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adventuringblind · 10 months

Note

Hi, I saw you were asking for requests and I thought I'd give you an idea for Max Verstapppen x reader fic. I don't request much so if it's too detailed I'm sorry, you can change anything you want, it's just a scenario I've had in my head for a while. I was thinking about enemies to lovers, grumpy x sunshine (also I'm a sucker for angst with a happy ending) ❤️❤️❤️

Ok, so imagine this: Reader is a new redbull media person/photographer and Max has an instant crush on her but acts like an a**hole cause he can't understand his emotions towards the reader. Other drivers tease him about it. I imagine someone ask why he doesn't like her and Daniel just straight up says "cause he loooves her" and Max gets all flustered. The reader is an absolute sunshine and tries to make him like her, even tho she is hurt by his behaviour. At some point (maybe right before a race or smth) he says something about her and she overhears and is heartbroken and suddenly stops talking to him.

I don't have an idea for an ending except that if you are up to I would love some smut 😂

Behind your walls

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: grumpy x sunshine, smut, angst if you squint.

Request: yes and it made me so happy. I hope I did your idea justice! My requests are open (specifically for Charles, Max Lando, and Oscar). Please don't hesitate to send in an idea!

Summary: Max knows he loves you but can't admit it to anyone, including himself. What happens when you over hear something he say? Will he be able to finally be vulnerable?

Warnings: Max is a jerk (blame is on Jos), pining, mentions of anxiety and a panic attack, smut, fingering, oral (female receiving)

Notes: second pov, I got a bit carried away, and I've never written smut before, so figured crossed it's not as cringe to you as it is to me. I think I changed like one or two things about the request but tried to follow it as much as I could.

If you have the chance, please check out my other work. likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I've started posting small snippets relating to my novel I'm currently editing, support for that is also always appreciated.

Masterlist

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Max has never been the best at dealing with his emotions. Sure he’s had his fair share of girlfriends, but all of them ended in confusion and heartbreak because of father wanting him to dedicate his entire being to racing.

So he did the only logical thing and walled himself off. Only having the occasional fling and never letting himself get to attached.

Then everything changed when he met you. Your sweet personality hired to drag him around all of his PR duties.

He'd made several of his PR managers quit. Ironically, not because he was an asshole to them, but because he had a talent for hiding from the press. It drove his managers insane. Redbull hoped that hiring someone warm and gentle was that you could coax him into fulfilling his responsibilities.

Everyone seemed to love you. Wherever you went, smiles followed. You'd even managed to convince Daniel into being productive and out of whatever his next shenanigan was. Not that you minded them, often laughing along with him if the situation arose. And to everyone's surprise, Max did spend more time with the reporters.

This, however, came at a price. For some reason that nobody could understand, Max Verstappen despised you. Or that's what you thought.

Max himself just thought he was doing the right thing for himself. No matter how many delicious coffies you brought him for early mornings. No matter how many of his jokes caused you to laugh. No matter the praises for wins and comforts for losses. Not even the look of admiration and respect you had for him and how he wanted nothing more than to sweep you away from this terrible world. He would not fall in love.

So he became a jerk to you. Giving you the cold shoulder. He always made sparky remarks at your expense. He even went as far as verbally telling you to 'piss off' even though deep down it hurt him too. Yet you still never wavered. Merely brushing it off and going back to whatever you were previously.

One day during a race weekend, Max found himself with Daniel during his downtime. The two of them eating lunch and chatting about life. The conversation was pleasant until Daniel brought up you.

"I don't understand why you don't like her, mate." Daniel chuckled a little, but there was genuine curiosity behind his eyes. Then, a realization hit the Australian. "I bet you love her! Like a crush from a schoolboy!" He announces for everyone in the vicinity to hear.

Was he wrong? No. But Max wasn't going to tell him that.

"You're wrong, mate. I personally find her incredibly annoying." He scoffed. He was also trying to convince himself of this. It wasn't working like he'd been intending.

"Why do you think? She's like the sweetest person I've ever met." Daniel gives a confused look to Max, who is struggling to find a reason why.

He finally gives the Aussie and awnswer. "She thinks anyone will do whatever she wants cause she's so nice. It's aggravating to see people flit around at her beck and call like she owns the place."

Daniel's face falls, a frown now gracing his lips. "Damn, that's too bad, I think you would've liked her if you'd giver her the chance."

It's at this moment that Max felt a looming presence behind him. The grimace if Daniel's face apparent.

"Sorry for interrupting, Christian is looking for you, Max." Came your voice. Not the one he was used to, you sounded on the verge of crying.

You turned on your heels and swiftly left to find somewhere secluded to compose yourself.

You hadn't intended on eaves dropping. You caught the tail end of their conversation as you were walking up. There wasn't much other noise around, and it's not like either male knows the definition of quiet.

Max, on the other hand, knew he messed up. He placed his hands over his face, shaking his head repeatedly. "I am stupid. I am stupid." He mumbled.

After the race that he managed to win, despite a rough start, he found himself immediately looking for you. Then he looked for you from the podium. And again, when it was time to be harassed from the media.

When he couldn't find you anywhere, he decided to ask Christian. He was hoping to get the chance to explain himself. Maybe even opening up a little because you deserved it after what he said.

Christian looked at him skeptically when he asked. "I thought you'd been told. She went back to the hotel. Security found her hyperventilating, so I had Daniel drive her back."

The rest of the day went by in slow motion for Max. Daniel mentioned a couple of times that you had anxiety. He'd mentioned that you are a people pleaser. You just wanted everyone to smile.

He hadn't realized how much damage his statement had done at the time. The guilt is now settling into the pit of his stomach.

He had someone else following him around. Definitely not as nice as you. He knew he'd fallen for you but couldn't admit it to himself. He needed to make this right. He didn't care if you hated him forever, but he wasn't going to let you think he hated you any longer.

Finally he was able to escape the cameras and locate Daniel. "I need your help."

You had spent your time in the hotel watching the race under your blankets and calming yourself down. You wouldn't lie that you genuinely liked Max. He started as an aquintance, but then you picked up on any grain he would give you. Any story he would tell to fill the silence. You wanted him to enjoy your presence as much as you enjoyed his. You knew you couldn't force it, but it wasn't going to stop you from at least being nice. Had you pushed it too far anyway?

Daniel knew about your crush. He said he saw that way you would listen to his long wonded explanations with patience and understanding and new only someone who loved him could manage that.

However, Daniel had also given you a false sense of hope. The Australian said that he saw how Max wanted to make you laugh. How he followed every PR obligation so you could keep your job. He wanted you around, too.

The tears started rolling again at the thought.

It's evening now. You hadn't eaten since this morning, but your stomach had no intention of letting you nourish yourself. Your anxiety over needing to make everyone happy getting the best of you. You hadn't had a panic attack like that in awhile. Even going as far as to dry heave because of the intensity.

You were exhausted, to say the least.

You wanted to sleep, but Daniel had texted, saying he didn't care if you wanted it or not, he is on route to bring you comfort food.

You did your best to make yourself look presentable. Though when you looked in the mirror, you definitely didn't look happy.

The inevitable knock came. You didn't hesitate to swing open the door, ready to be greeted by a cheeky smile.

What you got was a Dutch with a sheepish smile holding your favorite food and some flowers.

"Before you say anything, please let me explain." He rushed out. He needed to, though, since you were trying to close the door on him. Instead, you pause, considering his offer, and let him inside without a word.

He steps in the door. Finally taking in your appearance and the state of your room. Both are in dissaray. You sit on the edge of the bed and patiently wait for him to gather his thoughts.

You'd always been patient with him. Another reason he loved you.

"I'm sorry for what I said."

You didn't want to believe him, but there was a genuine look behind his blue eyes. You don't say anything. Opting to just listen to him instead.

"I know I fucked up." Max continues. His voice shaking more than you'd ever heard. "And I know you may never forgive me for what I've done to you. But I am truly in love with you." He stares at the floor. Anxiety making him cast his eyes to the floor.

You are shocked, rendered completely speechless at the confession. "Why?" Wat the only thing you could get out.

Max sets down what he is holding and finds the spot next to you on the bed. "I know I treated you poorly. I thought that in pushing you away, I would protect myself. But I fell for you anyway."

He inhales sharply. Staring at your glassy eyes. How were you so calm? He felt exposed and vulnerable. "You don't have to talk to me ever again. But I couldn't let you go without telling you I love you."

"I love you too." You whisper. His head snaps up in surprise. Is he hearing things? "I have for a while."

Nope, he definitely heard right. He watches your lips twist upward into a small smile and let's out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I know it'll take time, but please stick around. Let me show you hard I've fallen."

"It dosen't excuse how you treated me, but I'll give you a chance."

(AN: You can end here if you're not in the mood for spicy things or want to leave it at cute and fluffy... or not. Your choice )

The proximity between you two is so close now. Your foreheads practically touching.

Giving into the intense pull towards you, Max gives in and places his lips on yours. You taste sweet, exactly how he'd imagined. He could already tell he was going to become addicted. "Can I start tonight?" He might be pushing boundaries, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least ask.

He didn't hesitate to kiss you again when you gently nodded your head, yes. Giving him permission to continue for now.

This kiss was much more heated. Both of you hungry to act on all the pent-up emotions you had for each other.

You had one or two partners before Max. You know how to please. So immediately you moved to straddle him. Your inate need to put others first taking over.

It shocked you when Max pulled you off. Suddenly not knowing what to do with yourself. "Tonight is about you." He whispered in your ear. Planting kisses on your jaw as he lays you on the bed. "I'm going to show you how I've fallen for you." Kiss to your nose. "How much I love you." Kiss you your forehead. "And how much I need you." Puncuated by a slow sensual Kiss to your lips.

His lips move against yours with passion and lust. You open your mouth to give him access to your mouth, and he instantly begins exploring.

His hands gently caress the insides of your thighs and run up along your sides. Pulling your shirt up little bits at a time.

Your hand find themselves underneath his shirt. Your fingers are trying to memorize the feeling of his skin.

Max pulls away for you, panting heavily. "Can I take off some of your clothes?" He asks. His voice laced with new found confidence.

You'd never been treated like this. Often take advantage of because you are a giver. You gave constent sure, but this is a whole new level. You nod your head yes again, though looking skeptical.

Max picking up on this stops everything he's doing. "Are you ok? Your face is telling me something different."

"Yes, sorry, this is just a little new to me." You explain.

The shock hits Max once again. "Are you a virgin?!" His mind reeling that he was possibly going to take your virginity and he wouldn't have known.

He's more confused when you start laughing. "No, no! It's just that nobody has treated me so well before!"

"Oh, well if that's the case." A smirk finds its way onto his face as he straps you your shirt, then his. Then he takes your pants, your bra, and finally pauses. Laying kisses to every party of your body.

"I wish I hadn't closed myself off for so long. You're so beautiful. I've wanted you to myself like this for so long."

You pratically moan at his words. "Are you going to finish undressing?"

"What do you not get about me taking care of you." He places a finger over your lips to shush you. You sigh and comply. Letting him take control of the rhythm.

Max is over the top of you. Inching his way down. Sucking and leaving little marks as he goes.

He makes a pit stop at your chest. Gently taking your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. His tongue then finds the other one. Swirling it around, then sucking. Listening to you whimper beneath him.

"Do you like that lovely?" The cockiness in his voice not going unnoticed.

He trades sides with his hand and mouth. Trying to give equal attention to both your tits. His free hand now placed firmly on your hip to keep you still.

When he felt he'd given ample attention in one area, he made his way down lower. He stopped at your still clothed lower half. "Can I take these off you now?"

"If you don't I might cry."

Max has them off seconds layer. Now discarded with the rest of your clothes.

His gaze burns into you. His breathing erratic just looking at you. "Your are the most gorgeous thing on the planet."

You swallow hard as he finds a comfortable position. His head now in-between you thighs.

His finger gently rubs where you need him, and he places love bites to the insides of your thighs. "Glad to know I'm doing good so far." He smiles. His fingers are now coated in your slick substance.

You whimper again. His name falls from your lips like a prayer.

He licks the finger that was previously touching you. Savoring every bit of the tast he can. "Exactly like how I dreamed."

It was your turn to chuckle now. "You dreamed of me?"

"Almost every night. I got off in the morning to the memory."

You want to dwell on his dirty confession, but Max's tongue doesn't let you.

It doesn't take him long to have you writhing. His tounge unrelenting.

His fingers find their way inside of you. The act alone almost sends you off the edge. Instincts take over as you find yourself closer to utter bliss. Your arms struggle to push max away. His arms hooked under your thighs to hold you close keep you from doing so.

Your back arches as you release. Max is slowly coming to a stop as your ride out your high.

Both of you are breathing heavily. Max's fingers are still caressing your hips as you both catch your breath.

Realization hits you. "Don't you need something too?" You ask, voice laced with anxiety over not pleasing him also.

Max only smirks, laying his head against your leg. "I fine, don't you worry. Tonight, we cuddle, and tomorrow I take you for round two."

And that's exactly what you did. Max helped clean you up and put on your pajamas. Then you two curled up in bed together. Him telling you everything he had been wanting to since he laid eyes on you.

You know this road worh Max certainly wouldn't be easy. But you're patient, and you'll wait for him. As long as he needs to let himself fully tear down his walls.

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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i’ve been thinking abt this for weeks and i need to tell someone (and if you’d like to write a lil blurb based of this that would be lovely- no pressure tho)

dating spencer and noticing that every once in a while he gets really into playing with your boobs, you can’t figure out why so u ask him and he gets super embarrassed and admits that he’s actually been checking to see if you have any suspicious lumps in your breasts because he’s never seen you check yourself even though you should be, and he wasn’t sure how to bring it up to you so he just did it himself

he’s so sweet ik he would take such good care of his gf :(( i love him :(((

Let it be known, Spencer Reid is a boob guy. They're his pillows, they're his pacifiers, and lately, they've been his stress toys. Every few weeks Spencer decides that your tits are his new plaything, slipping a hand under your shirt during pajama/movie night to squeeze and knead at the flesh there. You hadn't minded it, of course, but you're a little amused at the concentration he applies to the task.

It must be stress-relieving, you decide, so you'll let him have his coping method. However, this time he pinches slightly firm at a patch of skin on your left breast, and you squirm.

"Ow!" You hiss, cupping the underside of your boob and halfheartedly glaring at him, "Jesus, Spence, they're not made of foam. They hurt."

"Sorry! Sorry," He frowns, peering at the aching tissue, "I- uh, I just.. has that always been there?"

"What? My boob?" You chuckle, "Yeah, I've had it for a while."

"No there's, a-" He squints, reaching out to gingerly squeeze the spot again, "A lump there. Is it a pimple?"

"Oh!" You frown, feeling the spot for yourself, "Yeah. It was a pimple. I popped it yesterday."

"Okay." He seems relieved, shoulders slumping, "Sorry again."

"It's fine," You wave his apology away, "Were you.. checking me?"

"Yeah," He admits sheepishly, cheeks aflame as if you'd accused him of a terrible crime, "I just.. I never really see you check, so I thought-?"

"I check sometimes," You muse, recalling the way your hands slide over your bubble-covered chest in the shower, feeling around for lumps and bumps periodically, but not as often as you should, "That's.. really sweet of you, Spencer."

He flushes impossibly worse at that, his hands sliding out from under your shirt and encircling your waist instead.

"I just want you to be healthy."

You know he doesn't say it, but there's a lingering fear there. This isn't a sickness that he can nurse away with chicken noodle soup, and you know his anxieties unnerve him about losing you. You reach a hand up to cup his cheek, his other one pressed against your head.

"I am," You promise, letting him tug you closer over the blankets, "And if I'm not, we'll get through it together."

"Together," He agrees, tilting his head to kiss the crown of your own, "Together sounds good."

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doberbutts · 1 year

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It was a year or two ago some annoying terf was harassing me because I'm a terrible evil trans man beguiling and leading gay men astray with my gross vagina or whatever

And at some point how women are born with vaginas and men are born with penises and that was that

And I replied 'what about those who are born into the space inbetween? Women with psuedo-penises? Testicles where ovaries should be? Naturally higher testosterone? Facial and body hair?'

And naturally she screeched about how I was an evil tra who throws intersex people under the bus when intersex people have asked to be left out of this conversation.

But the problem is... I was talking about MYSELF. If you're going to forcibly label me a woman because I was born with a vagina, I'm going to require you to tell me what your definition of "woman" is that doesn't inherently exclude me from being ABLE to be labeled such.

A woman is someone born with a vagina, ovaries, and a uterus? And never with testes, prostate, and penis? Well I have a little of column A and a little of column B and that is without any amount of surgery or medical procedure.

A woman is someone whose endocrine system is estrogen-dominant? Sorry, that's never been me, I've always had higher testosterone than estrogen even before I went on T.

A woman doesn't need to shave her face? My beard predates my HRT. Doesn't have an adam's apple? I've had one since puberty. Cannot penetrate a partner without the help of a toy? Can and have. Body capable of creating new life? I've got it on pretty good authority that I've been infertile since the day I was born and that if I did somehow manage to get pregnant the fetus likely would never be viable anyway.

Doctors are sure she's a female baby the moment she comes out? Well considering my name was almost Jon Roger before the doctor realized he needed to take a second glance...

Has XX chromosomes? Well since I figured out this year that I for sure am intersex I do actually know my chromosomes now... but I didn't before. XY babies with my condition usually just die and those who do survive aren't intersex so I have to be XX since I made it to 30 without dying (I mean I tried real hard tho) without medical intervention. But if we're basing it on just XX or XY then you still have to put forth the effort of figuring out where you sort all the other possible configurations such as XY babies that look identical to XX babies and were often not caught until something was medically wrong with them that required a deeper look than just what was on the surface.

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amakumos · 3 months

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enhypen as f1 fans - headcanons.

SYNOPSIS. enhypen as f1 fans this is literally just it

GENRE. probably just crack

AUTHOR'S NOTE. this is literally just for fun and i love lando norris. lmk what else you would want to add if u like f1 and enha... let me know what types of fans theyd be... not tagging taglist in this cuz its not that serious of a fic

LEE HEESEUNG. ★

favourite team: aston martin

favourite track: spa-francorchamps

favourite driver: fernando alonso / lewis hamilton

heeseung also gives me the vibe that he likes red bull as well! i think he definitely wouldn't be mad if a rb driver won, but would prefer drivers from his favourite team

he's definitely gone to races before. occasionally buys paddock passes.

had the time of his life in the first half of the 2023 season when aston was good... after the upgrades (more like downgrades) he's been going through it...

but i think he'd still have hope.

the kind of guy to quit watching the race if his favourite driver dnfs

buys merch like a crazy person

loves fernando’s tiktok account with a burning passion. probably uses them as reaction memes in the gc

will lose his shit when fernando or lewis retires.

has a soft spot for oscar

bashes his head against the wall when his fav driver has a slow pitstop

the kind of guy to yell at the tv when the result outcome is terrible

"i'm never watching formula 1 again" he says when his fav doesn't make it to the points... and then proceeds to turn the tv back on the next race week

probably has a selfie with his fav driver (and probably cried a little bit after)

uses that video of fernando's celebration dance as a way to get out of awkward conversations

the first guy to like fernando's new tiktoks whenever they r posted

JAY PARK. ★

favourite team: mercedes

favourite track: circuit of the americas

favourite driver: lewis hamilton / sebastian vettel

honestly i feel like everyone in enha loves lewis

lost his shit when seb retired

i think he also likes nico rosberg as well. seems like a brocedes guy (he sheds tears every time someone brings brocedes up tho)

would sacrifice his right lung for another lewis hamilton win

would gladly help seb build his bee hotels in suzuka

paddock passes every time when he goes and watches f1.

probably has selfies with every driver that he likes

hes just a mercedes guy through and through

he's loyal to his team! if ur a mercedes driver, jay loves u AUTOMATICALLY.

probably died a bit on the inside when george and lewis had contact on turn 1 in qatar 2023

not a red bull fan. im sorry

but he sometimes thinks about turning into a red bull fan because life as a red bull fan is much less depressing compared to being a merc fan

misses the merc domination era

probably on f1twt and is famous there

people know him for having selfies w the drivers and always buying paddock passes. he's a rich guy what can i say

another guy who yells at the screen during a race

whenever merc has disappointing strategies he just sighs and thinks: "i could do a better job"

JAKE SIM. ★

favourite team: ferrari

favourite track: monza / monaco

favourite driver: charles leclerc

SOMEBODY SAVE THIS MAN????

he goes through it every single weekend. every weekend he is constantly disappointed by ferrari and at this point he is considering to quit watching f1

only cares about charles. loves that man with his life

he also likes oscar and danny ric as well, because they're australian

you know how every italian man is in love with charles? they post stuff on their story like "met my husband😍" and it's a pic of them and charles? that's jake. he is him

jake reminds me of that one fan who made charles a pizza and gave it to him in person. like that’s lowkey some shit that he would do

picks up on phrases that charles says. mainly "it's like this" ...

prays every single weekend for charles to get good results (he is always disappointed)

wanted to die when he saw charles' slow pit stop at the dutch gp in 2023... they had NO TYRES and jake threw the remote control at the screen

has charles merch. definitely bought the monaco special edition hat. probably buys apm monaco for charles too

he's definitely gone to races before. probably bought paddock once but he will never do that again his wallet was crying

was 100% in the crowd during charles' 2019 monza win. also shed tears during that moment

"BURN THE SF23" is the most tweeted thing on his f1twt account of the 2023 season

argues with sunghoon all the time over f1 because sunghoon is a red bull fan... but secretly they're literally lecstappen

in general jake would sacrifice his entire life for charles leclerc and... he's so real for that

PARK SUNGHOON. ★

favourite team: red bull

favourite track: zandvoort / red bull ring

favourite driver: max verstappen

the only one enjoying the 2023 season

because his favourite driver always wins

the only one in enha whos NEVER disappointed whenever a race happens

yells rlly loud whenever max wins (so basically every race weekend) and the rest of the enha boys just look at him like 😒

probably has like 5 red bull shirts in his closet and sleeps in them

defends max with his life. probably has a twitter account w the user onlyverstappen and you'll see him bashing the shit out of max haters

prob bought a max mini helmet. almost bought the max verstappen christmas sweater (hes a dedicated fan what can i say)

big maxiel fan. would sacrifice everything for a max and daniel pairing again because he thinks they're funny together

likes max bc of his humour as well

watches youtube videos about f1 like "every f1 driver getting mad at nikita mazepin" or like "funny f1 driver radio moments"

the kind of guy to save every max edit into his camera roll (hes in love what can i say)

started drinking red bulls because of his love for the team… he says it’s his way of supporting them

fan of liam lawson too. needs him to get a seat and he does not care with what team. he just needs to see that man in a f1 car ASAP...

has been to f1 races, bought paddock once to go with jay. max won that race and he never shuts up about how he saw max verstappen win with his own two eyes

has the same passion towards f1 as jake except he lives in a constant state of happiness due to red bull's dominance while jake lives in a constant state of depression

KIM SUNOO. ★

favourite team: alphatauri / williams

favourite track: singapore

favourite driver: yuki tsunoda / alex albon

big yuki fan. thinks his radios are funny

he's not too invested in f1 but watches occasionally

loves alex bc of how he's somehow able to drag a williams into the points

he's pretty quiet when he's watching f1 i feel

feels like the kind of guy to just sit on the couch and be like "hmm. good job" or like "oh. maybe next time..."

mainly bc his fav drivers and teams arent fighting for podiums or championships... but he hopes that they'll be able to someday

he's that one rlly lucky fan that could just be walking around in the same city as his fav f1 driver and just bump into them on the street

doesn't hate any team and doesn't hate any driver. he's a pretty chill f1 fan

the ONE time sunoo probably got pissed was when yuki was on his formation lap and his engine broke down... meaning he didn't start

wanted to punch smth because How in the World

probably bought one of yuki's mini helmets bc he thinks its cute. "good room decor" - kim sunoo 2023

probably has a yuki or alex cap but that's as much merch as he'll buy tbh

likes the yuki / daniel combo for alphatauri but also thinks nyck should've been given a bit more time

probably hasn't been to an f1 race in person... if he went i don't think he'd buy paddock unless one of the other members bought it and brought him along

keeps up w f1 news from twitter or from jake bc he never stops talking about how ferrari’s fucking up charles' strategy again

YANG JUNGWON. ★

favourite team: mclaren

favourite track: silverstone

favourite driver: lando norris / oscar piastri

no, i’m not just saying jungwon is a lando enjoyer just because i am (maybe a little bc i’m biased BUT)

they’re both just adorable so what can i say really

depressed at the beginning of the season when the mclaren boys were driving a fucking TRACTOR for a car

landoscar enthusiast. i don’t make the rules… he and jake remind me of landoscar kinda… like jake would be a lando and jungwon would be an oscar

would do anything (I MEAN ANYTHING) for a lando win… me too

mclaren 1-2? YOU BEST BELIEVE HE'S YELLING LIKE A MANIAC

spends money on lando merch (HOODIES!) and prob wears it bc the designs r insanely cool

sits in silence in the corner when it’s a bad race week for his faves… like he’s crazily silent to the point where it’s scary. it's giving eye twitches vibes

gets hyped for race week tho he’s the kinda guy to have every race logged in his calendar

makes maeumi watch f1 with him. unfortunately maeumi is not a mclaren fan much to his disappointment

if you hate lando or oscar he will hate you. defends them with his life and trust and believe me he will win.

is on f1twt, pretty well known on there (he just tweets random shit and gets 1k likes and hes like... Wtf)

attends races whenever he can, prob not paddock cuz he thinks it’s not really worth it bc of how expensive they are

used to mclaren being good now compared to the start of the season so he’s devastated when they’re not top 5

NISHIMURA RIKI. ★

favourite team: mercedes (ferrari later tho...)

favourite track: suzuka

favourite driver: lewis hamilton / yuki tsunoda / kimi raikkonen

lewis fan because he’s the goat, yuki fan bc he thinks he’s funny and bc they’re both japanese, kimi fan because well... hes KIMI

riki’s prob been invested in f1 since he was a kid, definitely the most involved / passionate w motorsports

probably watches other motorsport series too! pretty sure he’s talked about formula e, and i could see him enjoying indycar and motogp

yk how lewis released that collab w fortnite? riki prob bought the skin and plays as lewis in fortnite😭

loves roscoe!!! would want bisco and roscoe to meet tbh

wants lewis to win again SOOOO badly

prob has a picture with yuki and the height difference would be hilarious (yuki is 159cm)

i think he's a big fan of schumacher, senna, prost too, definitely been watching this sport for a WHILE!

in a complete state of SHOCK when it was revealed lewis would be going to ferrari

started learning italian on duolingo after the big announcement

has definitely been to a few f1 races (suzuka, silverstone & singapore are probably the ones he's been to)

a BIG ACCOUNT ON F1TWT

probably gets invited as a guest of his favourite teams n shit it's crazy he's practically an influencer there

would start an f1 podcast for fun and it would go viral

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i984 · 1 year

Text

Blazing Promises | Part 5

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader

|Warnings|: Hurt so much hurt God pls help our poor souls, Wednesday has severe relationship trauma because of a certain normie, comfort at the end tho, kiss the pain away, you both cry in this one, tell me if I should add more warnings

|Summary|: Wednesday Addams breaks down in front of you.

|A/n|: Here is the last chapter to the mini series, check end of fic and replies for more. Song is I Don't Want to Miss a Thing by Aerosmith

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Terrible.

That's the word for how you look right now.

And that's also the word to describe what Wednesday had done to you. She knows this, so as she stands outside your door looking at your puffed-up eyes and your quivering lips, her feet dread to take a step.

Get inside. Just do it. Now.

So she did. Her gaze tears away from yours to the floor, and she shuffled across your room. The space feels vast. Suffocating. What had she done?

She noticed the sweaters first. Her sweaters sprawled across your bed. Then the tissues—you quickly pick them away and throw them into the bin near your desk. Atop your desk, the trigonometry workbook is still there where she left it; the pages closed before much is filled in.

The room was dark, save for the dim light from your stained window. Somehow that made Wednesday feels tense. She doesn't like this. She doesn't like you. Not in this state.

"What did you come here for?"

Your voice was hoarse. You must've been crying.

"I wanted to talk."

Her voice was frail. She felt weak.

You kept your distance from Wednesday. Like you were scared of her, revolted of her. And you should be. After all, she'd hurt you.

Say it. It's now or never.

"I'm sorry."

You can hear the strain in her voice—like she had to shoot her ego down with a silver bullet. Like it was hard for her to even say she was sorry. To show that she's apologetic.

"You should be."

And Wednesday can see the agony, the rage in your features. Your chest was heaving while you pressed your lips into a thin line. You were trying to keep your cool, to not scream at her; her words, her actions, the foolishness that comes with it.

You looked like you'd been robbed of your vitality, your strength. And the sight ripped a giant hole in Wednesday's heart. How could she hurt you that badly? You give her honey, and she feeds you poison. Wednesday feels a terrible weight pressing her shoulders; thick fog enfolds her mind.

You were her light. Her flame. But now it's flickering, and Wednesday fears herself getting plunged into darkness. The kind she has grown abhorring.

And though Wednesday's little black heart wrenched and twisted at the coldness in your voice, she couldn't bring herself to show it. Show how much it hurts her. Because she knows she deserves every sting and burns that blazes her entire being now; you must've suffered through worse.

"I know," Wednesday feels like her skull was about to bust open, "and I..." She couldn't find her words, and it was killing her. It was unfair that she'd put herself into this position, a conversation she couldn't finish. A sentence she can't end.

"You what, Wednesday? I don't have all night."

Run. Or stab your heart and pull the blade out. Do something.

But she did neither. She did nothing. Wednesday only stands there, her body slumped in defeat.

Defeat, she couldn't admit it. Succumbing to it would mean losing herself. Losing you. Did she already lose you?

Wednesday lets out a shaky breath, her fingers messing with the hem of her black shirt. Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times before she speaks, "I feel things," and she stole a quick glance your way, "for you."

Was that enough for you to understand?

"What things, Wednesday? Because I thought we felt things before, and you said those things weren't true."

You were pricking needles to her skin; the truth carried in your words slitting open wounds in her mind. Was this what you felt the last time you were with her in this room? Oh, death. Even death wouldn't bring her the sweet relief from this torment.

"I don't know."

You scoff into the room at that. "Of course, you don't."

Wednesday feels herself shrinking in place. She feels small, and she wants to give up. But even that feels wrong. She doesn't know what to do.

Just say anything. Choke yourself if you have to. Jump off the balcony after all this is over. But right now, talk.

"I feel things," Wednesday tries again, "things that aren't clear, aren't simple." She looks up to see you staring at the wall, unable to face her or her words. Maybe that would make this easier.

"Things I've found in countless pieces of literature, books, and poems. In music, in rhythm, in harmony. In people, in their homes, and in their voices."

Wednesday doesn't know where she's headed with all this. But she knows she has to speak, however confusing and debilitating it might be. Her feet staggered front a few inches.

"I'm scared. Because I thought I've been here before." And you look at her now, really look. Vulnerable. She looks like she's about to crumble if you speak a word.

So you don't. You listen.

"I'm scared. Because the last time I was here, I was wrong." Wednesday felt her vision blurring, and she almost didn't care. Almost.

"Because I don't know what I'm feeling, and though I have a sneaking suspicion of what it is-" she paused, her eyes scanning your face, searching for any trace of judgment on it, "-I'm afraid I would be wrong."

You take a step in Wednesday's direction. It felt like the right thing to do.

"I'm afraid I'll hurt you," a tear rolled down the raven's freckle-painted cheek.

"I'll hurt me."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, and Wednesday knew she was one word away from combusting in tears. It feels hot. The blaze consumed her body, her mind. It threatens her to crumble, to sink, to wither.

And so she did. She had said it all; her fears, her deepest secrets to the only person she cared about. You.

Her weakness, now you hold the key to her doom. If you wanted to, you could kill her. And she'd let you. Wednesday feels her knees buckle and fail her, body landing with a thud on your floor.

You rush to Wednesday's side, hands coming to clutch her body. Now you're both set on fire. The tears did nothing. It was just there, staining both of your clothes now.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay," you hug Wednesday like there's no tomorrow, like this was the last time you'll feel her close to you, "I understand now."

She's in pain. She's in agony. She hurt you because she thought you would hurt her.

But you would never.

What sounded like hiccups turns into painful wails; Wednesday's cries tear through the thick, stifling air, slowly dispersing it as you join her. Your hand patted her back tentatively in fear that the act would break her even more.

But she pushes herself to you, burying her head in the crooks of your neck. You can feel her tears drop and wet your side as she screams openly to your shirt, the sound of it muffled.

It feels messy, like you both are melting into each other. Your bodies are drenched in sweat, but neither of you wants to let go.

You want her. She wants you.

The doubt was gone.

You press your foreheads together, and Wednesday still has her eyes closed. It's red and puffy, and you're sure yours are too. She looks terrible. And pretty.

You forgive the pain because she has let you in.

Her breathing starts to even out, and you can feel her muscles relaxing. You're both in the eye of the storm; there was only peace, quiet, and silence.

Then, familiar melodies played. The song you heard coming from outside your window earlier that evening. The same song you cried to alone—just moments ago.

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing

You take Wednesday's hand in yours. It feels warm.

Watch you smile while you are sleeping

She shifts in her seat, intertwining her fingers with yours.

While you're far away and dreaming

You lift her hand and kiss her knuckles.

I could spend my life in this sweet surrender

She opens her eyes.

I could stay lost in this moment forever

Wednesday is now looking at you.

Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

Her gaze was kind, though bittersweet.

Don't want to close my eyes

You hum to the tune.

I don't want to fall asleep

She listens.

'Cause I'd miss you baby

You smiled.

And I don't want to miss a thing

She whispers the words to you.

At that moment, it felt perfect. Two broken fools, sitting on hard cold wooden floors. It was messy, but it was right. You belong together.

"I held that damned boom box above my head not because I wanted to," Wednesday rasps, "Enid forced me, just so you know."

Giggles burst from your lungs. A red coat now paints Wednesday's cheeks.

"I didn't know you did that." You smiled at her; it was soft and teasing.

"Shut up. I hate you."

Wednesday grasps your hand tightly as if she's afraid you'll pull back; her gaze doesn't dare to falter from yours.

"I love you too," and you see the corner of Wednesday's lips twitch, "I really do."

A mutual understanding. An exhale of relief.

"Promise?"

You press your lips to hers; it's soft and gentle, dizzying and passionate. It was light as a feather, sweet as cotton candy. It was strong like waves, burning like an inferno. You've become one and the same; servants of Aphrodite. It was a pledge, an oath—though unspoken—that you'll never leave her side, never betray her.

The shade, the scarlet, the tricks, the echoes.

"Promise."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

|A/n2|: Thank you so much for going through this mini journey with me, I poured my heart out for this one, I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing it.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday series #wednesday x you #wednesday #wednesday x y/n #wednesday netflix #Spotify

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suugarbabe · 7 months

Note

Hi! Congrats on 1k!!!!

i was wondering if you could do a Fred Weasley x reader

but the reader is Sirius blacks daughter 🤷🏼‍♀️ It takes place abt Prisoner of Azkaban

but so the reader was raised by Remus because Sirius chose him as the godfather and the reader is extremely touch starved like it’s crazy

and she is rlly anxious abt everything and (almost) everyone at hogworts shuns her because she’s Sirius blacks daughter and they believe she helps him in the school or is like him. But she’s not and it all just really gets to her. and she talks to Remus abt all of it (they def gossip together lol) and he tries his best to make it better for her but she kinda left one part out, about Fred. They had been friends for a while but they kinda drifted for whatever reason. He was with her all the time out of no where and she was a bit paranoid abt it but he just wanted to make sure she was ok and because he really missed her. And he was in love with her but he didn’t quite know how to tell her, and he didn’t really know what all he felt. I guess like a slow burn situation lol

sorry that’s a whole lot lol and it jumps all over the place I’m terrible at explaining things

absolutely love your work tho 🫶🏻🫶🏻

so i took a little creative liberty with this to make it work as a blurb so if you hate it, sozz, but I kind of like it??

The door to your godfather's office opened before you even had a chance to knock. You let out a sigh as you walked into the classroom, "Uncle Rem, you know I hate it when you watch me on that map." You walked up to his desk at the front of the classroom, sinking into the large chair sitting behind it.

"You know I only do it when I'm worried about you. And your father would have my head if I didn't keep a good eye on you," Remus's voice came from behind you, walking down the steps from his office before joining you in the main classroom.

You tried your best not to roll your eyes, "There's no need for him to be worried. Haven't you heard, Rem? I'm letting him into the castle so he can murder our precious Harry Potter." You slumped further into the chair, "I'm sorry. I know Harry doesn't know the truth, but you don't know how hard it is to keep this secret."

"Bug," Remus was smiling at you, "if anyone knows about the trials and tribulations of keeping a secret at Hogwarts, I think i'd be able to relate." You couldn't help but smirk, "Okay, you've got me there. But no one suspected your dad to be a murderer."

Remus nodded, "Not everyone thinks you're so terrible, Bug." You couldn't help but scoff, "I love you, Uncle Rem, but unfortunately you don't count in this scenario."

Remus just shook his head, "M'not talking about me, love."

You tilted your head in confusion, "What are you talking about?"

Your godfather couldn't contain his smirk, "I'm referring to one Mr. Weasley. Fred to be more specific."

You huffed out a little, "Fred? Worried about me? Please, Uncle Rem, he's not worried, he's just stalking to try and find out how I'm letting dad in."

"You know that's not true, Bug. Fred's been a good friend of yours for many years. Why would this year change everything?" Remus was sitting on the edge of his desk now, looking down at you in the chair. You felt like a young child again when you used to sit with Remus in the living room and talk to him about everything and anything.

"I just feel like we've been drifting. We don't talk as much, but he's always kind of around? I just know he thinks the same thing as everyone else. His brother is best friends with Harry for Godric's sake, like of course he hates me now, how could he not?"

Remus looked at you with those eyes, the eyes he gives you when he's about to tell you how wrong you are. You closed your eyes in response, only causing Remus to chuckle, "What on earth are you doing?"

"If I don't look at you, I can't see you silently telling me how incorrect I am," this answer only made Remus laugh harder.

"Bug," he said your nickname lovingly, "Bug, look at me please, it's important." You peeked one eye open. "Uh-uh, both eyes, full attention."

You huffed out a sigh before complying. Remus folding his arms over his chest, "Mr. Weasley is quite fond of you and ah, ah-," Remus cut himself off, holding up a finger to you to stop you from replying before continuing himself, "and I think you should go have a chat with him. He came to me earlier today, telling me how worried he was about you, that he's been keeping an eye on you to make sure that you're safe. He's quite fond of you, Bug."

Your cheeks burned red, not knowing what to say in response. "Maybe," Remus stood from his desk now, "you should go have a chat with him." He started ascending up the stairs now, essentially leaving you no choice to but listen to his suggestion.

"I don't even know where he is right now," you tried, but you knew your efforts were futile when you heard your godfather mumbled the retched spell to open his map.

"He's in the astronomy tower," Remus called from his office. You rolled your eyes, "Thank yooou, Uncle Remus." You pushed off the the comfy chair that essentially had your imprint in it before heading out the classroom door, Remus calling after you that he loved you and wishing you good luck.

On your walk to the astronomy tower, you replayed the last couple months in your head. How Fred was always checking up on you, asking you how you were doing, if you needed him to walk you to class, if you had any plans later that day, if you wanted to take a break and go to the lake with him.

You assumed he was checking your schedule, seeing if you were trying to plot something for your father or were making plans to help with him getting into the castle. You were so clouded by paranoia and fear of judgement you failed to see that, beyond your godfather, Fred was the only person that was actually trying to be there for you.

You tip toed up the astronomy tower, not wanting to be fully discovered before you were ready. When you reached the top you saw Fred leaning against the railings. You walked slowly up to him, placing a tentative hand on his elbow causing him to turn his head toward you.

"Oh, hello, darling," he smiled sweetly at you, though you could tell it didn't quite reach his eyes like it normally did. You were cursing yourself internally, not believing how you could be so stupid. You didn't hesitate to wrap your arms around him, squeezing him like you didn't want him to float away, "I'm so sorry, Freddie. I've been so stupid."

It took just a second for him to respond before he was hugging you back, rubbing your back gently, "Darling, what are you talking about? Stupid about what?"

You pulled back slightly, craning your neck to look up at the tall man, "I've been pushing you away when you're the only person who's been there for me, truly. The only one who hasn't been blaming me, who's been looking out for me, checking in on me, making sure no one else bothers me. I've been so stupid and paranoid that I thought maybe you were doing those things to keep an eye on me for the wrong reasons."

The more you rambled the more Fred began to smile. "Freddie," you pouted, "i'm serious, I've been so awful to you."

Fred just shook his head, large hands cupping your face and wiping your tears, "You're right, angel." You're heart stopped for a moment, thinking he was going to tell you how terrible you were to him and how much you hurt him, "You're right that I care about you, that I've just been trying to protect you. M'not mad at you for being cautious. Hell, I expected it really." You couldn't help to laugh sightly.

He smiled at your small laughter, "There she is, there's my girl." Fred tilted your head so you were looking him in the eyes now. And you saw it, his admiration for you, how much he cared, that he loved you, all in how he was looking at you right in this moment.

"Kiss me, Freddie." It was a statement, not a question. He hesitated, looking in to your eyes to make sure that's what you really wanted. But you were done being patient, done waiting to see what others were going to do.

You fisted to front of his jumper, pulling his down to you. His lips met yours quickly, one of his hands shooting down to your waist as his other found solace on the back of your neck. Your lips moved together effortlessly, his so soft and plush against yours.

You tilted your head slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Your hand fisted his red hair at the base of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer before you both had to eventually break away for air.

Fred's cheeks were beat red, lips slightly swollen and you were sure you looked the same. "Wow," was all Fred was finally able to say. You nodded, "Wow."

"I should've done that weeks ago," Fred laughed lightly. You wrapped your arms around his neck, "Well, now you can do it whenever you want." He nodded, smiling, leaning down to go for another kiss.

#nonny bo bonny #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #wolfstar!reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley blurb

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thewinchestah · 2 months

Text

Strawberry Fields (sonhei com campos de morango) - Alastor X Reader fic

Summary: On a dreadful night, Alastor goes to collect one of his contracts. Something goes terribly wrong. He finds you.

Warnings: fem!reader, Human!reader, smut, 18+, period sex, overstimulation, light cannibalism, blood, A LOT OF BLOOD, general creeppiness, Alastor is in hell for a reason, oral sex, alastor kind of hunts reader down, possessive!Alastor

A/N: Soooo!! This was a long time coming but here it is. This idea has been on my mind for a long time now and I wanted to test the waters before i commit to a long fic. I hope you guys like it, i'm kinda on the fence about it. I'm working on the requests and they should be out soon I PROMISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Also I got a little carried away, i'm sorry. Hope you guys enjoy it. It's always a pleasure to write for you. The visuals and the title for this fic are heavily inspire by this music video. Not the lyrics tho, i always felt like the singer did a poor job with this concept and i wanted to do it justice.

Taglist: @markster666@jyoongim@stygianoir @pepperycookie@fraspent @aether-th3-enby @lady-valtieri @karolinda007-blog @jesi-pinkman@polytheatrix If the tags aren’t working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.

You curse when another sharp stone cuts your feet.

You regret it a second later when you hear the ominous sounds that reverberate through the trees. They are closing in on you.

You don’t know how you got here, you just know now you are running for your life inside these woods now. The only guiding light, a full moon that looks weirdly otherworldly.

Adrenaline burns inside your bloodstream, the forest seems devoid of any living thing. It’s only you and whoever is chasing you. You wish you could hear gunshots, you wish you could hear screams. Anything besides the occasional twig snap or wind caressing the pine trees’ leaves. The eerie silence is deafening, and worse: the eerie silence makes you even more aware of your situation.

It’s incredible how everything gets clearer when you’re about to die.

Maybe you shouldn’t have traveled alone, maybe you shouldn’t have decided to go somewhere where the closest thing to civilization is the village’s old-yet-charming dinner.

You just wanted a little bit of quiet, a place that made introspection inviting. Next time you should go for a beach vacation.

Next time? why does next time sound so… far away? Somehow your feet carry you away from the forest’s well marked path and deeper into the thick vegetation, hiding behind a large tree. You gained a few minutes on them by taking a detour.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

Right, your mind remembers. You’re being hunted down like prey in the creepy horror film woods, time to focus on surviving again. You can overthink later.

You assess your options: you can keep going into the woods, a deadly game of hide and seek. Zig-zag through the trees, keep them guessing. There’s a good chance you will find wildlife as you go deeper. This could be a problem, it’s too dark to make anything out, an encounter could cause enough of a distraction, you could take advantage of that. Or you could end up mauled. Plus, you are absolutely positive there are bear traps somewhere. If you're gonna die, make your death less dumb. Quite an embarrassing topic of discussion in the afterlife, saying that you died like horror film pretty girls making dumb decisions that you clearly would never make in a situation like that. You just know they are incredible hunters, you need to take them out of their element, expose them.

So yeah, going deeper isn't an option.

Something catches your eye, there’s a big opening in the thick vegetation, there’s a clearing ahead and… sparks? You definitely see a light. You were told by the locals how the population is scattered across acres and acres of practically untouched wilderness, there’s also the park’s rangers stationed on specific places that grant them a visual advantage in case of emergencies. A big clearing is perfect for that. Maybe, just maybe there’s hope.

Of course bolting there will make you terribly exposed, they will know your position all the time, and they can still hunt you hidden by the edge of the trail. Besides there’s no guarantee of what awaits you when you reach the promised land, they could have a partner waiting, there could be nothing at all there. Taking this risk for nothing sounds worse than being lured into a trap. You just have this gut feeling that’s where you should go. Your brain starts to pick the plan apart, this doesn’t sound good. Hesitation can be fatal. But you are all adrenaline and primal flight intistic -

The decision was made for you, you start running again. Taking advantage of the final stretch of cover you still have until you hit the trail again, you take several deep breaths. Oxygen needs to keep coming, so you can make decisions, so your limbs can respond quickly. Your peripheral catches something that’s also running. It’s a stag.

He’s also prey. He’s an omen. He’s your cue.

You leap across some fallen branches and your scratched feet land on the main trial. As soon as you complete your first step you hear movement and hurried voices. They are onto you. “What do we say to the good of death? Not today” you give yourself a pep-talk as you keep running. Maybe thinking this is all fiction will help you survive this, detach yourself from the situation, don’t think about the consequences, just act.

And like that, you don’t stop running. You sing your abcs to focus and stop spiraling. Evolution is truly amazing, the cuts you suffered don’t hurt anymore, precious shooting adrenaline, adrenaline that makes you tunnel vision towards your objective. By now you know where to step, when to dodge, when to slow down and when to go faster. Millennia of sheer force of survival catching up to you.

breathe, remember to breathe.

You inhale a good chunk of oxygen and look ahead. There’s a man on the edge of the tree line and a few meters left. Your mind wants to sing in victory, but you refrain from that, you know better than that it only ends when it’s over-

You’re positively sprinting towards the man right now, like he is your assured salvation. Something inside you screams louder and louder guiding you to him and you follow the sound.

You hear gunshots.

So noooooow they bring out the guns? That’s low.

But that’s a good thing right? If they are shooting they are getting out of time. A single gunshot can take you down and they can smoothly and swiftly carry you away, like it’s a normal hunt. No one will question shooting something they didn’t see getting shot so deep into these woods. But shooting a girl in front of a witness? that’s for amateurs right? So, the man is not a partner you decide.

remember to breathe, you are not breathing.

You are so close now, you see an outstretched hand coming your way only a few more steps

breathe.

You don’t, instead you leap towards your loosely established finish line and take the hand an-

Dirt greets your face as you fall face first into the trail, and you crawl like a zombie that just rose from its grave. You have a collection of new cuts and scrapes now, it hurts and you can’t bite your lip to suppress the pain. Still, you intertwine your fingers with his, your other arm aggressively seeking for leverage, clinging to your flesh lifeline. You blur out a bunch of incoherent things as he effortlessly lifts you up in one swift motion.

“Get behind me, my dear.” he asks. He has a weird voice almost like it leaves something in the air that caresses your skin, an inviting voice nonetheless. You hide yourself inside the crook of his arm, giving you the ability to witness just a little bit of the action there’s about to happen. You never let go of his hand. Your prince charming feels awfully cold.

Alastor waits, rather impatiently, for his clients to arrive. Making a deal with a human is his ticket topside and Hell is still terribly boring, even with the hotel. The Radio Demon was no stranger to contracts with humans, they were a win-win situation. Those who seek him always have a taste for the wicked and deranged, so it’s easy to figure out what they want and twist it for his own benefit. When they inevitably die, be it death by old age or death by occupational hazard, Alastor gets useful men from the moment they manifest in Hell. They always know exactly where they are and why, they are not confused sinners, petty crime or moral crime sinners. They are, most times, skilled killers who take no trouble doing Alastor’s bidding. An accomplished killer in life makes an even better prolific hellish soldier, someone who will continue indulging in their desires without the constraints of society, but eternally tied down by Alastor’s constraints. With the right incentive, they can rise in the ranks and become treasured resources for the overlord. Plus, the camaraderie isn’t all bad. Takes one to know one, they say.

However, humans these days are getting careless, sloppy. This entire display is proof of that, they should be over to kill and cover their tracks alone. The basics, for hell’s sake.

Alastor only takes care of the details. Tampering with some evidence here, getting a victim on the right place at the right time there. The occasional final encouragement to give into the darkness and finally kill, some advice. A self respecting killer should be able to kill and get away with it without the demon’s aid. He’s there for consulting and making sure there are no loose ends.

But never this. Having to intervene in the middle of a kill because his client made a very very big mess that screams “you’re getting caught!” is below him. Amateurs are not worth Alastor's time.

The two men approach the tree line, clearly worked up from the hunt and shocked to see him there. If Alastor is withholding a victim, something went very, very wrong.

“Good night my good fellows!” the greeting leaves his lips in an overly-chirpy tone. Is that static in his voice? Radio static? Is that what’s leaving goosebumps on your skin? The stress and the adrenaline are making you imagine things. You took the “pretend this is all a fantasy and you the main character” too seriously. Because now you are hiding behind Darth Vader’s skirts. That’s impossible, right? right?

“Great.” you can see the sarcasm dripping from one of your aggressors. “You’re here to watch?” the question asked all passive aggressive with an edgy tone. That’s definitely a teenager. What the fuck? you were being chased by a high school kid? This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, how can a teen pull this off? And you almost died? What? Your mind starts spirling.

Alastor ignores the son, is the father he cares about. They’ve known each other for years now, and he’s underperforming to say the least. He waits for the father to address him, it’s his mess after all. The older man gives his son a stern look and finally breaks the silence.

“Goodnight. We didn’t expect to see you here tonight, to be honest.’”

The second voice is much older. That doesn’t quiet your thoughts at all. Is this a cult initiation thing? Hunting girls down like they are prey? WHY DID YOU TRAVEL TO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE IN THE FIRST PLACE??? OF COURSE THERE WOULD BE CULTS HERE, DUUUUH. IF I WAS IN A CULT THIS WOULD BE THE PERFECT PLACE TO HIDE. There are so many voices screaming inside your head now, you are shivering. With anger, anticipation, fear. Your inner monologue overrides your brain and you are not sure you can cope with everything that’s going on. The voices, all the voices, sound wrong. They land weirdly inside your ear and you need to think hard to understand the words, you know how crucial every piece of information is. They could make all the difference when you talk to the police. They could help a conviction when you are on the stand, giving your official statement. You are surviving this. You are going to watch these fuckers get life in prision or worse. You are surviving this right? There’s so much you haven’t thought through. Whose hand are you holding again?

“Oh please. Don’t act all coy now, it doesn’t suit you old friend” Alastor is starting to cross the line from nuisance to anger. He twirls his microphone in annoyance, and makes sure to sink it deep into the moist ground. “Let me remind you about the terms of our agreement. For each 2 kills you make, one soul is mine to take. Or am I wrong?”

“No. You aren’t”. The father answers through gritted teeth. “But I never thought you would want to collec-” Alastor tilts his head, his grin widens and he snaps “Never thought what? That I would claim what I am owed at my leisure? That I would stop waiting patiently for you, acting at your whim? You earned the privilege of killing unbothered by my vigilance. Because you always delivered your side of the bargain with excellence. I can revoke said privilege whenever I want. Especially after this pitiful performance.” The seasoned killer seems to slightly cower at Alastor’s words. Good. He always regarded the demon without fear or trepidation. His work was meticulous, spotless, basically perfect. And that gave him the justifiable confidence for going toe to toe with the Radio Demon during conversations, a bargaining chip during dealings of his contracts. Few could say that.

You feel nauseous. Reality is crashing down at you hard and fast. How many people have these people killed? They are trading lives like it is the stock market, and yet you can’t let go of your prince charming’s hand. There’s no rational thought to justify it, actually rational thought is also being slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb tonight, because despite the gigantic red flags you are not letting go of this man’s hands. Everything about him screams danger, everything about him screams your safety. He’s the type of paradoxical that messes with your primal senses, that makes a moth go to the lights that will kill it.

From the crook of his arm you finally gather the courage to open your eyes. You try to look up to your prince charming, but his face is concealed by the shadows of the night. Actually, everything of importance seems to be conveniently hidden from you. Your aggressor’s faces look distorted, recognizable traits melting together like watercolor painted by 100 shades of darkness, voices and words fuse together creating only cacophony. You hear things, you see things, but you can’t discern them. The three men keep going back and forth, but their conversation seems to dissipate into the air. Everything about this feels like a dream.

Of course you can’t register anything of importance. Alastor makes sure of it. You are a potential victim after all. A liability, capable of making a positive identification. It’s wishful thinking that someone would take your account of what’s happening on this dreadful night seriously.

Alastor has no shame in using the prejudices of your world to his advantage. If you were to tell, everyone would make the assumption that you are “just another hysterical woman, thinking too much about folktales”. You had too much to drink, partied too hard. Hallucinogens are a common party drug and this is the result of a bad trip. At worst, “someone tried to spike your drink, but nothing happened. You should be thankful, not getting in the way of important police work”. Alastor also knows that injustice is no real crime, and yet he decided to spare you. It doesn’t feel fair for you to perish in such crude ways, a practice run for a post pubescent, obnoxious serial killer in training. A precious thing like you should be honored, savored. In the odd chance that your voice was heard, the Radio Demon guarantees that no reliable information will come out of your mouth. His clients might be lacking, but in the dealmaking business your words are your worth and Alastor has a silvertongue. Surely that pretty mouth of yours won’t be a problem.

“I’m afraid I have to insist, my good friend. The pair of you caused enough damage already with these sloppy, impetuous spree killings. Your law enforcement is already on your scent, tracking the pattern and by the looks of it tonight’s mess will send quite a message. A message that I will have to make sure is delivered faultlessly. I will uphold my hand of the bargain, you will uphold yours. The girl will be spared. There’s plenty of prey out there, plus her death would only act as an aggravation, she’s not your type, and trust me, they will know you made a mistake, you will be exposed.” The Radio Demon’s patience is wearing thin. He shouldn’t have to justify his actions to humans. There’s no compromise to be found here, they went to him and the deal is always on his terms. You squeeze his hand really tight during the discussion of your scheduled demise, like a reminder that you are still there. Still afraid.

How cute. Alastor thinks. Your adrenaline is starting to wear off, dissipating into the cool forest breeze and opening space for a strong sense of false security, equally as inebriating. The smell of your sweet fear laced blood is unmistakable, assaulting your savior’s nostrils. Your knees buckle, and you struggle to keep yourself on your feet, clinging to prince charming’s hand for dear life. “Breathe darling, you are forgetting to breathe” He turns quickly towards you, his voice impossibly soft, shooting. You try to look up at charming’s face again, the only new discovery made is that he's awfully tall, and his face is still hidden by opaque darkness. You work really hard on breathing normally again, but you want to keep looking. Their faces are a monstrous distortion, vacant eyes that seem to cry blood. Your entire body tingles, you feel weird goosebumps. It takes all of your willpower to keep standing. You won’t lay yourself at their feat, defeated, like the corpse they would drag from these woods. But you just can’t keep looking, so you shut your eyes and grip the hand that has become your lifeline even tighter.

“You won’t even truly use the bitch, she’s no use for you” The entitled brat opens his mouth again. That’s the trigger.

The Radio Demon grows as tall as the native pine trees, his antlers furiously expanding and casting a shadow so dark over the two serial killers that the moon is completely obstructed. The only source of light in the forest now is the burning red dials of his eyes. The father sees the burning inferno of Alastor’s eyes and for the first time he is speechless. Maybe the realization of where destiny is sending him finally happens. The son sees raw, untamed power for the first time in his life and cowers like a scared puppy. Pathetic.

“Now let’s get something clear here. I’m only tolerating your insolence because of my decade long relationship with your father.” You shut your eyes harder, your eyelids a shield from whatever is about to happen. Foreboding making the forest air too thick for you to breathe. You finally break down and start crying, too fucking much. Alastor’s face meets the son on eye level. His teeth are bared, static picks up around the group to the point both men are struggling to breathe. A clawed hand traps the father’s face, a trail of blood dripping from the older serial killer’s cheek.“He’s as close to a professional as our kind gets. Shame the same thing can’t be said about you. This juvenile outburst does not make you more feared nor does it assert your dominance. It displays how weak you are, inept to succeed on this because you can’t keep your entitled demeanor in check. You are not owed anything in this lifestyle, if you want something you need to prove you’re worthy of it by taking it yourself. Whining like a petulant child won’t get you anywhere” You feel dizzy, the earth beneath your feet quakes, whoever, whatever is holding your hand is sheeting with rage so consuming the ground shakes with the intensity of their emotions.

Alastor’s attention is now focused on the father, the red inferno from his eyes making the man feel genuine fear for the first time in his long, violence-filled life. “Teach your spawn some manners and proper work, otherwise get him out of my sight. This was a courtesy. Fulfillment failings lead to contract termination, and contract termination means a lot of details appearing. You do not wish to make an enemy of me” Alastor delivers his last threat with a snarl. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the intensity of his words, you feel a powerful rush of wind, leaves ruffling, hurried steps and suddenly the world is at a standstill. The forest seems devoid of life excluding you, your mysterious prince charming and your two aggressors. All of your senses are assaulted with an overwhelming feeling of wrongness… darkness. Darkness that feels like the most luxurious silky dress on your skin, the most intense look of a passionate lover. It feels dangerously alluring and your will power is being gladly tempted by it.

You feel like you’ve been holding your breath for hours, the rollercoaster of adrenaline inducing hyperventilation and conscious calming breaths making your brain enter some sort of high. Is that what people felt after a battle in ancient times? Is that what It means to stare death in the face and come out victorious? You don’t understand what you are feeling, but when oxygen finally feels normal again, tall, dark and handsome is escorting you deeper into the woods and you don’t even care.

You’ve just slayed the dragon with your bare hands. You don’t care. You just want to bask on the feeling. To fucking feel. To remind yourself that you are still alive.

Alastor is drunk on something that he rarely indulges in. Desire. Pure, raw carnality that makes him antagonize one of his greatests clients. Someone Alastor awaited his inevitable death with anxiety and hopefulness, someone he could actually call more than a partner in crime when in hell. A friend. A friendship born from blood and gore but bathed in kinship and inexplicable understanding of one’s dark nature. And the Radio Demon almost killed the man and his useless spawn and fucked everything up because when he saw your running for your life something ignited inside him. When you squeezed his hand so tightly, with such abandon and trust, like he was an Angel sent from heaven to protect you when reality was the most wicked antonym.

Alastor spared you because you were prey. Beautiful, delicious prey that defied your destiny by accepting the nature of your condition. You didn’t dare to fight, you didn’t dare to think you could stand a chance against your hunters. You just fled. You fled and was perfectly lured into another trap, you doubled the bet when you held his hand and didn’t let go, serving all of your vulnerability on a silver platter to someone you deep down knew was way worse than any serial killer.

Prey, that will chew its own leg to get out of a trap. Prey, that will offer herself to the most ungodly creature around if it means she can survive a few more moments, just to spite those who started the chase. Prey, that now holds his hand completely carefree and all giggles while she is led to a much more final and insidious type of slaughter. Prey that he was now going to claim.

Your wounded feet start to land on soft squishy things, a familiar scent invades your nostris. From the scent of sweat, blood and gore now to the scent of juicy, plump strawberries.

“Hey, are we on a strawberry field?” it’s the first time you addressed him directly. You trail behind him, hurried steps crushing the strawberries on your way. You look up and for the first time you can see open skies. “You don’t need to worry my dear, you are perfectly safe now”

Are you?

You decide that he doesn’t sound like Darth Vader anymore, his voice is impossibly staticy, it prickles your skin and it feels like goosebumps that accompany butterflies on your stomach. He sounds like someone you would meet at a ball and have a cinderella moment with. The blanket of stars that illuminates the clearing you ferociously fought for grants you a better vision of his figure: scarlet red, snug tailcoat, perfectly tailored. Long legs and trousers that fit like skinny jeans. He dresses like the lead singer from a classic emo band. You can’t say you are complaining, you always loved the idea of a tall dark and handsome prince charming.

“So, you have some weird friends don’t you?” you ask him. You can hear him chuckle, it is a very pleasant sound. Suddenly the twirls you, a fucking disney princess’ musical number twirl, and you find yourself in front of very big bed.

With impeccable white sheets, you mind adds. Must be really hard to maintain white sheets in the middle of a strawberry field. Wait, what is a king size bed doing in the middle of th-

“Ah, I don’t really do friends, more like reluctant colleagues” bootleg brandon urie is the melancholic type, then.

Alastor finally takes a good look at you when you take your seat on the bed with a contented sigh. You look marvelous. Your hair is messy and wild, your cheeks and neck flushed red from the effort. Your eyes big and pliant, waiting for his answers. You look so human, so deliciously alive. He desperately wants to be the cause of your disarray, to make the blood rush to your face under his materfully wicked touch. To feel your pulse fluttering when he touches your neck.

You still can’t see all of him though. There’s stars, a big full moon whose light outstretches far, bathing the clearing in ethereal silver. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows, your savior is always in the shadows.

By now you know he is purposefully hiding his identity from you, but you always liked a game. Plus you don’t really have anything to lose now, you just want to forget everything that happened to you tonight, you just want to inebriate yourself, and charming really looks like someone who could show you a good time.

Either that or you are having a psychotic break after enduring life threatening stress.

Anyway, you decide to bite. One possible psychotic murder, funny, charming murderer is better than two lukewarm ones.

“Do you always take random women to a creepy bed with impeccable white sheets in the middle of the woods or am I just special?” not a chuckle now, a laugh. A beautiful, full laugh. The residual static on your skin making you shiver.

Alastor completely understands what you are trying to do, and it’s truly hilarious. Your petulance and sarcasm towards him means to an end. You’re so precious, talking to him like this, thinking you could take him at his own game. What a beauty! Seeing you think you are succeeding in this only for him to take that conviction away from you at the last minute is going to be so entertaining. He wants you to dig your own grave, lay yourself at his feet.

He doesn’t indulge you, instead he takes a thick, silky strand of your hair and inhales deeply. You smell like sweet innocence and summer. It makes Alastor euphoric.

His head tilts down as he smells your hair. You don’t that’s creepy, it looks creepy, it sounds creepy, but you feel reverence in his action.

And then out of the shadows comes a revelation, you see his horns. You suspected his unhumanity, but the confirmation of it knocks the wind out of you. Your eyes widen, you simply cannot make sense of this night, everything feels too surreal and raw reality at the same time, it’s giving you whiplash.

“Are you the devil?” you ask him without much consideration of the weight of this question. You do your best to keep your voice from failing but it’s impossible. You never dropped his hand, in fact you feel like you are permanently attached to him, like a marble statue. Your fingers open and interlock again and again, reflecting your anxiety, but you don’t let go.

You can’t see it, but Alastor’s grin is as big as a cheshire cat’s.

“Do you seek the devil?” answering a question with a question. Smoke and mirrors. Alastor waits for you to answer, but you don’t. You don’t know what to answer, you try to contemplate if enganding further could mean eternal damnation, or if you are already damned. Is he going to make you an offer you can’t refuse? an offer you aren’t allowed to refuse? Alastor will blame it on lack of patience, but the fact is he can’t wait anymore to taste you, there’s a burning desire inside him, that only gets more and more ferocious as he tastes the inebriating smell of your fear blessing the air he breathes again.

He removes your interlocking fingers, his hand quickly trapping your tiny wrist inside. You hear heavy breathing.

“Or do you seek a taste of the forbidden fruit?” The demon licks the long cut across our open palm. His tongue is sensual and cold, the sensation of it slowly dragging across your wounded skin a soothing balm. You moan, he growls. “Forbidden fruit it is.” he announces, delivered like a sentence.

You are completely free of his touch for the first time since it all began, but it feels like you just suffered an enormous loss. You feel taunted, like someone just dangled a shiny new thing in front of you and took it away. It’s like your entire being has become tunnel vision and you need to get to the bottom of this, whatever this is. Consequences be damned.

You watch closely as your paranormal paramour moves towards the bed, he is completely concealed by the darkness. Darkness deep and palpable, he morphs within it. The visuals are beautiful, it looks like one of the art’s greatest masters is painting a watercolor in front of you. Darkness from absence of light floating and mixing with otherworldly opaque darkness, flowing like a river. You wonder if it would run through your fingers like water if you touch it.

Antlers. He has antlers, not horns.

The not-devil settles himself behind you, back against the headboard. He quickly maneuvers you onto his lap, grabbing you by the waist. You squeal in surprise as more of him touches you, now pressed flush against his hard chest you feel something you shouldn’t be feeling, nonetheless resistance is futile, you spread your legs giving him more access. He has barely touched you, and yet you are completely surrendered to him.

Alastor wasn’t joking when he established that a woman like you should be savored, slowly consumed so he can extract everything you have to offer. He knows your mind is exhausting itself trying to discern what is happening, how the body and the spirit get more susceptible to succumb to desire after surviving imminent death, and he intends to take full advantage of it. Alastor wants to see you writhe under his touch, pain and pleasure. He wants to torment you and make you pay for existing near him, for making him careless. For making him indulge in carnality and arousal. But mainly, he wants to punish you, because you battled so hard for your survival against them. When you should fear him.

The Radio Demon touches your neck, exactly where your pulse is, where he can feel your beating heart, full of life pulsing. Life that taunts him and seduces him. The thump thump thump of your heart beneath his fingers like a moth going directly to the light that will kill it. He holds your entire life, your entire existence under his clawed finger, it makes him delirious.

You feel a sharp sting on your neck, fangs that break your skin and spill your blood, red and ready for his taking. Holding your breath while he sucks the life out of you, your head swims, and you drown on the feelings. You feel pleasure, forbidden pleasure from having something hurting and feasting on you.

“If you are not the devil, are you a vampire?” It might be a dumb question, but it’s the logical one. Sometimes the obvious needs to be said. He laughs again, a full deep laugh,mockery dripping from it.

“Why? If I were a vampire would it make you feel better about spilling your blood for me?” he dodges the question again. Bait and switch. He’s feeding on you and you are enjoying it.. You don’t know what he is, you don’t know his name. It only spurs the burning desire in the pit on your stomach.

Alastor licks the entire length of your neck, his other hand applying light pressure on your pulse point. He bites down on you again, harder, going deeper. You roll your eyes and moan obscenely as he sucks on it. This is going to leave a mark for sure, but you don’t care, because whatever he’s doing to you feels delirious, it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.

Your blood is dripping from Alastor’s lips, he licks it not wanting to waste a drop. He can taste your eagerness, your fear, your essence, your soul. The red liquid is solid proof of how alive and defenseless you are, completely at his mercy. You keep moaning and melting on his lap at his ministrations, a finger starts tracing your arm, feather light touch that leaves you shivering in anticipation.

He’s gently scratching, teasingly. It’s a claw, you realize. Another part of his unhumanity making you scared and deliciously trembling in anticipation. It’s Alastor’s turn to moan now, his clawed finger comes to torment your clothed nipple, he makes sure to do it tantalizing slow to give you just a taste of what it could be. He wants to hear you ask for it, beg even.

“I’m afraid I’m way worse than the Devil, little doe” his low, threatening tone makes you close your legs together and rub, desperately seeking friction, some relief.

“Re–really? You don’t sound that bad” A lie. You just want to say something back.

Your paramour laughs again, he takes your hand in his and starts making his way downwards.

“How precious are you, lying like that to me” He stops both of your hands on your lower belly, threatening to cross the point of no return. You squeal and struggle on a desperate attempt to raise your hips and get something more, anything.

Delighted in seeing you writhe this badly when he has not even properly touched you, Alastor squeezes your neck tighter, inflicting just enough pain and pressure to make you sing. The Radio Demon finally makes the decision and drops any pretense of moderation, hastily dropping the band of your panties and guiding your joined hands to your slit. “I can taste the fear in your blood, how your sense of pleasure has been forever skewed”.

The two digits tease your entrance that is coated with arousal and something more, his touch is masterful, like he knows the ways of the human body the same way a talented musician knows their way around an instrument. He makes you moan, he makes you sing with only the possibility of his actions. The idea of being taken by something unholy.

At last, Alastor finally enters your tight wet pussy, his finger guides yours as he undoes you in ways that should not be allowed. He pumps your cunt mercilessly, gone are the careful, calculated touches, he wants to make you crash and burn as quick as possible, he wants to make you understand that you crossed the most important line of your life. There’s no going back now, your pretty mortal body is forever tainted by unholiness, by his darkness.

“You spread yourself like this for me, a wanton little thing while I choke and feast on your blood”. Alastor curls the fingers inside you repeatedly making you move your hips in the maniac rhythm he has set. You ride your joined digits, moaning like a whore while your lover’s grip on your throat tightens and releases making your brain short circuits in pure unknown carnal feeling. “You are not the demure, feisty thing like you desperately tried to prove earlier. It only takes the slight touch of something forbidden to make you moan like a common whore” he adds another one of his huge fingers and starts scissoring inside you, the combination of two of his digits and your little one only adds insult to injury. You will never be able to replicate these ministrations, the feeling of being this full and stretched, you had a taste of the forbidden fruit, you are high on it and you will never get another hit on your own.

Alastor alternates between choking you and curling the fingers inside you, your lightheadedness combined with the assaulting pleasure making you feel feverishly delirious. Your body is hot from desire and adrenaline combined, a starking contrast to your mysterious lover’s touch, ice cold. The two of you distinct seasons, distinct stages of existence mixing together, life and death tethering each other, blurring the lines of worlds that shouldn’t exist together.

Orgasm building quickly, you grip the white sheets tighter and tighter and tighter but your fingers feel wet, you look down to see a mess of redness leaking from your core.

Oh fuck, you are on your period. You completely forgot about it. In normal circumstances you would feel mortified about being fingered like this while bleeding, but right now it makes things even more erotic, you’ve learned that your lover may not be a vampire, but he definitely has a thing for blood and something inside you ignites at the idea of letting him feast on your blood, eat you out while you bleed for him.

Your pussy flutters with the fantasy of that tongue working your pussy and with a particularly harsh pinch on your clit you are off. Waves of pleasure spread across your entire body like wildfire, he chokes you merciless making the urge to scream to the universe how fucking good you feel impossible. You want to scream his name, but you don’t know who he is, what he is. You just want more.

While you ride the waves of your orgasm unbothered Alastor takes the opportunity to take fingers from your pussy to his mouth, red with blood and slick with arousal, he moans audibly as he tastes you, the most intimate parts of you. Only a little bit of it inebriates him, this is better than 70% of what he does in Hell. This feels better than closing a new deal, watching the princess of Hell fail miserably at rehabilitating sinners. You taste so sweet, so alive and afraid. He’s hard with the conviction of how scared you are, of how he has permanently tainted something so innocent and pure. How you stupidly threw yourself to his mercy. Perishing at the hand of those serial killers is more merciful than him. And now you will know.

You must have babbled something while you came, about wanting to scream his name and not knowing it, because now you find yourself completely lying down, the bed feels soft like a cloud and you are sprawled like an angel, and he finally reveals something about him of his own volition.

“The name is Alastor, my dear. It has definitely been a pleasure meeting you.” Alastor, now you know, settles himself between your thighs and the pooling redness from your core. You feel him running his claws across the impossibly soft flesh of your inner thighs, you cover your face with your arm.

“Alastor I’ve never… No one has ever…” you trail off, you shouldn’t be embarrassed at this point, but nevertheless you feel your cheeks burning. Is he really going to eat your bloody pussy? fuck.

Alastor’s name on your lips sounds so soft, so pure. He wants to ruin it. He wants to destroy the careful constructed cognitive dissonance that makes you feel safe and comfortable around him. He wants you to be completely afraid and craving being scared of him, disrupting your sense of pleasure so he can ruin you completely, getting you hooked on him and delirious for more, willing to do anything for another taste of the forbidden fruit.

So, he makes you look.

“Look at me” you don’t want to. You feel a lot of things right now, but mainly you feel as if you really take a look at your dark lover tragedy is going to happen. Eros and psyche all over again, but bloodier.

He claws your thighs, you hiss at the delicious pain, but still disobey him.

“Look. At. Me” he snarls, definitely a threat. You feel yourself getting wetter.

Alastor slaps your ass, hard. He’s losing patience, his temper turning quick at the realization that you not knowing who he is isn’t a perfect plan.

You moan from the pain, from the sting. It feels wickedly erotic. You almost want him to hit you again. Since when pain felt so fucking good?

So you do, you finally look at him.

Red. The first thing that your brain fixates on is how much red there is. Scarlet red hair, red blood running down your core and staining the white sheets. Red claws that pierce your skin.

Red eyes. Burning red eyes that entrap you. It’s like you can see the blazing fire that tortures the damned inside those eyes.

If this is why people fall from grace, you totally understand the appeal now.

The second thing, the thing that makes you transfixed at the sight of him is how wrong he looks. His antlers are beautiful, growing from his scarlet hair beautifully adorning ears that look extremely soft, non-threatening, like a crown. His eyes are big and sharp, close together

while he stares at your soul, eyes of a predator in the middle of softness of prey. His grin is completely predatory, dangerous, sharp teeth that hurt and maul, but at the same time bite you just the right way to make you moan in raw carnality. The skin is pale, not in a michael-jackson-thriller-way but in an ethereal way. His voice is static that seems to tickle your skin, sometimes more than others. He’s paradoxical, everything you should be afraid of and the comfort you should seek at the same time. A force you shouldn’t meddle with. Primal and raw.

You may not know what exactly he is, but one thing is certain: he’s dangerously alluring, and you completely fell into his trap. But it hardly matters anymore, because he is about to drink blood from your pussy with that marvelous silvertongue of his.

“Fucking beautiful” you blur out, not realising he’s going to hear you.

One of Alastor’s eyebrows shoots up. He’s not regarded as beautiful often. Alluring, maybe.

He wants to make you pay for all the soft ideas you have about him.

You soon learn how hard it is to hold the gaze of your lover’s eyes, his burning red irises entrap you. It's impossible to look away but overwhelming to stare into.

“If all the mortal men you’ve been with are weak and pathetic enough to decline the dark gift of your bleeding cunt, then I’m honored to be your first” and without much more warning you feel a delicious cold tongue licking your entrance and you are off

Alastor isn’t eating you out, he’s feasting on you like you are his last chance of salvation. His face is completely buried deep in between your legs as his tongue assaults you at a merciless pace. He makes sure not to waste a drop of anything your gushing pussy gives him. His tongue enters you and the contrast between your tight heat and his coldness makes you delirious. Exquisite carnal pleasure, you could cum from it alone.

Alastor is having a hard time navigating this double edged knife: you don’t know who he is what is capable of, which means your aren’t near as scared of being this vulnerable with him as you should be, a literal cannibal delighting in your soft flesh, drinking the warmth of your sacred blood. You must taste delicious terrified. But the silver lining is that the fear he inspires would make any woman who knows more compliant to this, even offering this to him freely. You have no idea about his exploits, he can and he will tarnish you with all of his unholy darkness, wrecking your world during the eleventh hour when you realize what you’ve done, who you’ve so easily corrupted your morals and your spirit for. You’re so beautiful, so naive, so trusting, so alive. You moan “Alastor, Alastor, Alastor” soft ohhhs and aaaahs as he polishes your cunt, every sound you make, every twitch of your legs and roll of your lips reminding your ungodly lover of how delicate and rare you are, aiding him on his mission. Gripping the sheets isn’t enough anymore, you instinctively place your hands on his antlers, the texture indescribable. Again, the contradiction of the softness of his velvet and the sharpness of his teeth, wickedness of his tongue giving you whiplash. You start rubbing them furiously, trying to mirror his ministries on your swollen folds. It definitely is doing something to him because he drags his teeth along your inner tie, breaking more skin, drawing more blood, hissing. You scream at the heavenly pain mixed with unholy pleasure.

Normally, Alastor wouldn’t let anyone near his antlers, arguably the most sensitive part of his body. If worked right, the sensations take him to another level of desire, insane carnality. But you taste so sweet, rich blood mixed with erotic arousal on a soft flesh platter, he consumes your innocence as he coaxes another orgasm from you. You hold on to dear life on his antlers, his velvet shedding and bloodying your hands, running through adding to the painting of reds that connects you two. Something ignites on you and it’s the most intense orgasm of your life, you feel every nerve burning from everlasting fire, that transforms and transforms until it explodes in a supernova. You don’t have the strength to scream, so you whisper Alastor’s name like a filthy prayer.

He looks up grinning like a devil. Something makes you open your eyes as you ride out the waves of pleasure. There’s so much blood, blood dripping from his lips, blood on his nose, blood cascading down his bewitching face mixing in a flowing current of red, it ends in a glistening red pool where you meet each other in immoral sin, so inviting you could jump in. It’s like what would happen if the killers had caught you, but twisted into wicked, ungodly pleasure, it’s almost worse. Because well, if you’re killed you’d be dead and would never have experienced this, but now you have and the ephemerality of this night crashes on you and you feel conned, betrayed.

He licks his lips and stares right at you, a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes, you almost cum again.

Alastor feels delirious from the bloody mess in front of him, carnality so powerful it makes him insane, he needs to finish this. He needs to sink his cook deep into your slick cunt. Pushing himself up, he starts to position his cock on your entrance. He’s so tall, the shadows of his bloodied antlers cover you and hide the welcoming silver lighting of the moon. The stars look so different today, and the welcoming sight of a full moon looks merciless, devoid of warmth and hope.

“Women like you are not meant for mortal men. They cannot honor you, they cannot savor you, they cannot satisfy you. Once you take a bite of the forbidden fruit you understand your place. Pliant and submissive beneath me. To be ravished and tamed by something beyond puny mortality. You are made to me fucked, to be owned by the better man who defied destiny and transcended what the hands of fate enforced on him. You are Helen of Troy, tailor made to fit my cock, satisfy my thirst”

He teases your entrance with just the tip, making you greedly roll your hips towards him, a primal response to the ravishing words. Alastor laughs mockling at you attempt of getting him to fuck you on your terms, your time. You may not be aware of everything but by now you know you can’t outfox and fox on his own game.

“please. please. PLEASE” you scream the last word, you can’t take it anymore. A second without him touching your body feels like an eternity.

“Tsk. You look so pretty when you beg” the condescending compliment lands like music on your ears and he finally enters you. Inch after inch he spreads your tight walls open, practically breaking you. You understand now why people in times before yours had sex after battle. It’s the most rare and coveted feeling in existence, to greet imminent death, escape her fatal calling and then do the thing that undoubtedly proves you are alive. Only to meet her again at the finish line of carnal sensations and no rational thought. Primal need to feel, to live.

Alastor finally bottoms out with an animalistic growl, making your shiver under him. He fucks you at a merciless pace, he fucks you with haste, with urgency and abandon. He knows what he needs and he is going to take it.

“Hoooooly FUCK Alastor” you scream.

“There’s nothing holy here. Everything that’s holy has abandoned you. There’s only me, your wicked god who has you completely at his mercy, to fuck, to break” he takes it all out and enters you at once. You try so bad to look at him, to hold his piercing gaze with adamantine conviction but you can’t. It’s too much, overstimulation creeps on you and everything hurts. You shut your eyes.

“Look at me. Fucking look at me or I will stop” it’s not an order, it’s a threat. You should be scared, you feel scared, but tonight fear is diesel to your desire, and the pain makes you enter a mind numbing stage. The lines of torture and relief blurring together until you can’t discern a thing, you feel.

You do as you’re told. You look at him as he fucks you, thrusting like a mad man, obscene sounds reverberating throughout, you are being so loud you are sure they can hear you back on the village. The village, your cabin. You had a life before tonight. Will there be life after tonight?

You don’t have time to have an existential crisis because what Alastor does next gets your undivided attention.

“You will look at the demon who is ruining you, fucking you. You are no immaculate maiden anymore. You are a common whore for the Radio Demon” your eyes widen at the revelation. He is not a vampire, he’s not the devil. The fact that he is a demon and not satan makes you even more mortified, like you’ve settled for less. Just a little demon is what it takes to completely undo you.

Alastor keeps thrusting at a breakneck pace, feeling vindicated. He did exactly what he said he would do, he took the last fiber of comfort, of dignity away from you. He can see your entire world shattering on your beautiful doe eyes, making you finally feel the right amount of horror on the edge of a rapturous orgasm.

You feel true terror now, there was still a slimmer hope that he wasn’ evil incarnated, that he had a redeeming quality. After all, he saved you. Didn’t he save you? Or did you start something you are not even close to understanding? You feel terrified because there’s a demon fucking you, biting you, feasting on your blood and you fucking love it, you want it every night. You really took a bite from the forbidden fruit and ruined yourself.

“It’s too much, Alastor I can’t” the words leave your lips and feel like confession, like somehow if you admit your complete surrender it will absolve you of something.

“Too. Bad.” Alastor punctuates his point with delicious sharp trust after each word. He finally tainted you with his darkness and made you aware of it. He feels delirious, he feels like victory incarnated. Your moans grow louder and louder, now pleasure means pain, hell means rapture. Things that should not exist together making you feel the best you have ever felt. Tears spill from your eyes, the overstimulation something you’ve never felt before, mind numbing and life-altering.

In an act of paradoxical mercy, your demon lover rubs your clit and you’re out like a light. Your walls tighten around Alastor’s cock, and white hot pain, blinding red pleasure overcomes you. You feel like falling, you feel your literal fall from grace as your body tingles and burns with ineffable, forbidden pleasure. Alastor howls and cums inside you.

You land on silky, comfortable, alluring darkness.

The cool forest breeze greets your abused skin, it stings but feels soothing at the same time. Paradoxical, like everything from this night. Alastor holds you tight, cradling your head on his chest, petting your hair. He draws lazy circles on your hip bone, featherlight touch, careful and coy. You turn on your side to face him.

“Can you see it now? It’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful” your mind asks you. You agree.

You start giggling, laughing. It is also so funny.

“What’s so funny, little doe?” Alastor asks you, genuinely amused. He feels elated from this night. He feels satiated, contented. It’s a very rare feeling for him.

“For a while I seriously considered you are an alien” you tell him, you can’t contain your laughter now. You are so silly. Alastor’s eyebrow shoots up, quizzical. He chuckles and indulges you. “Alien, is so mundane. You could never be an Alien, it’s way too easy”. What your giddy minds means is that now you know Alastor is anything but easy, actually there’s nothing like him. He’s something else. Something entirely different, a delicious mystery that creeps inside your heart, haunts you forever.

You stop laughing when realization hits you.

“Will I ever see you again, Alastor?” you ask him, your voice failing, nothing more than a whisper. You feel the ephemerality of this night, you feel daylight closing, ruthless sun rising that ends this everlasting dream.

Alastor stares deeply into your eyes, he sees your wanton desire, your trepidant expectations. “That depends entirely on you, my dear doe. It’s time to make a decision.” his voice is so soft it fucking hurts.

You look at the fading moon on the horizon, the distant stars judge you, the earliest of birds sing for you.

Yet from those starts, no light but rather, darkness visible.

You open your eyes, you feel impossibly rested. Your bed feels soft and you want to visit dreamland again, but the noise stops you.

Songbirds and blazing sirens mix together a cacophony of urgency. You get up fast, trying to remember little bits and pieces of the crazy dream you had and run to the big window across the room.

You look down, you see ambulances, police cars, lab coats and tall guys in FBI jackets.

Something definitely happened here last night.

That explains it then, the nature of your murderous dreams. The sirens creeped their way into your subconscious making that murderous, dreadful dream. You take a quick look and your hands and see nothing. Perfect, unblemished skin.

It felt so real. Strawberry fields and blood.

Your neighbor from across the street gestures manically at you from her window.

Fuck, it must have been really bad. There’s a lot of people at your doorstep.

Hurrying to put your robe on, you fly down the stairs towards the bustling crowd outside.

You are dying to know what happened. You were always a vivid dreamer.

You reach the hall and open the door, a polite officer starts talking to you.

You don’t notice the old radio on your vanity, or the opaque darkness that followed you from the corner of your room to the world outside.

#alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #alastor fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader #the radio demon x you #im insaneeeeeeeee #baixaria #im sorry everyone #alastor #the radio demon

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ihavemanyhusbands · 7 months

Text

The Wine of Your Blood

Father Paul/Monsignor Pruitt x Fem!Reader

Also on AO3

As usual, thank you to G <3

Summary: After Father Paul's transformation, he is tormented by a hunger only you can quell.

WC: 5.1k words

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!, vampirism, blood drinking, religious imagery and symbolism (I'm not a religious expert tho I grew up catholic, sorry if I used wrong terms), canon divergence, hierophilia, corruption, graphic depictions of sex and some violence, unprotected sex (do not try at home), cunnilingus, ummm let me know if I missed anything pls!!

------------

The silhouette was there again, shrouded in a thick fog that rolled in from the tempestuous sea. It was tall and statuesque, like the guard of some mythical place – monstrous and terrible. Golden light blazed behind it, flickering like an ardent flame. Or like a beacon, slicing through the night’s darkness and calling you home.

You could not see its eyes, and yet you could feel the prickle of an assessing gaze. The siren-like lure was undeniable, and for a moment you could understand why sailors jumped into the sea with total abandon.

But you were not afraid. You’d seen this apparition for various nights now, like an omen, even if you didn’t really believe in that sort of thing.

The real questions were: What was it presaging?

And why, especially, did it feel so inevitable?

————-

You awoke, as you often did in the late fall, to a gentle rain. As the day progressed, you knew it would grow in intensity, but for now, there was peace and quiet.

You stared at the drops trailing down your window like glistening tears of melancholy. The milky white early morning sky was the same as it ever was, casting a thin, watery light on everything.

When you finally pulled yourself out of bed, you peeked into your grandmother’s room to find her still out, snoring softly. Her breaths no longer sounded like wet, raspy gurgles, which made you sag with abundant relief.

Sarah had diagnosed her with a mild case of pneumonia the previous week, but even so you knew things could turn for the worse on a whim. Your grandmother was nearing ninety, and while she had always been a sturdy woman, her body could only take so much now.

For a minute, you were seriously starting to consider getting in touch with the new priest, Father Paul, once again to talk last rites. For your grandmother’s sake, you wished Monsignor Pruitt could have performed them, but he was still recovering in the mainland.

But that all would be a problem for another day, given that she was doing much better.

Still, she had adamantly refused to miss mass, and while she wasn’t strong enough to leave the house, Father Paul had been gracious enough to swing by for a house visit on Sunday.

He seemed like a fine man, soft-spoken, amiable, and welcoming. Not to mention, he had quite a charming way about him, especially when he laughed. Perhaps you shouldn’t be taking notice of that, but you couldn’t help it, despite how conflicted you felt in his presence.

There was something vaguely familiar in his dark eyes you couldn’t place — something that seemed far older, perhaps wiser, but definitely weathered. At times, prolonged eye contact with him seemed daunting, but you attributed it to your general wariness of strangers.

He hadn’t been at Crockett for very long, but you appreciated the effort he seemed to be making with everyone on the island, but especially with your grandmother. There had to be some way you could repay his kindness… perhaps in the form of a homemade treat.

You padded over to the kitchen to make some coffee, rummaging through the cupboards to see if you had all the ingredients to make some banana bread.

You spent the rest of the morning cooking, your grandmother’s small house warm and permeated with the sweet, enticing smell of baking bread. You got ready after that, making sure your grandmother ate some breakfast and took her medicine before you headed out.

Gravel crunched under your rain boots as you trudged over to the Monsignor’s house, where Father Paul was currently residing. You nodded in greeting at passerby, stopping only to spare a few words with Leeza Scarborough, who was on her front porch reading.

When you arrived at the house, the curtains were drawn and there seemed to be no lights on inside. You frowned in slight confusion, given that it was past noon. Perhaps he was out and about, but with so few residents on the island, you surely would have seen him.

You stepped up onto his porch, hesitating for a moment before knocking on the door.

“Father Paul?” You called tentatively.

No answer. You tried knocking again, waiting for another few minutes.

When you were about to give up, you kneeled to set down the tupperware, and the door suddenly opened to reveal Beverly. Her eyes widened slightly upon seeing you there and you quickly straightened.

“Oh, Beverly,” you said as a form of greeting. “Sorry, just wanted to drop something off for Father Paul. As a thank you.”

She cleared her throat, hands clasping in front of her. “I’m afraid Father Paul has fallen ill and is currently indisposed for visitors…”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said sympathetically, further confused by the slight worry you felt at the news. “I can just give this to you, then. I’ll talk to him when he’s better.”

“How nice of you to do this,” Beverly smiled tightly, eyebrows raising just a little. “I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it, though I’m not sure if his stomach will be able to take it right now… Oh, I just hope it doesn’t go bad.”

You gave her a wry, uncomfortable smile in return. “It’s the thought that counts, right? Erm… I’m just glad he’s got someone to take care of him.”

“He’s in good hands, I assure you,” she nodded. “Mine, and the Lord’s, of course.”

You nodded in return, starting to back away slowly. “Right. Well, can you tell him my grandmother sends her regards?”

“Of course, I will let him know. Good day now.”

And with that, she shut the front door. You shook your head and let out a sigh, glancing only once back at the house as you walked away.

—————

For once, the night was clear. The stars and the waxing moon were visible, keeping you company as you stepped off your porch. The air was fresh and crisp, smelling faintly of petrichor.

You stretched a little as you looked up at the sky, thanking whoever was up there for letting the rain cease for the time being. It seemed like forever since you’d last been able to go out for a nighttime jog, no one around to talk to or look presentable for. It was the perfect time to clear your mind, now that a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

You started down the gravel road, the wind whistling in your ears. Your legs kept a steady rhythm, the old houses of all your neighbors whizzing past your field of vision. You passed by the school and the convenience store, winding away from the main town area towards the harbor.

The moon’s reflection made the black waves glitter, endless, ominous, and hauntingly beautiful. You stopped for a moment near the pier, looking beyond the water at all the distant lights of the mainland. So close, and yet so far.

Sure, you yearned for all the mainland had to offer – an entire world that wasn’t just bite-sized, predictable, safe. But you could not yield to those selfish fantasies, not while someone who gave you so much throughout your life now required your help. You closed your eyes and breathed in the salty breeze.

Perhaps someday…

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

The familiar voice made you almost jump out of your skin. You whirled around to find Father Paul a few feet behind you, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. Maybe you’d been so distracted that you hadn’t heard him approach, but it still felt eerie.

“Oh, I’ve startled you, I’m so sorry,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

You placed a hand on your chest as if to placate your racing heart. “It’s okay, Father. I just wasn’t really expecting to see anyone, is all.”

“Especially not the priest, right?” he raised an eyebrow, which made you huff in amusement.

“Guess I just thought you didn’t come out at night.”

He smiled lopsidedly, looking down and clearing his throat slightly. “You know, I think I’m becoming more partial to nighttime. I guess you could say I’m an insomniac.”

“All that weight on your conscience?” You said as he approached, standing next to you.

“Something like that,” he sighed, now looking off into the distance. “Thank you for the bread. It was delicious.”

You shrugged it off modestly. “Grandma’s recipe. I’m just glad she’s right as rain again. Maybe… Your prayers helped. It’s what she insists on, anyway.”

He shook his head, a loose dark curl brushing his forehead. “That’s much too kind of her.”

You assessed his profile for a moment. “How are you feeling, Father? You were out for a few days, too.”

“I definitely needed some fresh air. Now, I’m much better,” he said with a smile, meeting your gaze. “I could not stay cooped in that house any longer. I’m really looking forward to our next mass.”

You said nothing, unsure of how to respond. Despite the fact that you’d grown up religious, you weren’t really practicing anymore. Sometimes you’d accompany your grandmother to sermons, but you often tried to find excuses to skip them.

So far, you had only been to one of Father Paul’s, and you had to admit there was something rapturous about his speeches. They were not only engaging, but the passion behind them was sort of infectious. You even caught yourself leaning forward in your seat, which you quickly corrected.

It only added to the confusion of how you felt about this man, but such a mystery was undeniably alluring.

“Will you be joining us?” He asked. “No pressure if not, but it’d be nice to see you there.”

“Ah, is that what this is? You’re trying to convert me or something?”

“You’re very clever,” he observed, his grin broadening. “But no, that's not all it is. Part of it, sure, but I don’t want you to miss out on something really special.”

You couldn’t help the slight blush that spread across your cheeks, your heartbeat suddenly spiking once again. His easy, confident smile faltered for a moment, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. The bestial hunger that had been tormenting him for days, rendering him weak and sickly, flared inside of him.

“T-think on it, but like I said, no pressure on my part,” he added quickly, gasping a little as if he lacked air.

You nodded, failing to notice how he slowly clenched and unclenched his fists. His muscles were taut with self-restraint, rooting him to the spot. Luckily, you moved first, taking a step back.

“Alright, thank you for the invite. Um…I should probably finish my jog and head back home,” you said, gesturing behind you. “Don’t get in too late, Father. You don’t want to catch another cold.”

————

Despite the fact that he was a passionate speaker, you had never seen Father Paul so worked up.

He started by speaking about eternity and how hard it was to visualize it. The fire inside him was stoked as he spoke of God’s gifts, his miracles and his mysteries. How they were something tangible, something within reach of every grasping hand… even if one couldn’t understand them.

Then the fire turned into a feverish glint in his eyes, his skin paling considerably. He stumbled over his words, pausing to keep nausea at bay. Sweat broke out across his forehead, and he dabbed at it with a handkerchief.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “Just a little dizzy spell, but I’m fine now.”

Still, he braced his hand on the pulpit. You noticed Beverly was also leaning forward in her seat, ready to spring to action if need be. That was all the confirmation you needed that something was wrong.

But for a moment, as he continued talking, things seemed to settle. You relaxed in your seat, folding your hands on your lap.

“No abstracts. No colorful exaggerations. No. ‘Rebirth’, ‘Second chances’, ‘E-eternal li…’”

His eyes rolled to the back of his skull as his words faded into a shuddery exhale. He collapsed onto the floor, thudding heavily down the steps as the panicked voices of the congregation rose in volume.

Beverly reached him first, of course, but you knelt at his side only moments after. You hadn’t even registered you were running until you got there, cradling his head in your hands.

And even if he was unconscious, you could’ve sworn he leaned closer to your touch.

—---------

It was an audacious plan, you knew that well enough. Still, that clarity didn’t stop you from attempting to go through with it.

As soon as Sarah Gunning arrived to attend to Father Paul, Beverly had kicked everyone out, holding firm even as you insisted you wanted to stay. Her stubborn will was infuriating, but perhaps also commendable, in a way. You had to bite back a few bitter words as you left, but that didn’t mean you intended to stay away.

You waited for her to leave Father Paul’s house, which didn’t happen until after the sun had set. Even when you couldn’t hear her receding footsteps any longer, you waited a few more minutes before approaching the front door.

You raised your fist to knock, but the door suddenly opened to reveal a haggard-looking Father Paul. There were dark crescents hanging from his eyes and his skin was so pale it was almost translucent.

For his sake, you held back from gasping, but he could still see worry written across your features.

“It’s like you knew I was coming,” you said with a small smile.

“Keen senses,” he said softly. “Would you like to come in?”

You hesitated, despite the fact that a ‘yes’ was on the tip of your tongue. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Gave us a real scare earlier.”

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment as if staving off an ache deep within him. In the dim light, you noticed the corners of his lips were a dark red. For a moment you wondered if he’d been drinking the sacramental wine.

“It may not seem like it but… better,” he said, mustering a small smile. “I fear I-I may owe you an explanation.”

“Oh, Father Paul, you don’t…”

“Please, I insist. I can make us some tea, if you’d like,” his voice dropped into the faintest whisper. “Just, stay. Please.”

The desperation in his voice gave you pause. You searched his face for the answer to a question you didn’t dare ask, and perhaps you deluded yourself into believing you found it.

You nodded, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes. You heard him shuffle about in the kitchen, and you wrung your hands nervously as you glanced around the small, austere rectory.

This was wholly improper, you knew, but you felt a magnetic sort of pull towards him that was getting harder to resist. It was easy to deny it at first, brushing it off as curiosity and excitement over having a newcomer on the island.

Most were wary, but you… you wondered if he could be your link to the rest of the world. Your appetite for that dream was only whetted, closer to your fingertips than ever.

“Water’s boiling,” he said as he came into the living room. “Sit, please, make yourself comfortable.”

Obediently, you did as told. There was a palpable tension in the atmosphere that made your skin prickle. He sat across from you, gripping the armrests of the chair as he adjusted himself, unable to find a comfortable position.

“I have to insist that you owe me no explanation, Father. I just worry about your… condition,” you said.

“It’s no ordinary ailment. I think you’ve sensed that already, haven’t you?”

You nodded, unsure of where he was going with this, but willing to listen.

He continued. “You have witnessed miracles here on the island. Things that you can’t explain and yet are so clear to your eyes. Were you listening to my homily earlier?”

“Yes, Father,” you said, even if you’d only been half-listening.

But he was speaking the truth, if Leeza Scarborough was any indication. She had risen from her wheelchair just a few days prior, no longer in need of it. Since then, you’d seen other changes around Crockett, some of them more subtle than others.

You clasped your hands on your lap to keep from moving them. “You mean to say you’ve brought about these miracles?”

He smiled patiently, indulgently. In this light, his eyes seemed darker than you’d ever seen, like two chasms you could get lost in.

“No, not me. God. I am merely a vessel for His glory, and all of the gifts He wishes to impart on us,” he said, leaning forward slightly and resting his forearms on his knees. “On you in particular.”

“Me?” You blinked, genuinely surprised. “What sort of gift?”

“The gift of life anew. Rebirth. A holy transfiguration, if you will.”

His gaze was fixed on the way your throat worked as you swallowed hard, on edge despite your curiosity being piqued.

“You see, I was visited by an angel. Larger than life, with a greater wingspan than even an albatross. It was utterly magnificent… as well as horrifying. I was afraid at first, of course, for we all fear things that are unknown to us. I was on the brink of death regardless, but see me now, restored, in my prime!”

You frowned, a myriad of questions on the tip of your tongue, but then Father Paul doubled over, clutching his stomach. His dark brows were furrowed from the influx of pain and you instinctively rose to help, but he lifted a hand to stop you.

“But to be reborn, the old self must be destroyed, and thus… and thus it is not an easy road to walk,” he rasped.

You knelt beside him, concerned and abundantly confused all at once. “What do you need? How can I help you ease this pain?”

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, pleading, desperate. Like a wounded animal, almost. You wondered if he, too, might bare his teeth in warning.

“There is this hunger inside of me that I cannot seem to dispel. I-I fear it threatens to consume me,” he swallowed hard, straightening into a sitting position once more. “God asks terrible things of us sometimes, but I cannot help but think this is a test of my strength. My will.”

“I want to help,” you said softly, so softly, daintily placing a hand on his knee.

But his ears were keen, as he’d said, and he heard you perfectly fine. Still, his eyes – glazed over in pain and hunger and desire – searched yours for any sign of doubt. Instead, he found resolve, as well as a very clear distress at seeing him suffer so much.

Oh, pious, gentle little lamb. What a good heart you had. The idea that your blood might taste just as sweet made his head spin, his beastly hunger lashing out inside of him.

His hands cradled your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone ever so slightly. You found yourself leaning into his touch, too entranced by him to think objectively about the morality of the whole thing. The charge in the atmosphere changed into something more taut, all too close to snapping.

“You do not know what you are offering,” he said, holding fast to his self-restraint even as his mouth watered.

“Maybe you could show me, then.”

A slight chuckle escaped his lips at your eagerness, one of his hands leaving your face to pat his thigh. “Come, would you like to sit here? Perhaps I shall whisper it in your ear.”

You started to lift yourself, but then hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Sure as I’ll ever be of anything, my dear,” he assured, his smile momentarily taking on a certain edge, like that of a wolf’s.

You situated yourself on his legs gingerly, closer to his knees, but he brazenly grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer. You gasped, a tingle forming between your shoulder blades and slowly crawling down your spine.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he relished the feeling, his arms circling your waist to keep you from squirming. “I hope you didn’t catch a fever from me.”

“I-I didn’t realize this was the sort of hunger you were referring to, Father,” you said tremulously, more heat sparking in your lower abdomen.

He traced his nose against the bare skin of your arm. “Not quite, but it’s making your heart race, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t help the blush that crept to your cheeks, silently willing your heart to slow as it hammered insistently against your ribcage. Tenderly, he brushed your hair off your shoulder, exposing your neck. Instinctively, you tilted your head back, showing more of it.

He hummed in approval, licking his lips. “Here, just a little taste first.”

He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his face. He kissed the tip of your index finger before taking some of it into his mouth. His inky black eyes held your gaze as you suddenly felt a painful prick on your digit that made you gasp once more.

He groaned softly, holding your wrist as he lapped at the thin rivulet of blood. The mere sight paralyzed you for a moment, but it’d be a lie to say it didn’t make your cunt throb.

And to make matters worse, the small rush of shame that followed this realization only seemed to turn you on more. Without thinking, you raked your free hand in his hair, tugging his head towards you.

“Do it,” you rasped, your tone dangerously close to begging. “Please.”

“God bless you,” he said deliriously, clasping you tighter against his chest. “Oh, God bless you. I-I want to make it good for you, too.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in and letting out another weak sound at your dizzying warmth. You shuddered and he scented a small note of fear as you tightened your grip on his hair. He shushed softly, soothingly, his lips ghosting over a quivering vein.

When his teeth first pierced the sensitive flesh, you let out a pained mewl as all of your muscles seized. Then — as fast as it had come — the pain vanished and you went slack against him. Stars danced in your vision as you felt the vibration of his groan against your throat.

Every single one of your nerve endings was alight with pleasure, which only seemed to grow in intensity.

Without you really noticing, your hips rocked back and forth, clothed cunt dragging against his leg in short, desperate movements that made your eyes roll to the back of your skull. He gripped one of your hips tightly, guiding your movements with urgency.

In the kitchen, the kettle started whistling loudly just as an orgasm hit you like a freight train, rattling your very bones. You felt yourself melting in a way you never had before, toeing the line between life and death. You’d have gladly gone to heaven in that moment – or hell, for that matter – if fate so decided. He held you steady throughout, running a soothing hand up and down your spine.

Just when exhaustion began to creep in from the blood loss, he painstakingly pulled away, his mouth stained crimson. He looked drunken and dazed, like he was caught in between dreams. But he also seemed less frail, and definitely more alert, pupils fully dilated.

“Thank you,” he breathed, gazing at you adoringly. Reverently, even.

Diligently, he lapped at the weeping puncture wounds. His lips left a smear behind as he kissed your collarbone, hands ripping at your blouse to expose more flesh. Panting, you tried to undo the buttons of his shirt with shaking fingers, but he stopped you.

“Lovely, eager thing. We’ll get there. Let me take care of you first,” he murmured against your sternum.

He tore any garment that stood in his way fervently, until you were practically naked in his lap. Your back arched, taut as a bow, as he continued leaving sanguine kisses in his wake. He hauled you into his arms with preternatural strength as he stood up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you into his bedroom, laying you down on the bed gently.

There, standing over you, he seemed every bit the statuesque figure that plagued your dreams. His eyes glinted in the half-dark, reflecting the moonlight spilling in through the window. He sank to his knees as if preparing for prayer, his grin hungry as he hooked his arms around your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed.

“Come here, little lamb. My most precious sacrifice. My hunger for you has not nearly been sated,” he said, licking his lips. “I am yet to make a feast of you.”

A kiss on your navel that had you shaking all over again. If you had come so hard without so much as a caress, you couldn’t imagine the delirium of his mouth where you ached for it most. Perhaps then, you would truly cross the line for good.

He discarded the last garment covering you, revealing your glistening, slippery cunt for his appraisal. He made an agonized sound, ducking his head immediately to kiss your inner thigh. The tip of his tongue traced your skin just a little bit, getting a taste of your divine essence.

He knew then and there that he was utterly lost; That he would no longer know a greater devotion than this. What a perfect altar for him to worship you, the cradle of your thighs. It took all of his willpower not to sink his teeth into your femoral artery and drain you further, until all of your blood mingled with his.

Another day, perhaps, when you’d recovered some.

Instead, he finally licked a long, languid stripe through your soaked folds. With a low moan, his mouth latched onto your overly sensitive bundle of nerves, making your entire body jerk. He gripped your thighs harder as you squirmed, your fingers burying in his dark curls and holding on for dear life.

You hadn’t expected him to be so good at it, but then again, it was a night of surprises. Not that you could ever complain, anyway. Your wanton moans only encouraged him further, his lips and tongue and even the slightest graze of his teeth making you buck and arch on the mattress.

Once more, you felt a tidal wave begin to form, making your breath come out in sharp little exhales. But you didn’t want to let go again quite yet, at least not like this, with so much distance between your bodies.

You resorted to pleading, attempting to pull his head back. “F-Father wait, please, I want—”

“Don’t hold back from me,” he urged hoarsely, between licks. “Come on, give me one more. I’ll reward you doubly, I promise.”

You began to protest once more, but with an expert swirl of his tongue, the wave finally crested. Violently crashing against the rocks of your sanity. Your eyes searched for heaven again at the back of your head, mouth falling slack in rapture. He made sure you rode it all the way through, softly murmuring praises.

You lay there spent, chest heaving with great, deep breaths. He chuckled, both amused and inexplicably fond at the sight of you so undone. He pulled back to make quick work of his clothes, smears of dry blood further darkening his black shirt.

“I fear you might be turning me into a glutton,” he said, removing his collar and setting it down on the nightstand.

Your eyes trailed his fingers as he unbuttoned his shirt, and you gave him a weak, teasing smile. “You are not the only insatiable creature here, Father.”

“I see that now,” he grinned, his canines all too sharp. “What a great gift He has bestowed upon me, bringing you here.”

His jeans were next to go, merely kicked to one side, and his body slid over yours in a warm embrace. Then finally, mercifully, his lips found yours in a slow, searing kiss. It was the last piece missing from the puzzle that connected you; The last nail on the coffin of your fate.

You tasted yourself on his tongue, moaning into his mouth as you cupped the back of his head. Ankles crossed behind his back, pressing down, silently urging him closer. He guided himself into you, moving slowly so you could get used to the stretch. There was a growl low in his throat as he bottomed out, and his kiss became fiercer. Possessive, even.

The only sound in the dimly lit room was that of flesh slapping together lewdly as he quickened his pace, your sharp breaths and wistful sighs. The way he whispered your name like a prayer as he nearly dissolved with passion. It was then that you broke the kiss, tilting your head to the side as his lips chased yours in a dreamlike, desperate state. You shifted, baring your throat for him to ravage once more.

“Just like this,” you murmured, eyelashes fluttering over your cheekbones as you readied yourself. “I’m yours.”

“Only a little more,” he promised, kissing the base of your neck before tracing his way up with his nose.

A gasp, and then you were submerged in that languid, morphine state. Ecstasy hit him like lightning, and he was no longer able to hold back. He trembled against you as he came, crushing you tighter to him, buried to the hilt. You felt heat flooding you as he sealed the puncture wounds again, lips finding yours right after.

He rolled off of you only to tuck you both in, drawing you close and kissing the top of your head. His onyx eyes scanned your beatific features, wonder and amazement written all over his own.

“The night suits you, my dear,” he said, wiping strands of your hair away from your sweat-dotted face. “Perhaps it would be less lonesome with you around...”

He seemed truly vulnerable in that moment, smaller, entirely human. Eyebrows pinched together in consternation, lips pursed with some guilt at his actions. You snuggled even closer, leeching off his body heat. If anything, seeing this side of him, complex and familiar in a way you instinctively understood, reassured you.

“Will you take my hand and guide me through it?” You asked, voice low and wistful.

He nodded, lacing his fingers through yours. “Through the valley of the shadow of death and beyond. There is still so much for you to see, and the gift of time is at our disposal. Isn’t that a lovely thought?”

Yes, yes it was. Comforting enough to finally drift into dreams of the stars beyond the horizon.

#midnight mass fanfiction #father paul fanfiction #father paul x reader #monsignor pruitt fanfiction #monsignor pruitt x reader #minors dni

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rixsjwb · 3 months

Text

gojo x f!reader

summary: your a close friend of gojo that he recently introduced to his fans on stream, you have a thick French accent and can barely speak any good English but his fans love you, here's some interaction between you and gojo that's fans go crazy about.

note: just wrote did not reread sorry if it doesn't make sense make it make sense and enjoy✨️

𖣔 ──────────────────── 𖣔

𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 1:

gojos fans were quick to fill his chat with comments people often heard or seen him play duolingo learning French he'd often get asked 'why are you learning French?' or 'who's the special girl?' but gojo brushed it off very casually

"who am I learning French for? oh! just a close friend of mine; you want to see her? one day guys.. one day!"

gojo has talked to you before about joining his stream? infact you supported him by watching some of his streams on your free time.

you adjust your rimless glasses to better see gojo as he's talking to you in broken English, so you can better understand him? but its still a little hard to understand eventually he gives up pulling a translator out and translating what he has to say

est-ce que tu veux joindre mon stream?

you nod you head showing you don't mind joining him stream, su-sure you stutter out trying to pronounce the word in a more english way than in a french accent.

he's pretty much jumping in his seat saying 'merci!" in a terrible englishified way you can't help but stiffle a laugh.

when you first joined his stream you couldn't really understand what the chat was saying, but you watches as it passed by so fast. gojo often replied to people's questions while you just sat beside him with a soft smile on your face

"she's pretty! I know she's such a cutie."

shokir:"I love her glasses!."

toji_fuhsji:"yoo gojo can pull??? since when?"

megu:"who'd this?"

gojosecondballsack: "nevermind gojo give me that sexy thing beside him😊✨️"

he reads every comment smiling as he's glad his fans are welcoming you with open arms, he then hears a familiar sound ringing from his computer as he xs out the stream app he sees that the groupchat he's in is blowing up and that yuji started the call📞.

"YOO GOJO WHOS THAT BUEATIFUL WOMAN BESIDE YOU??" yuji screams in his mic making it sound bassboosted.

gojo can hear suguru's light chuckles in the back as he watches more of his close friends join the call while still on stream.

"she's my bestie/roomie! what chu hoes laughin at?" he says questioning them.

sukuna who rarely shows up decided to answer the question

" weve known ya for awhile now why's this the first time I'm s'eenin her?"

"facts she's actually adorable tho" shoko pipes up

"hi y/n bonjour salute!! comment ça va?"

shoko says you're almost shocked that one of gojos friends seem to know french you pipe up to speak back to her your velvety, soft voice responding back.

"ça va bien, tu peux parlé le française?"

you say, but your getting your answer as she doesn't seem to respond back "you speak french?"

you say your accent evident as you attempt to come out your comfort zone speaking english

"ahh she can speak? she sounds great to have just started learning it."

shoko says gojo pulls out the translator translating what shoko said so you could understand what she said, you've always let gojo know how self conscious you were of your accent but hearing that complement made you feel bashful you shake your hands one in front of the other waving them back and forth to show your denying that your English isn't very great.

gojo can't help but feel awe about how bashful you get when someone complements you.

☾︎ ──────────────────── ☽︎

𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 2 :

while gojo was gaming playing a scary game his fans recommend with suguru and sukuna. despite hie headphones being on and occasionally looking back at the cam to see if it's recording his face he notices movement of his slightly open door.

he watches as the door eventually gets wider showing you who seemingly just woke up from a nap, from your neck and up is cut of from the cam as you come closer to see what game he's playing.

you eventually lean over more to see more of the game he watches as the chat seems to move at nano seconds he's thinking it's moving fast because a monsters there or obviously because you showed up after dipping and not showing up on his streams for a good 2 weeks or so.

he then realizes it's because of how low cut your shirt is and how your pretty muching creating a invisible chair to sit on to get a better view of the computer he notices your cleavage is pretty much on full display and yoi don't seem to notice he feels almost bad that his fans were probably gonna say inappropriate stuff about you he's quick to speak up tho.

"yo yo hold on hold on.."

gojo tells suguru and megumi there characters in the game pausing to look back at him.

gojo was quick to find a spare chair in his room and even got you a shirt to pit over your chest to avoid the possible sexulization coming.

"put this shirt on.." gojo mutters to busy on seeing if he can pull your shirt more up to cover the cleavage but desided to just help your put on his shirt he gently pushes you down to sit on the spare chair he had, pulling the collar of the shirt over your head that popped out. and fixing it taking a good look at you to see if the white shirt he'd Givin you was see thought.

once confirmed he resumed playing.

" okay we back gang, sukuna move your fantasy character he's blocking my way!"

gojo says, minutes later sending a glance to you

making sure your fine.

later it was pretty much trending that he was looking out for you.

sugurughetto: yo jojo siwa your trending on tiwtter.

jojosiwa: I know I'm just that famous youk?😍

suukunatuna: shut your bitch ass up.

shokoloco🥳: I'm surprised usually you wouldn't give a shit bout girls but looks like this ones serious.

jojosiwa: it's not serious! we're just close guys YOU MAD YOU AINT TRENDING HOE.

jojosiwa:guys let's brainstorm streaming ideas😊

tojiskidmarks: I'm tryna see s'this bueaty in person.

chosokamotod4agon: play gta 6

to say he was praised for looking out for you.

────────────────────

𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 3:

you had a tattoo on your lower back and just right under your boob there small tattoos not to big not the small your lower back one doesn't tend to show but with the low rise flared out leggings you wore where low enough that if you bend over far enough it'd show a bit.

gojo was making a stream about opening gifts from fans and there was alot to open, sine yoi were curious about one small box you desided to open it but it was quite father away from you.

"gojo you pass, can you pass box?" you stretch out trying to make a accurate point to which box you specifically want you learn in further have to lean off your chair to reach, he stands up to pick up the box his lanky long legs taking just one big step to reach it as he turns back around to sit on the chair he notices writing in your back.

"woah what's that's on your back?" he motions. placing his hand on the exact area we saw the tattoo, you show the tattoo on your lower back causing gojo to be shocked as he never thought you'd have a tattoo.

"bro! that's fuckin crazy, yall look at the tattoo!" he says in shock grabing his camera and showing the tattoo much closer " do you have anymore?" he points at your back and trys to make a motion signifying 'more?' because you're intelligent you understood immediately, lifting your shirt to show your other tattoo.

"WOAHH THERE woah don't go flashing the fans now" he cackled knowing dam well you wouldn't even understand what he said.

you lift your shirt up careful to nor flash your boobs you watch as satoru zooms in to the tattoo, touching the tattoo like a curious child touches glass when looking at a toy that interest them. you pull down your shirt after feeling a arm snake around your waist.

"she's mine buddies you ain't stand in a chance." he says arrogantly , he eventually puts the camera back where it was, you open the small box seeing a bueatiful swan necklace with a note inside your soft gasp caught sayorus attention causing him to look over at you.

when he sees the necklace he's also surprised he takes the small note in it reading it aloud.

"this is for y/n! hope she enjoys and I've been a fan for so long gojo! you make my day!" the fan wrote.

gojo digs in his brain to find the right words in french to tell you the necklace is yours.

"pour toi!"

gojo says he can tell your very touched by the gift. as you mutter a thank you with a bright smile.

thank you for the support and critique on my french it will definitely benefit me in the future thank you🙏🙏🙏

#gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader

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zoeysdamn · 2 months

Text

I had no choice - Knight!Nikolaï x reader

A/N: More angst for @corpsebasil AU? heck yes. Also I'm sorry in advance this was better in my head fjnkjrbg

Part 2 of this one-shot (tho you can also read it as a stand-alone)

Summary: You and your secret lover Sir Nikolaï got married in secret a few months ago. As the princess of Ravka, you can’t let this information become public right now. But what might happen if your hand is forced to reveal it? Are your royal duties more important than your union to your beloved knight? TW: angst, child neglect, slight violence, mention of blood and death in childbirth, angst, slut-shaming, dubious morals, mention of su!cide

It was easy, at first. The first months of your married life, albeit a secret one, had been blissful and lovely, and easy. There was the thrill of secrecy, the shared glances that now carried the bubbling emotions of newlyweds, the stolen kisses behind curtains, and the knowledge of returning to each other’s arms when the night would come. But after several months of this untainted happiness, reality slowly came back. It wasn’t a crashing realization, more like a creeping around your mind just like the insidious whispers in the corridors reaching your ears from time to time. Then came the crippling doubt. Nothing loud or really consistent, but quiet and haunting at every small moment of silence within your mind. What if someone knows? What if we weren’t that discreet? What of it then? You knew the answer to that last one, of course ; treason, trial, exile, maybe even execution for Nikolaï – perhaps even yourself. Ironically, the love Nikolaï showered you with was precisely what made you neglect those thoughts. It might have been a deliberate subconscious move too, to bury your own head in the sand instead of being practical. And that despite all of the warnings around you, that led you to the exact situation you currently were in.

The day had started as usual though. You woke up in the arms of your lover – your husband – like any other day. It was always a bliss to look at the peaceful asleep face of Nikolaï, getting kissed by the first rays of sun like a delicate brush on a painting. You consider yourself lucky to be able to catch a glimpse of the handsome relaxed face of the knight every morning. Though it was always a matter of getting up before the maids came to your own adjacent chamber, Nikolaï always took the time to shower you with kisses to start his day ; you gladly returned the favor, by the way. Then the dreadful slipping away from his chamber, just to put back on the princess role once again. Getting dressed, getting breakfast, where you see Nikolaï again, dressed in his knight outfit this time. The day has gone by as usual, meeting with your ladies in waiting or dignitaries, walking around the palace gardens, Sir Nikolaï always close by as the dutiful bodyguard – and devoted husband he was. Then during the afternoon tea, a guard showed up to whisper something to your beloved knight’s ears, to which he answered with a sharp nod. Polite as ever, he had excused himself to attend this military matter that requested his attention ; nothing out of the ordinary really, for the captain of the knights.

The prospect of him leaving your side for a few hours had you pout a little, but the deception had been quickly washed away by the knowledge and secret promise of a later reunion in the wink Nikolaï secretly sent you before exiting the room.

Really, everything had started as it always was.

Then, out of the blue, two guards arrived in the tea room and asked to follow them, per your father’s request. It wasn’t something terribly surprising either, as the princess of Ravka the king could sometimes summon you ; so although it wasn’t planned, you weren’t surprised and you followed your father’s guards. Most of the palace guards were known by you, at least by face if not by name and Nikolaï’s words, but the king’s guards were a special case. Unlike the rest of the military, they didn’t serve Ravka, but the King only. And you were about to remember that very soon.

“Father,” you greeted with a small courtesy as you entered the gilded room, “you had requested my presence?”

The king lifted his nose from the paper he was reading. Despite all the etiquette lessons you had been through growing up, the first thought that came to your mind was that he was looking old. Decades of ruling a country and being an absent father does that to you, you supposed. All while you thought about it, you missed the somber look the monarch was giving.

“Leave us,” he said sharply to the guards. Ever obedient, the two soldiers who escorted you swiftly left the room without a word.

This made you frown slightly in confusion. “Is something wrong, father?”

“What do you think?” he said sharply. “Why would I have summoned my useless child if everything was fine?”

The sting of his words took you by surprise for a moment. Growing up, you knew the king didn’t like you – your mother was supposed to give birth to a boy after all. With no male heir and a wife who died shortly after giving birth, the King never bothered to hide his disdain for you, at least in private. You had learned to not be upset by it with the years, and by the time you were an adult you both ignored each other the most you could. The sudden verbal attack for years wasn’t expected.

Squaring your shoulders for the incoming scolding, you tried to keep your voice as steady as you could. “What do you mean, sir?”

The king slammed his hand on the table out of anger, startling you. When he looked you dead in the eye with a look full of hate, you knew it was useless to try to resolve this issue with diplomacy.

“Do you think of me deaf and blind, child?” he spat angrily. “Do you think of me stupid enough to not know everything that goes around in my own house?”

Gulping slowly, you tried to appease the situation. “Sir I–”

“Do not talk back,” the king hissed as he sprung up from his chair. His face had turned redder in anger as yours paled. “Did you think you could go around my back like that?”

“Sir,” you said shakily, even though your voice tried to be steady, with all due respect, I really don’t know what you’re talking ab–”

The slap that echoed in the room cut the words out of your mouth before you could even blink. Add to that the surprise of the physical attack, and the force your father used on it, you lost balance and crashed on the floor. Your ears were ringing, head spinning as a hot, searing pain bloomed on your cheek. Trying to steady yourself on the hardwood floor, you barely even noticed the tears welling in your eyes at the shock. With a trembling hand, you reached for your bruised cheek ; a string of blood coated your fingers, fresh from the cut the sharp edge of the king’s rings had made when he slapped you. You felt your heart sink into your stomach at the sight: there was no coming back from this situation.

“Don’t make yourself a liar atop of a whore, child”, the king seethed, glaring coldly at you.

The words felt like a second punch, you almost snapped your neck looking up to him with wide eyes. The pathetic sight of the princess of Ravka on her knees with tears-filled eyes and bruised cheek made the monarch snicker in disgust.

“Did you think I’d never found out about your ridiculous affair with that bastard? That saints-forsaken son of a bitch of a knight–”

“Leave him out of this,” you pleaded with a raspy voice. The tears were heavy in your eyes and voice, but you’ll be damned if you didn’t fight for Nikolaï’s honor just like he did for you.

“I’ll have that filthy bastard’s head no matter how much you’ll beg,” sneered the king in disdain. “This is what you get when you spread your legs for the first knight in sight, you whore.”

The accusation hurt even more at the implication that you could have bedded any knight that had come across you ; Nikolaï was anything but a random knight. But your father hadn’t finished with you yet.

“And it wasn’t enough for you to fuck him, you had to marry him,” he spat with a disgusted snarl. “Just how dumb are you? You had one role in this life, to marry according to my choice and nothing else! Who would ever marry a useless slut like you now, hmm?”

Despite your firm intent to stand up for your love and union, you couldn’t help but feel a heavy lump of shame forming in your throat. Years of conditioning to your role as the princess of Ravka came to shame you: of course as a female heir, the only use you were supposed to have to the kingdom was to marry the most interesting party your father and his council would have chosen. But alas, you had failed this mission in favor of your heart’s choice.

“You’re a disgrace to this kingdom and your family,” the king spat once again. “But as much ashamed as I am with you, I fortunately have a solution to make something acceptable for us.”

Snapping your head up from the floor, you stared at him with wide eyes, fearing what he would say. “What are you going to do?” you asked with a trembling voice.

He tsked in annoyance. “Your little…fling is fortunately not known by anyone but me. I made sure of that after my spies reported your filthy sins to me.”

His words echoed in your mind once, twice, before a gasp escaped you when you realized his implications. “D-do you mean that…you had them killed?” you hiccuped.

Once again your reaction seemed to only bring more irritation to the king, who only rolled his eyes. “Did you think I’d let anyone live with that knowledge? You have dragged our family’s honor through the dirt enough, I couldn’t let anyone spread a word about this.” He glanced at you to see tears roaming on your cheeks and let out a bitter huf. “This better be a lesson for you, you ungrateful child. Their deaths are because of you, and no one else.”

“No,” you whimpered, “this isn’t true, I never wished for their deaths–”

“Enough!” the king barked, running short on his patience. “I will not hear one more word from your treacherous mouth! You will be confined in your room until I deemed so, and I can promise you that the only way for you to get out will be to be married to someone I chose to fix your mistakes!”

Your eyes widened, causing more tears to roll on your cheeks. “You can’t do that!” you cried pathetically. “You can’t unmake vows made before the Saints–”

Another rough slap cut you once again, and you gasped at the new attack. “Quiet! I don’t want to hear anything from you, whore!”. Just as you tried to ease the ringing of your head after the slap, your father forcefully grabbed your face to make you look up to his hateful eyes. “I may be unable to untie that heathen marriage of yours, but death most certainly can.”

His words tore an horrified gasp from your throat, but he carried on venomously.

“I’ll have the head of Sir Nikolaï delivered to you on a silver platter as a wedding gift, as soon as that son of a bitch returns to the palace, do you understand me?”

Against all of your might, you nodded your head weakly, tears roaming on your face. As soon as he got your understanding, the king yanked his hand off your face in disgust. As to prove a point, he immediately grabbed a handkerchief and wiped his hand clean; that’s the moment when you realized that something other than tears was dripping on your lips. When your trembling fingers brushed against your abused lip, you realized that was blood which dripped from your nose.

The king shot you another disgusted glare.

“Put yourself together, child.”

Like an automat, you clumsily managed to get up on wobbly legs, eyes lost into nothingness. You felt dizzy, numb, unable to think properly at the tragic turn of events in such a short amount of time. It was like your body acted on its own, whipping away the blood that had tickled down your face with the back of your hand in a very unlady-like manner. It didn’t matter though, considering your father had already turned his back to you to look at the window, signaling this was the end of this dreadly entrevue.

“This conversation never happened to anyone but us,” he stated coldly. “Am I being clear?”

Somehow your body responded on its own – even more surprisingly, your father seemed to have seen you nod ; or perhaps he had expected you to react like the obedient puppet you had been trained to be. You barely even noticed him calling for one of his guards and the said guard entering the room.

“Take the princess back to her rooms,” he ordered coldly. “She is to be kept there under some of my personnel guard’s surveillance at all times until I say otherwise. No one but a few personal maids is to enter, am I understood?”

Whether the guard had answered or not didn’t matter, you wouldn’t have heard them anyway. Too lost in your own foggy, broken mind, you barely even be conscious of your own moving through the halls of the palace to your room, nor the looming presence of the watching guard. It was only when they let you inside of your room, and you heard the lock of the door, that the full realization of the situation sank in with a crash.

Tears that had previously dried up came back flooding on your cheeks and you felt like you were suffocating. Trembling and dizzy, you had to lean on the wall for support as you cried. How did all of this happen?

Nikolaï and you had always shown the utmost discretion, of course ; you knew the risks. No one had witnessed your wedding but the priest who had officiated it. As a man of the church, he was sworn to secrecy, you had an absolute trust in him. Embraces, kisses and passion had always been confined to the privacy of your chambers – much to both your disappointment and safety. Outside and for everyone’s eyes, you became the princess and Sir Nikolaï once again and nothing more. So how did everything go so wrong, so fast?

Shaky fingers went to clutch the ring looped on the thin chain around your neck. Oh, how you wished Nikolaï was here with you at the moment. You craved his presence, his comfort and his love. He would have known how to comfort you, how to find a solution. But he wasn’t by your side, and the moment he’d come back would be his ultimate demise. A sob wrecked your body ; you probably wouldn’t even be able to see your love, your husband one last time.

You spent the next half hour crying, whimpering, curled on the ground against the wall. The gash in your heart couldn’t stop bleeding, forbidden to heal due to the absence of Nikolaï and the tragic upcoming of his inevitable death. Despair clung onto your soul, embedding itself to the deepest parts of yourself. Never in your life, especially after your wedding, you would have thought you’d feel like that again.

Being the princess of Ravka never prevented to have an abusive parent, you knew that better than anyone. Insults and slaps had been frequent when you were a child, whether it was for a silly mistake on your part or simply your father having a bad day. The king never forgave you for your mother’s death and you being a girl ; his parental affection had been buried deep down in the ground at the same time as your mother, it had seemed. But the years had passed, and you had learned to know better than to expect any love from the king, and to avoid his rageful fits by making yourself useful. Being a political asset by mastering the art of negotiation and diplomacy had smoothed your relationship with the king ; until today, it had been years since he last raised his hand on you.

“Your majesty?”

You jumped in surprise, startled by the sudden voice in your room. Snapping your head up, your tear-filled eyes met your maid’s worried ones.

“Are you alright, your majesty?”

The lump in your throat only felt heavier. That girl was blessedly unaware of the torment you had been thrown into. A wobbly lip and tear-stained cheeks wouldn’t fool anyone, yet you nodded weakly.

“Not really,” you rasped.

The frown of concern on the maid’s face only worsened, just to be cut by a gasp at the inspection of your own face. “You’re bleeding! Have you been hurt?”

Brushing your fingers against your nose once again you gulped at the sight of blood once again. Your father definitely didn’t go easy on you this time.

“Help me up,” you mumbled weakly, to which the maid obeyed promptly.

As a contrast to your tired numbness, the poor servant fussed in anxiety, helpless and worried about her mistress’ state. She led you to sit on a vanity, you could hear her from a distance talking about soothing tea or something. As she busied herself your eyes wandered to the reflecting surface in front of you. A wave of nausea and tears rises when you lock eyes with your reflection: half-disheveled hair and red eyes, cheeks red from both the slaps and the tears, a bloody nose and dread sinking into your bones. The woman in the mirror is someone you never thought you’d see one day – or again.

Suddenly, all the sadness and sorrow morphed into something else. Disgust. Fear. Anger. Rage. Everything bubbled inside of your chest, craving a way to get out. As your eyes wandered, trying to get a hold of something real to ground you, they landed on a little box covered in dust. Hidden behind bottles and jewel boxes, you hadn’t touched it for years.

The sight was like an electroshock; all of the sudden, you remembered what was inside of that box. And then all of those emotions raging inside you turned into even more: resignation.

“Alyosha?”

The maid immediately rushed to your side in worry. “Yes my lady?”

“I need you to deliver a message for me.”

The sun was starting to set when a knock echoed on your door. Given the context, the faintest sound should be startling you with the fear of dreadful news. But you knew exactly who it was, so you invited them to enter.

The sound of armored steps on the wooden floor and the locking of the door hang heavy in the air.

“You requested my presence, your majesty?”

You turned around to face the knight who had entered your room. Where you usually expected blonde curls and a loving smile, you met the dark hair and stern face of Sir Dominik Vertov.

“Indeed,” you said quietly – and way more calmly than you had thought barely a few hours before. “I thank you for coming, Sir Dominik.”

Polite and composed as ever, he only squared his shoulders. “It’s my watch, princess.”

Unlike his childhood friend Nikolaï, Dominik had been promoted to the King’s guard after his duties during the war. Nikolaï had been offered that place too ; he refused.

Your lover had admitted several times that he missed his best friend. Even if they both had their duties in the palace, they didn’t meet quite as often as they used to. But today, you were relieved that he and dominik had partied ways, for it may be your only chance now.

“I’m still thankful for your presence,” you said carefully. When you asked your maid to deliver a message to Sir Dominik, asking him to meet with you as quickly as possible and in the utmost discretion, you weren’t so sure he’d agree to it. After all, you were only the princess ; his allegiance laid with the king, not you.

Like reading your thoughts, the knight gave you a pointed look. This made your throat tighten; there was no need beating around the bush any further.

Taking a deep exhale, you unfold the words you had thought on for hours earlier.

“I have something to ask of you,” you started, careful to keep your voice as steady as you could. “This isn’t something easy, and I know there is no way for me to repay you for that, or even ask your forgiveness for.”

The knight frowned slightly at your words, both curious and perplexed. What was so terrible you could ask of him? Several answers came to his mind, some terrible, some absurds, but you soon cut off his train as thoughts as you declared:

“I need you to help me to take someone’s life.”

That definitely wasn’t something he expected. Dominik raised an intrigued eyebrow. “With all due respect princess, I’m not sure killing someone can solve any problem you might have.”

“Believe me, it is,” you insisted gravely.

“I’m not a thug for hire –”

“It’s a matter of saving Nikolaï’s life,” you cut him, a little louder. At your words, Dominik stopped his rambling and looked at you with wide eyes.

After a few seconds of the initial shock – both of the prospect of his friend being in danger and the princess calling him by his first name, he recomposed himself. “What do you mean?”

You gulped, feeling more nervous and your will faltering at every passing second. But you had to be strong, for Nikolaï.

“What I’m going to tell you can’t be known by anyone,” you said quietly. “Should you turn down your help on me, you have to at least swear to not tell a soul.”

The knight looked more and more confused, but strangely agreed to this. So with a deep inhale and a turn to the window, you dropped the bomb.

“A few months ago, Nikolaï and I got married in secret,” you confessed quietly, wrenching your hand together nervously. A soft gasp was heard from Dominik, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to face him. “We started a romantic relationship around a year ago, which no one knew about. Or so I thought until today.”

You could practically hear the churns turning in Sir Dominik’s head. He would be fast to understand the situation, surely.

“Someone found out,” he deduced out loud, and you nodded. “And you don’t want to be exposed.”

You whipped around at his underlying accusation. “This isn’t about my pride or reputation! If I had to throw everything away, my name, my titles and prices to be able to be with Nikolaï freely, I’d do it in a blink of an eye!”

This took him aback slightly. Even if he was a royal guard, Dominik never thought nicely of high-born morals. Even less to someone like Nikolaï and him. And that’s why he was now more concerned than ever.

“...who knows?” he asked after a few moments of silence. This time you faced him, and you could read the real question: who has to die?

The weight in your stomach got heavier, even if you had made your peace with this inevitability. “Someone who has the power to order his death,” you muttered.

You couldn’t say out loud that the king was the target ; who knows who could be listening?

As soon as it clicked in his head, Dominik’s previously composed face turned into a mix of horror and disgust.

“This can’t– you don’t mean – “

“It’s a heavy task I’m asking, I know,” you muttered.

“It’s not that!” the knight snapped. “You’re asking me to be accomplice of regicide, princess,” he whispered through gritted teeth, careful not to be heard.”

“I know,” you repeated in a quiet, yet steady voice. “But I also know that the king doesn’t make threats lightly.”

Dominik looked down; he was aware of that.

You turned to your vanity to retrieve the dusty little box. Once full of colors, it was now a faded crackled porcelain. But it was also what may be your salvation. Opening it, you carefully took a small velvet pouch, barely bigger than a thumb and returned to where the knight was standing. Dominik raised an eyebrow at you when you handed the pouch to him.

“What is it?”

“What might earn Nikolaï the right to live,” you answered cryptically. At the frown of incomprehension from the man, you could only offer him a sorry smile. “Pour it in my father’s wine, it’ll be a quick death. It’s the safest way of ending this.”

“For who, for you?” he snorted, throwing a disgusted look at the pouch of poison. “Having someone else killing your father because he had been mean to you and is forcing you to a divorce?”

His words felt like a slap once again, and your face darkened. “Divorce isn’t an option for the king,” you hissed, “It’s Nikolaï’s head he wants.”

Saying it out loud made you choke on your own words. Hearing the threat clearly from your father was one thing; realizing the actual danger by saying it yourself was something else. Dominik too, had his eyes widened at the statement. He thought that Nikolaï would have been imprisoned for his crimes, maybe whipped. But death? The king was cruel but he never thought he’d go to such lengths on one of the most faithful knights in the kingdom.

“Please,” you begged, your voice wavering as tears threatened to spill, “I can’t live without him. If anyone happened to Nikolaï I would never forgive myself.”

Sir Dominik didn’t respond. Stepping closer, you handed him the pouch once again, with trembling hands.

“If not for me, do it for him,” you whispered weakly. “I’m begging you to help me to save the man we both love.”

A beat passed. Then, the knight slowly reached for the pouch. As you felt it leaving your hand, it was like a weight in your heart was lifted at the same time. Sir Dominik stared at the small pouch for long seconds.

“How will this work?” he asked quietly.

You tried your best to not let out a relieved sigh. “Pour it into any liquid. It’ll be over after an hour or so.”

The knight nodded. “Any signs that might alert doctors before he…passes?”

You shook your head. “It’s supposed to be painless. Not easily noticeable either after the death, for what I’ve been told.”

Looking up at you, Dominik frowned slightly. “You were awfully well prepared for this situation, it seems.”

The new underlying accusation didn’t upset you like before. Instead, you just smiled sadly.

“It was never supposed to be for the king,” you said with a tint of sadness, to which he frowned even more. “Poison is said to be a women’s weapon but people often forget it might also be a painless way out for some of us.”

Dominik’s eyes widened at your words. Sensing his confusion, you darted your eyes away, the sting of long-gone memories coming back.

“Noble titles and gold never stopped anyone abusing their child,” you muttered bitterly. “No matter how fine your clothes and manners are, being called and treated like the utmost failure half of your life can make the strongest minds sink.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to get a grip on your trembling hands. No matter how many years had passed, you still remembered every single slap and punch your father had thrown at you behind closed doors.

Raising your head a little higher to gather courage, you turned back to face the flabbergasted knight. “Thankfully I had a wet-nurse who saw through it. After patching another wound, she blessed me with this.”

“Blessed you?” he frowned.

“What other choice did I have as a woman?” you ask sadly, and you knew by the way he looked away that he understood. “It’s only a fair thing to finally use it to end this cycle of violence.”

“At what cost?”

“Thankfully not Nikolaï’s life,” you countered quietly. “But…I’m sincerely sorry it’ll cost yours.”

Dominik nodded solemnly. He knew this; as one of the king’s guards, he was among the very few people who could approach him. Maybe this poison won’t alert anyone at first, but the suspicion of assassination would soon rise. The list of suspects would be very small, and it would be only a matter of time before Dominik would be arrested for treason if someone figured things out.

So he’ll have to flee. Abandon his rank as a king’s knight, his reputation, his life. All of this to be replaced by the brand of traitor and murderer. He was willing to do it. Of course he was. Nikolaï had saved his life during the war countless times, and above that he was his best friend, his brother. If he had to run away and live a life of fugitive for the rest of his days in order to save Nikolaï, he’d do it in a heartbeat. No matter how serious the crime could be.

“I’ll be on the road as soon as it’s done,” he muttered, more to himself than anything.

You nodded slowly. The guilt that was sinking in your stomach made bile rise in your throat. “Do you…have someone who would come with you?” you asked quietly. If the man who helped you had to run, you sure would do anything to help him. But Dominik shook his head.

“We don’t have much time,” he simply said. “Nikolaï and his men are said to be back tomorrow. It’ll be done tonight.”

Again, you nodded, afraid that tears could fall if you spoke. Dominik straightened his back, and bowed.

“It’s been an honor to serve this family, princess. I shall bring with me the comfort of knowing my best friend has a woman like you by his side.”

The small smile stretching your lips at his words was a sad one. “I’ll be forever in your debt, Sir Dominik. You’re a good man.”

He offered you a sorry smile as he lifted himself up again. Both of you knew nothing would ever be the same after this night. Now bound by the terrible secret of what will come, in order to save Nikolaï.

So without a word, he made his way to the door. Just when he was about to open it, the knight stopped himself and looked back at you.

“Are you really willing to kill a king for a mere knight?”

The answer, although heavy with consequence, was immediate.

“I deeply believe that every life is equal beyond our birth and titles, Sir Dominik.”

That made him smile. “You’ll make a fine ruler one day, princess.”

You thanked him with a bow of your head. He returned it and then, quietly, slipped away from your chamber. No one heard the door click, nor did they notice a missing horse from the stables a few hours later in the dark of the night.

That night, laying in your bed, you kept your eyes open until daylight to let the last few tears of guilt run down your cheeks, thinking about the lives you has sacrificed for you love.

The crashing news of the king’s death came before Nikolaï returned to the palace.

It was a valet who discovered him, laying in his chair with eyes half closed and skin cold. Words spread fast as a doctor was hurried to the king’s side, and by the time the rumor had reached the kitchen, the monarch was confirmed dead.

A heart seizure, the royal doctor told you after he was brought to your chambers with a somber look to deliver the news. The tears and cries that escaped you hearing your father’s death were genuine, and everyone saw how deep their princess was affected. Truth was, those tears weren’t for the king; they were for Sir Dominik, the knight who had now abandoned everything to save your husband. Now the poor man was doomed to a fugitive existence, and you weren’t sure if somehow you could forgive yourself that.

The mournful look and tears did the trick anyway. Everyone was looking at you with sorry eyes for the past days, and cladded in your black clothes you played the role of the mourning princess to perfection. Two days after your father died, Nikolaï came back to the palace.

As soon as he stepped down his horse, a servant hurried to deliver him the news. It was all it took him to rush through the palace’s corridors and to your room. He bursted into your chambers unannounced, panting and face painted with worry, but it vanished as soon as he landed his eyes on you. Before you could rise up from the chair you had been reading on, your husband engulfed you in a bone-crushing hug.

Both of you clung on each other like your lives depended on it – and somehow, they were. You could even feel Nikolaï’s hand shaking in emotion. After a long, much-needed minute of embrace, he lifted his head from your neck to have a look at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked in worry, searching on your face for any sign of discomfort – apart from grief.

Instead of answering, you were staring at him, beaming. Every single detail of his handsome face, even painted with worry, sent a flood of relief through your body. He was back, he was here, he was alive. Your husband had come back to you alive and well, while you had feared the opposite for the past days. What was grief and guilt until then turned into joy and warm relief.

“I am now,” you finally whispered, still not quite believing Nikolaï was here at last.

The knight let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding. Taking your hands with his, he held you close to him. “I’m sorry about your father’s passing, my love,” he said sincerely.

You could only offer him a tight smile. Nikolaï didn’t know what your father had done during your childhood. As he never lifted his hand on you for years, Sir Nikolaï had never been around to witness such tragedy. And you never wanted to share this with him; you and him deserved better than those plaguing memories.

Right now all you needed was the comfort of your husband’s arms, just to prove to yourself that everything had not been in vain.

Soon, when the time of mourning would be done, you’d publicly announce your engagement to Sir Nikolaï. Being a well-renowned and popular knight would play in your favor, the council would be glad to have him as the prince consort next to Ravka’s new queen. Soon, you both would be free to be married once again and be never afraid of loving each other again.

Soon, everytime you’d see Nikolaï’s face and smile, you’d convince yourself that it had been worth every sacrifice and lie. When the guilt would creep up on your mind during sleepless nights, you’d face them with the knowledge and conviction that you had no choice. Even if that meant losing good men or forcing fate.

Nikolaï might have been your bodyguard before becoming your husband, but as his wife you’d burn down entire cities and behead dozens of kings to keep him safe. That was a promise and a choice you’d intend to keep at any cost.

sorry it sounded better in my head *sob*

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai x reader #sir nikolaï #knight!nikolai #knight nikolai lantsov #angst #nikolai lantsov angst

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callsign-dexter · 3 months

Text

Love Conquers All

Request: Hiiii Sweetheart! 😍 I'm really really sorry for another Antonio imagine and I'd understand if you don't want to do it. I had the idea of being his girl (not a cop tho) and you both love each other with all your heart. But his ex wife comes to the precinct just as you also visit him and she's terrible to you, making you feel not good enough for him. Antonio of course stands up for you but he can't prevent you from leaving, feeling more than terrible. He searches you and finds you at the water and he tells you how much you mean to him and it's just pure love and fluff ❤️

Pairings: Antonio Dawson x Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, swearing

A/N: so sorry it took forever to get out!!!!

The sound of Antonio’s alarm had woken you up with a start. You opened your eyes just as he was reach back to grab his phone to turn it off. Once it was off and silence was the only thing heard you turned in his arms and looked at him with a smile. “Good morning, handsome.” You said and he smiled back at you.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He replied back and reached down to kiss you.

“Do we have to get up?” You asked him and he sighed and nodded.

“Sadly, we do.” He said and you groaned and that made him chuckle “Come on sleepy head.” He said and started to get up but you grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“5 more minutes.” You said already closing your eyes and falling back to sleep and he chuckled and began moving again.

“No can do, sweetheart. I can’t be late or Voight will have my head.” He said and got up the warmth leaving you. You watched him as he got ready to leave and you sat up on your elbows.

“Traitor.” You said and he let out a laugh that made you smile. He walked over to you and kissed you while sitting on the bed.

“Hey, enjoy your day off. You’ve been working too hard lately.” He said and you rolled your eyes but knew it was true.

“Hmpf, fine. I’m staying by the precinct to see you and Jay later on.” You said and he smiled and nodded.

“Sounds wonderful.” He said

“I may even stop by that bakery place that everyone loves so much.” You said and he kissed you once again.

“You know the way to our hearts.” He said as he pulled back from kissing you. “Now I got to go.” He said and stood and then you huffed and laid back down “I love you.” He said and you looked at him.

“I love you too.” You replied and he was out of the room and out the door heading off to the precinct.

It was really a coincidence on how you met him. You met him when you showed up to drop something off to Jay, Jay was your twin brother which made Will your older brother, that he had left at home and begged you to get and bring it to him. You worked for the police department but you worked for the NSA, National Security Agency. Your brothers didn’t like this but they really didn’t have a say in it you were going to do what you wanted to do. You are really respected on the team to the point where you were running some of the cases. You had been on a case that Intelligence was on and it got a little out of hand with some of them, Jay and Antonio, but you and your team got them out safely and when Jay gave you hell for doing something reckless, he finally introduced you to Antonio and the rest was history.

When you heard the door shut, you sighed and got up. You were already awake and there was no way your body was going to let you sleep in any longer. You usually ran in the morning wanting to keep in top physical condition since you could have a very demanding job so you got changed into your running clothes and walked out and put on your shoes. You grabbed your armband and put your phone in it but not without connecting your Bluetooth headphones to it and starting your workout playlist. You walked out making sure the apartment was locked and took a deep breath and stretched some and then started your run. You didn’t run very long and before you knew it you were back home, you walked in after unlocking the door and got you something to drink. Once you were cooled down then you went and took a hot shower, one that made your worries melt away. After you got out you looked at your phone and noticed that it was already noon and you had decided to go and see your brother and boyfriend. As you got dressed you headed into the kitchen and grabbed something to eat while you looked for your keys and then when you found them you were out the door and getting into your car. You started to all too familiar drive to the precinct. When you got there you found a spot between Jay’s truck and Antonio’s truck. You parked and killed the engine and then got out and started to walk in. When you got to the door and opened it and were about to step in, a female voice called out to you “Hold the door!” it said and you did so since you were raised to do so by your mother. You turned around and looked at who it was and your heart dropped, it was Antonio’s ex-wife, Laura Dawson. You smiled at her but when she saw you, she made a look of disgust “Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?” She asked.

“I’m here to see my brother, Jay Halstead, and Antonio.” You said you were already feeling yourself go in on yourself, you had some pretty bad relationships and a lot of them talked down to you and made you feel worthless.

“Well, I’m here to see Antonio too.” She said with a smile like she had won something.

“Oh? What for?” You asked not liking having this conversation with her.

“That is none of your business but if you must know, I’m going to see if he has any plans this evening.” She said and you nodded.

“Well, we do have plans this evening.” You said and she again made a face.

“I can’t believe he left me and then got together with you.” She said and that made your stomach churn. You looked everywhere but her and when you locked eyes with Trudy, she gave you a look saying ‘I don’t like this situation’.

“Good afternoon, Agent Halstead and Laura.” She said you smiled at her and she buzzed you up “Jay and Antonio will be happy to see you Y/N.” She said purposely leaving out Laura and that made her eyes roll. You opened the gate and you both ascended upstairs. When you got to the top everyone was still there and when they saw they smiled but it slipped when they saw Laura.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Jay asked coming over to you and hugging you and you returned the hug.

“Hey, bro. I came to see you and Antonio.” You said and released him.

“Antonio is taking care of something with Voight but will be in here soon.” Jay said and then he looked over at Laura and nodded then looked at you as you both had a silent conversation just then Antonio walked out and lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Y/N.” He said and walked over and kissed you and Jay faked gagging but you flipped him off.

“Hey, Babe.” You said almost forgetting Laura was there until she cleared her throat. You both looked at her and she had a grimace on her face.

“Laura, what are you doing here?” Antonio asked

“I wanted to see if you were free tonight.” She said overly sweetly and Antonio sighed.

“No and I never will be for you. I’m with Y/N and we have something already planned out for tonight.” He spoke

“What made you choose her anyways?” She asked, “She has nothing to offer.” She said and you shrunk back to where Jay was who was trying to comfort you and not get angry but it was not working.

“That is no way to talk to my girlfriend.” Antonio said

“That is no way to talk to my sister.” Jay said at the same time as Antonio spoke. Laura scuffed and rolled her eyes.

“She has everything to offer and she is actually there for me.” Antonio said and she scuffed again and then looked you up and down.

“She’s not even that pretty. You should be with me and not her.” She said and you were sick by this point and just wanted to get at.

“I have to go. Work is calling me.” You lied with ease but everyone knew the reason why. You hugged Jay and then hugged and kissed Antonio.

“Are we still on for tonight?” He asked and you hesitated.

“No, I think I just want to stay in.” You said and then left without giving him a kiss or saying that you loved him. As you were walking down you could hear Antonio going off and when you got down the stairs Trudy looked at you.

“He loves you.” She said and you looked at her “You’re the only one he wants to be with. Don’t let her get into your mind.” She added and you nodded and then you were quickly walking to your car but quickly by passing it just wanting to get out of there, a spot where Antonio and you had your first date. You don’t know how long you were sitting on the bench with your knees up and letting silent tears fall while looking at the little pond. You had felt your phone vibrating and pulled it out to see who was calling and it was Antonio but you declined it then you saw 5 missed calls from him, 4 from Jay, 2-3 from Hailey and Kim, 4 from Will, 4 from Connor, 4 from Kevin and Adam, 1 from Voight and multiple messages from all of them but you didn’t care. You put your phone away and resumed your position looking at the water.

“Is this seat taken?” A familiar voice, that you knew as Antonio’s, asked but you didn’t say anything “Baby, you have nothing to worry about.” He said but again you didn’t say anything “I love you and only you.” He said and you sniffled.

“You must’ve loved her because you married her.” You said not looking at him.

“But then we divorced and then I found you. My person.” He said and you slowly turned to look at him, seeing him smile softly.

“You really mean that?” You asked in a small voice and he smiled.

“Of course. Now come here.” He said and opened his arms and you undid your position and curled into him as you looked up at him. He wiped your tears away and kissed your forehead and you melted into it. “I’m sorry for the way she talked to you and made you feel, she had no right. You missed me going off on her and her storming off.” He said as you laid her head on your shoulder.

“I heard you going off but I just needed to get out of there.” You said and he nodded.

“We got worried when you weren’t answering our calls. We even roped Will and Connor into calling you.” He said and you smiled. Connor was a good friend of yours, you had actually met before he started working at Med and you considered him a really good friend.

“Sorry.” You said and he chuckled and shook his head.

“I knew where you were.” He said

“You always know where I am.” You said with a chuckle and a true smile.

“There’s my girl.” He said and kissed your forehead “That just means we’re perfect for each other.” He said “Now are we still on for tonight?” He asked and you nodded.

“Of course, Baby. I never wanted to cancel, she just got to me.” You said

“You have nothing to worry about. She won’t be bothering either of us anymore.” He said

“What did you do?” You asked looking up at him.

“Nothing serious. Just threatened her with a restraining order.” He said it like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Tonio.” You said and he chuckled.

“What? I’m not going to let her talk to my girl like that.” He said

“I love you, Tonio.” You said

“I love you too. How about you let your brothers know you’re safe and then you and I are going out for lunch.” He said

“Don’t you have to work?” You asked

“Voight gave me some time to find you. So, I have time.” He said you chuckled and then he got up and offered you a hand which you took and you two started towards his truck since you left your car at the precinct. You followed him while you sent everyone a message and then you got into his truck and started off to your favorite place. As he was driving you looked over at him wondering how lucky you got with him. You knew that he wasn't going to go anywhere and he wasn’t going to let you go anytime soon. Why? Because he loved you too much and you loved him too and that is the strongest bond one could ask for. You two are it for each other.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

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luckybunny555 · 6 months

Text

Secret admirer

You receive a strange gift and find out the identity of your secret admirer.

Amber Freeman x GN!/Fem!Reader(no pronouns but for sapphics)

Warnings: creepy behavior, stalking, cursing, usual Ghostface behavior, a little bit of trust issues, being "attacked" but not harmed, mentions of murder and violence(no big description tho), a little suggestive in the end(as a treat ;) )

a/n: Part 2. No bad ending, again. I mentioned a song at some point and if you don't listen to it while reading ur not getting the whole experience, disappointing. also, this one's a bit scarier than part one(at least in my opinion). I'm sorry if ur not actually a scared little bitch like I am, but I made the readed very scared because yes. I didn't proof-read the end bc I used every single brain cell I have to finish this today. I might read it later but no promises.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Because you were texting Amber, you didn't worry about walking home alone. The sun was setting, but you were reaching the front door already.

Amber

I can't believe you fell for that

You

Wha-

Mindy had a straight face when

she said that

I thought she just remembered

the movie better than me

Amber

I literally made you watch it a

hundread times

how could you not remember

also, lmk when you get home

You

what did u expect

I also closed my eyes a hundread

times bc I got scared

I'm already unlocking the door

Amber

ok good

told u you'd be safe with me

;)

You felt a warm feeling in your chest, stupidly staring at her message. The smile on your face was an evident sign of how whipped you were for her. Stepping into your home, you lock the door again, not taking your eyes off your phone.

Amber

I'm throwing a party saturday

My parents will be out, they

got a wedding or smth

ur coming, right?

Your smile grew. "Mom?" you shouted, your voice echoing through the empty house. You finally looked away from your phone, scanning the space around you. The house seemed empty, which was unusual. By that time, your mom should be home. All you could hear was faint music, which your mom probably forgot to turn off before she left the house. You walked towards the kitchen, answering Amber's text.

You

ofc, I never miss ur parties

Amber

Liar

You've missed 3 of my parties

You

ok true, but it wasn't on purpose

I don't have plans this saturday

You find a note on the fridge, "Meeting w/ client @ 5pm". Right. That's where your mom was. You place your phone on the counter, opening the fridge and looking for something to eat. Your phone vibrates again, another notification from Amber

Amber

brb, I'm gonna shower

You read the text from afar, still standing in front of the refrigerator. Grabbing a few ingredients, you place them on the counter, turning off your phone screen. More attuned to your surroundings, you recognize the song playing in the background. "We Belong Together" by Ritchie Valens. You didn't remember where you heard it, though. It was just familiar. And nice to listen to while you cook.

Focused on preparing your food, you're startled by the doorbell. You look at the door with your heart already racing. It was a mundane situation, but does anything feel normal when there's a masked killer around?

Slowly, you approach the door. But instead of opening, you look through the window beside it. No one was there. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, but you try to brush it off. "These fucking kids," you mutter to yourself, walking back to the kitchen.

You

I'm so stupid lol

Some dumb kid just ding-dong

ditched me and I got so scared

Not so long after, you hear the doorbell ring again. You try to convince yourself it's just a stupid prank. A terrible one to play when Ghostface is a threat, but kids are like that, right? This time, you quickly approach the door, determined to catch the person, opening it even though your hands are shaking.

Still, no one is there. But you find something. There's a box on the floor, with a pink bow on top and a note. "Sorry for scaring you :(". You hesitate, but take the box and lock the door again. You put it on the counter, unsure whether or not you should open it. Could it be from that admirer? Or was it from someone else? Before opening it, you decide to get a second opinion.

You

they left a box at my door

there's a note, "sorry for scaring

you"

should I open it?

I think it's from that stalker, but

idk

You wait a few seconds, but she doesn't read your texts. Maybe you should wait longer, but you're curious. It could be great, it could be horrible. Either way, you wanted to know. Maybe your mind was just being dramatic and this was actually a genuine apology gift. You shake the box, trying to make out what it could be, but it doesn't make a lot of noise. Must be something soft and light.

With your hands slightly trembling, you open it. It takes you a split second to understand it, but once you recognize it, you bring your hand to cover your mouth, your breath catching in your throat. Your favorite stuffed animal, one from your collection, with its head cut off. Beside it, another note. "Why didn't you write me back? >:("

Your head was filled with questions, "did they break into my house?", "how did they get it?", "are they still around?". Your phone rings, snapping you out of your momentary trance. It's Amber's number. She probably read your texts and her protective instinct kicked in. Your right hand was still covering your mouth as you reached for your phone. "Amber?"

"Hello, [name]," you don't recognize the voice. It wasn't Amber's, it was a male voice. And then it hits you: Amber's phone was cloned. By Ghostface. At that realization, you gasp, feeling your heart pounding as if it's trying to escape your chest. "Did you like my gift? And my sweet letters?"

You're too shocked to answer. Frozen in place, your only movements are involuntary. The trembling of your hands, the rise and fall of your chest, the accelerated breathing and heartbeats. An uncontrollable fear takes over you. Your eyes are glued to the torn out toy in front of you.

"Will you forgive me for loving you so much that I'm willing to protect you from everything… and everyone?" They speak again, and you slowly remove your hand from your face, supporting your weight against the counter, feeling weak in the knees.

An ounce of rationality is still left in you, despite the terrifying situation you find yourself in. "Where are you?" You ask with your voice shaking, a satisfying sound for Ghostface.

"Don't worry, I'm not inside... yet," the implied threat makes you shut your eyes instinctively, wishing that everything would disappear. But it isn't the brightest idea, so you open them again and look around, trying to stay alert. "Let's play a game, I'll give you three chances to guess who I am. You have to play by the rules. No calling for help, and don't close your curtains. I need to see if you're playing fair."

The last sentence sends a shiver down your spine. They could see you. Your gaze shifts to the window, terrified to see what you'd find. But hopefully, or not, you only saw the sky turning dark. "No..." Your voice shakes again, and you try to hold back your tears of desperation, "I know better than to play games with you."

"Oh, you don't want to play?" They sound displeased, which fills you with dread. "Let's skip forward then, I'll show you who I am," they say impatiently, "Open the front door."

By that time, the tears were falling to your cheeks. Your pants and gasps were audible through the phone, and it felt like your heartbeats were too. You couldn't move, and you obviously didn't want to let them in, but maybe the choice was merely an illusion. Your cries become more evident through the phone.

"Open the damn door, [name], or I'll get in myself and I won't be as nice as I would be," the caller threatened, and you are completely taken over by fear, filling every fiber of your body.

"Please, don't hurt me," you sob, begging for mercy as you turn around, facing the door a few steps ahead of you. You slowly walk towards it, continuing to plead.

"That's not my plan, sweetheart," Ghostface replies on the phone, "as long as you do what I say."

Your hands never trembled as much as they did once they touched the doorhandle. With a deep, shaky exhale, you open the door, facing the terrifying tall frame, covered in black and hidden behind the Ghostface mask. You let out a whimper as more tears fell to your cheeks. You gasp once your eyes meet the shiny blade in their hand.

In a startling, quick move, you were trapped against the wall, with the knife pressed to your neck, and you drop your phone on the floor. Instinctively, you scream, but the gloved hand covers your mouth before you can make a sound loud enough to be heard. They close the door with their feet, the loud noise making you jump in place. You shut your eyes, not wanting to face them.

The two of you were silent for a moment, the faint music filling the eerie atmosphere along with your sobs and loud breaths, followed by Ghostface's amused chuckle. They slowly removed the hand from your mouth, allowing you to breathe more easily, and you open your eyes, scanning the view in front of you. You didn't make a sound, and you tried your best to steady your breaths as much as you could before you had a heart attack.

"I told you I wouldn't hurt you if you behaved," they break the silence, and amidst the turmoil in your mind, you question their intentions and reasons. What made you different to them? Why hadn't they attacked you immediately, like they did with Tara and Vince?

Well, for one, all their love letters and gifts. Somehow, you had Ghostface in love with you, and you just realized that. Two people in one. And now, you could figure out who they actually were.

"Curious?" They ask, noticing the expression on your face, how you bit your lip, making it seem like the wheels in your mind were turning. "Go on, turn it off," the command, tapping on the voice modifier from the mask with their free hand. Your sobs had momentarily ceased, but your hands were still shaking when you hesitantly reached to press the button. You hear a low chuckle behind the mask, "recognize me now?"

It took you a moment to believe it. To make sense of it. Your eyes widened, and the look on your face was clearly of shock. Subconsciously, your lips part slightly in disbelief. How could it be her? "Amber?" you whisper, your voice faltering with hesitancy. You earn a mischevous giggle from the girl in front of you.

Her free hand reaches up, taking off her mask and throwing it on the floor, once again making you jump at the noise. There's a wicked smile imprinted on her face, staining her image in your mind. Noticing your furrowed brows, her expression changes slightly to one of pity, or remorse.

She pouts, her gaze meeting yours with a sympathetic look, "Aw, baby, I'm sorry I had to scare you," her tone changes to a sickingly sweet, an implied mocking of your position and reaction. "I just find it so cute, y'know?"

You weren't expecting that to be her motive. Deep down, it was starting to make you angry at her. But this feeling was buried by the sensation of the cold blade against your neck. And she still had a lot of explaining to do.

"Remember the first time I made you watch Stab?" She asks you, her voice laced with amusement, and a smile growing on her face. "I mean, it' wasn't even such a scary movie, but you were so terrified," she laughs, and even in that terrible moment, you love the sound.

Imperceptibly, she placed a hand on your hip, keeping you in place and maintaining her control. She looks at you with a sweet, satisfied expression. "It was so adorable. I loved how scared you got," she confessed with such a natural, charismatic demeanor, as if she hadn't planned a whole terrifying scene, just for you.

“You were clinging to me and you wanted me to protect you so bad. And I realized, I wanted that too.” With a wide smile, she chuckles mischievously. Her eyes observe you attentively, taking in every detail, every subtle movement. She loved to see your tear-stained cheeks and glossy eyes. It was terrible, and she knew that, but didn't you look impossibly beautiful in that moment? "That night," she continues, her face getting closer to yours as her eyes find your parted lips, "you begged me to let you stay over and to sleep with me. It was fucking cute, seriously," her eyes meet yours again as she lets out a low chuckle. Even though you hated that moment, how scared you were, you still found the genuity in everything she was saying.

"I could barely sleep, because it felt so good to hold you close, and I really felt like I was protecting you, y’know?" Her tone escalates with passion, emphasizing the sincerity in her words. "From what? Nothing. But it was nice.”

It was infuriating to hear everything. To go through all that terror, just because... she liked it? Why would she go so far to scare you?

“But with time you got over it and you didn’t need me anymore. And I still wanted that. I wanted you to need me to protect you," she continues her monologue, a classic after villain reveals. It was really starting to feel like you were in a stupid slasher movie that she likes so much. "I needed some threat, something dangerous to scare you."

You finally find the courage to cut her off, "That's why you did all of this?" Your tone gave away how irritated you were, although still fearful, "Because you wanted me to feel like... I was in a fucking horror movie?" Your voice becomes slightly bolder, in spite of the risk. You couldn't believe her.

She feigns being offended, then exhales with a quiet chuckle. "Sweetheart, the threats were already there," she responds, her grip tightening in response to her growing intensity. "Like that Vince guy. Gosh, he was a weird fucking creep. And you were scared of him, I know that, but he could actually hurt you. And I would never let that happen," she continues to explain her twisted motives. "It couldn’t be anyone else, because I never wanted you to get hurt. I wouldn’t trust anyone else."

At that mention, you recall his murder. You were with your friends at that bar the night he was killed. You were worried about your safety. He was into Liv, and you could very well be his next target. Amber had noticed the way you held her hand in that moment, tightly with worry, but the threat was real, and she wanted to protect you. Which is exactly what she did. What better way to keep you safe than to eliminate the threat? That's how her mind worked.

The slightest hint of understanding was appearing in your expression. A hint that Amber didn't miss, ever so attentive. "Do you get it now?" she asks genuinely, as if everything she did was right. "It had to be me. Because I would never hurt you. Because other people would," her tone is so sweet and caring, you forget she is the one holding the knife to your neck.

Actually, it doesn't matter. She might be holding it, but it means nothing. The girl in front you could've killed you long ago, yet she was confessing everything she did for you, without drawing a single drop of your blood. She might as well be holding the blade against her heart, because the girl is crazy for you, quite literally. If you got hurt, by any means, it would break her. From the moment she fell for you, protecting you was a necessary act to protect herself.

With that understanding, the clarity of your realization, your anger gradually faded. Her elaborate, sick and twisted web had the purpose of protecting you. She was poisoned with love. Could you blame her for her whole performance? (You totally could)

But you didn't. For the same reason you answered your stalker's letters, and opened the gift box. For the same reason you let Amber convince you to watch Stab a thousand times, despite hating horror movies. Yes, you have terrible taste for lovers. But you love the thrill. With her, you'd have security, protection, a little bit of action and lots of excitement. It was a twisted game, but you knew in the end it was safe to play. Because she was completely, head over heels in love with you.

[...]

#scream #scream v #scream 5 #amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #amber freeman x you #scream 5 x reader #scream x reader

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