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zealousllamawolf · 8 days

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Book Club (Alastor x Reader)

Parings- Alastor X Reader

!!Minors DNI with this post. R-18+!!

Summary- Reader unknowingly drugs tea for themselves leaving them vulnerable in the presence of Alastor

Word count- 5.5k words

Tags- bloodletting, p in v, rough sex, masturbation, crush against Alastor, drugged slightly. First time Reader, bondage, SMUT SMUT SMUT.

~~~

It’s been ages since you could curl up somewhere quiet with a book. You struggle just to find time to be alone with the constant chaos of the other residents at the hotel. So, when Charlie announced at breakfast that everyone was welcome to come to dinner with her father, Lucifer, at his manor you were excited to decline.

You had just been given a new book by Angel that seemed interesting and romantic. Romance books held a special place in your heart even when you were still alive. You could see yourself as the main character being loved by someone to the fullest and that was all you needed for the most part. You never had a lot of romantic experiences on earth and surely not in hell. You did not trust anyone enough to be that vulnerable in front of them.

Well, that is not entirely true. There was Alastor, but it is not like you could trust him, you had the tiniest infatuation with him. He was always slithering out from the shadows invading your personal space. Even though you didn’t mind the close proximity whenever Alastor came up behind you to grab something that was in front of you, he would lean down close to your ear apologizing, “I am sorry for the intrusion, darling’’, only his voice was deeper than his usual charming range, while his tone scratched a deep itch inside your body. You can never help the heat building between your legs when you feel his breath on your neck as he slips away grinning triumphantly.

Every time you felt his presence in the room you tried to keep yourself from trailing him with your eyes as he struts proudly with Charlie helping her with whatever she needs for the hotel but in most cases, you could not keep your eyes to yourself. Sometimes Alastor senses your heavy gaze so he turns and looks at you but instead of looking away he just stares at you his grin growing when warmth spreads to your cheeks leaving you hot and flustered forcing you to break from his stare.

None of this matters anyways it is not like he means anything by it. It is all just a part of the cruel game he plays to find enjoyment in the suffering of lowly demons. You sigh and shake your head, sitting up straighter. Looking around your plate is full while everyone else’s is almost finished.

“Are you okay dear? Your plate seems… untouched” Alastor asks grinning, but his smile did not reach his eyes, seemingly concerned, his question forcing all eyes on you. “Wouldn’t want my little helper to starve now,” he said statically, preceding to stare you down.

“I- um... I am not hungry this morning. I am fine, thank you,” forcing yourself to only look at Alastor for a moment before looking at Charlie. You squeeze your legs tight trying to refrain from thinking about Alastor ‘s back, flush with yours, cursing yourself for thinking about him in that way. “I was actually thinking about staying back while you guys go to dinner.”

Charlie frowns for a second before whipping up a reassuring smile “Oh, that’s okay! We will miss you but sometimes you just need a good RnR,” she smiles and finishes the last bite on her fork.

“Yes, thank your princess,” looking at Angel, wiggling your eyebrows. “I am going to spend the night reading the book you gave me.” You playfully say with a smile barely able to contain your excitement bouncing up and down slightly.

Angel cocks an eyebrow at you. “Oh sugar, I am not sure that’s going to be very relaxing,” chuckling the spider demon smiles not willing to share his thoughts on the book further.

“Reading in general makes me relax I am sure I’ll be fine pretty boy,’ you giggle at the pet name and smile back at Angel who in return gave you a toothy grin.

“If you say so (y/n),” Angel says, picking up his plate and walking towards the kitchen.

Alastor grin softens as he sees how excited you were, hoping you would turn to look at him with the same sparkle your eyes gave Angel. Grin widening further he had an idea.

“If you would not mind, dear, I would love to join you while you read. I have a couple radio show ideas that need to be put on paper,” he asks charmingly.

Just the thought of sitting next to Alastor made your cheeks flush and heartbeat rapidly. “Well, by all means come along, I-I wouldn’t mind the company,” you stutter slightly as the last part rushes out of your mouth, unable to control yourself.

‘How bold of you’, you thought to yourself, bringing your cold hands to your face trying to settle the burning heat you feel on your cheeks. ‘Why did I say that?’ You ask yourself, quickly coming undone when you think about being alone with Alastor. Temporarily unable to breathe you force yourself to cut up some of the cold food on your plate. A meaningless task you thought ‘Why did he even want your company?’

“Very well, dear,” Alastor says as he gets up from his seat walking to your chair, only to stop a couple inches from where you sat, he leaned down and spoke softly in your ear. “Now, finish your breakfast darling.” You inwardly groan as his breath whisps past your neck. All you could do was sink slightly further into your chair and nod.

~~~

You spend the rest of the day doing your laundry coming to and from your room on the second floor to the basement. Grateful for the mundane task you sigh contently thinking over your love life. Why hadn’t you branched out and at least experienced someone giving you pleasure? You always became hot and bothered from reading about love and sometimes lust, why could not you indulge with someone tangible. Your attraction towards these fiction man had overpowered any attraction for anyone in your real in your life. No one ever came close.

Your mind drifted to Alastor, the sound of his voice or his closeness brought a flood between your legs and a small knot of tension in your stomach every time you saw him. It is not like you’ve never felt arousal before, buts it’s never been this strong for someone you could interact with. You shake your head and let out a frustrating sigh, trying to clear your thoughts as you gather up the rest of your last load, making your way back up to your room carrying your laundry basket.

You decided once you reached your room to take a shower to try to clean off the dirtiness of your mind, swearing Alastor had a sixth sense for that, never failing you use it against you to make you flustered.

You take a short shower coming out of your bathroom wrapped in a towel as you make your way to your bed covered in folded clean clothes. Wrestling up some comfortable shorts and a large long sleave-shirt you get dressed without putting on a bra. Why would you? When you were alive that is how you dressed when you were lost in a book, why not be comfortable allowing yourself to let go today.

Standing up off your bed you go to your bookshelf grabbing your Angels book and start to head downstairs to the kitchen to make tea and milk, your comfort drink for reading. When you make your way downstairs in the lobby, you are greeted by the crew getting ready to leave for Lucifer’s dinner.

“Wow, you all look amazing.” Looking down at your lounge wear you suddenly felt embarrassed with how you were dressed.

“Thank you (y/n), you look very comfy!” Charlie smiles as she bounces up and down while Vaggie tries to calm her, giggles some.

You blush looking down to rub your feet together as Angel comes over grabbing your hand, raising your arm up and spinning you around with a twirl.

“Now, this is what I want to be wearing”, you giggle feeling the blush lift, Angel always making you feel instantly better. He reminded you a lot like a friend you had when you were alive, making you feel safe.

“We should probably get going, don’t want to worry Dad.’’ Charlie chuckles as she practically out the door with Vaggie in tow, while everyone is waving and reciting their goodbyes the door finally closes behind them.

Standing alone in the lobby you are left feeling empty, second guessing yourself on staying home. ‘Maybe you should have gone with them instead,’ you shook your head, chiding your own thoughts. ‘No’ you needed this; you have not had a real escape since showing up in hell.

You skipped your way to the kitchen to prepare your tea. After successfully having the patience to wait for your tea bag to seep you poured what tastes and smells like milk into your tea, not noticing the label that fell to the floor reading ‘Property of Angel DO NOT touch’, gathering your book and mug you head to the bar.

You grab a piece of paper and pen so you could write a note to Alastor letting him know where you were in case, he would hold to his word, which you were still unsure if he really meant it or if it was a part of his game.

I will be on the outside patio.

Waiting patiently

(y/n)

Satisfied, you grab your things and make your way to the patio, a place you often came for some peace. You smile when you realize the fading light will be enough to read naturally for a little bit before the lights around the patio will turn on and the fireflies will be flicking just past the garden’s tree line. After a long gulp of your tea, you grimace at the overwhelming sweet taste, placing your mug down on a side table next to the comfortable outside couch. ‘Must have put too much sugar in.’ Shaking your head.

You settling down with your back leaning against the cushioned arm, you stretch your legs out before bringing your knees up close towards your chest allowing space for you to curl up with your book. Before you could start, you hear static in front of you and the air chilling around you slightly. You look up to see Alastor appearing with his shadows fading away around him as he sat with his legs crossed with a pen and pad laying on his lap.

“Good evening, darling,’’ Alastor immediately noticed how your cheek grew into a deep crimson, but that is not all he noticed. Your feet were slightly apart and with the way your knees were placed you gave him quite the view. Your shorts had bunch up outlining your cunt perfectly, your puffy lips outrageously enhance by the middle seam of your shorts.

“Hello Alastor,” looking down you flip your book opening it, holding in a moan since saying his name had influence on you making you clench your core suddenly heat spread between your legs.

When Alastor saw your cunt clench, he almost let out a groan feeling rapid swelling against his pants. How did you have such a hold on him? He wanted to grab your ankles, pull you to him and rip off your shorts so he could finally taste your sweet-smelling core.Tearing his gaze away he sat there lost in his mind before you broke him of the spell you had on him.

“If you’re okay with it I am going to start,’ you say as you flip to the first chapter, you look up and see Alastor’s smile stained. “Hey Al… you are doing, okay?” You ask though before you could start worrying, his smile changed softly.

“Go ahead darling, I am okay I am just thinking though some interesting ideas for my radio show.” You nod, returning your focus to your book.

You and Alastor sat in silence for a while as you read long enough for the patio lights to have turned on. The tone of the book was unbelievably sexual from the first chapter. Graphic depictions of the two lovers sex life were… well it was making you more aroused. The male companion was exactly what you would want in the bedroom. Something you have fantasized repeatedly but you could not help picturing Alastor as the main male character. You being chained and dominated under him, wrists tied to a bed unable to do anything while you were being taken.

Your core ached desperate for some attention, it had become overwhelming to say the least, your cunt clenched over nothing countless time. How could I get this horny after reading this book, it felt unreal, the aching increase and you almost let out a moan. ‘Oh my god what has gotten in you?’ you start to question reality now. Trying to clear your head you shifted slightly drawing Alastor’s attention back to you while your mind was captured with the scene being played out in your head unable to focus on your book.

Alastor’s gaze shifted from your blushing, sweaty face to your cunt that was already beginning to leak with your arousal causing a wet spot on your shorts clearly, the fabric becoming slightly transparent forcing him to know the color of your panties. He felt his cock twitch aching for some friction. All he wanted to do was run a finger down your wet shorts, just to see what type of reaction you would make. Suddenly you throw your legs over the side of the couch, planting your feet on the ground unable to control your shaking legs. Alastor quickly looks down at his notepad afraid of getting caught looking at your cunt rubbing a hand across his face to try to mask his flustered face.

Panting slightly, with your head hanging low you try to catch your breath as the aching became too much. Every part of your body felt sensitive like it was on fire and needed a release. You had to get away from Alastor and quickly, he could not see you like this. Lifting your head, you look in front of you noticing the fireflies pulsing in the distance. Perfect. Unable to think rationally you hop up on your feet and turn to Alastor.

“I-I am going to go um… L-look at the… um fireflies! For a minute,’’ panting you try to regain your composure but Alastor sensed something was wrong, so he reaches out and grabs your hand sending electric shocks up your arm. You flinch and pull your hand back throwing it up to your mouth coving a small barely audible gasp.

“Are you okay dear? You seem…wound up’’ his voice dropping an octave, your core throbbed at his voice wondering if that’s what he would sound like fucking you dumb.

“Y-yess, I am fine” sucking in a breath, you say, “I just need a minute to take a break.’’

It takes everything in you to not run as fast as possible to find cover somewhere you could relieve the heat that was continually bubbling at your core. Finally making your way past the tree line and out of Alastor’s line of sight, crouching down on the fountain in the middle of the garden you collapse to the ground to your knees bracing yourself on the stone edge.

Confused Alastor he picked up your book wondering if it was the cause of your sudden mood shift, peeking through a couple paragraphs only to find a complete description of a couple in an intimate moment. He looked up to where you had gone, a thought peeking is interest. He follows after you staying back some to see what you would do.

Stuffing your hand under your panties, you instantly find your throbbing bundle of nerves and start to rub in circles causing you to moan loudly, confident you were out of ear shot from Alastor so you felt free to let go.

You need more. Quickly you pull your shorts down a little with your spare hand, giving yourself a little more room to move further to your cunt entrance.You slide a finger down your slit and circle around your core getting your finger wet before entering yourself. “Oh… fuck,” you moan again.

You have never felt anything like this before, everything feels more intense and sensitive. It would normally take minutes of fingering yourself to even reach this level of pleasure, but this was something different. Your walls clenched as you go deeper and found your sweet spot gently pressing back and forth, with this you are melting further down, unable to keep yourself up.

Alastor’s grinning face flashes against your tightly shut eyes like it has so many times before when you have touched yourself. You could not help but moan, “A-Alastor…” saying his name made your core tighten and started to spasming around your finger reaching your climax.

“Oh, you have been a naughty little girl’’, you gasp hearing Alastor’s voice behind you. Panting still coming down from your orgasm, you turn slowly facing him pulling your hand out of your shorts quickly.

“OH my, Alastor I-“

“No need to explain dear’’ his smirk widening. “I did hear my name though. Were you touching yourself at the mere thought of me perhaps?”

How did he hear that? Was he standing here the whole time?

Bashfully you say in a quiet voice, “Y-yes’’ unable to hide your lust and desire throbbing from your inflamed cunt, you lower your head hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Alastor’s in front of you in seconds using his staff to lift your chin forcing you to look at him. “It’s quite alright little doe” he leans down at the waist inches from your face making you squirm feeling his breath on your lips. “In fact, I have wanted to sample your taste for some time now,’’ with a strained smile, “All you have to say is one word, and I could help with your…” shifting his staff he trailed it down your stomach stopping right before he reached your cunt. “Problem.”

Shamefully you could not say no so you whisper “Yes,’’ breathing out.

Immediately after you respond he’s pressing his lips to yours, licking his tongue at your bottom lip you, asking for permission before proceeding. You moan against his lips finding yourself lost as he enters your mouth as his tongue searches yours, teeth lightly nipping at your bottle lip.

Your body lights up in that moment, you lean forward and wrap your hands around his neck pulling him closer as you rake your fingers though his hair. Stifling a moan, air whips around both of you, next thing you know, you find yourself on top of something soft. Your head starts to swarm, and your body starts to heat up just like before, telling you it needed to be touched.

You break the kiss and lean your head back, breathing out as Alastor trails kisses down your jawline stopping before latching on to a sensitive spot. “Alastor… please I need…” You voice catching when he drags a claw down your side until he reaches the hem of your shirt. You shudder as his hand moves under slowly and slides up over your bare rib cage before stopping just under your breast.

‘’You need what, (y/n), be a good girl and use your words.” His hand moves up cupping your breast and runs a finger over your hard nipple making you moan and lean back forcing him to straddle one of your thighs with his knee pressed up against your cunt. You grind yourself against his leg, groaning as your eyes cloud with lust at the much-needed friction.

“T-touched. I need to be touched more.’’ It was all you could make out before Alastor rubs circles around your nipple making you shiver all over.

“As you wish my sweet girl.” Alastor snaps and you are laying there completely bare in front of him. You let out a yelp and instinctively try to cover your mound with your hands before you could reach green chains appeared around your wrist pulling them over your head. You whine and try to close your legs even though it was helpless since his thigh was still pressed against you.

“N-no one has ever seen…’’ you stop for a second so you would not sound dirty. ‘’Me before,” your face starts to burn in embarrassment. Alastor notices and trails his claws up your neck grasping your jaw to make you stare at him though half-lidded eyes.

“Ill be gentle my sweet,’’ with that you nod allowing your legs to open wide letting Alastor have a full look at your glistening cunt. You hear his suck in a deep breath before lowly saying “You are perfect, and this is all mine to enjoy, no one else has even glimpsed at you.” He groans closing his eyes at the thought, using his spare hand and slides a finger though your slick folds, you hike your hips against his finger at the instant pleasure. “How far have gone before?” It takes you a second to respond, all you could focus was Alastor’s fingers gingerly touching your entrance. You glare at him for a second after registering what he said.

“I’ve taken more than just my fingers Alastor,’’ you say faking anger. “Just not with anyone real.”

In response to this Alastor’s thrusts his finger into you, curling up and presses down causing you to moan loudly at the sudden pressure on your sweet spot. His finger pumping faster as he adds another digit inflicting your walls to pulse over his fingers.

His eyes shift to yours full of desire and command, “What have you used on yourself then?” Alastor’s eyes dart down to your cunt pressing his thumb against your clit, circling slowly.

You jolt your waist up your whole body flares with heat. “A toy!” you practically yell in pleasure. Commanding your breath to return you say, “A six-inch p-plastic toy” tears forming in your eyes, choking more words out. “It was all I could manage.” You whisper, tears spilling over to the sides of your face, falling into your hairline.

His grip gets tighter making his claws dig into your inner thigh, forcing small droplets of blood to rise to the surface. You wince at the pain, but surprisingly it increases your pleasure, making you rut your hips further on his fingers. Alastor moans while chuckling. “So, you do like pain too…” Gliding a third finger into your heat. “Oh, darling you are going to have to take more than six inches.”

Your brain goes into over-drive as you start to feel pressure building in your lower stomach “Alastor please I need more” begging as more tears fall.

‘’Mmh, good girl. I want you to want me and me only, by the time we are done you are going to beg for me to stop.” He leans over your chest and takes a nipple in his warm mouth biting just enough to inflict pain, but he quickly runs his tongue in a circle causing you to moan his name. “Oh, you’re so reactive, every touch so far. I can’t wait to hear more of your precious sounds.”

“T-that’s new…I’ve never felt like this before, the intense heat feels so.” You voice trailed off as Alastor leads kisses up your neck, he brings up his bloody claws up to his mouth, taking a taste. He groans loudly closing his eyes at the taste of your blood. You watch him open his eyes franticly looking at you with a need for more, your words fall out of your mouth. “Un-natural.”

Alastor kisses your neck and nicks the soft skin, lapping up your blood feverishly. Your walls tighten around his fingers, feeling yourself close with an orgasm. Right before you get your release, he pulls his fingers out of your cunt, bringing them to his mouth he licks one digit clean before bringing them to your lips forcing them open. You lap up your own juices on his fingers making Alastor moan. Shutting your eyes as he sucks harder on your neck trying to draw out more blood. You hear his buckle coming undone as Alastor takes his fingers out of your mouth, in an instant he is fully undressed.

You open your eyes at the touch of Alastor’s cock gently tapping your clit. You look him up and down, your eyes tracing his chest. Surprised to see a puffy patch of black and red hair, thinning out as it reaches his stomach leaving a happy trial of red leading down to his cock. You are left breathless as you gawk at the sheer size of him alone. Your eyes dart up and he's looking down at you with a mischievous grin as he slides the tip of his cock down your slit getting himself lubricated with your juices, stopping just before entering your heat.

You fiddle with the chains restricting your movement and you whine, wiggling your hands. “Please Alastor, came I have my hands back, I want to touch you.” Moaning as he presses the tip of his cock into your cunt. You squeeze your eyes shut at the intrusion that came along with a burning sensation around your tight ring.

“Oh, darling I think not. I happen to look though your book earlier, and it included bondage little doe.” His voice dropping the way you always fantasize over. Alastor gives you a moment to acclimate to his size before pressing further into you slowly, “and domination,’’ he says as he magically pulls the chains tighter. You gasp as he fills you more, filling you to the point you thought you were going to burst, you clench down hard around Alastor shaft resulting in his cock twitching inside you. Alastor moans and presses a hand on your lower stomach right over your uterus making you gasp not knowing that pressure would give you such an intense pleasure. “Just relax, you going to take all of me.” Alastor growls saying the last part as he reaches under one of your knees lifting it over his shoulder, pressing forward when he feels you ease up around his cock.

You bite your lip hard trying to hold in a moan, enough to break the skin making your mouth fill up with the taste of iron. Some of the blood pooling around your mouth before falling slowly down your chin dripping on to your chest.

Alastor looks down at you with lust filled eyes widening at the sight of your blood. You could see his composer failing, so you take your tongue and wipe it across your lip sucking in the blood you had on your lips. That sets something off in Alastor as he plunges the rest of his length flush with your hips. Surprised at the feeling of being completely filled and the force of the thrust you yelp in pleasure as his cock twitch against your cervix. Your cunt spasms around his perfectly snug cock making you shudder.

Nothing has ever been inside you this deep before causing our cunt to burn as his cock stretches you beyond the breaking point, well past the three-inch girth of your previous toy.

Straining against the chains you whisper breathlessly,” oh Alastor please move. I need more” you beg, grinding against his cock.

“You are taking my cock like a good girl.” Alastor coos as he pulls back his hips pulling out enough to still have his tip buried inside you and thrust softly so you can get used to the movement. Moaning, you arch your back at the sensation of his cock pushing though your gummy walls.

“Alastor,’ you growl pulling on the chains even though they dig into your skin leaving your wrists raw and red. “You don’t need to be gentle with me” sucking in your breath as he slides slowly into your cunt again. “I can take it.’

“Don’t worry little doe you’ll get what you’re asking for,” thrusting into you with more force before he starts to take a brutal pace bruising your cervix each time, he pounds into you. Your vison starts to blacken around the edges as you are quickly approaching your release. Alastor grabs your other knee and forcing them to your chest gaining an angle that allows him to fuck you deeper. You could not hear yourself anymore for your mind was overloading with the pleasure he was encouraging and fucking into you.

“Al-Alastor, Alastor… oh my s-stars. Alastor please.” You moan his name like a chant over again sometimes you could not make yourself speak but continued saying Alastor’s name in your head. Alastor lowers your legs and raises your hips higher making him hit your g-spot with each thrust. “Please d-don’t stop” you beg, rolling your hips trying to match Alastor’s speed feeling the coil at your core tighten further making your walls clench down in return Alastor moans at your sudden tightness.

“Good girl, beg for my cock to make you cum” you shudder as he rapidly increases his pounding.

“P-please Al-Alastor I n-need t-to cum’’ you sob stumbling though your words from the roughness and speed he was fucking you at.

“Yes, doe, cum on my cock. Show me how much you want it.” Alastor leans down and kisses your collarbone and he bites hard leaving an outline of his teeth without breaking the skin.

The chains disappearing around your wrists, he slips his hands under your each of your arms pulling you up, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, latching on to your neck sucking so hard blood rises to the surface just under the skin.

‘’Bite me’’ you whine and slamming your hips against him, grinding on his cock. Wrapping your arms around his neck running your fingers through his hair before you reach his growing antlers, you grasp the for some support forcing Alastor’s thrust to sputter when your made contact with them.

Alastor bites down on to your shoulder, pain knocking the breath out of you as he breaks the skin but not enough to tear around his teeth. He pulls back for a moment to watch the dark red blood rise and bubble over before any bit had a chance to drip, his mouth cupped around the bite mark, the sweet liquid flooding into his mouth. Alastor’s body starts to react to the blood fucking you harder he starts to feel you tremble as your body tightens.

Your orgasm rakes though your body with such power you start to go limp, your walls pulsing around Alastor’s cock. He releases your shoulder with a pop and groans as you milk his cock making him reach his climax, sputtering thick chains of warm seed into your womb. You let out a whimper as he slows his thrusts before thrusting into one more time resting his already softening cock inside your heat not wanting to leave.

Alastor lowers your upper half back onto the bed and stares at your weak twitching body. Adoring the way you looked, shoulder oozed slowly, lip ripped and completely fuck dumb. You sigh in contentment as you raise your hands and rub your face smiling, looking up at Alastor, his face reflecting the one you had.

With one last thrust he pulls out of taking a moment to watch his seed leak out, groaning satisfied he conjures up a warm wet rag, cleaning you up as your eyes flutter shut still trying to catch your breath.

Chuckling, Alastor tosses the rag near the end of the bed he leans over your bloody body and press a soft kiss on your lips feeling your smile grow against his.

‘’I am yours; I don’t want anyone else,” you whisper softly opening your eyes to gage how he would respond.

With Alastor’s face so close to your he leans down planting another kiss on your lips and says, “So you will be, mine for the taking.” He settles down next to you and pulls you up to his chest resting your face against his chest. You sink your hands in the puff of fur and close your eyes drifting off to sleep as you listen to Alastor hum a song from his time.

~~~

Later that evening you go back down to the kitchen to rinse out your coffee mug and see a thin piece of paper on the ground near the fridge. Reading it you immediately you text Angel.

(y/n): Angel was this on a clear jug with milk in it.

Angel: Yes, it was can you tape it back to the jug, I don’t want someone to get drugged. <3

(y/n): Drugged with what?

Angel: A drug that makes sex feel more intense, Val gave it to me to use for the next shoot, something about having bigger, better reactions.

You quickly make your way to Alastor’s room not bothering to knock you barge in and announce, “I was DRUGGED, my tea was spiked.” You proceed to show your messages to Alastor and explained you had used the drugged milk in your tea.

Alastor looks at you with a mischievous smile and says, “Well I guess we have to do it again to be sure you know exactly what I gave you tonight.”

You couldn’t help the heat that burned your cunt at the thought of fucking Alastor again.

~~~

A/N- This is my first time writing a fanfic and having the courage to post it, I hope it’s okay!! Request are open I’ll be posting the parameters later but feel free to ask! Feel free to voice your opinion <3 Thank you for reading

#alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel radio demon #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x y/n

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holybibly · 2 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/holybibly/742925107577667584/i-will-be-sharing-my-thoughts-with-you-during-a?source=share

I really love reading this 🙈

if it's possible can you tell us about the rest of the members possessiveness

Thank you 🥰⚘️

Hey honey, of course, I'll talk about Wooyoung and Yeosang now, and I'll make a separate post for Jongho, Hongjoong and Yunho.

Wooyoung has always wanted to find true love. He wanted to love and be loved in return, to give himself completely to his beloved, and to devote all of his time to her. Wooyoung could choose any role he wanted just to get what he wanted, and when he saw you, he realised that he had found exactly what he had been looking for. You were sweet, simple, and gentle, and easy to read. You blushed and felt embarrassed under the intense gaze of his fox eyes. You laughed and had fun with him, and you were just such a super cosy and warm home girl.

The perfect girl for his home.

Little by little, he became more and more intrusive and possessive, changing the role of the sweet, cheerful guy to that of a dark seducer who would lure you into his bed and bite you until you were bleeding.

"You look so good with my marks; I want to mark you all over so everyone can see you're mine."

"I'm going to fill you with my cum, and you keep it nice and warm in your little pussy. Wait for me at home like a good girl."

"I never want to let you go; you're so warm and soft around my dick. I want to stay inside you forever."

"Come on, baby, accept my love; let me make you so beautiful and so swollen with my children that you will always be at home with me."

He was so annoyed by your wanting to go somewhere, wanting to see friends, wanting to spend time outside of his bed, that it made him aggressive and rude.

"Can't you be with me, or are your friends more important? Or are you such a whore that you can't live without wanting someone else to look at you?"

"Why can't you just look at me and don't pay attention to someone else? Haven't you already found someone who can fuck your slutty cunt?"

"You don't need anyone but me; I want you to be home all the time. You are all mine.".

Yes, Wooyoung was always in search of true love, one who would be perfect for him and his home. So, my dear, before you let yourself be carried away by the movement of a luxurious fox's tail, think twice about whether you will be able to get out of the dark and deep fox's hole alive.

Yeosang was full of beauty and splendour. He was mesmerising. A flutter of the eyelashes and a sweet smile were enough to kill you instantly. You were no exception. God, Yeosang really was the perfect guy—the kind of guy you always had in your dreams. He was respectful, gentle, caring, and so attentive to you. He always made you feel truly loved. Yeosang was very gentle with his words, and slowly but surely he put the ideas that he wanted into your head.

"Aren't you so lucky to be in a relationship with me?"

"Look, no one else has such a good-looking guy; they might be jealous of you."

"I am always going to take care of you, my love. You don't have a need for anyone, just a need for me."

The further your relationship developed, the more evil appeared in Yeosang. His beauty made him arrogant and rude towards you, constantly hinting that he had condescended to you and that you were just his pretty thing. Yeosang destroyed your self-esteem and lust for life by making you submissive and obedient to all his wishes.

"Can anyone but me want such an insignificant whore like you? You should be grateful for the attention I give you."

"Look at you, whimpering and squealing as I fuck you. Keep quiet and take everything I give you, like an obedient girl."

"You will always belong to me, even with this sad, tear-stained face, because there is no one else who needs you apart from me."

You've heard what they say: True evil is truly seductive. And yes, Yeosang, with his puppy eyes and angelic features hiding an arrogant, cold demon, was the most seductive of all. So be careful when you dream of a cute guy with an ideal appearance. If you bite into a piece of him, you can be sure it will rot.

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez x reader #yeosang smut #ateez fanfic #kang yeosang smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung smut

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 2 months

Text

[9:02 pm]

(cw: f!reader)

a/n: this is set in a very vague time period, (in my head it is like 14/15th century but it’s really not evident) pls keep in mind I haven’t interacted with any Romeo and Juliet content since I was like 13 but I still kind of like how this came out

Romeo!Haechan was more than happy that this party was a masquerade party. If anyone in this house knew that it was him that was hidden behind the gold-trim mask, they would surely have his head. He’d have been dead before the sun had a chance to rise again.

He rather preferred to stay on the wall, somewhat hidden by the shadows of the large stone pillars of the ballroom. Yes, to stay out of the eyes of those who would kill him, but more so to watch the rest of the party goers.

His eyes scanned over the crowd. A large sea of fancy masks, even fancier dresses, and very few familiar features. He was starting to wonder where his friends had disappeared to. Surely they were causing trouble somewhere, it was better that he stayed away from them tonight. Just his last name was enough to make half the guests in this ballroom pull their swords and chase him through the streets. The hatred was never something he’d questioned just something he went along with.

He was deep in thought, trying to remember how the drama between his family and those that threw the party had even started, but his thoughts stopped seeing that you had crossed his eye sight.

It was like you made everything around you more vibrant, the torches on the walls burned brighter, and every beautiful girl he’d ever seen before you immediately paled in comparison. His breathing became shallow and his heartbeat sped up with pure excitement.

He moved along the walls with precision, following you through the crowd until he suddenly realized you were both outside. A garden filled with sweet scented roses almost as beautiful as you.

You tugged the bow of your mask from the back of your head, sighing and taking a seat in a small bench below a big tree.

“Excuse my intrusion, I just had to let you know how beautiful you look,” Haechan stated.

You flinched, startled at the unexpected guest, “oh, thank you. I’m sure if I could see your face I’d be able to say the same.”

Haechan pulled the mask from his face, apprehensively hoping you weren’t one of the many people at this house who hated him because of his last name. You smiled softly, “you are handsome indeed.”

“It is nothing compared to your beauty. I am Haechan, it is so wonderful to meet a beauty such as yourself,” he returned your smile with his hand held out.

You told him your name as you shook his hand. A spark of electricity runs down your spine, goosebumps covering every part of your exposed skin. It looked like Haechan felt it too, his eyes widened minimally.

No one had ever made you feel like this upon first meeting. Haechan was very clearly special. He was making you feel all new feelings, an excitement to see him again even though he was still right in front of you. A yearning for him before he’d even left your eyesight.

“Donghyuck! That better not be you!” An angry voice called out.

Haechan looked panicked, “I’ll see you again soon. I promise, my heart is already with you.”

You tightened your hold on his hand, holding on until he disappeared into the garden. Your hand lingered with the warmth of his touch. You hoped he would keep his promise.

#kpop imagines #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #kpop au #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct reactions #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #haechan x reader #haechan imagines #haechan fluff #haechan blurbs #haechan timestamps

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russellsppttemplates · 1 month

Note

hiiii, I’m not sure if you got my request or if tumblr ate my ask, sorry if you did but aren’t comfortable with writing it just ignore this, but I was wondering if you could write something with lance where the reader has bad cramps like usual and then they buy an electric cramp simulator thing for lance to know what it feels like. Thank you so much, sorry for asking again :)

Cw: mentions reader's endometriosis

Note: I don't have it in my inbox, so maybe tumblr ate it? It's not the first time something like this happens, so you did well in sending this in!

The whole concept of a TENS machine scared you a little. If you were already feeling pain, why would you want to feel it somewhere else? "Here, let's try it together, okay?", Lance encouraged, "if you don't like it, we'll stop right away", he assured as you nodded, prompting him to place the stickers along your tummy.

"Is it helping?", he questioned, "yes, actually. Like, it's this sort of buzz that's soothing the area a little", you explained, "Feels good enough, yes", you smiled, kissing his lips as a thank you as you cuddled up to him.

"Would it be really offensive if I asked you to try and feel the way you feel your cramps?", Lance blurted, "it's one of those intrusive thoughts people talk about, isn't it? I'm sorry, forget I even said anything!", he said right away.

"I don't think it's offensive - I mean, you're not going to go all macho man and say you could feel the cramps while you took your breakfast, right?", you asked teasingly. You knew he wouldn't do that, he was sensitive and empathic enough to not do it. "Of course not, sweetheart! I know the pain you feel is very very bad and I'm not doubting anything, guess I'm just curious", he assured.

"I know you won't, love", you kissed his cheek, grabbing the small remote to control the pressure and intensity, "okay, lift you shirt up, please", you asked as he did so, "this is the average bad ones", you said as you stuck the material on his skin.

Lance groaned, "it's this all the time?", he croaked out, "yes, and then like this when it's really bad, like that time I called you to come over because I couldn't move", you changed the settings for a bit before turning it off, "I'd never wish this pain on anyone else, so I'm not letting you feel it for too long", you nudged, kissing his tummy as you took the stickers away.

"I'm really sorry, love", he said earnestly, "I know it's not up to me, but I'm sorry you feel like that", he kissed your forehead, pulling you to cuddle him.

"I've had it most of my life since I started my period, and now I have the best nurse ever taking care of me when it happens", you smiled, kissing his lips softly before nuzzling your face on his neck.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#lance stroll blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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heyidkyay · 5 months

Text

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Two

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Warnings: Use of French from someone's whose ability extends to that of the primary school level! Hints of past encounters with substance abuse, but not really.

Authors Note: Part two baby!! I'm really so glad that you all seemed to enjoy the first part of this and can only hope you'll like this one too! I can't believe I've actually decided to give this series a go, already onto starting part four! But I loved seeing all the reactions to it in truth and felt like I couldn't not. Hope you like it x

Masterlist

Adi @/AdelineWells_ 2m ago

Coffee acquired and headed into the studio! Who’s looking forward to today’s show?? #MouseOnAMic

“Did you see it then!” Adi exclaimed breathlessly as soon as I trudged in through the loft door, not even giving me the chance to settle in and perhaps start on a brew before she was invading my personal space.

“Well, have you?”

I dropped my bag onto the settee and then followed suit by falling heavily into my favoured armchair, the yellow one which sat happily amongst the rest of the sitting area we’d first set up in the studio.

“Seen what?” I questioned Adi, the sigh I added muffled by the tired hand I dragged across the lower portion of my face, before I then knuckled the edge of my jaw.

It had been an extremely long morning, what with Teddy not having wanted to leave my side since waking up and then deciding to throw an massive all-mighty fit when I’d had to drop him straight off at nursery instead of Finn’s like usual.

Finn had actually gotten a last minute project thrown his way, one he hadn't been able to say no to, being an commissioned artist and all, which had resulted in him being unable to take Teddy off my hands like planned and me running more than a little late.

That, plus the trains had been a complete and utter nightmare!

Another strike was set to start soon and so the trains were in constant delay. Not that I blamed the workers specifically for it all, to each their own and all that crap. But still, it took me a half an hour longer to get into work this morning than it usually should have done.

I let my eyes slip close at the very thought of it, merely hoping for a moment’s peace, but then heard Adi sigh dramatically somewhere to the left of me, seemingly oblivious to the weary state I was already in.

She was growing impatient with me and I could feel a headache brewing, the steady throbs of it pulsing high in my temples. I noted then how much I was in dire need of a rather large coffee, or maybe even something stronger, but simply resigned myself to the knowledge that the headache would probably only worsen throughout the day, seeing as though I’d forgotten to grab my migraine medication out of the cupboard in my haste this morning.

I didn’t even get the chance to centre myself before a phone was being shoved into my face. Immediately, I blinked my bleary eyes open at the intrusion and winced at the onslaught of unexpected bright light it gave as I lurched as far back as the shoddy armchair would allow me.

“Christ, Ads.” I muttered, but the woman only persevered and I was forced to squint and try to make sense of the many words she was presenting to me on the screen of her mobile. My eyes widened in disbelief.

Without a second thought, I snatched the thing out of Ad’s impatient grip and straightened in my seat, reeling. “Shit.”

The Sun

Tuesday, 08:23am

Drunken truths- or rather, tweets!

After yesterday’s whirlwind, caused by a recent segment on an up and coming radio show based in London, Mouse On A Mic, where the host shedded their honest opinion on the behaviour of none other than The 1975’s lead singer, Matty Healy, the online world has been divided. Since the show aired there has been a massive show of support for the presenter, many agreeing with the comments made, but also, and rather unsurprisingly, there has been the expected backlash from the band’s rowdy fanbase.

Mouse, a pseudonym used by the show’s host, managed to make it onto Twitter’s trending page in the early hours of yesterday evening, after the segment on the singer blew up, and it was there that many came to battle over the honesty of it all!

The award winning artist himself later touched upon it, hours after everything had actually occurred and some of the heat had died down, in a tweet of his own! In it Matty seemed to back the radio host’s claims, stating that we really should ‘listen to the radio’ and that he is an evident ‘liar’ as he’s been labelled many times before. He even went as far as to say that he was indeed very ‘sad’, which caused a mass hysteria of both confusion and emotion to spread throughout the media, some of it relating back to Healy’s previous stints in rehab and the many times he’s been caught in the firing line. Whilst others showed no sympathy at all.

No one from Matty’s band or team has yet to comment on it, but the tweet has since been mysteriously deleted! Our question is, where do we go from here?

“I know, right! How mad is this?” Adi gushed unabashedly as she threw her weight into the spinning chair beside my own. The wheels whined beneath her weight but Adi paid the noise no mind, either beyond used to the crappy furniture we’d procured since moving in or just too enthralled in the phone she’d since snatched back.

I figured it to be the latter.

“He was obviously so gone when writing it, but do you reckon it’s the truth then? That he’s probably getting shit for it right now?” She further queried, her voice filled with a childlike excitement that had me frowning.

“If so, why do you sound so pleased about it?” I shot back, tilting my head over towards her, “The whole thing’s more than a little messed up, Ads.”

Adi merely groaned at me in response, letting her head lull against the back of the chair before she then cast an exaggerated glance, a cheap look that clearly stated, ‘are-you-fucking-joking-me?’

I didn’t care much for it, in all honesty, and widened my own eyes in a mocking response, waiting for her to give me an actual answer.

“God, Mouse! Have you even seen the amount of subscribers the show has gotten since Healy’s tweet? We’ve already got a dozen calls lined up and we don’t even air for another hour!” Adi blew out excitedly as she pushed herself further up in her seat, the tight miniskirt which hugged her thighs rode up slightly but she made no move to tug it down, too caught up in her rant.

“We’ve gained over twenty thousand followers, babe! Twenty thousand! And it’s only grown since his tweet was deleted! Can you believe that?”

I scoffed. “It’s hardly something to be proud of, is it? Gaining traction off some guy who’s already got the world quick-firing at him. He needs help, not more fucking media attention. I mean, you said it yourself, he was clearly hammered whilst writing it.”

I got up to turn my back on her then, figuring it’d be best if I just got a start on setting up for the day seeing as we were already running behind.

In all honesty, I really could see what had Adi so ecstatic. The show had never received this much notice before and twenty thousand followers was a game changer for people like us. It would boost ratings and help garner the wider audience we’d been chasing for ages now. But I still felt guilty and was far from proud of the fact that we’d earned all of these so-called ‘followers’ off the back of somebody else’s torment.

Matty clearly had his demons, that much was evident. But in my opinion, he really didn’t need any more publicity. Especially on a topic which surrounded old habits and seemed so blatantly sensitive. At this point, I honestly wished I'd never opened my fat gob.

Messing about with the console, I silently wondered why I cared so much. Yeah the evident culpability was there, but the guy had it coming with the way he’d been acting. I’d just been doing my job. Right?

I withheld a frustrated sigh at the question, but then jumped an inch out of my skin when I felt a gentle touch brush against my shoulder, pulling me swiftly from my thread of chaotic thoughts.

Spinning around, I was met with the face of a guilt-ridden Adi, who’s glossy lips were pursed and deep brown eyes downcast.

“Sorry,” She said and then paused, “Didn't think of it much like that.” Her mouth twisted uncomfortably for a second before she finally smiled at me, clearly apologetic. “We should probably say something then, right? To the viewers?”

I dipped my head in a surprised nod before slouching into the booth’s chair with a defeated huff. “I mean sure, but what would we even say though? It’s all so fucked up. Thanks for following us but fuck you if you think we’re gonna chat shit about some band?”

Adi snorted, but her typical catty smile didn't quite reach her eyes, “Guess that could work. Sounds effective enough.”

I chuckled around a smile of my own, then hummed for a moment.

“Not really the big break we were looking for, is it?” I commented aloud, not really looking for a response. Then added, “You reckon he’s alright?”

“Who?”

A brief silence settled between us then as I scanned Adi’s bemused face, and she moved to settle against the edge of the table.

“Healy.” I murmured softly.

And Adi, apparently taken back by my answer, locked her jaw in thought before her eyes shifted towards something just over my shoulder. “I’m not sure.”

Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 22m ago Highlights of today's show!

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 21m ago Mouse opened up today's show with ‘an oldie’, in her words, and played 'Morning Glory' by Oasis which seemed to please a lot of us! She also asked how everyone was today, briefly mentioning her long morning.

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 19m ago The first topic was based around the Kardashian's newest season and was brought up by a listener who had messaged the show. "F*cking old news! We should have gotten rid of that show ages ago, I really have no idea how people can just sit around and watch it all honestly! So much unnecessary- and clearly fake- drama going on. Just seeing the influence that it has on so many young girls, as well as how much time people are willing to spend on that entire family, is just something I can’t comprehend or get behind, but have been very conscious of. I'm so lost on what it is exactly that has people feeling so drawn to them. It's mental!"

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 17m ago The show played this week's top 10 hits! Mouse making a very special shout-out to her son, who's current obsession is blasting Taylor Swift's new release through the speakers! (Don't worry, Mini Mouse, we're obsessed with it too!)

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 14m ago The famous "Call Us!" segment makes a return this week! Mouse dragged Adi into the booth, as per usual, and the pair spoke to a few excited callers. The duo answered questions on the newest single’s out right now and what upcoming films they were excited to see! Adi even ended up calling out Ed Sheeran?! Of all people, after a fan phoned in to rant about their need for a new album!

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 13m ago A competitive game of "The Impossible Quiz" broke out, which of course was won by our ever merciless Adi, and Mouse followed through on the losing dare! (Check it out on the Show's website to see! Link in bio.)

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 11m ago Lead vocalist and guitarist to Only The Poets, Tommy Longhurst, Facetimed the studio to talk about his band’s newest single, 'Every God I Pray To'. He's been a fan of Mouse and Adi since his first appearance on the show about a year ago now with the rest of the guys and it was so great to see the three of them together again! They ended up doing a Fan Q&A (which is up on the show’s Youtube channel now!) before they played the single for everyone listening in.

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 8m ago When Adi headed out of the booth, Mouse decided to touch on the topic of yesterday's show. This is what was said, "I just wanted to bring up what went down during the last show, as it- I don't even know at this point, really. It just spread like wildfire across social media and has since been taken a little out of context. The topic of Matty Healy did come up after he'd made a recent headline, having been pictured again after taking a couple weeks away from the spotlight whilst on tour. I gave my honest opinion on the subject, simply shared my thoughts, and I do stand by what I said at the time- as all our longtime listeners will already know! But with that being said, on this matter I do feel as though I probably should have held back a tad and bitten my tongue. I don't know Matty well enough to dub him as this or that, or to comment on his life choices- I've never even met the guy! But it is my job to speak out on current topics and I was just doing what I'm paid to do. (Cont)

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 6m ago

"… Adi was actually the one to show me the tweet Healy sent out last night, as well as the incredibly insensitive articles that were paired alongside it, and I see now that it's caused a bit of drama and sparked a few more unwanted rumours for him. I feel largely to blame. To all the new listeners, I just want you all to understand that, here and now, I do not intend on milking this particular cow, and I won't be saying much more on the matter. I only hope that he’s doing okay. And Matty, if you are somehow listening, I really do apologise for all the shit I said and for the crap I've probably caused you since. It wasn't my intention for any of this to blow up, but you seem like a good sort, so. You're welcome on the show or at the studio anytime, no judgement here. Now! That's enough said on that topic, I’m-" And with that, Mouse soon moved onto wrapping up the show.

[HOMESCREEN] 17:18

Facetime now Mam Incoming call

Messages 4m Finnleyyy Listened to the show on the drive home, you okay?

"Bonsoir, mon belle fille!"

I smiled softly at the warm and familiar sound of my mum’s voice, even through the phone it was always so tender, a massive reminder of home. Her accent was gentle but brought me an undeniable amount of comfort and reminded me of days spent just the two of us, stowed away in our tiny cottage by the coast.

Before I could even offer her a greeting in reply though, the soft smile I wore immediately brightened upon having a much smaller figure settle down onto my lap to grab at the screen.

My mother laughed when a set of familiar eyes and chubby cheeks took up the tiny box in the tophand corner and I couldn't stop myself from chuckling along quietly with her when Teddy greeted her buoyantly.

“Mémé!” Teddy exclaimed happily, full of excitement as he proceeded to crawl closer to the camera, all knees and elbows whilst he tried to better see his grandmother.

I honestly really did try to stifle every groan that wanted to escape me as he went, but I must've looked pained because I didn't miss the flicker of mirth that glossed the older woman’s ageing eyes once Teds had finally settled.

"Bonjour chérie! How have you been? Behaving, I hope." My mum spoke, her sharp gaze lingering on me for a second longer than necessary before she finally shifted her full attention back onto her already babbling grandson.

I let the two of them chatter back and forth for a while, tired from where the day’s antics had worn me down, but still listening quietly as I focused on my mum’s sweet smile.

It was days like these that I wished I could do more than simply phone her. I wanted to walk through the front door after a long walk by the harbour and see her standing in the kitchen. I wanted to hug her and smell the same flowery perfume she’d worn since I was Teddy’s age. I wanted to lay on the grassy fields which sat behind our cottage and talk about nothing until the sun finally set.

But just seeing her face would have to do, for now.

"So you have been good for your maman, non?" I heard my mum ask, and all of my problems suddenly seemed so trivial at that moment, especially in comparison to the beaming grin Teddy gifted the woman as he nodded his head vigorously in response.

I raised a hand to run my fingers through the toddler’s hair, fingertips tucking stray stands behind his tiny ears. "He's been fine- well, we had a little tiff this morning, didn't we Teds?" I alluded to and then laughed, closed mouthed and breathy, at the way Teddy's head snapped up to gape at me. "When a certain someone didn't want to leave the flat..."

Teddy's lips curved into an unhappy frown at my words and his eyebrows dipped to show how displeased he was with the fact that I had ratted him out. To his grandmother of all people.

I snorted to myself.

“Oh is that so?” Came my mum’s voice and Teddy’s eyes widened at her tone. Immediately the little boy whipped his head back around so that he could pout in the direction of the camera.

"No!" Teddy tried and I snickered, which only seemed to earn me a narrow-eyed scowl in retort. I had to, quite literally, chew at my bottom lip to hide my amused grin then. "I just tired, mémé! Need sleep! And Fin say no come over t'day. Gots to work. And I was sad."

“Ah, I see! So you were in a mood.” My mum hummed, eyes twinkling now. “And here I thought you adored mornings, Teddy! Or has it just been too long since you last visited me?” She gave me a pointed glance then, one I knew all too well.

Teddy, oblivious to his grandmother’s unsubtle attempt at chiding me, sat up straighter to once again grab at the phone I held. I sighed in reluctance but let him have it, trying not to linger too long on thoughts of grubby fingerprints and a broken screen.

Only recently had I had the stupid thing upgraded, not long after Teddy had violently destroyed the last one. The horrified expression of the young worker I’d shown it to in the shop still haunted me to this very day, as well blu-tack and parcel tape which had been the only two things holding the phone together.

"I do, I do!" Teddy rushed to reassure the woman, bouncing to further accentuate his point. I settled a hand on his shoulder to still him, grimacing lightly at the way his knee had suddenly been forced into my lower stomach. "Mornin’ I'm good! Mum makes soldiers like you! An' I see an'mals in the park when we walk to Finny's."

"That sounds like fun, mon cœur, and I'm excité to hear more, but that does not explain your tantrum." The older woman replied, and I felt the moment Teddy slumped against my chest, eyes downcast. "Alors pourquoi?"

Teddy shrugged silently at her, chin tucked into his neck. I tried to bite back my smirk and my mum gave me a sharp look for it, but it did nothing to dim the mirth I felt. Actually only encouraged me further, enough that I had to angle my face away.

The one thing I loved most about living in London was the fact that my mum could only scold me through the phone.

"Just didn't wanna leave, mummy." Teddy admitted, rather sheepishly in fact, which instantly caught my attention. But before I could get a word in edgeways, my mum was already there, saving the day. Like always.

"Edward. Your maman is there for you whenever you need her! You call and she will come running."

Her voice was gentle, face full of concern and assurance, so much so that I had to suck in a tight breath.

"Has there ever been a time that you have needed her and she wasn't there?"

Teddy shook his head, woeful eyes trained on the screen now, and I couldn't stop himself from wrapping an arm around him, desperate to have him closer. Teddy went without fuss and leant into the familiar gesture, resting his head against the small crook at my neck.

"See? She’s so wonderful, so very good to you, and she can only do her best, comprendre? So when she is not with you, when you are with Finn or at the nursery school with all your friends, she is working hard to make sure you have a happy life. It doesn't mean she loves you any less, chéri."

"And I do love you, Teddy." I added thickly, chin buried in Teddy's hair, "So, so much."

"I know. Just miss you."

My heart constricted tightly in my chest when Teddy tilted his head far back enough to peer up at me, his long lashes brushing against the line of his brow. I leaned in closer to press a kiss into his nest of messy curls.

“Miss you too, little man. Always. Things are never any fun without you around.”

"Really?" Teddy gasped loudly, as though he'd just that second heard that the Amazon rainforest had upped itself and decided to invade the UK.

"Big time." I faintly whispered, smiling when Teddy's face lit up.

He turned then, far too quickly for my liking, his entire mood having shifted upon hearing those simple words. "You hear mummy, mémé! You hear?"

"Oui, oui, chéri!" My mum replied with the same amount of emotion, tittering quietly to herself as she observed Teddy's catching excitement, "So lucky to have her, non?"

Teddy nodded vehemently and I just rolled my eyes at the pair, half in exasperation and half fondly.

"I think it's the other way around, I'd be beyond lost without this little monster." I quickly countered, tickling Teddy's sides and then laughing when the toddler squirmed in my hold, unable to escape.

"Stop! Stop!" Teddy pleaded in a fit of hysterics as I continued my attack. "Help, mémé! Tell!"

"D'accord, d'accord!" Came my mother's merry laugh, seemingly coming to Teddy's rescue even though she was more than two hundred miles away. "Le laisser. My poor baby!"

I relented but only pulled away once I had smattered a sloppy trail of kisses down my baby's flushed cheek. Teddy whined unhappily at the invasion and wiped lazily at his face with the back of his hand whilst I simply laughed.

"Silly babies." My mum scoffed without any heat, her smile radiant.

She looked just about ready to say something else but Teddy was already twisting in my lap. "Hafta go loo." He divulged to me in a not-so-quiet whisper, wriggling in his seat now with a strained smile.

I blew out a breathy chuckle in reply and immediately pulled the phone from his grasp, placing it on the arm of the settee so that I could swiftly pick him up and plop him down onto the floor. I nodded my head in the direction of the hallway and Teddy hurried on, but not before he kissed the phone screen goodbye.

I returned to the sound of my mother's sweet laughter.

"Je jure, il est une bénédiction."

My mouth pulled up at one side whilst I lightly shook my head. "A menace, more like."

"Ah! Do not speak ill of my gorgeous grandson!" My mum was quick to retort, wagging a finger at me, and even down the phone she could make menacing work. "He is magnifique, made up of all your best parts!"

I simply snorted in turn, rolling my eyes as I let my head fall back against the settee cushion. "I don't have enough of those to configure an entire being, even one that small."

It was my mum’s turn to snort then.

"Don't make such jokes." She scoffed, waving me away, "They forever fall flat.” Ouch. “You are beautiful, my love. Anyone with eyes can see that, and Teddy is so lucky to have you as his mother."

I couldn't really bring myself to reply then, instead I inhaled slowly and let my eyes slip close. It had been another long and tiring day, but then again, most days had me at the brink of exhaustion, in truth.

"Joli, talk to me." The woman murmured softly, her voice rang out into the now empty room, rousing my attention back to the phone. "I can see how tired you are, amour."

With another deep breath, I tried to give her the best smile I could muster. "I'm fine, mam. You don't need to worry so much."

My mum scoffed again, rolling her eyes with it.

"It's my job to worry about you! And you make it so much harder when you do not tell me what is going on. With you so far away, I can do nothing but call and pester until you talk to me!"

I sighed distractedly and raised a hand to rub at my cheek. I knew that she had a point, understood that she was always there whenever I needed her, but it was so hard to allow her that intimacy. She had spent the majority of my childhood caring for me, constantly worrying and fretting, so much it still often made me feel like a burden.

Moving to London had meant to be a fresh start for us both, somewhere far enough that I could give her the much needed space away from me and my many issues. But then I'd gone and cocked everything up by getting myself pregnant, and I’d only made things worse for us when Teddy had come along. It had taken weeks for me to finally admit to her just how terrified I had felt. How desperate I’d been for help.

But not once had she complained about my ability to open up, or lack thereof. Deep down, I knew that she probably understood my inner torment, my desperate need to not be a bother, but it didn't make anything at all easier.

Thoughtlessly, I threaded a hand through my hair, already feeling the knowing tell of a migraine that was starting to form just behind my eyes. I made a quick note to take something for it before I went to bed, otherwise I would be in utter hell come tomorrow morning.

And as I carefully mulled over the words that dizzied my mind, thinking on my mum’s own, I thought back to the last few days, about how hectic everything had been.

“Just a bit mental at work.” Was what I settled on, but couldn't quite stop myself from huffing as I knuckled at the inner corner of my eye. “I said something on the show that I probably shouldn’t have, and next thing I knew it was all over the news. Headlines and everything, can you believe that?”

Still in disbelief over it all, I just shook my head.

“I saw nothing. It wasn't anything bad, was it, should I start worrying?” My mum pestered with a telling expression, because we both knew just how quickly my mouth could get me into trouble. We’d had one too many experiences tucked under our belts with that, but what can you do really?

Instantly I waved her worries off, laughing lightly, “No, nothing too extreme. Well, not anything too vulgar or offensive, just shared an opinion on this guy.”

“Souris,” My mum dragged out the nickname lowly, a warning or maybe a plea, telling me not to add anything stupid to the rest of my explanation. “S'il te plaît. Do not tell me you said anything rude.”

I shrugged, “Not really.”

“Not really?” She quickly retorted, utterly exasperated it seemed as a hand flew hurriedly through the air. “Not really, she says!”

I had to muffle the snort I made in my palm, “I’m telling the truth!”

I blew out a breath and started to toy with the frayed hem of my jumper's sleeve, peering down at it. “Just, I’d been asked to talk about this one singer- Matty Healy, you might know him? From that one band.”

My mum merely blinked at me, before she ultimately shook her head, the name not ringing any bells.

I wondered, very briefly, whether that was a first for Healy.

“Well, I- I ‘spose I made an assumption on air, spoke before thinking really-”

“The usual.”

Barreling on, I ignored the sly dig of her interruption, “And probably didn't hold back. Apparently he has a rather large fan base though and a few of them heard what I’d said online, started talking about it. No wait, arguing is probably the better word.”

“Oh mon Dieu. Please don’t tell me you started arguing with these people! It’s not good for the show, for you! And what of Teddy, what if he hears the gossiping?”

“Maman, you sound almost as bad as me!” I chuckled, unable to hide my amusement at her worrying, “Stop assuming!”

She clucked at me in return, then signalled for me to continue with a roll of her eyes.

“See, the singer, well he must have ended up hearing it all because he replied to us on Twitter.” I revealed, peeking up to garner her reaction. “Reckon he was probably a bit drunk when he did though, and ended up admitting that what I’d said was mostly truth.”

My mum worried at her lower lip, letting a silence stretch between us before she broke it with a faint hum, “What else happened? Did you reply?”

“I spoke out about it a little more on today’s show; apologised.” I answered with a one-armed shrug, voice much quieter now. “But I don't know, I felt horrible. And I've never even met the man!”

“Try not to stress too much. I’m sure it will all work out. Besides, you have bigger things to fret about, like whether or not you’re coming to see me for Noël.”

I beamed at that, but still had to shake my head at her incessance. The woman really did have a way of rationalising everything though.

Just as I was about to add to that, I stilled and my eyes flickered up to the notification that had just come through at the top of my screen. An email. It wasn't too unusual to be receiving one this late, I supposed, and so I squinted my eyes at the notification box as I let my soft chuckles die out.

To: Mouseradio@/gmail.com From: Clientteam@/Primarytalent.org Subject: Scheduling/Meetings

Good evening!

Apologies for the late email, we simply wanted to write to you in regards to the recent claims made on your radio show, Mouse On A Mic, both yesterday and today, regarding the topic of one of our high profile clients.

We see it fit that all agencies involved should come to an agreeable arrangement now that the media have become more involved in the subject matter. Our team has since come together and written up some viable solutions, we believe it would be in both parties best interests if a time slot could be scheduled on your show within the upcoming days, in which we can gain an advantage and shed the right amount of light on the sensitive topic at hand.

We hope to hear back from you shortly and are wishing you all the best. Please do reply with a response and some available dates to this email address as soon as possible!

We are looking forward to hearing from you, the Primary Talent Team.

“Mum? I’m gonna have to call you back.”

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sweetandgentlecreature · 8 months

Note

Can I request something? Idk how you feel about this, but recently Henry went to his high school reunion... Imagine if he took you with him and his ex girlfriend comes outta nowhere and starts flirting, you get jealous and he takes you somewhere to show you that his yours. 🥹🥹 Angst & fluff 😍😫

Aww, hi there! I love this idea! I’m a sucker for some angsty fluff, so I hope you enjoy!! ❤️❤️

Warnings: jealous reader, cocky Henry (he’s his own warning), and some implied smut at the end. I am 18+ and all of the works created by me are rated as such. Minors, DNI.

The hallowed halls of the distinguished boarding school were alive with the sounds of laughter and friendly conversation. The soft click of your heels along the marble floor echoed down the empty corridor as you made your way back from the washroom. When you’d excused yourself a moment ago, he’d been catching up with his mates. Talking about careers, families and other commitments, nothing too serious of course. Reminiscing on the gleam in his eye as he watched you walk away made you blush. No matter how long you’d been together, he still managed to leave you weak in the knees.

When you returned, though, he stood alone off to the side. That man could make a trash bag look good, but seeing him all dressed up like this had your heart aflutter. You admired him from afar for a moment as he sipped from a glass of champagne, when a beautiful blonde appeared out of nowhere and put a hand on his arm. A surprised and delighted smile spread across his handsome face, and you froze in your tracks. Who is that? They seem to know each other well, how she caresses him as they embrace in greeting. Your face burns in a mix of embarrassment and…something else. Jealousy? It feels silly to be so jealous of this beautiful stranger, and you do your best to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay. Snatching a flute of champagne from the tray of an unsuspecting waiter nearby, you take a swig to settle your nerves and cross the room to join them.

Her giggle echoes loudly through the hall, her head thrown back in flirtatious laughter when you approach. Henry opens his arms and welcomes you into his side with a smile. Beaming with pride to have the woman of his dreams at his side, he clears his throat to get her attention. “Heather, meet my love,” he makes the introduction, leaning in to brush his lips against your ear. He can feel the tension in your shoulders, and it doesn’t take much to read your mind. He’s always been good at knowing exactly what you’re thinking. “Darling, this is Heather.”

Heather gives a tight-lipped grin and a pert little nod your way. It’s clear that you’re just as much of a surprise as she is to you. “Right. Hello, there. Henry hadn’t mentioned you.” You narrow your eyes as you look her up at down. Well, are you a peach, you scoff to yourself. “It’s nice to meet you,” you grit through clenched teeth. Smoothing a hand down the front of his chest, you let it draw her attention to the beautiful solitaire diamond as it glimmers in the light. Her eyes grow wide for a moment, and for once, she’s speechless.

“Oh...I see," she whispers, then nods. Taking a step back, she prepares for retreat. "It was lovely to see you again, Henry. Enjoy your evening." With that, she was gone, and then there were two. Henry let out a soft little chuckle as he turns to admire you instead.

"That certainly was...something." Taking your hand into his, he brings it up for a gentle kiss. "For the record though, love, Heather's harmless. Water under the bridge."

Though you listen, you barely comprehend what he's saying. There was a history there, she made that very clear, and you didn't like it. Chest heaving, cheeks flushed, adrenaline courses through your veins as you start to settle down again. Your body trembles, head reeling from your small bout of fight or flight, and you don't even notice that he's circling you now. Hungry eyes size you up, a predator stalking his prey, and it isn't until he grabs you by the waist that you realize what's on his mind. He's never seen you like this, so eager to protect what is yours, and it lights a fire that he hadn't anticipated needing to tame tonight.

"Hm...you don't seem to believe me." Brushing your hair from your shoulder, he leans in to inhale the sweet scent of your perfume from the pulse point at your neck. His eyes darken, as his gaze shifts from your throat to meet your eyes. "What do you say we call it a night? I think I've got something better in mind."

He doesn't give you a chance to respond, not that you'd protest anyway, before he sweeps you up into his arms. Pressed against his chest, you feel the tip of his nose brush against the shell of your ear as he lowers his voice for only you to hear. "Let me refresh your memory, Darling. Maybe then you'll know just who I belong to."

#sweet anons #henry cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x female reader

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wuahae · 9 months

Text

liminal space [11:32, friday]

xu minghao x f!reader; one-sided jun x f!reader

wc: 3.1k notes: college!au, soft angst, unrequited love, strangers(?) to friends(?) to ??, y'all i really don't know, feedback is very appreciated!

— in which you've hidden yourself away, hoping for someone to see. and then someone does.

warm light seeps through the crack beneath the door, scattering across the carpet in the darkness of your room. the noise on the other side comes muffled, music from soonyoung’s shitty playlist (he had called dibs, this time) blurring together with the cacophony of voices outside. briefly, there’s a loud cheer that rings through the house; junhui must have won his first round of beer pong of the night, judging by the whoops that followed.

sat on the floor at the foot of your bed, you bring your knees closer to your chest, tucking your chin in as you try to block out the sound. it’s almost a feat, how you managed to get yourself in this position every single time.

last month, you had told yourself you would really do it this time, that you would stand your ground and tell jun no, you wouldn’t be at the party he was hosting the following friday, or maybe ‘host it somewhere else this time.’ but then he’d looked at you with pleading eyes, expectation shamelessly displayed across his face, and your resolve crumpled like wet tissue paper.

and now here you were, hiding in your room after managing to slip away from all the commotion. it was the closest to peace and quiet you would get, for the rest of the night.

(you should have just gone with wonwoo and jihoon when they offered. they’d even given you a poorly veiled pitying look before they left.)

jun probably doesn’t even notice, you think wryly, picking at a loose tuft from the carpet. you’re sure your absence is far from sorely missed, especially with all the company they had over, not to mention the extra buzz and energy that comes with the alcohol. it’s especially why jun’s insistence on your attendance never quite makes sense to you, even after all this time—not that it really mattered.

junhui would always ask. you would always say yes.

a knock on the door makes your head jolt up. scrambling to your feet, you call out at the unexpected intrusion, tepid hope latching onto your heart. did jun finally prove you wrong? “yes?”

“it’s me,” the voice says, the quiet tone somehow carrying through the door. “minghao.”

the hope disappears as fast as it came. ah.

squashing the embarrassment that comes after predictable disappointment, you walk to the door and turn the knob slowly, peeking out from behind the open sliver. your eyes try to adjust to the sudden light. “hi.”

a polite smile. “hey.”

a long silence stretches between the two of you, even with the noise still blasting from the living room. you shift onto another foot, playing with the doorknob as a nervous habit. “…what’s up?”

“i texted wonwoo, he said you might have some hangover medicine in your room.”

“oh, i think i do,” you contemplate, pursing your lips in thought. “let me check, though.”

you turn, only to hesitate by the doorway when you look back. minghao is still looking at you. the doorknob twists once. “do you, um,” you offer awkwardly, “want to come in?”

he shrugs. “sure.”

the hinge creaks slightly as he opens it further to enter, along with a quiet click as it closes shut. you flip on your desk lamp, filling the room with a soft glow. rifling through your desk drawers, you try to ignore the way he hovers somewhere a distance behind you, shoulders bunched to shrink away from the awkwardness.

it always feels like uncharted territory with minghao, like you’re treading on a lake thinly frozen over. you’ve known him for the whole year, ever since jun first introduced you to the rest of his friends, but you don’t even think you’ve spoken more than twenty words to him in that time.

you don’t know if it’s for the lack of trying (you’ve befriended the rest of jun’s group just fine), but there was something about minghao that stilted your ability to talk to him—not that he seemed particularly interested to bridge the gap either. you supposed it wasn’t anything you were fighting for; it was something comfortable you’d come to terms with long ago, this vague acquaintanceship you’ve let remain stagnant.

you were just never really sure what to say with him.

“oh, here,” you say, holding up a bottle of nausea pills. “did you want the painkillers too?”

minghao shakes his head. “no, that’s okay, just the nausea’s good.”

you squint at him, bottle rattling as you hand it over. “i thought you were d.d. tonight?”

“i am,” minghao replies, something exasperated coloring his features. “these are for the people in the car.”

ah, you mouth. “better than a trash bag for each person?”

his lips press into a thin line, stressed at just the thought. “we’re bringing the bags just in case. i am not cleaning puke out of my car this time.”

you let out a soft laugh at that. “at least soonyoung lives here. one less person you have to worry about.”

minghao sighs, looking down at the bottle. “i’m grateful for that every single day.”

“unfortunately, that just means his mess turns into my mess,” you joke, taking a seat on the floor. your arms wrap around your legs again, curled back up to your chest.

minghao tilts his head. “wonwoo and jihoon don’t help out when they get back?”

“well,” you rescind, “our mess. but they’re usually too tired when they come back to handle whatever happens before the sun rises.”

minghao huffs out a laugh. “at least there’s only one messy drunk living with you.”

“ha, at least.”

a beat of silence. music continues to play muffled from the living room, the sound of clattering cups and ping pongs bouncing off the wooden floor.

“it’s quiet in here,” minghao comments, looking around.

nodding, you give him a tentative smile. “yeah, surprisingly.”

another beat of silence. soonyoung gets hold of the karaoke mic and starts his singing domination till dawn—or until he passes out.

“how’s the party?” you ask, immediately cringing. small talk was never your strong suite.

“it’s good,” minghao nods absently. “standard. it doesn’t seem like you’re enjoying much of it, though.”

tensing, you look up at him. in the lowlight, your eyes try to adjust his frame into focus. you try to imagine what it would be like to look at him wholly in the light, to know what the parts of him covered by shadows looked like. the way his hair rested at the nape of his neck, the shade of his eyes, where the slopes of his features began and ended. could you ever really figure him out? would you ever really know?

“is that rhetorical?” you end up saying, after a brief pause.

“just an observation.”

“yeah, well.” your hand finds its way back to the carpet, picking at the loose tuft again. “there never really is much for me out there anyway.”

“you really think so?”

you give minghao a wry smile. “i think i’ve tried to deny it for too long to not think so.”

an expression flits across minghao’s face, too quick for you to see what it resembled in the dark, before he points to the spot next to you. “can i sit? i think i’d like some peace and quiet myself, too.”

befuddled, it suddenly dawns on you as you scooch over slightly to make room that this was the longest conversation you’ve ever had with minghao. you can’t even manage a verbal response in your surprise, settling for a jerky nod before he plops down next to you.

neither of you say anything after that, sitting quietly as the clock ticks by. you try glancing at him, but you whip your head away before he can notice. you really didn’t think it would ever get this far; maybe you should have said no—(stop, you silently rebuke yourself. that’s rude to even think about.)

“can i be honest?” you try instead, breaking the silence.

minghao turns his head to face you. “hm?”

you bite your lip, contemplating on how to phrase it. “i’m just kind of surprised. you know, that you wanted to stay.”

“at the party?”

“no, like…” you resist a sigh, forcing the words out thin and pressed. hell. “in my room. with me.”

“what?” he raises a quizzical brow. “why?”

“i don’t know,” you confess. it seems stupid when you say it out loud. “i thought you didn’t like me, or something.”

minghao pauses. “what’s there not to like?”

you bite your tongue, enough for it to hurt and taste the metal. “no, nevermind. forget i said anything.”

“no, seriously,” he insists, and it’s something you’ve never heard from minghao before. gentle, but firm, like he won’t let it go until you tell him the truth. “what’s there not to like?”

but you can’t tell him the truth; you can’t lie to him either. there isn’t much you know what to say, when it comes to anything you haven’t already specifically curated per occasion. maybe that was why it was so hard with minghao—you could never tell what he wanted you to be.

“everyone sees it, you know,” minghao continues. “how much you care. it’s why they like being around you. they all see you as a good friend.”

your gaze shifts to the ground, giving a dry smile as you curl further into yourself. you almost want to laugh. “everyone, huh?”

from a few familiar chords, you hear soonyoung starting his encore rendition of ‘don’t stop believing,’ with the extra tambourines and all. it almost does a good enough job of filling in the silence that hangs in the air, if only you couldn’t feel the hesitation from minghao before he speaks again.

“but you like him, right?”

“what?”

“jun. you like him.”

you whip your head towards him, eyes widening. “what?”

minghao has the decency to look at least somewhat apologetic about his bluntness, but it does nothing to quell your panic as you scramble to deny his accusation. except, the defense dies on your lips when you remember it’s not so much an accusation as it is a statement. you like jun. you know it, and he knows it too.

“how—how did you know?”

he gives you a borderline sheepish look. “it’s kind of hard not to tell.”

i seriously want to die, you moan internally, head falling back between your knees. “are you serious? is it just some open secret then?”

the ground might as well open and swallow you whole. maybe if you were lucky you’d walk outside and the zombie apocalypse would have started and you would never have to worry about this again—

“i think i’m the only one who knows, though.”

you stop. “oh.”

“yeah.”

“i thought you said it was obvious.”

“it is.”

something builds up in your chest, about to explode. “so why—”

“it is, when you know where to look.”

you open your mouth to say something in response, but you don’t even know where to start. all that really comes out is a little noise in the back of your throat, half of an objection that can’t even make its way past your lips before minghao continues.

“you’re not the only one that watches, you know.” your eyes flick to his, but once your eyes meet it feels more like he’s looking at you. like he’s latched onto you and you don’t know how to have him let go. minghao has your loose thread between his fingers, and he pulls gently. “maybe no one else notices, but we’ve been around each other long enough for me to see how you look at jun.”

your breath catches. “and how do i look at him?” (the question is less for minghao and more for yourself.)

“you’re the first one to see him arrive and the last to see him go.”

it’s strange. you never once thought you would ever end up in this position with minghao, much less tonight, where you had come into it determined to hide yourself away. and yet here you were, talking to him for what might as well be the first time with frayed edges and bared thread.

“what,” you try to deflect, a strained smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “a friend can’t do that?”

minghao gives you a pointed look, almost exasperated, as if waiting for that thread to finish pulling loose. “i think we both know friends don’t look at each other like that.”

you don’t think you have minghao figured out (your only solace is that you don’t think he has you totally figured out either), but he’s coming into focus for you, little by little. it’s why you allow that final stitch to unravel, loose thread pooling at your feet. “just me though, right? he, on the other hand, looks at me like a friend just fine.”

he hums. “you think so?”

you breathe out a short laugh, too realistic to be anything but bitter. “why else do you think jun asked me to live with a bunch of other guys? there’s no way he could think of me as anything more than a friend after that.”

there’s a pause, the type you’ve learned during the course of this night that means you need to prepare for what minghao’s about to say next. “then why’d you say yes?”

poignant. hard-hitting. you still don’t really know what to say in response when he asks you questions like these. there isn’t really much you can tell him either, not without sounding pathetic.

(junhui would ask. you would always say yes. you recognize the weight of this more than anyone.)

and as self-aware as you are, you also know that you just can’t say no to jun. not when you’ve loved him ever since he’d gotten all scratched up trying to feed the little kittens hiding in the schoolyard bushes back when you were 14, not when you’ve been with him through it all—the fake sick-days, the last-minute cram sessions the morning before a test, the time you’d opened the door on a sunday evening and he’d stood there mud-covered and scrape-kneed holding out a single four-leaf clover to you. because you had said you’d wanted it, because he wanted to be a reason for your good luck.

yet time passes and it stops for no one, and while jun has taken it in full stride, friendly and magnetic to everyone he chances upon, the same cannot be said for you. no matter how hard he tries to drag you along to every occasion, you realize it will always be just that—his hand tugging you along, you will always be watching him from behind.

“he’s my friend.” it echoes empty. you’re sure minghao can hear it too. “nothing can really change that.”

no steps forward and no steps back, you’re stuck in this liminal space, trapped in the memory of being that girl who cried for hours after she accidentally stepped on a snail on a rainy day, the girl who wanted that four-leaf clover because she was scared to go to a school without jun there next to her.

sometimes, you wonder if jun knows how you feel about these types of things and he tries to drag you along with it anyway. maybe it’s his silly idea of exposure therapy, that if he brings you to enough of these events and introduces you to enough new people that you’ll finally grow and change with him. but you’re not really changing, you’re just trying—for jun, who still doesn’t realize the smile you give him every time you say ‘yes’ is pressed and designed specifically to make him happy.

but minghao looks at you, really looks at you, and asks, “but you want it to? change, i mean.”

you draw in a short breath, quiet. “i don’t know.”

“then…” his eyes shine, distinct in the lowlight. “do you want to change?”

gnawing on your bottom lip, you rip your gaze away, staring back to the floor. you’ve thought about it over and over, especially on nights where you’ve hidden yourself away. a part of you wants to keep being that person, the one you know that jun will keep coming back to. it’s familiar, it’s what he knows, and there’s a security in that, for both you and him. you know what it means to change, to not necessarily be the person that falls into step with jun—and as much as you’ve wanted to be that for as long as you can remember, you want to start moving past that, even if it means you’ll grow into a person jun won’t recognize anymore.

“maybe,” you say finally, like defeat in the admittance. “i think i’m just tired.”

there’s a brief moment of silence, one where the weight of your answer rests heavy. minghao opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can, seokmin’s loud voice bounces through the house, resonating.

“myunghooo where are you…! let’s go hoooome!”

minghao gives you an apologetic smile instead, shuffling to his feet. “i’m sorry, i think that’s my cue to go.”

“ah, no, you’re good,” you respond hurriedly, standing up after him and rushing to the door to open it for him. “i’m sure i’ve kept you here long enough.”

“hey,” he says, right as you twist the doorknob. there’s a gentle reminder in his gaze. “i wanted to stay.”

something lodges in your throat, something you’re not sure how to even verbalize, but you’re saved by another holler.

“myuuuunghoooooo!”

“coming!” minghao calls out, before turning to you. “i’ll see you later, okay?”

yeah, you mean to say, but the word gets caught between breath and speech as you look at him go. with the door open, the bright hallway light scatters throughout your entire room, the warm light from your desk lamp and the hallway blurring together into one; and yet, minghao comes into focus, all at once.

“minghao,” you interrupt, right as he steps foot out the doorway. he looks back at you, curious. “thank you,” you wring your fingers together. “for listening to me.”

minghao smiles, a slight quirk of his lips. “of course.”

as you watch him turn around, you think that this is the end of it, but then he pauses, for just another second. you blink, waiting.

“whether you choose to or not,” he says, and your mind flashes back to your previous conversation. if you want to change, if you truly want to let go of jun. “i’ll always be here, if you need anyone to listen.”

after the night has come to a close, when you’ve finished cleaning up the house and everyone has gone to bed, your mind swims with the memory of his words, the echo of the conversation still rushes in your ears.

and you think you might just hold him to that.

tbc.

please leave feedback if you enjoyed the fic!

#svt x reader #minghao x reader #jun x reader #svt scenarios #the8 x reader #minghao scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt angst #junhui x reader

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l0velylecter · 1 year

Text

say yes to me — simon ‘ghost’ riley / f!reader

— “like a barge at sea, in the storm, i stay clear.”

— 'FAITH WILL GET YOU KILLED.’ HE sounded tired, sad even. The mist was starting to crowd you from all sides. Above, snowflakes danced in the light: a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind. You tentatively reached out to brush the masked cheek with your thumb, putting on your best smile even if tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

‘ Well, you've kept me safe. Haven’t you, Simon?’

summary : when his enemies used your history with simon against him, the soldier begins to reflect on your relationship, well, whatever was left of it: even after the divorce, life still finds a way to drag you back into the crossfire, back to him. pairing : simon ‘ghost’ riley / f! reader fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii rating : m for mature and suggestive themes, minors don’t interact (mdni!), not safe for work (nsfw!) warnings : descriptions of violence, cursing, references to past substance abuse, arguments that may be anxiety inducing to some, anger management issues from simon tags : angst, hurt and comfort, simon struggling to face his emotions, divorce, reunion after years, scenes with brief descriptions of sex in it, female parts, fab!reader, told in parts, refrences to his past from the comics, a small headcanon about his (dead) mom word count : 1.7k song used for inspiration : yes to heaven by lana del rey & my blood by ellie goulding

01 | Simon rescued you in winter. Sedated by the wind, the city's heartbeat begins to fade; the air — cold with the promise of snow. It distracted you from the fact that you were bleeding, your blouse clinging to the warm and wet wound. It also made hearing harder: past the ringing in your ears, you could hear him shouting, movements rushed as he knelt to haul your body atop his lap. The familiar string of curses erasing any suspicions of his identity.

" Simon." You rasped, smiling even if everything was hurting," My Simon."

" Keep your eyes open." He ordered, " Don't you fucking close them."

He told you to focus on something, anything to keep you awake. So you anchored yourself to how he curled his finger around your shoulders because even if his eyes were stern to save his composure, his grip says otherwise. He has always held onto you as if you were going to slip away, tightly, surely. As if Simon wanted to convince himself that you weren't a dream ready to be ripped away from him by the morning ( but maybe this was the first time he wished otherwise). He'd tap your cheek from time to time. The brief and sharp sting prying your eyes open.

Simon adjusted you across his lap, your body rocking as the helicopter landed roughly. Somewhere along the way, a confession had slipped past your mouth, "I thought...you wouldn't come."

There was a quick flash of anger across his face: fingers twitching and knees tensing beneath you.

" I won't next time."

When you woke up in a hospital bed, a nurse went to alert the doctor, the empty chair by the foot of the bed staring back at you. 02 | Simon left you in spring. He didn't visit, didn't call, didn't write. You didn't expect him to anyway, carrying on with your life as if you'd never seen him in the first place. The whole thing felt like a hallucination. Seeing Simon again felt like witnessing a premonition of a ghost who should be good as dead to you. Yet your stitches said otherwise, and so did Captain Jonathan Price, his visit an overdue prediction that came true late in May. The bouquet resting against your vase was supposedly an apology for the intrusion — " I was raised proper."

" Let me guess. Simon's angry with me."

Price lowered his cigar, mouth curling downwards, " No. Not at you."

You relaxed against the couch. You wouldn't be so careless to claim that Simon trusted him, but at the very least, you knew he respected the man. You reminisced about the first time you met Price ( even then, he had a cigar hanging from his mouth). He had hauled Ghost past your doorway: bloody, battered, and bruised. That must've been at least seven or eight years ago when you'd just started living with your husband.

Right, you swallowed, catching yourself — when he was your husband.

As if hearing your thoughts, Price sighed, " You weren't on any official records. There was no documentation, no pictures. Nothing. No one knew about you."

" And now?"

" His team suspects, but I doubt there'll be any external witnesses left to ever pull a bloody stupid stunt like that again."

You raised your brow.

" He went after everyone in that warehouse. No survivors. No witnesses."

The image of Simon covered head to toe with blood, eyes furious and lethal, flashed before your eyes. It would make sense why he wouldn't want to rescue you next time because, after his purge, you doubt there would be anyone — anything left to hurt you. He's on leave now. Simon says he wants to be thorough.

You could barely keep it together when gesturing at the flowers, " Tell him I said thank you."

Price asked how you knew it was from Simon — " The staff in the center used to teach classes on flowers. That included gardening, making bouquets, and learning meaning behind them. After...after what they did to him, he wouldn't talk for months. I guess that class was his way of trying to fill in the silence. Daffodils bloom first during spring: new beginnings, sorries. I taught him that. He used to get me them all the time.”

You shook your head, feeling helpless, “He hasn't changed." 03 | Simon’s kisses felt like summer: hot, intense, and angry — his lips burned against your skin. He crowded you against the wall of your apartment, a behemoth of a man even out of his tactical gear, leaving you with barely any space to touch him.

You whined, begging him to slow down, yet he kissed you with teeth and tongue and urgency. When he cupped your chin roughly with both hands, angling your face under the dim light from the kitchen: peeling back the silhouette to take a good look at you, flushed, panting, and crying.

He growled into your mouth, hoisting you up his waist, " You should've paid more attention. He could have fucking hurt you."

You winced, recalling the events that took place: how the midsummer heat stung your skin as you quickened your pace to get away from the man who had followed you down the block. The moment you pulled your keys out to unlock the door, he had picked up his pace, only to scram the moment Simon appeared behind you. He would have gone after the attacker if you had not gripped his arm for support, overwhelmed: your knees nearly gave out. As if possessed by an irresistible force, the sight of you weakly clinging onto him and on the brink of tears had compelled Simon to undo years of restraint — which would explain why you can taste the frustration in his mouth.

" You'll always protect me. I know it," You managed in between kisses. Briefly, you wondered how long Simon's been looking out for you. Was this what he chose to do on the rare occasions he was off the field? All those times he probably saw you on dates: trying and failing to get over him. All those times you cried about him. All those times you bought yourself daffodils.

There was something bittersweet at how he seemed to remember the way to the bedroom you used to share, legs finding their way when he was too occupied with you. And you couldn't swallow the tinge of sadness swelling in your chest when you remember every touch, from how he loves to kiss down your back to how he feels inside you; angling you in a way that hits all the right spots. He pistoned in and out of you almost brutally, your body pliant and welcoming under him, blooming at the memory. And when he inserts himself to the hilt, you moaned because you never forgot: how could you forget? It was as if time never passed between the two of you, it was natural, it was instinct, it was like coming home.

When he finally pulled out, leaving you throbbing and empty, you whispered for him to stay — fingers latching onto his when he stood up. And you scrambled to seize the moment he sat back down, breaking down against his chest, words pouring out of your mouth. I missed you. I never wanted you to leave. I still love you. I'll always love you.

He didn't need to take off the rest of his balaclava for you to know what he was thinking: I don't want to hurt you. Because I will hurt you.

You lay in the dark for a few seconds, five seconds turn to fifteen, turn to thirty, sixty. And when the first rays of sunlight came to wake you gently, Simon was gone. With the bedroom door slightly ajar, the left side of the bed was neat and spotless. Your legs — still warm and wet. 04 | Simon married you in autumn. You remembered how cold it was that day. Even inside the church, the air was frigid, yet still — the silence was only interrupted when the vicar entered. ( The church was not only for privacy, he said, but also for his late mother. Finally, it was a first and rare glimpse into his past. She was baptised here.)

You had nervously glanced at him, smiling lopsidedly with eyes bright and hopeful. Yet Simon remained passive, eyes only wavering when you started reciting their vows. It was the only time Simon had shown any real fear in front of you, and you remembered what you did that day. You had gripped his hand tightly in yours the entire time, kissing each finger before he gave you your ring.

You explained how the joy of having him carry you up the steps of your home was short-lived, washed under the reality of his pain. There was the temper, the drinking, the insults. The moment arguments got out of control and silent treatments turned too cruel — he started pushing you away, hoping to cut you off to prevent watching you fall apart himself.

"You underestimated me, Simon. That was the worst part," you finished, ending your story with a weak shrug, " I would've stayed if you had just asked me to. You know I would. I have faith in you, Simon. In us. I still do."

Outside, the shades of yellow and orange swept over the barren ground, except for a few sprouts of daffodils, stubbornly persevering through small miracles. The wind down the mountain slithered past the holes of the old wooden roof as whistles. They ring softly against the silence, echoing down the Rhenish helm. Today would have marked a decade's worth of anniversary, but now it's just become a resting ground for him to haunt — the sight of Simon without a mask, sitting by the pew and staring up at you, a memory you want to burn on the back of your head.

" Faith will get you killed," he sounded tired, sad even. The mist was starting to crowd you from all sides. Above, snowflakes danced in the light: a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind. You tentatively reached out to brush the masked cheek with your thumb, putting on your best smile even if tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

" Well, you've kept me safe. Haven’t you, Simon?"

There was a pause, and you swore the wind held its breath in anticipation with you, waiting, pleading for him to agree at the chance to start again with you. Say yes to me, your fingers whispered, tentatively brushing his hand. Heavy snow is due to arrive early, marking new beginnings: the birth of a new season, the start of his deployment, but to you, a long and terrible winter just ended the moment he kissed each finger to hold your hand.

a/n : zoo wee mama, that took a toll on me. all in one sitting because i am yearning for a domestic life with this man even if i know it will not be easy. fear not simon, i might be senstive and cry the moment someone slightly raise their voice at me, but i am loyal to the bone ( and just delusional enough ). i know this leans more on the reader’s perspective and very ‘read in between the lines’ aka vague, so i hope this style is enjoyable still to read. i personally have to mark this as one of my favorite ficlets / works , cause i love seeing simon suffer. speaking about seeing simon suffer, this is dedicated to : → @flaneurpastel : your support of my angsty simon fics and my work overall in general is something i really cherish, i’ve only briefly had this account but i am so thankful for your support !! and your works are amazing... here’s to more angsty simon fics ! → @gh0stswh0re : you are the first page i follow on here and the first account to actually get my ass moving to write about cod : mw ii because your works are jiust *chef’s kiss*, and i’m so excited for your december writing plan... i’m booking front seat ! → everyone who reblogged and liked my angsty simon fics... you guys keep me going mwah x + note on timeline : → the comics talk about simon’s past, he was tortured and needed to go to rehab around 2003-2004 ish, so i assumed he spent a couple years then in therapy / rehab for substance abuse because he needed to cope, and that’s where you met him. marriage happened right after he got revenge on roba and right when he was first employed by 141 ( which probably was why it didn’t work out ) and ever since then it’s just been longing and heartache. and 2022 rolls up, which is cod : mw ii, and i assume this is probably before or after las almas and shadow company ! → feel free to adjust it if it’s better for you or correct me if i’m off or wrong !

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onthecrescentofthehill · 4 months

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g1deon and pyrrha + gideon and harrow throughlines scattered in all of tlt continue to drive me insane.

the initial investigation scenes post the 5th deaths where the 2nd house tries to pull cohort rank control of the situation, gideon & harrow immediately sneak away to learn that the winnowing trial was developed by the second house and cohort founders, g1deon & pyrrha. winnowing as incorporating the other, refusing distractions for the sake of true control, loyalty and duty.

gideon is wearing his sunglasses, rifling through their things. she doesn’t see it as a real place someone would live in, only a stop along the way to somewhere else, more whole.

she sees a gun on the wall that her mother's ghost will use the river memory of to try and kill harrow in the dream of cannan house:

It took Gideon a long time to realise that she was looking at something goddamn ancient: it was a blowback carbine gun. She’d only ever seen pictures. ….. The hairs on the back of Gideon’s neck had risen when the lights came on, and they hadn’t gone back down, as if her intrusion might well tempt time back to claim its grave goods. GTN chapter 19

Carbine rifle, read the key. For a moment she pitied Judith Deuteros’s last seconds. To be killed with this ancient piece of grave goods! It would have been like being set upon by a ghost out of time. HTN chapter 18

gideon reads "one flesh, one end" for the first time. she tells harrow these people were living in each others pockets, the same phrase she'll later use to describe the two of them. pyrrha spent nearly 10,000 years locked in a drawer in gideon the first’s mind bc he couldn't bear to let her go. gideon tells harrow how they feel like strangers despite growing up together.

harrow cant stand the thought and in less than a month harrow will lock gideon in a drawer and gideon the first will relentlessly try to kill harrow in her waking hours to spare her the agony he'll never learn is closely parallel to his, and when she fails to hear his real name her brain starts bleeding:

And he had said: “Ortus, have pity.”

“This is my pity, Lord,” said the Saint of Duty. HTN chapter 20

g1deon was john’s oldest friend, he carried that suitcase in his loyalty to him. then he becomes an amnesiac, immortal thanergy void, absorbing and nullifying the echoes of that catastrophe. founding the cohort that flips planets in the exact mirror to the ecological tragedy they all sacrificed everything to spare earth from. over and over again.

He didn’t even ask me to explain. That was the kind of guy he was. He and I had grown up on the same street. I’d spotted him for mince pies all the time as kids, so stands to reason he let me cut off his arm and carried a nuke for me. John 1:20

in g+p’s room harrow says that theyre all the ninth house has ( = you’re all that i have). gideon firmly says shes "NO ONE'S son or daughter"

but in less than a year gideon’s mother, sitting opposite her father, will recognize pyrrha with a sense of profound relief before her revenant is unceremoniously killed. gideon will watch through harrows eyes, in hiding:

Harrow, I will never forget the look on her face as long as I live, or as long as I die. (…) It was the smile for your old cellmate who’d just landed back in prison, the one that told them at least you were in it together—or more correctly, the smile of someone stepping out of jail after serving a very long sentence, having seen someone there waiting for her. Someone whose presence meant total reprieve, someone she hadn’t expected. It was a little bit mocking. It was deeply relieved. HTN chapter 50

i don’t have a conclusion to this rn i’m just……much to think abt. the displacement of grief, the loyalty through control, how it just happens over and over and over again and they just bear witness as tools or trapped souls or revenants, clinging to anything they can even if they don’t remember it.

#this is such a mess but i was getting spiritual indigestion turning it over at work. i need to quit and pursue tombposting full time #tlt spoilers #tlt #tlt meta #gideon the first #pyrrha dve #tlt txt

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thewickedkat · 5 months

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no one is a hero here. neither is anyone a villain.

yes, Ashton fucked up. they did a Thing--a big Thing! a Dangerous Thing!--and consulted precisely one (1) person about it. that person enabled and facilitated said Thing without really stopping to pause and think about it. Fearne fucked up by not doing those things. Ashton almost died because of their combined short-sightedness.

these things happened. tell me that no one else in the history of ever has done a Dumb and Dangerous Thing. tell me you never have. fuck knows i have. and?

more than anything, Bells' Hells strikes me as a party of Firsts: it's Chetney's first time really doing anything with something that resembles a pack (i say this without knowing a thing about werewolf dynamics in Exandria and at this point i can't be arsed to learn more). it's FCG's first time in a group knowing more of their own provenance, knowing what they are capable of (good and bad), their first experience with faith. it's Laudna's first time around people who aren't actively trying to either burn her home down or run her out of town on a rail, her first experience with something resembling love (despite Delilah's poison trickling into her ear). Fearne is still learning how to people, given that the only other people she really hung with were the Crown Keepers, and that wasn't for a very long time. Imogen is quite literally learning how to human without hearing the inner voices of folk around her, since she got the circlet, and is learning how to define people not by the worst intrusive thoughts skirling across their brainmeats. Ashton has never been around people who weren't ready to immediately take advantage of any kind of weakness perceived on their part, or ready to abandon him at a moment's notice. he is learning that not everything is defined by a quid pro quo. Orym is really the only cat in the group who has been around stable individuals throughout his life, and most of those people have been there since jump for him. that, and he has a calling, a duty, something that he views as greater than himself that he is willing to submit to. he finds comfort in that, where Letters is just now starting to have an inkling. but even he is learning how to mesh into a unit that isn't a squad, or a platoon, or a guarding body. with the Hells, he isn't just defined by that calling--he is a friend, a brother, without the mutual cultural understanding of the Ashari to back it up.

my point is, all of these people are still discovering new things about themselves. they are still young from a maturity standpoint--even Chetney is, because he is being confronted with emotional entanglements that he (assumedly) hasn't had to deal with before.

there are going to be fuckups. there are going to be scares and hurt feelings and things shouted at each other that are difficult to take back and apologise for. this doesn't mean that one should scorch the earth and piss on the ashes when there is a fuckup.

furthermore, understanding why the characters do what they do is not the same as excusing it. reasons are not the same as justifications are not the same as excuses, etc etc etc. i can easily follow the reasoning behind Ashton taking the shard into themself, because who doesn't want to feel special and badass? it went to his head! i can also understand why Fearne wanted to help--it's what you do for friends, yeah? you help them? and if you're kinda crushing on that friend, the urge to go along with what they want is doubly strong. also? no one ever taught her emotional regulation, i don't think. i fully think that's why she got so viscerally angry with what happened, all that fear and adrenalin and terror at what have i done had to go somewhere, and so she kicked Ashton in the head and tried to break their hammer, and it was Chet who recognised that urge to break and destroy and he allowed her to channel it away from harming anyone else.

people do dumb things, sometimes. they do dumb things and say dumb things because all they want to do in that moment is make something else hurt the way they do. and then they regret it, and internalise it, hopefully learn from it, make amends and move the fuck on. both Ashton and Fearne are having their 'oh if it isn't the consequences of my actions' moment, and they're allowed to have their shitty, messy, all-over-the-place feelings about it. there has been quiet screeching in the fandom about character growth and conflict and the 'necessity for all of them to sit down and talk,' and now that such a moment is here, it seems that many people are saying 'wait, not like that.'

Ashton and Fearne are both traumatised individuals, yes. i think Ashton understands a little more clearly than Fearne what that means, with regard to themself, because (and i don't mean to minimise here at all) his trauma is more evident and obvious and 'conventional,' for lack of a better term. Fearne's trauma is more...nebulous and isolating, because she has normally had Nana Morri to prevent giant fuckups like this, or worst-case, fix those fuckups. as a result, it's entirely possible that Fearne doesn't really grok just how real and bad not thinking things through can be. this doesn't make her naive or a babe in the woods at all, but there is a vast difference between being aware of the potential for something to break bad, and then seeing a good friend explode in front of your face. i dunno, i'm spitballing here.

there are no heroes, nor are there villains. just folk--messy, self-centred, short-sighted folk. let them have their fuckups without putting any of them on crosses or pedestals.

#critical role #cr spoilers #cr meta #cr disc #i guess?#except Delilah. that bitch is a villain and i am Tired of her.

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kas-eddie-munson · 1 year

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(This is inspired by this fic by @withacapitalp ! ^^ I wanted to do my own take on Steve with OCD ^^)

Content warning for a panic attack, OCD, and intrusive thoughts involving gore!

~ ~ ~

Steve always hated knives.

Well, not ALWAYS.

He was about five or six, and his nanny was in the other room, talking on the phone. He asked her for a penut butter sandwich, but she told him to wait, that this was important. Maybe it had been five minutes, or maybe an hour. His child brain couldn't tell, could only tell that he was hungry.

So he started rooting through the cabinets. He knew where a lot of things were. He'd seen his nanny in here often enough. He managed to pull out a plate, bread, peanut butter, jelly. He grabbed a butter knife, the final instrument, and began to work.

Spreading peanut butter and jelly was harder than it looked. He got frustrated as the bread ripped, and the ingredients barely spread. Eventually, he decided it was good enough and closed the sandwich to take the crust off. He wasn't a big crust fan.

Cutting with a knife was difficult, too. He pressed hard and moved the knife back and forth, but it still didn't cut very well. It also made an obnoxiously loud scraping sound as he worked. He furrowed his brow in concentration.

Suddenly came the clack clack clack of his nanny's footsteps, and, well. She wasn't happy.

"Steve!"

Her eyes were bulging and she lurched forward, yanking the butter knife from his grip. His stomach dropped and he froze. She never talked to him like that.

"Be careful! Knives are too dangerous for boys your age to use without a grown-up! You could have hurt yourself," she set the knife far away on the table, as though its mere proximity was a threat, and crouched down to look at him at his level.

He still felt frozen as he nodded and mumbled apologies.

When Steve was a few years older, and another nanny taught him how to use a knife safely, he was always careful with it. He never cut towards his fingers, as instructed, and he turned the sharp part away from his plate when he set it down, just to be extra safe.

When puberty hit, he taught himself to shave. It was an ordeal, but a necessary one. He worked slowly and carefully. He made sure to push the razor to the very back of the shelf above the skink when he was done, so it was less likely to fall and cut his hands.

Then the upside down happened. He wouldn't notice until years later that his distaste for sharp objects was getting worse. He always made sure to grip the bat tightly when he held it. To be hyperaware of where it was, where it was pointing.

Then he was at work. It was a normal day, until it wasn't, and then he was in the boathouse. He was up against a wall. And there was glass. Sharp. Ragged.

Pressed into his neck.

Dangerous.

And his heart was pounding and he was pushing his head as hard against the wall as was humanly possible and his friends were talking in the background but he could hardly tell what they were even saying because, somewhere in the back of his mind, a dangerous voice whispered, move forward.

He blinked hard. Pushed even further away. What the hell was that? Did he have a death wish or something?

Then Eddie pulled back. And Steve had to shake it off and get back to business.

The next few days passed in a blur of adrenaline and fear. Vecna was dead, but Max was hurt so bad, and Eddie barely made it out alive, and Steve, wracked with guilt that maybe they'd be okay if he had done something different, guarded their hospital beds like he needed the air in those stuffy rooms to breathe.

He didn't sleep much, or eat much, or bathe much, for about four days, until Eddie woke up.

He hated it in there, as much as he knew he wouldn't want to be anywhere else in that moment. Too many sharp things. He often found his gaze drifting to the IV cords inserted into the crook of Max's elbow and the back of Eddie's hand respectively, and he'd clench his fists thinking about the needle.

It was day four when he was doing this, half-eaten cafeteria food to his right from Robin, that he found his gaze once again drawn to Eddie's IV.

Yank it out.

Steve wanted to leave the room. He shook his head a little. Blinked hard. Tried to dismiss the weird thought.

Why did he think that? What if he did that on accident? He didn't want to hurt Eddie. Never, even if he hadn't fought so hard to get him here, would he want to hurt him.

That's when Eddie finally blinked his eyes open and woke up.

They had a tearful reunion. Steve reassured him that the others were okay, that Vecna was gone. He walkied Dustin and the kids in Max's room to come over, and they crowded around him, with hugs and tears in their eyes.

Steve stood on the other side of the room to give them space. He smiled fondly as he watched them catch up. He almost bumped into a poll attached to Eddie's IV. His mind flashed with imagry of him pushing it to the ground and stomping on the cord.

He decided to wait in the hall until they were done.

---

Steve and Eddie start hanging out. A lot, actually. Steve can't shake the feeling that the alternate dimension stuff can't be over yet. When he's not at work, Eddie is over. When Eddie's not over, Robin is over. When they're both busy he's with the kids. He doesn't give his fear the time of day to seep in with how busy he makes himself scheduling movie nights and trips to the arcade.

He keeps getting scary thoughts. Some of them are... new, though.

Steve starts to wonder what it would be like to hold Eddie's hand.

Steve imagines putting Eddie's hand in his mouth and biting down, hard, as he screams.

Steve wants to nudge his foot under the table.

Images flash of kicking Eddie in the balls, him doubling over in pain.

Steve finds himself getting lost in his eyes.

His head is filled with visions of jamming his fingers down Eddie's eye sockets.

He tries not to examine the thoughts too closely. Just shakes them off. Still... he wonders. Where was all this coming from? And is he gay? He goes over old memories. He loves Robin, but it's still a scary thought. Among the other scary thoughts.

All the thoughts get more and more mixed up in his head. He can hardly tell which ones are real anymore.

One night Eddie's over, and they're watching a movie, alone. Steve doesn't even remember which. Mostly they watch long enough for something to happen that prompts further conversation, and they goof around, ignoring the movie until the topic runs its course.

Eddie is wearing a new shirt. The sides are cut open, further than most of his shirts. The angle he's sitting at has it falling open even more, and Steve keeps finding his gaze drawn there when Eddie's eyes are on the screen.

It isn't too dark in the room. They have a dim lamp on, and Steve's eyes have adjusted to the lighting. So he can see a lot of detail.

There are stitches.

Steve digs his nails into the palms of his hands as grotesque images flash through his mind, and the commands start.

Tear them out.

Use your fork like a seam ripper.

Jam your fingers inside and pry his skin apart.

Steve feels like he's about to vomit. He wants to cry. He just wants this to stop. He wants Eddie to leave and he wants Eddie to hold him and he doesn't want any of that but most of all he doesn't want to snap somehow and do any of those horrible things.

He clenches his fists harder and shoves everything down and focuses on the movie.

Steve wonders if the thoughts will ease up as Eddie's wounds heal, since a lot of them are about that.

They do not.

They leave for a walk in the woods. Eddie wants to gather a bunch of rocks. For what purpose, Steve does not know. Steve is charged with lugging the rock bag around, since his bites never went as deep and are much more healed now than Eddie's.

It's ridiculously hot outside. Steve is sure his hair looks like ass in the humidity. Eddie is sweating through his shirt. Steve doesn't mind that part.

They find an open clearing with what Eddie deems "an especially exquisite selection" of rocks. Steve doesn't think they look any different, but he just smiles. Unfortunately, the lack of tree coverage makes it even hotter.

"Hey big sports guy, catch," Eddie calls as Steve feels something hit his backpack. He looks behind him and sees black cloth lying on the ground. He leans down to pick it up, then looks up at Eddie a few yards away.

Eddie is flushed, chugging down water from a bottle, some of it dripping past his mouth and down his chin and torso. His bare chest is covered with tattoos and scar tissue. Most of the stitches have been removed, it seems. Steve feels his face heat up, and then he sees it.

One of the deeper bites is still stitched up, and he has a drain attached to it. No bag is hooked up right now, but the drain is there, under the skin, peeking out. Steve wonders how deep it goes. Flashing images of yanking it out start coming and he feels nauseous as Eddie clears his throat and Steve meets his eyes in horror.

"My eyes are up here, princess," Eddie says as he smirks.

Steve ducks his head and runs his fingers through his hair. God, he hopes Eddie can't tell what he's thinking. About either topic, really. Or maybe he doesn't mind too much, about the one.

He tries to look at him, but his eyes keep trying to snap to the drain, and he knows he needs that out of his sight, fast, before the thoughts get worse.

"Dude, that's not fair." He shakes his head, still ducked down and eyes anywhere but on Eddie, as he makes his way over.

Eddie laughs bright and loud, and he pulls at his curls. "What's not fair, exactly?"

He shoves the shirt back at Eddie's chest, fingers buzzing with something as they make contact briefly with the skin of his pec. Eddie stumbles back a step and his eyes are wide.

Steve leans close and makes eye contact. "If I'm not allowed to be shirtless, neither are you, big boy." He gives his chest two quick pats before turning around and walking back the direction they came. He calls "for your modesty!" over his shoulder. It takes a few seconds before he hears Eddie's footsteps start up behind him to follow.

Eddie tells him he supposes they collected enough rocks for the day, anyway. Steve notes that Eddie didn't put the shirt back on, but he has it draped over his shoulder, and it covers the drain that way too, so Steve doesn't bring it up again. As they chat and walk home, Steve thinks Eddie looks redder than he did before. He looks cute flustered.

Is he flustered? Steve hopes so. Why does he hope so? Steve thinks he knows if he's honest with himself, but he's also scared, so he continues to try not to think about it.

---

"Alright alright! Settle down! I'll be back with snacks in less than five minutes. If you nerds haven't made a decision by then, we're putting on my pick."

Steve rolls his eyes as he leaves the room and the kids' voices raise even higher in pitch, whining that his movies are always boring. The other "adults" chatter behind them on the sofa, as the kids crouch around Steve's VHS collection.

When Steve comes back, The Goonies' cover is flipped open on the floor, and the ads are starting up as the kids flip the lights and fight over the remote, messing with the volume and arguing about whether or not there was a skip button for the ads or if they just had to fast forward through them. He looks around, and his heart skips a beat as he realizes that the only seating choice left is to squish himself right next to Eddie.

Or Mike, but he was absolutely not sitting between him and Byers for two hours, or however long The Goonies was. He doubted they'd stay apart like that for long, anyway.

Eddie smirks at him from behind his hand as he sits down, their thighs pressing together, and Steve is glad it's dark in here because he's pretty sure he's blushing.

That's when he realizes what side he's sitting on. And he freezes.

Oh God.

Oh no.

This is the side with the drain.

It was touching him. It was touching him. It was right there. It was right there and if he moves the wrong way he'll hurt him. It'll catch on Eddie's shirt and he'll rip it out and blood will be everywhere.

Oh my God. He can't move, now. It would be weird. Where would he even go? He can't just sit on the floor.

Oh my God. What if he moves to leave and that's what does it. He's stuck here. He's stuck here indirectly touching the thing under Eddie's skin and his lungs feel smaller than they should and oh God he does NOT want to freak out in front of everyone.

He has to leave. He has to get out of here. How the hell can he leave???

Steve presses as hard as he can into the armrest and away from Eddie, scooting out of his seat, and looking back at Eddie's side to make sure it hasn't started to bleed. His eyes catch Eddie's and the man still on the sofa looks confused, still sitting comfortably against the back of the sofa with his arms crossed as Steve, as discreetly as possible, slips out of the room and up the stairs. He's suddenly grateful he's only wearing socks on his feet so his footsteps are quieter.

He gets upstairs and walks into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him, running his hands through his hair, and taking deep breaths. He runs through the last couple minutes in his head, when. Oh God.

Did he look closely enough? Was he sure Eddie wasn't bleeding? What if it started slow? What if he didn't notice until Steve left and now he's bleeding out? What if he's on some sort of numbing agent and he WON'T notice until he PASSES OUT because it's dark and Steve isn't 100% sure he didn't see blood and he knows he must look feral right now but he just has to go check just to be sure and

He opens his door again to a surprised Eddie, hand half held up like he was about to knock. Steve's eyes drop down to his side and back again.

"Hey, Steve. Are you alright? You looked a little woozy back there." Eddie asks, uncharicatistically softly. Steve realizes he must still look wild and tries to shake away the crazy eyes.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, no worries." He runs his hand through his hair again, realizes that makes him look more anxious, and drops it. His eyes flit back and forth between Eddie's eyes and his side, and then he keeps them steady on his eyes.

Eddie eyes him skeptically. "Mind if I join you for a minute?" He gestures in the room, and Steve steps aside. Eddie closes the door behind him.

"Steve, I'm not gonna lie. I'm worried about you, and I don't think I'm the only one." Eddie steps closer to him and places his hands on Steve's shoulders gently.

Steve racks his brain. "How do you know something's wrong? Wait, what do you mean? I'm fine." Steve tries to shrug and Eddie levels him with a look. Steve feels his lungs shrinking again, and his eyes sting.

Eddie moves his hands up and down his arms a little. "Steve, you've been acting off for weeks. Flighty? You almost never sit next to me anymore. Basically the whole room conspired against you today. Is... did I do something? Did you," Eddie furrows his brows, and shakes his head, "did you, hear something about me?"

Steve shakes his head, very confused. He wasn't even actively avoiding sitting next to Eddie. How did he not notice he was doing that??? What else is he doing without noticing?

Eddie rubs his shoulders again. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Breathe for me. Slowly. Try to breathe."

Steve does try to breathe slower, and sinks to the floor. Eddie follows him, and talks to him as he tries to calm down.

"Stevie, you need to tell somebody what's going on so we can help you."

Steve shakes his head vehemently.

"Why not? I'm not going to force you, but. I'm not gonna judge you or anything. You're my friend, Steve."

Steve looks into Eddie's eyes and sees nothing but sincerity. He isn't sure what he'd see if he told him the truth.

"I don't think you wanna know," Steve says softly.

Eddie bites his lips and looks away for a second. "Are you scared?" Steve nods. Eddie looks back, nods, and looks away again.

"Look, Steve, if it makes you feel better, if you tell me the scary thing, then I'll tell you something scary, too." Eddie looks back at him, lip still between his teeth.

Steve feels something warm inside, and he smiles the tiniest bit. "You don't have to do that, Eds. I. I just," Steve takes a big breath. "I don't want you to hate me. Or be scared."

Eddie shakes his head and looks off into space again. "I kinda doubt my thing is the same as your thing, but either way. Steve, I don't think you can do anything to make me hate you. You're one of my best friends, Steve."

Steve isn't sure that's true, but he leans his head back against the wall. His breathing is more even now, and the tears have slowed. He thinks for a minute.

"I -" he closes his eyes, "I get these. These..." He tries to come up with how to word it. Eddie looks at him with the kindest eyes Steve's maybe ever seen, and he braces himself. "I get these words in my head?" Eddie tilts his head slightly, looking confused, but no less kind and patient. "Like. Someone is telling me to do something I don't want to do?"

Eddie's eyes widen. "Oh. Oh Steve. I'm so sorry. I, I think my aunt had something like that. Do you, do you see things sometimes? Things that other people don't see?"

Steve shakes his head again. He actually laughs a little in surprise.

"No! No, not like that. Not like, halucinations. Like. The thoughts are me. But they're not me? Like, they're the things that I would least ever actually want to do, but they just get stuck there? And they won't shut up? They're like, opposite thoughts. Like I think the opposite of the thing I want to do, and then I don't want to do it so badly but it still is just like stuck there repeating because I don't want to do it so badly?"

He looks at Eddie, who seems contemplative.

"Can I ask what the thoughts are about, Steve?"

He shakes his head.

"No. It's bad, Eddie. It's so weird, and gross. Like," he takes a big breath and continues, "they're about people getting hurt, Eds. People I care about. I just," he starts to cry again, looks at Eddie. "What if I do it on accident? What if I like. What if I hurt you, Eds? I don't want to; I'd never want to, but what if I did? On accident?"

He starts sobbing again. Steve feels Eddie's hands cup his cheeks, brushing away tears with his thumbs. He's honestly kind of surprised Eddie's still here. He probably shouldn't have said that much.

"Steve. I trust you. So much, Steve. I know you would never hurt me. And I can't say I know what's going on in your head, but I know you. You're Steve! You save people! You don't hurt them. And you won't hurt me."

Steve melts into Eddie's hands. He isn't sure Eddie's right, but he knows one thing. He cares about this man, so much.

"Thank you." He puts his hands on top of Eddie's. "Thank you, Eds." Eddie smiles at him, but looks close to tears himself.

"Did you, did you want to talk about it? Your thing?"

Eddie's smile falters. "I don't want to make it about me, but I suppose I did say I would. Do you want to hear it?"

Steve nods. "If you want to tell me."

Eddie nods. "Okay. Well." He closes his eyes. Nods again. "I'm gay, Steve."

Steve's heart skips a beat. "Oh my God." He's suddenly aware that their hands are still on his face. "Eds. I think I'm gay too."

Eddie's eyes widen. His mouth opens, then closes.

Steve's not sure exactly what comes over him, but he leans forward and presses their lips together. Eddie kisses back.

They talk more about it, later. About the thoughts. Steve isn't exactly sure why, but just knowing that Eddie knows, and doesn't hate him, helps. And there are times when the thoughts are better, and the thoughts are worse. But knowing Eddie's on his side makes it a bit better.

~~~

Thanks for reading this!!! If anyone doesn't know a lot about OCD but is curious about Steve's presentation, here's some more info:

(He has Harm OCD, so you can also just google that, but this is a p thorough intro ^^)

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valiantstarlights · 1 year

Text

Does Chef Hob have any tattoos?

Prior to Hob's marriage to Dream, his body is free of tattoos. (There had been one crazy moment when Hob was still a culinary student when he got an intrusive thought to get measurement conversions tattooed on his arms so he wouldn't forget them. Thankfully, he had enough sense left in him not to go through with it.)

When Hob gets married to Dream, he couldn't help but notice that sometimes, Dream looks at him uncertainly. Like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. This happens rarely enough that Hob doesn't want to bring it up, but the fact that it happened more than once has him fantasizing about finding Dream's ex and beating them up for making Dream unsure about Hob's love for him.

(Dream has yet to tell Hob about his ex. He probably never would. But Hob has heard enough threats from Destruction to conclude that whoever Dream's ex was, they treated him so badly that Destruction would never be able to stop worrying about Dream. Even if he has seen firsthand how good Hob is for Dream, and how Dream is very happy with Hob.)

Hob gets an idea just before his and Dream's one-year anniversary that would hopefully assure Dream that he's gonna stay by his side forever.

Hob asks Dream to write his own name on a piece of paper. Dream is confused but does what he's asked to do anyway. He writes Dream Endless in beautiful, flowing cursive that has Hob tearing up a little.

Hob thanks Dream and goes to get Dream's name in Dream's own penmanship tattooed on the skin right above his heart. It's a shame that he had to shave his chest hair around the area, but it was worth it when he saw the finished product, and the tattoo artist assured him that it would still be visible even after his chest hair fully grows back.

Hob belatedly realizes that, since the tattoo was supposed to be a surprise for Dream, he can't exactly get 100% naked around him until the date of their anniversary. And that's like, a month away.

Hob tries to act normally about this. He's still very affectionate with Dream, still services him with his mouth and fingers and cock. He just can't take his shirt off yet.

Dream, whose last relationship was very not good, notices Hob's strange behavior not a couple of days later. Usually Hob would be tearing off his own clothes after getting Dream's completely off him, but not anymore. They're still having incredible sex, but Hob's mind seems to be somewhere else. He takes longer in the bathroom. They no longer fuck in the shower.

Dream gets increasingly upset. Has he done something wrong? Is Hob covering up hickies from someone else and that's why he doesn't want Dream to see?

Destruction, being Destruction, notices Dream being more quiet and subdued than usual when they visit the next weekend and immediately corners Hob in an unoccupied room far from where the others are.

"What the fuck have you done?"

"Wh-- I haven't done anything!"

Destruction can smell a lie from a mile away, and a second later, there is a flash of steel and something sharp is against Hob's neck. "I said. What. The fuck. Have you done."

Hob is a chef and is very good at handling knives. But he knows, without a doubt, that Destruction is more skilled than he is. He raises his hands in surrender, sighs, and says, "Fine. Get that thing away from me for a second and I'll show you."

Destruction narrows his eyes but allows it. He does not stow away his hunting knife. Hob eyes the knife for a second and concludes silently that Destruction is actually a hitman for hire. He starts to unbutton his shirt.

Destruction panicks for a second, thinking that Hob is gonna try to seduce him to get out of this (which, ew), but then he sees just exactly what Hob is hiding from Dream and he lets out a loud, booming laugh.

"Can I cover it up now?" Hob grouses, "Or are you gonna carve it off my chest? Do you have a filleting knife somewhere on your person too?"

Destruction still hasn't stopped laughing. "You're...you're a fucking idiot, Gadling," he says in between wheezes.

Hob rolls his eyes and buttons his shirt back up. "Tell me something I don't know."

Destruction does a complicated twirl with the knife in his hand, and then suddenly it's gone, sliding back to its sheath hidden under Destruction's sleeve. "Well, for starters, Dream is upset and thinks that you're cheating on him."

Hob's eyes bug out of its sockets. "I would never--"

"Well, yeah, I know that now, but maybe tell him that yourself. Don't wait until your anniversary to show him your surprise because odds are, he'll just think you're gonna leave him on the day itself."

Who the fuck-- "Did Dream's ex--?"

Destruction's face darkens. When he speaks, it's flat but furious. "The only reason I'm not gutting that pathetic excuse of a human being is because they're too important right now. But the moment their usefulness expires and I'm allowed off the leash..."

Jesus. Hob just unlocked Destruction's backstory but he's pretty sure he isn't meant to be hearing these details. "Well," Hob says as lightly as he could. "When you get your hands on them, punch them in the teeth for me, will you?"

Destruction regards him then, the monsters that lurked underneath their skins intent on protecting Dream looking at each other in the eye for the first time. He nods, satisfied. "You got it, Gadling."

"You gonna tell me what your line of work is?"

Destruction smiles like a shark. "Sorry. Classified."

As soon as they get home, Hob sits Dream on their bed and kneels on the floor in front of him. He holds Dream's shaking hands within his own and kisses them.

"You're leaving me," Dream says, and Hob absolutely hates how weak his voice is but how sure he sounds.

"No," Hob tells him firmly. "I...this was gonna be a surprise, but I was advised to show you as soon as possible. I'm sorry if I caused you to become upset. Believe me, that's not my intention at all." He starts unbuttoning his shirt. "I wanted to show you that I'm gonna stay with you forever."

"What could possibly...oh." Dream sees the tattoo of his name written in his own handwriting on Hob's chest, right above Hob's heart. His fingers reach out and caress the skin. Hob shivers. "This is what you made me write my name for."

"Yeah," Hob says. His skin felt especially sensitive with Dream's fingers gently ruffling his still growing chest hair. "You like it?"

"Hob..." Dream looks at him like...like for the first time, he's a hundred percent certain that Hob wouldn't leave him. That Hob will remain true to him. He has Dream's name written on him now, more permanent than a wedding ring. No one would be able to look at Hob now and say that he doesn't belong to Dream. "I love it. I love you."

"I love you too, my sweet Dream. Gonna be yours forever."

Dream doesn't have a single tattoo on his body either, but come morning, he's asking Hob to write down his own name on a piece of paper.

Hob does his best to write his name in his neatest possible penmanship, even if it still looks mediocre and messy compared to Dream's impeccable handwriting. Dream doesn't mind. He loves it. He gets Hob's name tattooed in the same place on his body, right over his heart.

The tattoo artist, the same one who did Hob's tattoo, coos at them and halves Dream's fee when they found out that Hob and Dream's anniversary is coming up and that this was their gift to each other.

Hob grins foolishly every time he sees Robert Gadling written on Dream's chest, and he loves kissing over that area as soon as it was healed. Dream also loves running his hands over Hob's chest, his fingers petting Hob's chest hair that grows above the tattoo of his name.

On the date of their anniversary, they went to the beach. It was cloudy, and there were only a few people there, but that was fine. What they wanted was to show off their matching tattoos and have other people know that they were taken, wholly and completely, by the person whose name is written above their heart.

#Chef Hob AU #Dream and Hob living their own soulmate AU in a non-soulmate AU world #and we love that for them #Destruction is Agent 004 confirmed. The butts match.#idk why I'm pushing so hard for that modern setting AU headcanon but there you go #I hyperfocused on this and my thumbs are tired from typing #good job my thumbs #dreamling #the sandman #my writing

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honeygrahambitch · 7 months

Text

I need Will Needy Graham to believe Hannibal is avoiding him on purpose. He is not picking up his phone when Will calls. He refuses to help Jack when he calls him to help Will with a case. And the worst thing, he cancelled Will's therapy session that week. Will has never been the one to crave anyone's attention but weirdly enough, he was aware that he was missing Hannibal. Maybe he is sick.

Hannibal had always visited him in the hospital when he was sick. He should visit him too. Maybe bring a bottle of wine. He calls first but there is no answer. He still decides to drive to Baltimore. He would offer to get him meds and food.

He has plenty of time to think about various scenarios about his bizarre behavior while he is driving. Why wouldn't he say that he is sick? No. Why wouldn't he tell him especially that he is sick? It wasn't such a big deal. Unless...unless he doesn't feel like he can count on Will.

By the time he gets to Hannibal's house he is a bit furious. He had believed their friendship or whatever they shared was reciprocal.

He rang the doorbell. No answer. His cars were parked, indicating that he was home. It was 7 pm, could he be sleeping? If he indeed was sick then it was certainly a probability.

Will wanted to turn back to his car and go home and maybe text him but another thought hit him. What if he was so sick that he was unconscious? What if he was somewhere passed out? He cursed his stupid intrusive thoughts and walked around the house, looking through every window, trying to find the tiniest sign that he was alive and well.

At that point he didn't even care if he was ignoring him on purpose for as long as nothing bad happened. The inside of the house was dark. He could hardly see anything from outside.

He found an open window.

He stepped backwards thinking really well about what he was about to do. Technically he was not breaking in, since the window was open. He knew he could not go back home if he didn't make sure Hannibal was alright first.

So he climbed in. He congratulated himself for being in good shape. He could not tell where in the house he was but he tried to make his way to the living room or kitchen.

No sign of anybody. He was feeling like an intruder.

He went through two rooms before reaching the well-known hallway. He knew the way to the living room. He felt a little bit of relief when he saw the light from the fireplace. He was there.

He was sitting in his armchair, lost in his thoughts, an almost empty glass of whiskey on the little table next to him.

Relief washed over him at the sight of him.

"Hannibal?"

He turned his head towards Will as if hos presence was not something new.

"Will. Come on in." Hannibal said in a monotonous voice. Wasn't he wondering how he got in?

"I am sorry about barging in, you weren't picking up and I thought that maybe something happened to you and there was an open window...and I brought wine." He said as he entered the room. He realized he sounded like a stupid moron.

"I apologize for my lack of communication." He said as his eyes were inspecting the fine bottle Will had brought. "Thank you."

He didn't seem sick. He seemed different. He was certainly not his usual self.

"I am sorry about bothering you. I just wanted to see with my own eyes that you are alive. I can leave now." He said, trying to excuse himself. The fact that he had broken into his house was slowly sinking in and he was starting to feel like crap.

"Please stay."

His voice was not so monotonous. It didn't feel like he was just trying to be polite. He got up to poor some whiskey for Will as well which indeed would be very welcome.

It was then when Will noticed the bags under Hannibal's eyes and the fact that he hadn't shaved in a feeling days. Has he really isolated himself like that?

"I can sit in silence with you and watch the fire." Will said. "And I can also listen to whatever is evidently on your mind. The reason I came here was to make myself useful." He said as they both sat down.

The silence was loud. And the silence was not something which would characterize Hannibal in general. He never had trouble picking his words.

"Today would have been my sister's birthday." was all he said.

Will didn't miss the tear that fell down his face.

#hi im sorry #hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc #hannibal series

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beanyboi173thegoober · 8 months

Note

'I'm not going anywhere' angst prompt with Moon and Y/N?

Ah, finally, a request! :D With pleasure, anon!

'I'm not going anywhere' with Moon x Security Guard! Y/N, I think hurt/comfort?

CW and TW// anxiety/panic attack, overstimulation, intrusive thoughts, internalized ableism, thoughts of dying

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

So far, your shift has been horrible. Genuinely horrible.

First, when you picked up your flashlight and fazwatch you realised you hadn't taken your anxiety medication. The darkness and constant, low whirring of machinery was already getting to you, and you dreaded the night-long shift ahead of you. You had never come to work unmedicated before, so for the first time, you were overly aware of every little sound and space in your vicinity.

Being overly aware wasn't the worst of it, though. Your nerves were already high, medication or not. You'd recently read up on Fazbear Industries' history. The fire, the break-ins, and worst of it all, the virus? A virus that infected not just the animatronics, but people? What if the virus was still clinging to the bots' codes? If it was still hanging around, are you safe? Are your coworkers safe? Are the children safe? You had no idea, and the uncertainty was tearing you apart.

You didn't have the clearance or experience to put yourself at ease. You were just a measly security guard (and apparently a janitor sometimes, according to management). You couldn't go rooting around in their code without badly messing something up. A single tapped key on a line of code could mean the end of the bots, or you. You'd rather not risk that, even if you had the clearance.

Walking into the arcade was probably what set you off. It was a very wide, dark area without the neon lights. You wished you could say it was eerily quiet, but you couldn't. Not when all around you you could hear the loud screech of the electricity circling through each and every machine and light source. Somewhere nearby was a dripping sound. Something else was making an almost morse code-like beeping pattern, barely audible. Staff bots were all throughout the area, cleaning, and moving constantly.

You badly needed somewhere actually quiet. No machinery, no movement, nothing hard on the eyes. The nearest janitor's closet would have to do. You did your best to seem calm as you walked into it, then discreetly stepped inside.

The closet was pretty spacious for a janitor's closet. About a metre in floor space, dark, and smelling of cleaning solutions and dust. You sat yourself down in the back left corner since it seemed the least likely to have spiders.

While attempting to calm yourself, your mind wandered. You were supposed to be working right now. You were taking an unscheduled break when you were supposed to make sure the plex was safe. What if someone broke in while you were slacking off? What if an animatronic went rampant while you were sitting on your butt, hiding away in a closet because 'tHe SiLeNce WaS tOo LoUd"?

Either would probably kill you before you left. Why leave a witness, right? It may be dark, but that wouldn't stop anyone with good eyesight, or worse, someone who could see in the dark.

They probably were already trying to find you. Or they did find you. You're not exactly very quiet. Your heartbeat had sped up, so a rampaged robot would definitely sense that.

You heard a bang somewhere outside. Probably in the arcade you were just in. So it was a bot who decided to come kill you? You knew what the bots were like. You didn't stand a chance and you knew it.

You hadn't noticed your breathing pick up. Or the tears beginning to spill down your cheeks. You were too busy sinking into your own thoughts.

The door pushed open. You held your breath and flinched, anticipating a fatal blow. Your gaze was met by bright, glaring red eyes.

Of course, it was the Moon animatronic. You'd read about what he was like with the virus. Murderous, violent. He traumatized children at nap time and his... 'discipline' seemed to get more harsh. Out of all the robots, of course this one would have it out for the security guard.

There was a hand on your shoulder. You jumped and screamed, curling yourself into a ball in attempt to save yourself. The hand lifted quickly at your reaction.

You heard the deep voice of the lunar daycare attendant warily say your name. He said it cautiously like you would break at any second. You slightly uncurled yourself. He repeated your name.

"Do you think you could count to ten with me?" He asked you. You wordlessly nodded. He held up his large hands in front of himself, closed.

You counted along with him with a shakey voice. His fingers raised for each number you both spoke. When you two finished counting, you realised he was grounding you. You felt a tear slip down your face, and you quickly wiped it away along with the rest.

You had psyched yourself out so badly that you thought Moon was going to kill you. That left a really bad taste in you mouth, but he didn't know that, so you figured you wouldn't mention it. You just sat in silence.

He broke it. "I'm sorry for startling you. As the closest to your position, I was alerted to your high heart rate via your fazwatch. I searched for you in the arcade area first, since it was where you were shown to be, so I took a while to find you." He spoke, his gravelly, surprisingly handsome voice calming you further. He lifted out a hand, offering to help you up, and you took it.

He was far taller than you'd expected. He looked about 60 centimetres taller than you, maybe more. His arms alone were longer than your own torso. His jester-like design and colour scheme added a fair amount of charm to his appearance.

"I- Uh... I'm sorry for taking up your time. You should probably get back to your patrol." You choked a bit. You couldn't meet his eyes. You still felt bad about your assumptions from earlier.

"I'm not going anywhere." He said flatly. You baulked.

"W-why?" You started.

"Your heart rate hasn't fully returned to its normal pace. Also, I think a patrol would be more efficient with two." He looked down to you.

"Don't you normally patrol alone?" You asked.

"Shhh." He pressed a finger to your lips. You blinked for a second. Did... did he actually just shush you? You began to laugh.

His eyes seemed to light up a bit as you laughed, and his grin widened. You finally met his eyes. Smiling back at him, you put your finger against his face plate's mouth.

"You shush if that's how this is going to go," you say without malice. A dark chuckle comes out of his voicebox. Without warning he lifts you up and holds you like a sack of potatoes under his arm.

"W- Hey!" You yell and flail, smiling. "Lemme go! You said two is better for patrol! I can't patrol like this!"

"Cope," is all Moon shoots back with.

You end up spending the rest of your shift with Moon. You hope you can have a shift with him again soon. You were so distracted by him that you never noticed the machines' whirrings, or any other sounds than the two of you for that matter. He was really good company.

Maybe your shift was good. Genuinely good.

#moon fnaf #fnaf moon #moon x reader #dca x reader #x reader #moon x y/n #dca x y/n #one shot #hurt/comfort #panic attack #overstimulation issues #internalized ableism #intrusive thoughts #moondrop x y/n #fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #moon x reader fanfiction #fnaf fanfic

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