sighted. It had been an advantage back in high school, and you’re pretty sure it’s what kept you alive thus far.

Yet, in this new world that you never asked to be a part of, unforeseen complications were the norm. You could plan, and plan, and plan ahead, but here you were, freezing in your living room, because the biting cold of the lasting winter meant that you’d run out of fuel for your small generator, and everything else you used to generate electricity wasn’t functioning the way it should.

If you didn’t want to freeze to death, you had to act, and act quick.

You’d already held out a few more days than was reasonable, hoping that the weather would clear and your solar panels would be useful again, or — but you hadn’t dared to voice that thought — that Hyun-Su would come by, and you could ask for his help. He’d offered before, after all, even if he had always kept you at arm’s length whenever you’d returned the favor.

But things were dire now, and you couldn’t wait any longer, so you’re kneeling in your living-room, preparing yourself for a hazardous trip in the outside, shivering as you do. Things are dangerous enough on a good day, but the snow that’s been continuously falling only makes you dread it more. It swallows sounds, means you’ll leave tracks behind you, and you’ll consume twice as much energy just to move around.

The last thing you pack is a map, which you make sure to keep available, though you hope you won’t need it in between breaks.

You’re heading for a four-stories parking lot, where you hope you’ll find fuel in one of the cars, but that’s not the dangerous part. What’s risky is that monsters love these kinds of places, with all their nooks and crannies, all the dark places to hide, and fear already has your heart beating twice as fast as usual before you’ve even opened your door.

Still, you take a steadying breath, haul the backpack over on your shoulders, and exit the house without making a sound.

Everything is quiet outside. Snow is falling gently, and the sight would be heart-warming, if it wasn’t for all the overturned cars, the gaping hole torn into the building opposite from yours by one of those missiles a few months ago, and the worrying fresh footprints going towards the river. The snow also covers the decomposing bodies, and you can only hope that you don’t accidentally step on one as you start walking.

At least it fills your tracks behind you. By the time you’ve reached the other side of the street, which was one once an impossible task due to how bad traffic you used to be, nothing leads back to your door, and you leave with, at least, the reassurance that home will still be here waiting for you when you come back.

If you come back.

There’s comfort in knowing that you’d planned well, this time, to get to the parking lot. You get to your destination with only expected complications. You spot the monsters before they spot you. You have to reroute twice, but that had been accounted for, and you don’t even have to pull out your map. You reach the building right before noon, and after surveying it for a few minutes, you let yourself in before you can chicken out.

In the dark, you make your way to the first floor, where you will be able to have the greyish light of the day, instead of having to use precious batteries for your flashlight.

It’s not long before you’ve picked out the car, a familial minivan with an untouched baby seat in the back. You try not to think about the people it belonged to as you kneel by the side and prepare to siphon the tank. You make quick work of preparing it, with the tanks and hoses you’d brought for that purpose.

Maybe it’s your confidence that’s to blame for what happens next, or maybe it’s another one of these unforeseeable accidents. Either way, you catch movement from the corner of your eye and you jerk your head back as a reflex, but you’re not fast enough and unnaturally long claws dig into your cheek.

You manage not to scream despite the pain, scramble back and away from the van. There, standing on the roof, is a creature. Though it stands on two legs, there is nothing human about it anymore. The side of its face are sagging and drooping like it’s centuries old, covering where you assume its shoulders would be. It brings its claws to its lips, and your realize with horror that your blood is dripping from them.

Bleeding, in this world, might as well be a death sentence. You don’t bother wasting energy in stopping the tears from spilling from your eyes.

“Younnnnng,” the monster screeches. “Give— meeeeee…”

It at least snaps you out of the stupor, and you grab your bat, unwilling to go down without a fight.

But it’s not much of a fight, not when the scent and the noise are waking up all the other creatures hibernating around here.

You swing wildly as the thing, and manage to send it tumbling back. It’s only a short respite though, considering pain is only ever short lived for them, while blood is dripping down your chin and onto the concrete.

You throw your backpack on your shoulders with trembling hands and grab the first cannister that you’ve filled, abandoning the rest behind to start sprinting towards the exit.

You already know you won’t make it. You know you’ll have to run through the pitch dark ground floor, which is no doubt filled with more of those nightmares, and that the chances you’ll make it out on the other side are slim to none.

But you owe it to yourself fight until the very end.

As it stands, you don’t even make it to the downward slope that leads there. There’s the sound of something charging towards you, and then the— the head, it has to be, of a bull-like thing catches you in the ribs, and sends you flying into a car. Your breath is instantly knocked out of you, your vision goes blurry, your head starts reeling. You’re aware of the thing crashing into a concrete pillar. It at least stays there, struggling to pull itself out, but that’s barely any relief, because soon enough the first creature is calling out to you again, stretching out a skeletal arm towards you.

“Younnnnnng… Give meeeee…”

It kicks you in the ribs, and you roll onto your back, only to be met with the horrifying sight of its arm in the air, claws out and ready, preparing to cut your throat open.

You refuse to close your eyes.

And then, just as you think everything lost, someone steps in between you and the monster, blocking its arm with your very own baseball bat. You stare blankly at the large back, the unkept black hair, as the man forces it to step back and kicks it in the chest.

Then Hyun-Su turns around, and holds his hand out towards you.

He looks nothing like what you’re used to. He’s usually so lost, so hesitant, when he comes to you. Now he’s focused, purposeful, and in many ways, he reminds you of the boy you once knew, the captain of the football team who would without fail lead his team to victory.

“Let’s go,” he urges you, and when you weakly take his hand, he pulls you to your feet effortlessly.

You wheeze as the two of you run to hide behind a car. You press your free hand against your ribs, hoping to lessen the pain — it doesn’t work, of course.

“It’s going to find me,” you mumble to Hyun-Su as he keeps an eye on the thing. “It can— It can smell my blood.”

Hyun-Su’s head snaps towards you, and his expression darkens at the sight of the wound on your cheek. He lifts his hand halfway, as if to touch it, then lets it fall down again.

“You should—” Your voice breaks. “You should go. If it can find me… It’s not the only one.”

A strange expression that you can’t quite decipher passes on his face, before he shakes his head firmly.

“I’m not leaving you here.”

The relief you feel when he says those words is immediately overshadowed by embarrassment. You shouldn’t be happy. He needs to go, or he will die here with you, and what would the point be in that?

“What— What are you even doing here? How—”

You don’t know if he doesn’t answer on purpose, or if he hears a sound that takes his attention away from you.

“Can you run?” he asks you, glancing over the car.

Your body’s going to hurt like hell when the adrenaline wears out, but for now you give him a decided nod.

“Do you trust me?”

You should probably take your time to answer him, actually think about the question.

“Yes,” you answer instead, like it’s a reflex.

He exhales quietly, squeezes your hand in his.

“Then run.”

Then he’s pulling with him, running at full speed towards the open wall of the parking lot. Fear spikes through you. Even though you’re only on the first floor, it’s still too high to land comfortably. That fear is completely erased by the sight that greets you, briefly, of monsters stumbling and climbing all over each other to make their way up from the ground floor. There is a whole swarm of them teeming here already, and you can’t think of any other way to make it out alive — frankly, you have a hard time believing that this will work. But you cling to your faith in Hyun-Su like your life depends on it, because it does, and when he yells for you to jump, you do it without question.

While you’re flailing in the air, you feel him pulling you towards him. Strong arms wrap around you, and keep you caged and safe. You hit the ground brutally, rolling on the floor until you land on top of him.

“Fuck,” you mumble, painfully pushing you onto your elbows. “Hyun-Su, are— are you okay?”

The obvious answer to the question is ‘no’, and yet Hyun-Su doesn’t look worse for wear as he sits up, his eyes instead going over your body to make sure you weren’t too badly injured.

If you shiver when his hands run up and down your arms, it isn’t because of the cold.

“Let’s move,” he says, letting go of you all too quickly.

But, by the time you’re both on your feet, monsters attracted by the smell of your blood have started falling from the parking lot. The two of you sprint, but you’re no match for them and you know it. You regain the tiniest hope when you make it past a corner, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the snow will swallow your smell if you hide well enough — and then something wraps around your ankle.

In a second, you’re torn out of Hyun-Su’s grasp, and when you manage to roll onto your back to see who your assailant is, all you can do is let out an inhumane scream.

This particular monster has eight legs, like a spider, and its somewhat human torso and head is completed by two long mandibles instead of a jaw. You manage to grab a knife from your pocket, but by the time you can cut its— web, you suppose, it’s charging towards you at full speed, and it’s close, too close for you to even get on your feet before—

When it attacks you, the first thing you see is what you first identify as a black wing, before you realize that it’s made out of a complex mix of flesh, bone and other materials that you can’t quite recognize, instead of feathers.

The wing pushes the creature back, and then Hyun-Su’s back is in front of you once more.

It’s his, you realize, brain awfully slow all of sudden. The wing. It’s attached to his shoulder, and all you can do is stare in confusion and horror. It flutters as he turns around to look at you.

You’re not fully in control when you scramble back, whole body shaking — because of the second near-death experience in ten minutes or because you’re terrified, you don’t know. What you do know is how hurt he looks, and how he turns his head the other way to face the monsters that are still coming after the two of you.

“You should run,” he says, low enough that you could miss it. He sounds hollow again. “Don’t turn around.”

You shake your head quietly, try to form some words. They all fail you. You don’t— you have no clue what’s happening. All that you know is that Hyun-Su is a monster and that he’s just used that to save your life.

The wave of monsters reach him just a few seconds later, before you’ve managed to decide anything. He pushes them back with practiced ease, one by one. You hate that you’re just sitting here, unable to move, as he fights for your life, yet your body just refuses to answer to you, even if you’re begging it to react.

Soon, the spider is the last one standing — or rather, the last one who hasn’t yet decided that you’d make a fairly meager lunch, considering how hard it is to get to you. It keeps attacking, and Hyun-Su keeps pushing it back, again, and again, until the creature manages to ensnare him in its web. Hyun-Su writhes, manages to pull his wing free, but it’s clear that he’s now at a disadvantage, and the mandibles click threateningly as the monster gets closer and closer to him.

Finally, your body agrees to react.

You run.

You don’t go very far though. You find the cannister you’d dropped and then you’re rushing back to throw the gasoline at the creature, half emptying it. The monster wasn’t paying attention to you, too busy trying to bite Hyun-Su’s head off, but its head snaps towards you when the liquid reaches it. It lets out a threatening hiss, which you ignore.

Instead, you find the lighter in your pocket.

Aim.

And throw.

The screams start right away, but it drops Hyun-Su, at least, as it tries to escape the fire.

For a second, you think you’ve made it — you’ve both made it, that is. Hyun-Su pulls himself to his feet. The wing flutters again, slowly starts to retreat back into his body to go back to a human arm.

He looks at you, expression unreadable.

And then one of the spider’s limb pierces through his chest. It’s not even calculated this time — just a movement it’s making as it tries to free itself from the flames that are consuming it.

You hear yourself scream. You don’t remember asking your body to move, this time, but you know that a second later you’re reaching Hyun-Su as he falls to his knees, and your arms are around him while you cradle him, pulling his head into your lap. Tears fall down your cheeks and onto his, as one of your hands tries, and fails, to apply pressure to the gaping wound, even if you know there is no point.

“No,” you beg. “No, no, no, no… Please, please, someone, please…”

You don’t know how many times you say it, how long you stay there. Snow starts to cover both his body and yours, and you realize you have a decision to make, if you don’t want to freeze to death. You just can’t bring yourself to do it.

Until Hyun-Su’s lifeless body arches in your arms with a gasp.

When his eyes open, they’re a clear, cold, uncanny blue.

You don’t dare to do anything then — not to let go of him, not to move away, not to break eye contact. It makes no sense, but you’re afraid that the slightest movement would have him gone again.

Slowly, his lips curve into a smirk, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. You’ve seen him smile, bright and sincere, and more recently, soft and subdued. But this amused, flirtatious smirk, that is completely new.

“You’re still here,” he comments, casually getting up, like nothing happen, like he can’t feel pain, like there isn’t a hole in his chest.

Even his voice is different. There’s a drawl to it, light and lazy, like he has all the time in the world.

“Hyun-Su?” you say, unsure of what’s happening. He was dead a minute ago. Then again, now that he’s breathing again, your brain is able to form the thought that he is a monster. An abnormal one, sure, and you don’t know enough to draw any conclusion, but it could be an explanation.

The smirk widens.

“Close enough,” he answers. “Are you scared?”

You’re not sure. You think you’re too emotionally exhausted to be scared.

“Should I be?” you ask. Maybe you shouldn’t trust this version of him to tell you the truth, and yet— All your senses are telling you that this is still Hyun-Su. And you don’t think he’d do anything to hurt you. Ever.

“It would break him if you got hurt,” not-Hyun-Su says, tilting his head. He lifts his index finger to tilt your head up. “I don’t want him broken.”

“Is he—” You interrupt yourself, unsure of what even is happening right now. But before you can start asking for answers, there is something you need to know. “Is Hyun-Su okay right now?”

He scoffs.

“He’s taking a break,” he replies. “He’s worked hard.” A beat while he seems to think about it. “Also, he thinks you hate him now.”

“I could never hate him,” you say, too easily, because it’s just the truth.

“Well, he is a monster,” not-Hyun-Su says with a shrug. He doesn’t seem to mean it as an insult, just stating a fact. You suppose he’s not wrong, and yet…

“The people I loved all turned into monsters,” you whisper quietly. Your mother, before you even made it home. Your best friend, who begged for death so she wouldn’t hurt others. Your father, who disappeared to protect you. You miss them all so much it sometimes feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest, and you’d give anything to have them back. So, if there is any way that you can still have Hyun-Su… “As long— as long as he’s not trying to kill me, does it really matter?”

The man watches you with interest, tilting his head to the side. It’s interesting. You haven’t been hurt by this world the way others have. Monsters caused death and destruction, but you watched half-monsters doing their very best to avoid hurting others, not unlike what Hyun-Su is doing right now.

The monster in him wonders what it would take, to destroy that ill-placed trust in others around you. The rest of him… is far too intrigued to give in. He grabs your chin between his thumb and his index finger, pulls your face closer to his.

“Doesn’t it?” he echoes your words. “What if I do hurt you?”

You swallow, call back the images of Hyun-Su easily taking out these monsters earlier. But you can’t forget that he’d been doing it to protect you.

“Y–You won’t,” you reply, even if your stutter betrays your lack of confidence.

It’s a leap of faith, but it seems to amuse him.

“For now,” he says, before his eyes roll into his head and Hyun-Su collapses in your arms.

You stumble back, barely manage to keep him up, before he seems to regain some control over his limbs and starts coughing. Even then, you don’t let go of him. You wrap both of your arms around him, head resting against his shoulder, and keep him there, against you.

Hyun-Su remains still for a while, breathing pained and ragged. The snow is still falling, but his body is warm.

“Are you okay?” he whispers with a hoarse voice.

“I am,” you answer. “Thanks to you.”

He lets out a pained sigh.

“Did he— Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head, barely moving away so you can look at him. He doesn’t look at you, keeps his eyes — black again, you note — fixedly in the other direction.

Like he can’t bear to know which emotion is on your face right now.

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” you say quietly. “I thought— I thought I’d lost you forever.”

Silence.

“Don’t leave me,” you beg, voice so low and broken you don’t think he’d hear if he wasn’t inches from you.

Hyun-Su’s body starts shaking against yours. Finally, finally, he wraps an arm around your waist, burying his head in your neck, and wet tears roll down your collarbone. In the freezing cold weather, they feel burning hot.

“Don’t hate me,” he begs in response, crying in your arms, fingers digging to the fabric of your clothes in a desperate attempt to keep you there, against him — even if there is no need for that right now.

You wish you could tell him that he just saved your life, that he’s been a guiding light in your cold, dark life this past few months, that you love him more than words can say. But that would take too long, and the situation calls for something shorter, more direct, and just as meaningful.

“You’re the only good thing about this world,” you say instead, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

Under the snow, for long minutes, Hyun-Su holds you like he never wants to let go.

When the two of you eventually detach from each other, he keeps your hand in his the whole walk home.

i hope you liked this installment! i'm probably going to write something much softer next, still for this couple (but it's hyun-su so it's still going to be angsty). if you're enjoying this, please let me know your thoughts, reblog or send in an ask. hearing from readers is so motivating and makes me want to keep writing!

next part

#hyunsu x reader #cha hyun su x reader #sweet home #sweet home netflix #cha hyun su #sweet home x reader #sweet home season 2 #hyun su x reader #cha hyunsoo #cha hyunsoo x reader #hyunsoo x reader #my writing

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stevie-petey · 6 months

Text

we don't talk about it (we don't have the time)

﹂ season one of “come home”

being dustin henderson's older sister and jonathan byers' best friend is usually an uneventful affair, but when will byers goes missing and a girl with a shaved head claims she has super powers, your duties as a sister and a best friend become a lot more complicated. (it also makes your feelings suddenly complicated, which you're choosing to ignore). (and steve harrington definitely isn't helping). (as usual).

episode one: the vanishing of will byers - jonathan smuggles you free food in exchange for friendship, will goes missing the one time you listen to jonathan, hopper doesn't really like you, and steve harrington almost hits you with his car as you're sobbing like a damn baby (in a cool way).

episode two: the weirdo on maple street - you use your limited psych knowledge to help a bald girl, you force jonathan to accept $20 and he's later an ass to you, steve doesn't know what a "missing" poster looks like, and it's really hard being a single mother to now four kids.

episode three: holly, jolly - you and jonathan talk it out and things are better (spoiler alert: they aren't), you somehow end up agreeing with steve harrington ?? then you have a minor breakdown in front of the kids and once again fail to prevent them from experiencing more trauma.

episode four: the body - you basically have a "no babe don't cry over ur dead brother ur so sexy" moment with jonathan, hopper plays mr love doctor (cute date idea: coffin shopping), and somehow nancy wheeler makes you realize that you're a horrible babysitter and an even bigger idiot. meanwhile: steve harrington is frustratingly charming.

episode five: the flea and the acrobat - you and dustin have a long overdue Sibling Moment, at will's funeral you and jonathan exchange information and surprise ! it's all horrible news ! nancy has awful timing and when you leave her alone with jonathan one damn time you and steve end up trauma bonded on her front porch #bffs.

episode six: the monster - so nancy and jonathan are a Thing now and you really just need a good nap, the three of you go shopping for monster hunting supplies (which honestly isn't the weirdest thing you've done this week), an old man sells you a sentimental knife, and steve kind of accidentally kidnaps you with a sexy black eye.

episode seven: the bathtub - your brother basically places himself on the fbi's most wanted list and el flips a van with her mind, now you have to create a giant salt tub because of course you do, nancy tries Talking About It but hasn't she read the title ? you don't have the time. sidenote: you've somehow become a steve defender during these trying times. typical. meanwhile: steve's inner thoughts are pathetic.

episode eight: the upside down - drinking game time ! take a shot every time jonathan tries ditching you or every time you almost die at the byers house, you find out that steve really is an athlete and tbh it's hot, but you know what's even hotter ? saving hawkins and reaching a tentative compromise with steve after he loans you $5 for snacks. after, jonathan makes a promise you really hope he can keep.

⌑ set between seasons 1 and 2

﹂ episode nine: the beginning - BONUS EPISODE TIME ! steve becomes bookstrorindary's favorite loyal costumer, jonathan buys you a bug for christmas, you freak out your poor coworker alex, and suddenly steve is really hot and you're feeling so many feelings (bad ! it's all bad !).

⌑ status: FINISHED

⌑ season one title based on this song x

⌑ blurbs set within "come home" can be found here x

⌑ “come home” season masterlist

*note: this is a part of my stranger things rewrite, “come home”, and other seasons can be found linked above :)

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #stranger things rewrite #ch season one #wdtai masterlist #m's writing

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fuckyeahisawthat · 8 months

Text

on switching places

So I’m sure you have noticed that during the whole end of episode 6 there is this beautiful bright light coming in the bookshop windows. From the east. Because it’s morning.

(Even if we didn’t know what time of day it was, we know what direction the light is coming from, because these windows are right above Aziraphale’s desk, which faces east.)

And after Crowley leaves the bookshop, he goes across the street, and Aziraphale keeps glancing toward the door and window, looking over at Crowley, hoping he’ll come back. (He always comes back.) The blocking in the scene with the Metatron, the one where Aziraphale almost decides to stay, is set up so that he’s looking the wrong way, toward the windows on his right instead of to his left, where Crowley should be. (And, when he seems closest to saying no, he steps back, right to the edge of that beam of light that almost seems like it’s from Crowley.) And we know that their blocking stays reversed (Crowley screen left, Aziraphale screen right) for the rest of the episode.

But also, Aziraphale is looking east. To what is normally his position, as guardian of the eastern gate.

Which got me thinking. What if they have switched places? Not literally in a bodyswap sense, but metaphorically in terms of their relationship to humanity.

They’re the serpent and the sword, right? Those Biblical symbols are already subverted in the story of Good Omens. The sword is something given to humans for their protection, not something meant to be used against them, to keep them out of paradise. (And in the world of Good Omens, leaving Eden looks a whole lot like escaping.) And the apple is framed as a positive symbol too. It’s knowledge, questions asked and answered, the ability to make your own choices. It’s freedom.

So what if they’ve switched roles, and by the end of season 2 Crowley has taken up Aziraphale’s position as the protector of humanity (as we saw him do with individual humans many times this season). We all know Crowley won’t actually be able to abandon humanity and the Earth when the chips are down. I think it’s highly likely that some part of season 3 will feature Crowley on the side of humanity against Heaven, probably in what he considers at that point to be a suicide mission, but he can’t just walk away.

And then what if, in season 3, we see Aziraphale take up whatever the equivalent of Crowley’s position would be in that plotline, as the character who grants freedom and choice to humanity in some way. (By freeing Earth from Heaven and Hell’s power? By figuring out how to give humans the choice to interact with angels and demons only if they want to? I don’t know exactly how this would play out, but it’s a fascinating idea to poke at.)

Of course I think they will ultimately end up working together and whatever happens will require their combined power, but I think it would be amazing if we saw this kind of role reversal. And it would fit with their character arcs: Crowley being the one who is ready to stand and fight even when it looks hopeless, and Aziraphale being the one who gives humanity the power to question, challenge and disobey Heaven.

Protection and freedom—those are their gifts to humanity. (The Bible might call it temptation, but there never was an apple that wasn’t worth the trouble you got into for eating it.) And it turns out that those are the exact same things Aziraphale and Crowley need for themselves. You can’t have one without the other. “Protection” without freedom is just control, and freedom without the ability to defend itself gets crushed by the forces that don’t want it to exist. And so their fates are tied to humanity, as they were from the beginning. And maybe humanity will be able to give them the same gifts in return.

#good omens #good omens s2 #aziraphale #crowley #the serpent and the sword #the bible is a revisionist history of the events of good omens #yeah time to bring that tag back around

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 9 months

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darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 1: Sunrise

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Queen Aemma brings a new child into the world—you. As the second daughter of King Viserys, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon.

Hello, everyone! Welcome to the very first instalment of this series, featuring baby!Babey and teen-uncle!Daemon! This prologue will be the only Daemon POV of this instalment (or at least that is my current plan), and there will be several time jumps in keeping with canon. Please keep in mind that, as canon diverges around Episode 5/6 in this series, much of what occurs in the show will also occur as-is here, so don’t expect anything particularly innovative in terms of plot, lol. I’m hoping this will be an opportunity to establish Babey as a firm part of the storyline in a manner that is a little less ambiguous, and will also serve to provide more wholesome Babey/Daemon interactions to foreground their later shift. A couple things: there will be NO ROMANCE in this fic, because Babey is a child. Ew. There may be mentions of romance between other characters, but this story will be told firmly through Babey’s eyes and thus events are limited to her own interpretations.

Anyway! Enough from me - on with the show!

TRIGGERS: mentions of miscarriage/stillbirth, mentions of childbirth trauma, blood.

“And so it was that, in the summer of 109 AC, Queen Aemma took once again to her childbed, remaining there for near two days for what would be a difficult and taxing labour. In the early hours of the morning, King Viserys and his lady wife welcomed a living babe—but not the babe they expected. The arrival of a second daughter took both by surprise, for they had come to believe the child in the Queen’s belly had been their longed-for son. It was nonetheless announced that the Queen had been delivered of a healthy girl, and a great relief was struck up across the Realm, the bells of King’s Landing being rung from dawn to dusk and the people gathering on the streets in praise of their new Princess.”

- ‘Fire and Blood: Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros’ by Archmaester Gyldayn

It's quiet this time, he thinks. No snivelling midwives, no wailing… A good thing, surely.

Still. The silence, in all of its peculiarity, is unnerving. After the last occasion—the frenetic activity bustling up and down the halls, the yelling, the sound of Aemma’s screams, the stench of blood thickening in his nostrils as he stepped forth to take his first and last view of the purple, unmoving babe in the cradle he would never outgrow—the absence of sound seems almost foreboding. Should he not hear the child cry? Should he not be within by now? He would venture to knock on the door, but he dare not risk disturbing this fragile peace—especially if it is not fated to remain so.

Thus, Daemon Targaryen, eighteen summers of age and the King’s very own brother, waits in his seat opposite the entry to the Queen’s chambers as he has done for hours. And, as he sits, he prays.

Well—not pray, exactly. He’d have to believe in gods to do that. But, should a higher power exist, it cannot hurt to lend his own voice to the masses that even now attempt to muster enough mercy to grant the survival of his cousin and the child she has worked so hard to bring forth these past moons. Let them live, he urges, pressing the thought out into the air around him, into the sky far above the Keep. Let them both live.

“Any news?”

Daemon snaps to attention, head tilting automatically to the intruder. He suppresses a sneer. Now is not the time.

“Nothing,” he says, taking care to keep his tone even.

Otto Hightower sighs. “Well”—the Hand of the King moves closer, towering over Daemon with his hands clasped behind his back—“no news is good news, I hope.”

“Hm.” He’ll not dignify that with a response.

Hightower’s eyes narrow in on him. “There is no need to sound quite so downtrodden, Prince Daemon. I am sure the King will find some use for you… now that you are no longer his heir.”

He knows what the man is after. A display of anger, perhaps—maybe even hot-headed insistence on his part that his position stands as it has since Viserys won the throne, that the child is dead, that the Lord has every reason to fear him still. He won’t give him the satisfaction, though. If his brother ventures out to see Daemon once again railing at his most trusted advisor…

Daemon’s desire to meet his nephew outweighs his need to put this upstart in his place.

“Never fear, Otto.” He smiles, lips stretched wide with too much teeth, threatening more than welcoming. “I’ll always have a place by Viserys’s side. I am his brother. And you…” He looks the man up and down. Even now, the pin of the Hand is attached to the cunt’s lapel like a sycophantic badge of honour, gleaming in the golden torchlight. “What are you, exactly?”

Hightower’s jaw clenches. “I am the Hand of the Ki—”

“For now,” Daemon says, a smug half-smirk playing at the very corners of his mouth. “Don’t forget that. For now.”

What he doesn’t say is plain to read upon his face. One day, he’ll understand. One day, he’ll see you for what you really are. A leech, one who latches onto power and drains those who truly wield it dry.

The reminder makes Otto pale. “I—”

The door creaks open, the flushed face of one Viserys Targaryen appearing in the space between wood and frame. “Daemon.”

Daemon rises. “Is—how is—” He cannot get the fucking words out.

His brother grins. “Aemma is well, and the babe is healthy.”

He lets out a relieved breath, surprised to discover exactly how tense he had been since the messenger had roused him from sleep at the hour of the owl. That tension releases itself with the air he pushes from his lungs, his shoulders sagging from the freedom of it. Suddenly, his eyes no longer feel so wide, so fear-bright, and fatigue sets in. He is tired. But first—

“May I see him?” he asks.

At that, Viserys pauses, whatever he had intended to say to Otto left unfinished. He clears his throat, all joy fleeing his face. “Ah… About that.”

“Is the boy… crippled?” The Hand’s voice is hushed, apprehensive.

“No, no!” Viserys insists, shaking his head. “Only… she is small, quiet. Nothing at all like Rhaenyra was.”

“A girl? But Runciter was so certain!” Otto says, mouth parted in shock.

Runciter’s a fucking fool. Anyone who sets stock by his theories ought to be burned alive, Daemon thinks, rolling his eyes. He’d never liked maesters—any of them, least of all the doddering fuckwits appointed to the vaunted station of Grand Maester. That Runciter had gotten this wrong is hardly surprising. None of them seem to know what they are doing.

He pushes around his brother and leaves him to his latest inanity, moving onward to where his newest niece lay.

The Queen’s chambers are stifling, unbearably hot, the windows closed tight and the fires blazing in spite of the warmth already pervading the early hours of the morn. Another ridiculous notion, he suspects, though whether it be Westerosi custom or Targaryen superstition, he knows not. Perhaps dragonbabes can only be born into the fire they are made from.

Last time he was here, Aemma had been gaunt, eyes red-rimmed and near hysterical from the passing of her first, her only son. She’d laid weeping in her bloodied shift still, bedraggled hair sticking to slick skin as she’d mourned the child, insensate to kind words or reason from any who had approached her. Eventually, Viserys had demanded all who were not the blood of the dragon to remove themselves from the room. Together, he and Daemon had borne Aemma from her childbed, had taken her to the bath still waiting, had disposed of the last markers of gloom and tragedy marring the space.

Only those of Valyrian blood should ever bear witness to weakness from one of their own. Only those of Valyrian blood could ever understand the magnitude of such a loss. Their line had been dying out since the Doom—every death since only ever added salt to the wound.

What Daemon walks into this time is different. So very, very different.

Aemma is gaunt still, overcome by weariness, no doubt sapped greatly by the trials of such long labour. Shadows carve deep hollows beneath her eyes, skeletal, made almost sinister by the flicker of dim light, and her mouth is pale and cracked. Yet, there is naught but a buoyant sort of lightness adorning her face, shining more brilliantly than a crown ever could.

The chamber bears none of that ominous atmosphere that pervaded that night, instead filled with the heady scent of frankincense clogging each breath he draws, earthy smoke settling warm in his gut. The sheets are clean. The midwives calm. The Grand Maester, asleep in the chair by the fire.

And, in the Queen’s arms, the smallest wrapped bundle he has ever seen.

“Is that…” He swallows, dazed and speechless.

His cousin beams. “Come,” she says. “Come and meet her.”

Wordlessly, he approaches, taking care to make his footfalls light so as not to disturb the delicate creature enshrined in a mother’s embrace. As he draws close, he sees that the babe is not asleep as he had thought. Instead, open eyes look upward, deep dark indigo with the merest hint of lilac-violet-amethyst, the promise of Old Valyria in that muzzy, unfocused gaze.

This is the moment he meets you.

Aemma graciously accepts his silent question, relinquishing you to your uncle with naught but a gentle sigh and a stroke to the cheek. So little are you that you settle easily into the line of his arm, head to the crook of his elbow and rump to his cupped hand, light enough that it would be easy to forget you are even there. You let out a soft bleat, feet kicking beneath your swaddling—but that is all. For when that blue-nearly-purple stare shifts, locking with his, you fall silent, still. And so does he.

You are beautiful.

Of course you are. Viserys is hardly the handsomest of men, and Aemma comely enough though of no great noteworthiness, but their firstborn is about as lovely as any girl of nine summers can be. Your sister.

Gods, he thinks. Rhaenyra, an elder sister. The very notion of his spoiled little niece playing such a part seems unwittingly hilarious in this moment. She will not like being made to share her mama and papa—her uncle—with you.

Right now, that is irrelevant. His attention returns to the slope of your nose, the rosebud bloom of your lips, the blush of your rounded cheeks, tracking the near ethereal features of your face with a delicate fingertip. Newborns are dreadful looking things, usually, squished and red and misshapen. You look like a painting, or a doll made by the finest artisans, a sculpture rendered by magic rather than mortal hands. He wonders if it is love for you—and it is love, he has no doubt of that, for his love of family is perhaps the one true redeeming quality he possesses—that blinds him to any imperfection, or if you really are as lovely as you seem.

“What will you name her?” he asks, smoothing the cloths off your fragile little head to take the briefest peek at your scalp. Ah—there it is. Targaryen silver. With an Arryn for a mother, one could never be certain.

“Rhaenyra’s insisted on naming her sister Visenya.”

Daemon glances toward the foot of the bed. Viserys has returned, absent of his loyal hound, drawing near without his notice.

He snorts. “How very like her.” ‘Tis true; Rhaenyra has always been fixated on stories of the Conqueror and his wives, in particular forming a fascination for the elder of Aegon’s Queens. It is a powerful name. A warrior’s name. He frowns. “A fine name—but not for this little thing.”

Visenya is anger and retribution; violence and chaos; death and destruction. Daemon can find nothing of the sort in you. Every part of you—from the tips of your fuzzed palewhite hair to the petite softness of your wiggly little feet—seems fit for a destiny of another kind. One of peace, of calm, of joy and goodness.

Aemma hums an agreement, wholly preoccupied with gazing at her newest child. “If she were a son, her name would be Baelon.”

“Hm.” Viserys steps forward, palm brushing featherlight across your side as he passes to sit by his wife. “Baelon and Visenya. Those are the names we had prepared. But alas, Baelon was not to be. And Visenya is not… right.”

Daemon stands, bringing you a scant few steps toward the window. Dawn is approaching. The sky has relinquished the darkness of night, and there, on the horizon, the faintest of ambers illuminates the locus where the heavens and the earth meet, silhouetting the city below. As he watches the sun rise, he just barely hears the staff behind him make their final exits, awash in a rustle of equipment and a hush of words offered to their mistress and exultant ruler.

A tiny noise below draws his interest. Your eyelids have drooped, soft lashes framing lavender lids that sweep across the skin of your cheeks. When he dips his finger into the parting of your mouth, you begin to suckle at him, reflex rather than need.

“What would you call her?” Aemma asks after seconds, minutes, hours. He turns, brow arched in surprise. She seems genuinely curious, though she is admittedly not one for mean-spirited japes as it is. His cousin has always valued his opinion more than his brother ever had, even if was she who had forced his bitch of a wife upon him. “If you could,” she adds, “what name would you give her?”

He looks to Viserys, wordlessly asking for permission. A dip of the chin is his response. Letting loose a soft grunt, he peers down at his small charge.

Visenya is too fierce. Gael too glum. Too many fucking ‘Rhae’ names, so no Rhaenys. Daella too bland, Saera too provocative, Alysanne too common.

And then, he thinks upon it. The perfect name. Your name. When he says it aloud, he is met with a shine in Aemma’s eyes, a gleam in Viserys’s grin.

“That is it,” the King says, nodding decisively. “That is what we shall call her.” Rising, he comes forward to clap Daemon on the shoulder lightly, hand warm even through the layers of his shirt and coat. “Thank you, brother.”

“Your Grace,” he murmurs, tipping his head.

There is a tightening in his chest, the sort of feeling that threatens to stop his heart from the depth of his own enduring emotion. As Viserys makes his way to the door to deliver the announcement—to proclaim your birth, to order the ringing of the bells, to declare your name for the entire world to hear and know—Daemon gazes down at you.

“What do you think, sweetling?” He says your name again.

This time, he swears that you smile back at him.

Read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48798151/chapters/123097897

Taglist (😭 thank you!):

Now in the comments!

To be on the taglist:

Click here to apply for the general taglist! Click here to apply for the terms of endearment taglist!

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iluvfinnmertens · 2 months

Note

May you please do platonic Alastor with non-verbal transmasc reader? Where Alastor treat reader as a lil bro and reader goes for advices and most likely only talks to Alastor. Perhaps Alastor defining him from bullies or something? Please add a hug at the end

I hope it was a good request, sorry if not

જ⁀➴ Alastor x non verbal! transmasc reader (platonic!!) ๋࣭ ⭑

your a non verbal transmasc demon that confides in alastor to be a sort of family member to him! <;33

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Details: ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

๋࣭ ⭑ Request: requested :D

๋࣭ ⭑ Pairing: platonic Alastor x nonverbal! transmasc reader

๋࣭ ⭑ TW: slight anxiety attack, you almost get jumped, normal alastor lol

๋࣭ ⭑ Word Count: 647

๋࣭ ⭑ Timeline: after episode 2

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

Headcannons!!!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ● When he first met you he was confused on why you werent replying but brushed it off as nervousness. But then Charlie told him you were non-verbal.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ● He did not know what the heck that meant but Charlie informed him and he didn't understand it that well but he tried his best.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ● He also had no clue what being transmasc meant he just automatically assumed you were a guy and nobody told him until you eventually did to which he was just confused but once again tried. He's trying his best.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ● He would probably enjoy just sitting and watching everyone interact with you beside him. Both just watching the chaos unfold.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ● If you asked him for advice he would compliment you on choosing him for advice over all of the other hotel residents.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ● Would let you just sit in his radio room with him during his broadcasts.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ● If you were getting bullied he would probably tear them to shreds and enjoy it.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ● You're the only one he accepts physical affection from when he's not the one starting it.

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

Everyone was in the lobby of the hotel except Al. Charlie was in the middle of ramble about another exercise trying her best to explain with the normal commentary from the others. You just sat on the couch next to Husk and Angel, spacing out. Husk and Angel were doing their usual banter. Alastor then spawns from a shadow on the floor casually and walks over and sits down on an armchair. Charlie then finishes her explanation with a smile and a big intake of breath.

“We are all gonna be going out and doing daily chores in pairs!” Charlie says happily, clapping her hands as Angel raises his hand. “Uh yes Angel?” Charlie asks, confusion written on her face.

“How is this supposed to help us get redeemed?” Angel asked with a raised eyebrow and his normal tone. Looking with a teasing yet actually confused grin.

“Well this is more of a bonding exercise! We need to learn to treat each other with kindness!” She said with a smile and point of her fingers. “Okay now for pairs, Alastor and (name) can go together, Husk and Angel, Niffty and Sir pentious and me and Vaggie!” She said, grabbing Vaggies hand. She then gave chores for each person to do, yours and alstors being getting groceries since she said they were running low. Better to make sure nobody starves you guess.

Alastor and you were ushered out of the hotel. You just stood there for a minute before Al started walking down the sidewalk.

“Well come along dear!” Alastor's staticky voice said as you quickly hurried to follow along. You were both now just walking down the street in awkward silence. He soon began humming a random tune as sinners nearby were doing normal sinner things like stabbing each other and lighting fires. You see the grocery store sign light up in the distance. After a few more blocks of what seemed like endless sidewalks you reached the doors and entered with Alastor. You then go searching through aisles and aisles for everything on Charlie's quite long list. But soon a little plush had caught your eye and you had stopped to look at it. You picked it up with a smile as you looked down on its cute face. You then gently set it back down and when you looked back up Alastor was nowhere to be seen.

You whipped your head around immediately feeling super anxious at being alone. You couldn't find him anywhere nearby so you stood for a moment trying to calm your breathing. You then noticed a group of what looked like not a good group of demons approaching you, you tried to remain calm as they surrounded you. One of them went to swing at you as you flinched and closed your eyes tightly… nothing. You open your eyes to find Alastor in front of you glaring a hole into the demons still with his usual smile on his face.

“I’m about to end your fucking life.” He says with a glare well sadistically ripping them all apart. (for reasons I am not describing that) He then brushed himself off and turned back to you. “Well that was fun! Are you alright dear?” He says with a smile as he leans against his cane. You just nodded, still quite freaked out. You eventually wrap your arms around him pulling him close, he seems quite surprised as his eyes widen at you before returning the hug. He patted your back as a form of comfort before you finally pulled back "Suppose we should get back to the hotel! I'm sure they are all wondering where we are!” He said turning to leave as you followed close behind. Eventually you both make it back to the hotel. Charlie looks at you with confusion.

“Where's the groceries?” She asks with a frown. Well… whoops.

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

I suck at writing for Al lol but hope you liked it nonetheless! Im working on another fic right now which might take me a couple days! ( ¯ □ ¯ ) have a nice day!!

notes are appreciated!! d(･∀･)b

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #x male reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #story #fanfictions #request #platonic

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morallyinept · 5 months

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Every Pedro character and every single line they say.*

Exactly what it says on the tin! A list of every Pedro character and their full dialogue/lines. I'm putting this together, mostly as a writing source.

Sometimes, referring to an original character's dialogue can help when trying to write for them. For example, you can see patterns in their speech, words they favour to use over again etc... So, I hope this proves useful for anyone writing for Pedro's Characters. Or if you just want to simply read the dialogue for fun.

☝🏻This will be updated regularly, and when new characters are added to Pedro's portfolio of works.

*List does not include certain adverts, skits, voiceovers, guest appearances on shows/SNL, or table/script readings.

Please see below for all the Pedro characters in TV, podcasts and film. Translations included.

Enjoy! 🖤

Buy me a Ko-fi ☕️ If you like my work and enjoy what I put out there, you have the option of buying me a Ko-fi, if you'd like to. It's never expected, but always greatly appreciated. 🖤

In alphabetical order:

TV & FILM:

Billy - Iris

Clint - Freaky Tales

David - Window Shopping

David Portillo - Homeland ALL EPISODES

Dave York - The Equalizer 2

Dieter Bravo - The Bubble

Din Djarin - The Mandalorian ALL EPISODES & THE BOOK OF BOBA FETT EPISODES

Ed Indelicato, Detective - Wonder Woman UNAIRED

Eddie The Freshman - Buffy The Vampire Slayer

Ezra - Prospect

Francisco 'Catfish' Morales - Triple Frontier

Frederick Mercer - Charlie's Angels UNAIRED

Goth Guy - Earth vs. The Spider MINIMAL LINES

Greer, Special Agent - L&O SUV

Greg - Undressed

Gregor New - Good vs. Evil

Jack Daniels, Agent Whiskey - Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Jay Castillo - Red Widow ALL EPISODES

Javier Gutierrez - The Unbearable Weight Of Massive Talent

Javier Peña - Narcos ALL EPISODES

Joel Miller - The Last Of Us ALL EPISODES

Juan Badillo, Agent - Graceland ALL EPISODES

Kyle Hartley - CSI

Kyle Wilson - Without A Trace

Liam - Nikita

Lucien Flores - The Univited

Marcus Moreno - We Can Be Heroes

Marcus Pike - The Mentalist ALL EPISODES

Maxwell Lord - Wonder Woman 1984

Max Phillips - Bloodsucking Bastards

Nathan Landry - The Good Wife ALL EPISODES

Nico - House Comes With A Bird

Noah - I Am That Girl

Oberyn Martell - Game Of Thrones ALL EPISODES

Omar Assarian - Lights Out

Ortega, Special Agent - The Sixth Gun UNAIRED

Oscar Castro Varga - Exposed UNAIRED

Paul, Maître'D - The Adjustment Bureau MINIMAL LINES

Paulino - Sweet Little Lies

Pedro Across The Street - Calls

Pero Tovar - The Great Wall

Pietro Alvarez - If Beale Street Could Talk

Reggie Luckman - L&O Criminal Intent

Ricky Hauk - Touched By An Angel

Santos - Drive Away Dolls TBR

Shane 'Dio' Morrissey - NYPD Blue

Silva - Strange Way Of Life

Steve - Hermanas

The Thief - Casillero Del Diablo Wines ALL COMMERCIALS

Steve - Nurse Jackie

Ted Garcia - Eddington

Tim Rockford, Detective - Merge Mansion ALL COMMERCIALS

Tito Cabassa - L&O

Veracruz, Comandante - Burn Notice: The Fall Of Sam Axe

Zach Goffman - Body Of Proof

Zach Wellison - Brothers & Sisters

PODCASTS:

Dan Landry - Motherhacker

AWAITING CONFIRMATION OF ROLE:

Materialists - Character TBC

Gladiator 2 - Character TBC

☝🏻New characters will be added as and when new projects are released.

If I've missed any, or there is one you would specifically want to see, please let me know. 🖤

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #din djarin #javier pena #dieter bravo #frankie morales #marcus pike #marcus moreno #javier gutierrez #ezra prospect #max phillips #maxwell lord #pero tovar #dave york #agent whiskey #detective tim rockford

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w2nv · 4 months

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EVERY EPISODE SO FAR THAT DOESNT END WITH “GOODNIGHT, NIGHT VALE. GOODNIGHT”

SO I finished the list today! This list includes any variation of the phrase, episodes where he just doesn’t say it although present, and episode where he doesn’t say it because he’s not present. I decided to mark colour code them as a result!

• variation, • no goodnight, • no Cecil

Before I start:

I did not include extra episodes like snippets from the lives shows and such.

For the quotes here I only took the final phrase. So anything that breaks the usual scheme like a lack of “stay tuned next” or any lengthy monologue about anything relating to the goodnight phrase, I didn’t quote

I’m thinking about making a video compilation later on but for now I DONT have the space to dowload all these episodes so this will do for now!

If I missed any, lmk!

———————————————————————————

• 1 — Pilot

Good night, listeners. Good night.

• 2 — Glow Cloud

Good night, listeners. Good night.

• 3 — Station Management

Good night, Night Vale. And goodbye.

• 4 — PTA Meeting

Good night, listeners. Good night.

• 5 — The Shape in Grove Park

Good night, listeners. Good night.

• 6 — The Drawbridge

Buenas noches, Night Vale. Good night.

• 7 — History Week

And, from this moment in history, the one that’s happening right now, good night.

• 8 — The lights in Radon Canyon

It is a good night, listeners. Good night.

• 9 — “PYRAMID”

Speaking of the nighttime, I truly hope you have a good one, Night Vale. Goodnight.

• 10 — Feral Dogs

Get your sleep, Night Vale. And don’t forget to dream. Good Night.

• 14 — The Man in the Tan Jacket

Good night, Night Vale. Be alert, and write down everything you cannot comprehend. Until next time.

• 15 — Street Cleaning Day

Good night. Good night. Good night.

• 19B — The sandstorm

Kevin: Until next time, Desert Bluffs, Until next time.

• 46 — Parade day

And until next time, Good Night, Night Va- Hey. Hey. No. What are you-

• 47 — Company Picnic

Kevin: And, as always, until next time, Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area. Until next time.

• 49A — Old Oak Doors (Part A)

Listeners, there is someone knocking on my station door, which must mean…Carlos? Carlos, is that you? Come in, and welcome home, my sweet Car…

• 53 — The September Monologues

Well, that's it for the September Monologues. We've said so much. What more is there to say?

• 65 — Voicemails

Kevin: Until next time, Cecil. Until next time.

• 67 — [Best Of?]

Leonard Burton: And as always "See ya, Night Vale. See ya."

• 70A — Taking Off

Kevin: Until next time, new Desert Bluffs, until next time. Oh. Oh no. This is so sad. No. I don’t like this. I am sad. No. No.

• 85 — The April Monologues

And so we reach the end of the April Monologues. There is much that could be said. I will say none of it.

• 86 — Standing and Breathing

Good night, Night Vale. (Maybe lock those windows too.) Good night.

• 87 — The Trial of Hiram McDaniels

Good night. I guess.

• 88 — Things Fall Apart

Hello? [very faint breathing] Hello? [very faint breathing] Who is this? [distant dog bark]

• 89 — Who’s a good boy? (Part 1)

“I want nothing, Cecil. Nothing at all. And I will have it.” Huff huff huff. Huff huff Huff.

• 94 — All Right

All right Night Vale. Good night.

• 98 — Flight

Good night.

• 100 — Toast

Good night, Night Vale, and every person who can hear my voice. Good night.

• 101 — Guidelines for Retrieval

Happy purging, Night Vale. And goodnight.

• 104 — The Hierarchy of Angels

Good night, Night Vale. Josie was beautiful. And angels are real. Good night.

• 109 — A Story About Huntokar

Huntokar: Good night, my Night Vale. Good night.

• 111 — Summer 2017, Night Vale, USA

Good night, listeners. Good night.

• 113 — Niecelet

Any second now. Any second. Any... second.

• 120 — All Smiles’ Eve

Lauren: Good night, Kevin. And good night, Desert Bluffs Too.

Kevin: Good night.

• 128 — A Matter of Blood (Part 2)

Oh god, it’s here.

• 133 — Are You Sure?

Is this the first time you’ve heard me say this? Are you sure? Welcome to Night Vale.

• 135 — The Mudstone Abyss (Part 1)

Kevin: Until next time, Desert Bluffs, Until next time.

• 136 — The Mudstone Abyss (Part 2)

Charles: Kevin. I. Handlebar cereal, okay? Handlebar cereal.

VM: End of message.

• 137 — The Mudstone Abyss (Part 3)

Kevin: Until next time, Desert Bluffs, Until next time.

• 148 — The Broadcaster

Leonard Burton: And until tomorrow, "See ya, Night Vale. See ya."

• 156 — The Trouble with Time

Listeners. I must go. I must talk to my husband. We can be together forever, don’t you see? A new world awaits us in the future. I must talk to Carlos. I must.

• 157 — The Promise of Time

Kasper: Believe in a smiling god, buddy. Believe in a smiling god.

• 164 — The Faceless Old Woman (Live)

FOW: And I will be seeing you very, very… soon.

• 171 — Go To The Mirror?

Won’t you have a good night, Night Vale? Won’t you have a good night?

• 175 — The October Monologues

And as the leaves are done, so are the October Monologues. All that can be said has been said. And all that can be said will be said again.

• 177 — Bloody Laws, Bloody Claws: The Murder of Frank Chen

That about does it for me, Night Vale. That about does it for me.

• 195 — Silas the Thief (Part 1)

Silas: And my name is Silas. Not Khoshekh. Okay? Okay.

• 196 — Silas the Thief (Part 2)

And one I have to consider. Am I Khoshekh? I don’t know if I’m ready to admit that just yet.

• 199 — Guidelines for Retrieval

Happy hoarding, Night Vale. Goodnight.

• 200 — Susan Willman Comes Clean

Susan Willman: So let me begin. This is a story about Huntokar, said a voice on the radio. A voice you had never heard before, though she has been speaking to you your whole life.

• 203 — The Kareem Nazari Show

Kareem: Again, really sorry. Uh, so… Take care. I guess.

• 216 — The Ball Is Where The Win Is

Steve: You have already made me so proud

• 221 — The Glow Cloud, Explained

All Hail, Night Vale. All Hail.

• 227 — A Word With Dr. Jones

Lubelle: Show over, Night Vale. Show over.

• 230 — Carlos, Explained

Good night, my Night Vale restored. Good night.

• 237 — Frown Night

Kevin: Until next time, Desert Bluffs Too, Until next time.

• 239 — Sister Cities: Vermillion Falls

Frank Luna: Good evening, Vermillion Falls. Good evening.

• 240 — He Is Holding a Knife

He is holding a knife. He takes the knife, and sets it against the microphone cord. And with one smooth and easy motion, he cuts the co-

#in other news #welcome to night vale #welcome to nightvale #wtnv podcast

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cosmichahn · 3 months

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BEWITCHED

Melissa Schemmenti x Fem!Reader —☆

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ about: melissa only expected for her friday evening to go as always, but plans change when she sees you crying on the sidewalk

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ warning/s: mild cursing

ִִֶֶָָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ word count: 4.7k

ִִֶֶָָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ note/s: first time writing for mel, might be a bit rusty but i really enjoyed writing this and hope you guys enjoy reading! lyrics from bewitched and from the start by laufey mentioned. (i also have not watched the new episodes yet so yeah)

The parent evening at Abbott Elementary just ended, as every teacher and every parent went their separate ways. Everyone but you who left about an hour earlier than everyone. No one knows why, no one dared to ask when you rushed out of the building after cleaning up your classroom and grabbing your bag. Not even a goodbye like you always do, especially to Melissa who grew worried because of this; but she decided not to call you, especially how it seemed as though you wanted some time alone.

Your movement wasn’t harsh, nor was it rough. It was more of a quiet rush that might as well be considered worse than an angry one.

Melissa says her goodbyes to her co-workers before setting off to go home. She looks at her phone set up on the side with an attached stand to it, pondering on whether she should call you and ask how you are or perhaps not. You’ve only been at Abbott for a year, and in that year, Melissa grew very fond of you. There was just something about you she couldn’t pinpoint in the beginning, not until one of her kids came rushing to her crying and asking for you, for some reason. You started as an aide just to see if the teaching position would fit you at Abbott after about four years of teaching experience in a different state.

When you were Melissa’s aide, her days never ended up being exhausting. You were a breath of fresh air and really helped her around the classroom; with managing two classes at once, it’s not an uncommon occurrence for Melissa to stress herself out. Eventually, you’ve come to apply for an official teaching role at Abbott to teach 6th grade Biology after 2 and a half months of being an aide. It was perfect since the last Biology teacher just straight up gave up and signed up for a resignation; which is a bad image given that it kind of shows the students a message that they may not be worthy enough to stay for since that said teacher left to go to Addington. It’s great that you’re qualified for the teaching role and Ava, especially, was thankful for that.

The redhead drives over the street, her mind only occupied with next week's lesson plans that she should finish on Sunday. Thankfully she’s already done with grading papers. As her mind wanders, she comes across someone familiar on the street, tears pouring down. She stops her car immediately near the familiar broken down car whose owner is the person crying in front of her. You.

Upon noticing the sudden warmth of someone’s presence, you look up only to feel embarrassed, so you quickly wipe off the tears that already stained the bottom of your shirt used for wiping them off. You have the mascara stained from all the tears, and the lipstick that smudged just right on the side of your lips. This is an ugly cry that you never want anyone to see, but Melissa is the exception. You don’t mind her.

She looks at you with not pity, but worry. Wiping off the dust and small grains of dirt she can get off beside where you are, Melissa takes a seat, trying not to be too close to you so you can have enough space to be comfortable or not feel too crowded. “Hon, what happened?” Her voice is so smooth that it sounds like the only symphony you can listen to for the rest of your existence. She looks at you, her eyes speaking more emotion than her words, as always.

“It’s nothing, really.” You sniffle your runny nose in between words that shake your voice and tone. “Just a mishap, but thanks.” Your eyes meet hers, giving her a light chuckle which makes her raise her eyebrow.

“You know me enough not to believe this stunt.” She slightly tilts her head towards you, crossing her arms. Melissa knows you too well upon the year she spent with you at Abbott. She knows when you’re being all bullshit. This is one of those times.

You look at your lap, then your hands that had small stains of black from that mascara that you wore today. “Fine, it’s something. But it’s not really that big of a deal, Mel.” Your gaze turns to her. “It’s just a parent being a parent.”

“Seeing you like this doesn’t make it feel like it’s a small deal.” Melissa isn’t always one for being interested so quickly towards someone, but you just managed to intrigue her the more she knew about you.

In defeat, you tell her what happened; but you feel guilty upon telling her all of this. For whoever up there’s sake, this is only your second year at Abbott and you’re already dropping a bucket worth of tears over one comment a parent made for the first time in your whole career. “One of the parents, um, she called me a terrible teacher because her son was struggling with something and all I really did was help her son out but she wasn’t listening to what I was saying and blamed it all on me.” Talking about your problems really has always been the catapult to a breakdown that you can never find a way to stop. “She blamed it all on me that her son’s grades weren’t high enough, when he has always excelled in all of his subjects. He’s on the verge of burning out, and I’m just trying to help him, Mel.”

“She thinks her son’s grades aren’t enough, when they’re high and he already reached his goal. The mother is so strict but I can’t speak on it because I am not the parent, I am only the one who teaches and calculates the grades. I don’t make the grades, I just help the students achieve the grade they want. She called me terrible. A terrible teacher. I have never been called that and I feel so bad, so guilty, and sensitive, for feeling this way about it. About what she said. And I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you when you’re handling two classes at once, you’re incredible, and I know how stressed you are at times. I care about you a lot.”

Melissa thinks before she speaks, signaling if she can touch you and you nod in response; and so she places her arm around your shoulder, pulling you in with a small apologetic smile. “Some parents really are like that, and unfortunately we can’t exactly do anything about it other than have a quiet and listening conversation with our student.” You hold onto her other hand, feeling her squeeze yours in comfort. “And you don’t have to apologize for feeling this way. No apologies to me, we all have our own experiences, hon.” Melissa removes her arm around you, where she is now holding both of your hands in hers. You melt under her touch, she brings you warmth. She’s the beaming sun that lifts up your glow. “Your feelings aren’t any less. I care about you too, I care a lot.”

You only mumble a quiet thank you to her, letting go of her hands before moving closer and burying your face on her neck, feeling the warmth she had to offer. The comfort her presence gave you was enough to recharge from a tiring day. “Thank you so so much, Mel.” The warmth Melissa gave not only came from her natural body temperature, but also the sudden contact of you leaning into her this close that sent up sparks in her mind and caused her to grow a blush she couldn’t take away.

Melissa places her right hand on your back, leaning her head on yours, before whispering “Anything for you, cara.”

“You’re so nice to me, Mel.” You whisper with a small chuckle, feeling her heart beating, feeling it speed up. “I never knew that something I would say is enough to make your heart crazy.”

“Great assumption you got there.” Melissa jokes, lifting your face off her shoulder. You looked a mess with your smudged makeup, and yet still she was enchanted by you; to her you were still beautiful as always, and she was glad that you felt comfortable being in states like this around her. She keeps your trust the way you take care of hers.

“No use in lying to me when I look like a mess.” You shrug your shoulders, feeling the tension of your feelings cool down and feel lighter. She only playfully rolls her eyes and chuckles at you.

You never denied your attraction towards Melissa, but that’s something she doesn’t know. Something you never had the guts to tell her; you were just scared, confused as to how and why would she date someone like you. Someone younger, obsessed with movies, and could talk about anything and everything within every second of the day. You’ve seen how Melissa acts when Jacob starts yapping about something, but then if you’re the one doing it, she never scolds or avoids you when you talk about your interests even though she doesn’t get most of them. Melissa could just be really friendly to a selected number of people, and you’re lucky enough to be one of those people; that’s one of the main reasons as to why you’d rather not express your romantic feelings for her.

Melissa is too important to you. She’s your friend first before all.

“Why are you even stopped here anyway?” Melissa questions, looking at your car parked on the side near hers.

Embarrassed, you answer her with a small hint of nervousness “Well, you see, I ran out of gas.” You also realize your inability to head home because you remember now that you left your house keys on the desk right before you rushed out of the school a while ago. “Shit! I left my house keys in the school. Son of a bitch.”

Your evening after that parent situation really isn’t going how you want it to. First, you forget your apartment keys in a school that’s already locked, and second, your car is out of gas. You have nowhere to go and nowhere to sleep in, until an idea pops up in mind, but Melissa had another idea. “You can always stay at my-”

“I can call Janine and ask her if I can stay.” You say in full confidence, remembering how Janine once offered for you to stay at her place if ever that there were any cases of unfortunate occurrences. But instead of Melissa agreeing and knowing it’s better for you to stay at Janine’s, she reacts differently.

“No! I meant you can stay at my place.” This peaks the curiosity in you. A year of being friends with Melissa, and yet you’ve never been to her house before, surprisingly.

“As tempting as that offer is, I don’t want to be in the way of your weekend.” You say. Melissa only scoffed and shook her head with endearment. “And I do know how much you cherish your privacy.”

“That’s nonsense, sweetheart. You’re an exception.” Before you can say anything, Melissa stands up to open her car, making sure that you follow. “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer, by the way.” She’s pretty persuasive. Pretty and persuasive. She smirks at you as she waits for your approach; she leans on the car and crosses her arms with the keys dangling on her finger. “We both had a tiring day, so a little wine wouldn’t hurt too, right?”

You nod with excitement, looking back at your car while approaching Melissa’s. “Don’t worry, we can get back tomorrow. I have a guy that can help with your car without hassle.” Thankfully, the area where you stopped your car when it ran out of gas was a safe space. Knowing this part of Philly, it surely is more peaceful. Melissa is so thoughtful and just the sweetest, when what she always does, at least to you, is what you think of as something like the bare minimum or just something she does to her close friends. You’re not that special to her, as to what you think; but to her, you’re more than that.

Before leaving off with Melissa, you first check over your car just to grab your things. “Let me just get some stuff from my car. I don’t want any important things gone.” She nods as you head off, unlocking the back of the vehicle and grabbing some things. You take your files filled with student papers you need to check off and grade, then in front of the car is your bag with all of the pens you use and essentials. You double check to lock the door then look over to Melissa. “Well, it seems like we’re both gonna be occupied.” You say, showing her the very thick file folder you have.

“We can grade papers and drink wine.” She suggests, and all you can imagine is grading papers on the table together with Melissa’s glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose, hair up in a loose bun with a wine glass in hand and the smell of her lingering in her home. She holds your hand every so often after taking a sip of her wine and you brush a strand of hair off her face while she smiles at you and thanks you. That is all an image in your head.

“Sounds like a fun evening.” Is all you can say in reply.

As you approach her car, Melissa opens the door for you and you quickly thank her for it. The car ride was comfortable and quite fun. It’s not your first time riding in Melissa’s car, and usually she leads playing music in the car, but she actually lends you the aux cord from time to time. You connect your device to the speaker and radio in her car, where you then blast one of Laufey’s songs; a fairly recent artist that Melissa denied when you first played it around her, but she soon grew fond of the artist knowing that you loved listening to her music a lot.

Melissa would always find herself looking the artist up just so she could be reminded of you when she listens to it. It just for some reason makes her feel closer to you whenever she engages with things you love.

“You bewitched me.” You sing along the rhythm, slightly bopping your head to the light and magical tone of the song. Melissa quietly glances at you, a smile growing on her lips upon adoring the sight, before looking back on the street. “From the first time that you kissed me.” The lyrics catch Melissa, causing her to swallow the invisible lump in her throat. “To experience this song is to make my life complete.” You joke, not imagining anyone to dance to this song with other than Melissa.

Upon hearing this, Melissa wanted you to kiss her under the bustling lights of an evening in Philly. She wanted to lean in and whisper how much she wanted to keep you in her heart. She wanted to be the one who makes you bewildered, bewitched.

“Well, if I ever get the time to buy her vinyl, that would also be an alternate way to complete my life.” You shrug, chuckling.

But I’m falling so badly, I’m coming apart. The song continues. You cast me a note, cast a spell on my heart.

Melissa takes a quick glance over the radio. Well, you’re right about that. She thinks to herself, indulging the lyrics of the sweet yet whimsical song.

“Not the first time you’ve talked about the artist.” She looks over to you through the front mirror, noticing the embarrassed chuckling you let out. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I think it’s cute.”

“Thanks, Mel. People don’t really engage with me when I talk about things I love.” You look over at her with an endearing smile. “But thankfully I have you, don’t I?”

“I talk about firefighters to you a lot, hon. I think we’re even.” She laughed quietly. “And you really love the food I make.” In all honesty, there’s a mix of excitement and nervousness in Melissa right now. It’s your first time both going to her house and staying over there for the weekend. Is the sink cleared? Will there be time to whip up a quick meal? Is her bedroom clean? Wait, you’re sleeping in her bedroom? On the same bed as her? Unless you don’t want to, she’ll just sleep on the couch. Melissa’s mind just shuffled.

You notice that Melissa kind of dozes off, so you try to catch her attention. “Mel, you good?” Waving off your hand beside her, until you catch her attention.

“I’m good. Just thinking of something.” You quirk an eyebrow making an attempt to guess, but trying not to push it much as for Melissa to not get frustrated.

You remember the vending machine guy that the Abbott crew would always mention to Melissa. Given that he leaves hints that he likes her. This happens way after they forget to tease you and Melissa for being close. Although there’s some sort of jealousy that flows through you whenever this happens, it’s not really something you can do anything about, given that perhaps Melissa feels the same for him too. “Ooo, is it Gary?” You tease.

Melissa shakes her head quickly. “No, that’s not- he’s not-”

“Oh! My bad, sorry.” You apologize but she denies this apology, saying that there’s nothing to apologize for.

The next moments were filled with comfortable silence, as you then start humming to the next song playing.

Don’t you dare look at me that way; I don’t need reminders of how you don’t feel the same.

─────────

Shortly afterwards, you arrived at Melissa’s place, seeing the beautiful interior displayed right in front of you. She looks at you adoring her house, with only the luminescence of the neighboring houses and the moon lighting up your face. “Beautiful.” Melissa compliments.

She leads you to the door, unlocking it while you stand behind her, carrying the file folder and your bag. You’re greeted by a well decorated living room and several photo frames across the walls and the side tables. “You can just place your things on the couch and I’ll whip us up something to eat for dinner and maybe a snack while grading. That sound good?”

You nod in response, carefully placing your things on the couch that’s still covered by plastic, but that’s okay. It’s very Melissa, quite as you think.

“You know, Schemmenti, you’re all heart and passion.” You say, following her to the kitchen. Melissa manages to short circuit after what you just said, trying to mentally fix her composure.

“Flattery doesn’t work around here. Sorry, Sweetheart.” She shakes her head with a soft chuckle before turning to you and leaning on the counter. “And besides, you’re not helping in the kitchen, but you can sit there and look pretty.”

Compliments like these are common between you and Melissa. Both of you appreciate and care for each other’s everything; even when Melissa’s stress and temper gets a hold of herself, or when you go quiet from being too overwhelmed. “Funny, but I do need to fix this face.” You point at the several faded marks of makeup on your face, making Melissa walk towards you and offer to take you upstairs where the bathroom is.

She points to the bathroom then leaves you there, with the idea going across her mind that you probably don’t have any spare clothes to change into to be able to sleep comfortably. Due to this, while you’re getting yourself clean in the bathroom, Melissa gets an old Eagles shirt that she found in her closet and a pair of sweats she never uses. She knocks on the bathroom door with the clothes hanging on one of her arms. “I got you some clothes, hon.” She says, and you reply to her with thanks. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you so much, Mel.” You open the door and thank her, carefully taking the neatly folded clothes from her arm.

You soon finish freshening up, looking at yourself all fixed up in the mirror with the change of clothes on. The Eagles shirt smells exactly the way Melissa does, and you take it in, feeling as though she’s with you right now. The scent fills you with comfort and warmth you don’t want to stop feeling.

Upon arriving at the kitchen, you’re greeted with a quick meal that Melissa made that’ll surely fill you up for the evening. You wonder how long you took in the bathroom because Melissa is already in a different set of clothes with, just as you thought, her hair in a loose bun. She sees you and the only thought that comes across her mind is ‘Damn’ There was just something about seeing you in her clothes, in her kitchen, even in her car, that felt so domestic. It’s the same thing she feels every time she offers to pick you up from somewhere or when you have lunch ‘dates’ where it’s just the two of you; or when sometimes she asks you to go to the farmer’s market with her, and you ask her to go to music stores and bookstores with her.

Now, you’re here in her house. You’re staying over for the weekend, and she can’t help but just keep herself from getting too attached to the idea of a domestic life with you.

“That looks delicious!” You exclaim, walking towards the counter where Melissa had already set up two stools and two sets of plates.

“You look delicious.” She blurts out which makes you burst out laughing, in mind that she was probably just joking around like always. You playfully punch Melissa’s shoulder, and if anyone were to ever do that to her, she would probably punch them harder, but she only looks at you with her brows furrowed.

You shake your head, “I thought flattery doesn’t work around here.” You sit across Melissa from the counter where you both prepare to eat. It’s filled with silence, before she clears her throat and tells you.

“Delicious doesn’t say it all.” Melissa shrugs, wanting you to take the flirty compliment.

After exchanging a few laughs with each other over dinner, you stop to look at Melissa who just finished laughing at something you said. “I like this side of Melissa Ann Schemmenti.” You rest your chin on your palm, elbow flat on the table with your eyes only to hers. “Anyone who would have the chance to be with you is lucky enough to experience what it feels to have a domestic life with you.” You say without thinking of what this might cause to the aura in the room.

“Well, um, not that it matters when I say it.” You say, feeling your palms grow sweaty by the clock. “I think a domestic and simple life with a partner I love is just a really incredible thing, I mean, I would want that kind of life to be mine. Not that I’m assuming that it’s the same thing you want, of course.” You smile apologetically.

“You think about it a lot?” Melissa asks, intrigued to know more and yet still going back to what you previously said about her. Even though she knows she has feelings for you, it still sits in the back of her mind that she may not be fond of marriage. Especially with things during and after Joe, she’s not sure when, but she knows she’s not ready for anything other than a relationship. No marriage, no union or anything.

But why is it that when she thinks of you, she thinks of marriage? She thinks of a life where she wakes up with you on her side. She gets ready in front of her vanity with your reflection in the mirror adoring her from behind. Walking hand in hand around every corner of town. Giving each other flowers just because you felt like it. Taking care of each other when one’s sick. Talking about everything and nothing at night.

“Marriage? Not a lot, but settling with someone I love? Of course.” You like the topic of it all. You love love; how it’s always there, how it doesn’t always have to be a person, that it can grow in places or on people you don’t expect. To love and be loved is what you want, and have always wanted. “I want to one day be loved. To be held, heard. Be sappy and all. To wake up and do the littlest of things. It doesn’t matter if it’s only a quiet day at home or looking through the grocery list while the sounds of the washing machine bustle in the background.” After that brief monologue, you catch Melissa’s eyes.

“You never know.” She gives you that reassuring and hopeful smile. “That person might just be the one in front of you after all.” Melissa sees the way your expression changes from sentimental to a confused furrowed look that made her eyes widen upon realizing what she had just said.

This makes you think for a bit, your brain split in half. Is she just being helpful with the conversation or is she confessing something. She waits for a response quietly as the two of you silently sit across each other. Does she regret saying this? Is she overthinking things?

“I hope so.” You respond nervously. “Are you saying what I hope you’re saying?” She takes her hand out on the table, hoping for yours to hold hers and you do so.

“I want it to be me.” She holds your hand softly.

“Oh.” The only word that came out of you, not being able to process things immediately. Until this registers in mind. “Oh.” You’re clueless as to how to respond. “I need to pinch myself.” You say before standing up, in which Melissa lets out a soft laugh. “Jesus Christ.” You mumble to yourself.

Melissa stands up to tidy the table, but all you can do is freeze in place. Perhaps this is what really happens when your mind short circuits. She puts the used dishes properly in the sink, before wiping her hands clean where she then walks to stand near you, the counter facing your back as she is now standing in front of you. Only the surface of the counter and Melissa in between your body, with only a shorter distance between herself and you. She walks closer, making you walk back, but the edge of the counter is now sticking to your lower back. Both of her hands are placed on either side of the counter behind you.

You clear your throat, only able to look her right in the eyes. Her lips were right there, ready for you to lean in closer just to feel what you’ve always wanted to feel. Her. The risk is for you to take. No, for the both of you to take.

“May I kiss you?” Before you could receive a vocal response, you feel her lips coming in closer onto yours. With closed eyes, Melissa’s hands make their way up to your hips, then to your waist, which slightly lifts up the shirt you were wearing; and so the coolness of your untouched waist was cooled from her fingertips.

A smile grows from your lips, returning it. The world feels as though it froze around the two of you. She pulls away only to look at you and your stunned and lovesick reaction, not wanting the moment to end before kissing you again. A groan escapes her lips, relief and excitement. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.” Melissa mumbles in between kisses.

You swoop in and place both of your hands on her cheeks, feeling the warmth of her face on your palms. She takes a short step back as you lean more into the kiss, giving a light bite on her lower lip where she then smiles softly. “You’re the most beautiful person I have ever seen.” You whisper close to her, feeling her pull you closer by the waist. You’re smitten, and finally, she knows.

Your hands find themselves on Melissa’s shoulders as she pulls you in for a tight hug, her arms snaking around your waist as you rest your head on the crook of her neck.

The world froze around us, you kissed me good night.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #wlw #melissa schemmenti imagine

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fluentmoviequoter · 4 months

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They See Deacon Loves You (5+1)

Requested Here (such an amazing request & a fun question)!🤍

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: 5 times someone realizes Deacon loves you, and the 1 time he realizes for himself.

Warnings: fluff, more fluff, some slight angst, reader is injured and goes to hospital (#3). Irina Zemanova (#2) is from 1x19, which is my favorite episode (thus far at least)!

Word Count: 3.5k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

1. Hondo sees that Deacon loves you by how he looks at you.

Every member of 20-David is exhausted. The entire week has been spent working on a complicated case with numerous raids, two hostage situations, and no casualties. When the case is considered solved and is closed by the head detective, you all take a deep breath and prepare to leave.

“Hey, guys, I know we’re tired, but is anyone interested in celebrating?” Hondo asks, raising his wallet. “It’s on me this time.”

“Suddenly, I’m wide awake,” Street jokes.

“I’m in,” Tan answers with a shrug.

Deacon looks at you, and you purse your lips as you shrug. “Sure,” Deacon answers for both of you.

Of your team members, you’re the closest to Deacon. You’ve grown close over the years, and you can talk without speaking, communicate without listening, and naturally gravitate toward each other no matter where you are.

On nights like these, you and Deacon tend to sit together, but Chris drags you to one end of the table as Hondo stops Deacon to talk at the other. Hondo asks a question, and when Deacon doesn’t answer, he checks his face for signs that something is bothering his friend. Deacon’s eyes are trained on something across the room, his facial expressions changing from smiling to furrowing his brows as he watches… you, Hondo realizes as he turns.

You’re deep in a conversation with Chris, leaning forward across the table as you laugh and make small gestures. Deacon’s watching you closely, his expressions mirroring yours as a different emotion appears in his eyes.

Hondo learned years ago that Deacon talks with his eyes. Everyone on the team describes Deacon as ‘strong and silent,’ but he’s only silent until you learn to read his eyes. Hondo sits back in his chair, crossing his arms as he watches Deacon’s eyes. Deacon glances away, so Hondo looks over to see what happened. You look up when the waiter approaches to ask if anyone wants refills, and Deacon turns the other way before you can catch him staring. Hondo laughs to himself, but Deacon’s attention is back on you. Deacon leans toward you, likely unconsciously.

Hondo shakes his head as he answers for Deacon, getting refills for the whole table. He knows Deacon and you separately and as a team, but now he sees another way to know you. You and Deacon don’t know it yet; Hondo is sure of that, but he hopes he can get to know you together soon. Hondo realizes what that look in Deacon’s eyes was: love. Deacon Kay is wildly in love with you, and his eyes say it.

2. Irina Zemanova sees that Deacon loves you by how he protects you.

Irina trusts you more than Hondo. Though you’re unsure why, you’re happy to stay with her if it makes her safe and comfortable. She convinces you to go to the outdoor café with her, and you radio to Hondo as you walk out with Irina.

“My source says to go to the table with a bagel and coffee,” Irina tells you, looking up from her phone.

“It’s there,” you say, pointing to the table.

She sits, but you stay to the side, looking around for any threats or her unknown source. Irina is looking at something, and when you clock the man dressed in black removing a gun from his waistband, you yell for Irina to get down.

Hondo beats you to it, tackling Irina to the ground as you train your weapon on the gunman. He smirks at you before you hear more gunfire behind you. Someone pulls you to the ground, cradling your head to protect you from the concrete. You see Deacon hovering over you, his eyes glancing down your body to ensure you’re okay before he pulls you up.

Deacon moves to kneel behind a seat as you do the same, back-to-back as you protect the civilians around you. Hondo calls it in as the gunman gets away in a stolen Jeep. As he turns to yell at Irina, she finds a more interesting subject to focus on.

Behind Hondo, Deacon pulls you to your feet, laying his hands on your shoulders as he ducks his head and looks you over. You grab his wrist, getting his attention before you smile and shake your head.

“I’m okay. Thank you, Deac,” you say, assuming Irina is reading your lips correctly.

Deacon’s shoulders fall as his hands raise to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over the apples of your cheeks. He leans in slightly, his eyes roaming your face, catching on your lips momentarily before he pulls his hands away.

“This is all on you,” Hondo accuses, pointing at Irina. “And you will explain back at S.W.A.T. headquarters. You just made yourself a witness to a crime, so now I decide where you go.”

Irina tries to control her anger, choosing another subject. She asks, “Who are they?”

Hondo glances over his shoulder and tells her your last names. “And you nearly got them killed,” he adds.

✯✯✯✯✯

As Irina prepares to leave Los Angeles, she stops to talk to Hondo once more.

“Too bad you’re not coming with me,” she says.

“Oh, I would, but… duty calls,” Hondo replies, placing his hands in his pockets as he shrugs.

“We could be like them.” Irina points to you and Deacon with her chin.

“If they ever realize,” Hondo responds.

The rest of his comment dies on his tongue as Irina pulls him into a kiss. She steps back and makes a comment about why she did it; Hondo can’t exactly think straight after the unexpected affection. Irina walks away, slowing as she passes beside you, standing alone after Deacon left.

“You’ll be very happy together,” she says.

Your brows furrow as she leaves, unsure what, or who, she means. Irina returns to her home with the knowledge you don’t have yet: that Deacon Kay loves you, and because of that love, he protects you.

3. Commander Hicks sees that Deacon loves you by how he cares for you.

Hicks enters S.W.A.T. headquarters searching for a few volunteers for an upcoming police charity event. You and Deacon are two of only four officers present, so Hicks calls your names, summoning you out of the boxing ring and into his office.

“I know it’s late notice, but we need a few more volunteers,” Hicks explains once you’re in his office.

Deacon glances over at you and nods, so you answer, “We’d be happy to help.”

“What would we be doing?” Deacon asks.

Your head swims slightly, and you blink against the lights above you as Hicks answers.

“You would be working with the kids, I believe, showing them- hey, are you okay?” Hicks interrupts himself when you close your eyes and tilt forward slightly.

“Yeah, I…” you begin before tensing your facial muscles.

You don’t feel or hear anything after Deacon says your name. You tip back after losing consciousness, and Deacon rushes to wrap his arms around your waist, lowering you gently onto the couch beside you as Hicks calls for help.

“Paramedics will be here in less than five minutes,” Hicks tells Deacon, moving to stand beside him. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m just keeping her head up. Her pulse seems okay,” Deacon answers quietly.

Hicks watches Deacon’s jaw work, a storm in his eyes as he fights to stay calm. Deacon has always been open in showing that he cares for his team, but Hicks wonders if he would be this concerned if it were Hondo or Luca instead of you.

The paramedics enter the office, and Deacon reluctantly moves back, allowing them to work. Hicks lays a hand on his shoulder, not sure what to say to comfort Deacon.

“She’s strong, Deac. Whatever happened, she’ll recover,” he promises, hoping he’s right.

“I’m going with her,” Deacon says as the paramedics move you to a gurney.

“Of course. I’ll fill Hondo in and be by later,” Hicks answers.

He watches Deacon take your hand as the gurney is wheeled out. Deacon’s actions toward you are more than caring for a teammate; Hicks has work to do before he can evaluate your relationship with Deacon.

✯✯✯✯✯

Hicks knocks on the open hospital room door before he steps inside. Deacon looks the same as he did earlier, though Hicks knew he wouldn’t have left your side and won’t until he is forced to. Hicks smiles to himself when he sees Deacon sitting beside your bed, leaning toward you as you talk. Deacon interrupts to ask if you need anything, and your smile grows as you shake your head.

Hicks thinks you mouth, “Just you,” but Deacon’s head turns toward the door when Hicks enters.

"How are you feeling?" he asks as he sets a small bag by your leg. “That’s from Molly.”

“Tell her I said thank you,” you reply. “And I’m feeling okay. Thanks you for getting me help so quickly.”

“That was mostly Deacon. Do they know what happened yet?”

Deacon looks at you with raised brows. “Yeah, what happened?” he asks, sarcasm bleeding through under his continued concern.

You sigh as you turn toward Hicks. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

Hick’s brows raise, just as Deacon’s had, before he asks for more information.

“Last week, I got hit by something during a raid. I thought it was fine, just a bruise, but apparently it was deeper than I thought. My kidney was bruised and there was some slight internal bleeding,” you answer quietly, picking at the hospital blanket.

“Why didn’t our guys catch that?” Hicks asks.

You remain silent, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, so Deacon answers, “She didn’t tell anyone.”

Hicks laughs and shakes his head. He pats your shoulder and tells you not to do that again.

“I won’t. Sorry for worrying everyone,” you say, smiling up at Hicks.

“Feel better. Deacon will be here if you need anything, I suppose.”

Deacon nods, and you turn your attention to him as Hicks leaves. It’s just a glance, but Hicks sees that Deacon’s hand is under the cover, your hand gripped tightly in his. Even though they know what happened, Deacon can’t turn off the worry and the care because it’s ingrained in who he is.

4. Annie sees that Deacon loves you by how he touches and holds you.

Annie’s bed feels empty and cold. Since the divorce was finalized, she has slowly realized that the divorce was a mistake. Leaving Deacon was the biggest mistake of her life. If she had been more understanding or willing to talk to him, maybe they could be starting a family or working through their issues. Several months of being single have made Annie understand just how special what she had was. She needs Deacon back, she decides, and will do anything to get him.

Despite being divorced from Deacon, the officer at the front desk waves Annie through and hands her a badge. On the drive to S.W.A.T. HQ, Annie practiced what she would say. She needs to talk to him, and she’s not above begging him to give her another chance. Annie had Deacon once but made the terrible mistake of letting him go. With another chance, she won’t make the same mistake twice.

Annie stops when she sees Deacon and ducks behind a pillar as she listens and watches.

“So, your back hand will come around as you step out,” Deacon explains, his chest pressed against your back as he holds your wrists up.

“Front foot and back hand?” you clarify, glancing over your shoulder at Deacon.

“Yep.” He taps his foot against yours, signaling you to step out as his hand leads yours into the first move of a spinning hook. “From here, spin on the ball of your foot like a roundhouse and keep the hook pulled tight.”

“One more time?” you request, moving with Deacon as he moves through the steps, pulling you with him.

The movement pulls you closer to Deacon, and Annie sees he doesn’t mind. Not at all.

“Try one by yourself?” Deacon asks, stepping back.

Deacon’s hands drop slowly, his fingertips dragging down your arms until he backs away. He watches with a smile as you go through the steps slowly before taking a deep breath and doing it at full speed. The move feels identical to Deacon’s demonstration, but you look at him for confirmation.

“You did it! That was perfect!” Deacon cheers, his smile wide as he looks at you.

Deacon never looked at Annie like he is looking at you, but that’s not what catches her attention. Rather, it’s how he touches you.

You jump into Deacon’s arms, wrapping your arms over his shoulders as his circle your waist. Deacon spins you around before setting you down. His hand raises to your face, brushing over your cheek as he pushes a stray piece of hair back. Deacon’s touch is gentle and caring and so full of love. A kind of love that Annie didn’t experience. Deacon was never hers, Annie realizes, she just got lucky to have him for a while. His heart has been waiting for you, and she is no longer in his way.

5. Luca sees that Deacon loves you by how he serves you.

Luca’s grand opening of his food truck has come to the LAPD. He’s working, wanting to meet everyone and get a feel for how to best run the business. What better way to test operations and efficiency than feeding hungry law enforcement officers?

As he’s handing someone a plate of food, Luca notices you and Deacon standing side-by-side in line. The sunglasses on your face look suspiciously like Deacon’s, and his lack of sunglasses proves Luca’s suspicion. You turn your head and look up at Deacon, the sunglasses slipping as Deacon laughs at you, causing your smile to grow.

“Hey, man,” Deacon greets when he reaches the truck. “Busy day?”

“You’ve got no idea,” Luca answers. “What can I get ya?”

“Whatever you suggest.”

Luca looks at you, and you nod as you say, “Same for me.”

“Two suggestions comin’ up,” Luca replies before turning around.

You reach for your wallet, but Deacon grabs your hand. He shakes his head and hands Luca cash when he returns.

“Keep the change,” Deacon says with a smile.

“That’s against my morals,” Luca jokes.

“Then consider it a tip for the excellent suggestion,” you call as you step back. “And for keeping me alive.”

Luca laughs and waves before you turn around. Rocker steps forward to order, but Luca raises a finger to ask him to wait. Deacon’s hand is on your lower back, and Luca is invested in the affection and smiles you share with Deacon today.

“What are you looking at?” Rocker asks. He turns to follow Luca’s line of sight. “Oh. They finally together?”

“Not that I know of. Wait ‘finally’?”

“You don’t see it?” Rocker asks incredulously.

“They’re best friends,” Luca argues, furrowing his brow.

“Watch,” Rocker says with a laugh.

Deacon takes your food while you sit, then passes it to you before sitting beside you. He passes you napkins and a few packs of condiments and spices. You lean toward him to say something, then turn to eat.

“What are we missing?” Luca asks before taking Rocker’s order.

“You’ll see. Hopefully they will too,” Rocker answers, sighing.

✯✯✯✯✯

Luca’s eyes find you again just as Deacon stands. He raises his hand to you as he gathers your empty plate with his. Returning from the trash can, Deacon takes your hand to help you up. You jump to your feet, jostling your Deacon’s sunglasses with the movement. Deacon straightens the glasses against your face, smiling as you beam up at him. Your eyes are hidden behind the glasses, but Luca guesses you look similarly lovesick. Deacon has always been willing to serve people, but how he looks after you and provides for you is different.

“Told you,” Rocker says as he walks by, returning to work.

+1. Deacon realizes that he loves you by how you honor him and yourself.

Los Angeles is being hit by “the storm of the century,” according to the weather forecasters. The LAPD has opened several storm shelters, including S.W.A.T. headquarters. 20-David volunteered to help, and you were quickly separated from Deacon when you jumped to action.

Deacon finishes his assigned task and moves to a corner to look around. He wants to find something else to do, to help the people who need it, but he sees you and gets distracted. You’re rushing around, smiling kindly, as you help people. Giving out small care packages, finding blankets, giving people directions, everything you do is done with a smile, respect, and honor for yourself, your station, and your city. You care for the people around you, even though they were strangers before the storm.

Deacon watches you kneel in front of a small boy. His face is hidden, pressed against his knees as he curls into himself. You place a hand in front of you, palm up, as you say something. He raises his head just enough to look at you. Whatever you say works because he places one of his hands in yours.

Deacon feels something he hasn’t felt before. His heart feels like it’s being squeezed, and he’d be concerned if you weren’t around, but you’ve always caused unique feelings in him. This is different, though.

You pull the boy into your arms, standing as he hides your face in the crook of your neck. Slowing down, you look around before your eyes find Deacon. Smiling at each other, you walk to the quiet corner where Deacon has been waiting.

“Tommy,” you whisper, rubbing the boy's back as you approach Deacon.

It’s only been a few minutes, but Deacon missed your voice and presence beside him more than he thought possible.

“This is Sergeant Kay,” you tell Tommy. “He’s like a superhero. He saves people, but he gets scared, too.”

Deacon smiles as Tommy turns his head against your shoulder to look at the supposed superhero. Deacon’s heart rate increases with your comment and how gentle you are with Tommy.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy,” Deacon says.

“You, too. Do you really get scared when you’re saving people?” he asks quietly.

“All the time. Lots of things can be scary. But, you know what helps me?”

“What?”

“Remembering that I’m brave and strong. Like now, that thunder is super loud and scary right?” Tommy nods, and Deacon adds, “But you’re so much stronger than that noise! I bet you could yell or clap just as loud.”

“I could,” Tommy affirms, nodding against your neck as he smiles.

“One other thing that helps is having other strong people around you. Like the beautiful lady holding you?” You laugh quietly, and Deacon fights to stay focused. “She is brave and being around her makes me brave. Who do you have here that is brave?”

“My mom.”

“Well, then you can stay with her and make each other braver.”

Tommy nods and looks up when his mother walks toward you. You set him down and watch with a smile as he runs into her arms. He nods excitedly, and his mother picks him up and walks toward you.

“Thank you,” she whispers to you.

“Thank Sergeant Kay, he did all the heavy lifting,” you tell her.

“Thank you, sir,” she adds before turning away.

You release a sigh before turning back to Deacon. His eyes are fixed on you, silently staring at you. Furrowing your brows, you frown, and Deacon feels another heart squeeze.

“What’s wrong?” you ask quietly, raising a hand to rest on Deacon’s bicep.

“Nothing, nothing. I just noticed something,” Deacon replies.

“What?”

“That I want to do this.”

You want to ask what ‘this’ is, but Deacon grabs your waist and pulls you against his chest before you can. His lips capture yours, and you gasp into his mouth. Clutching his shirt, you push yourself closer as you move with Deacon. You’ve always been close and in sync, but this feels like the moment where everything you are and have shared intersects. This is the beginning of where your relationship was leading you all along. Deacon pulls back, looking at you with a smile while you stay close, your eyes closed.

“I,” you begin, pausing as you open your eyes to see Deacon. “I just realized something too.”

Deacon’s eyebrows raise, and his lips part, nervous as he waits to hear what you’ve realized.

“I want to do that forever,” you say, pulling him down for another kiss.

The way you treat yourself, the way you treat Deacon, the way you treat total strangers: that’s what Deacon thinks about as he realizes that he loves you. That he’s always loved you.

“We’re at work, guys,” Hondo scolds as he walks to Deacon’s side. You pull back and see Hondo’s smile before he yells, “20-David, they did it!”

Luca, Tan, Chris, and Street cheer, soon joined by a room full of strangers. You hide your face in Deacon’s chest as he walks out of the room, pulling you into a hallway to kiss you again. After all, forever is a long time, and he’s lost enough already.

#david deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #deacon kay fluff #david deacon kay #deacon kay #swat cbs #requests #5+1 #5 + 1 fic #fem!reader

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