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samstree · 2 days

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Secret Ingredient

(obikin hurt/comfort, obi-wan makes pancakes, also on AO3)

The bruises look a lot worse in daylight.

The purple and green span across Anakin’s cheek, reaching the small cut at the corner of his lips. Lesions are all over his throat in the shape of fingers, with more hidden under the collar of his tunics. The half-healed wounds don’t just stop there—four weeks of being captive is enough to accumulate injuries to fill an entire page of the healer’s report. Under Anakin’s clothes, his chest is bound in bandages for the broken ribs, right above the electrical burns, now covered in fresh bacta patches. The separatists are getting creative with their torture devices, lately.

Obi-Wan goes through the list of Anakin’s wounds in his head, calculating which ones need to be redressed on what day. The Coruscanti sun casts long shadows, barely hiding the dark circles under Anakin’s eyes.

Obi-Wan aches to kiss, to soothe until Anakin can sleep them away, finally finding some rest after the month’s ordeal. But there’s more work to be done—the torturers did not pay much attention to feeding their captive. Anakin’ cheeks have sunken, the nightshirt hanging off his thinned shoulders. The constant lack of food has weakened his stomach to the point that he can barely keep anything down. For fear of throwing up yet another meal, what he needs right now is something simple, comforting, but also provides plenty of nourishment.

So, Obi-Wan is making his special pancakes.

They may be his best work yet. After all, those special pancakes were Anakin’s favorite food when he was a child. Obi-Wan still remembers a nine-year-old Anakin, malnourished and underweight when he first came to the temple. Master Che had to prescribe different nutritious powders to go along with his meals, but all Obi-Wan knew was to make them into a porridge. The boy could never swallow more than a third of what he needed.

And then, he had the brilliant idea of making them into pancakes.

The batter is the perfect medium to hide all the supplements. Obi-Wan still remembers the quiet smile Anakin gave him at every breakfast, right after finishing everything on his plate. Obi-Wan kept making them until the healers finally declared his padawan to be an appropriate weight and height for his age.

Now, more than a decade later, it’s time for Obi-Wan to use an old trick again.

Even though it’s early morning, Anakin is exhausted enough from insomnia and pain that he doesn’t notice the supplements being added to the sweet pancake mix. He only waits by the kitchen counter as Obi-Wan works, expression distracted and tired, attention splintered all over the place.

Anticipation rises in Obi-Wan’s chest as the kitchen is filled with the smell of warm, buttery pancakes, almost making him giddy with pride. He hides it well though, under a calm, nonchalant exterior.

“Here. Try this,” Obi-Wan says softly, flipping the last pancake into the plate and drizzling with syrup, before pushing it across the kitchen counter.

“Hmm?” Anakin blinks, just brought out of a stupor, looking down to notice the stack of warm pancakes. “Oh.”

“Your stomach is still weak, so I’m only giving you a small portion. Hopefully, some pancakes will go down better than the standard-issued rations from the Halls of the Healing.” Obi-Wan smiles. “I remember it’s your favorite.”

There has been a haunted look in Anakin’s eyes since the rescue, one that is hard to shake. But upon meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes and seeing his smile, part of that look melts away, giving way to the warmth in those blue eyes.

“My favorite, huh? Let’s see if it’s still the case.” He pokes a small corner off the stack and lifts the fork, an eyebrow raised while putting the pancakes in his mouth. The following pause has Obi-Wan’s heart beating in his throat, hope fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird.

“How is it?” he asks, unable to hide the curiosity any longer as Anakin chews slowly, carefully, as if he needs to channel all the energy he has just to eat. “Well, not to rush you. I know you’ve been having trouble keeping food down, and eating too fast won’t help. I just thought—it’s your favorite, after all. If anything, you could use something comforting, and there’s nothing more comforting than pancakes. I haven’t made them for years. Hopefully, it still tastes the same? If not, I can always make something else. Something you’re missing in the field, perhaps Franikhad—oh, but that’s too spicy for your stomach. There’s nothing like pancakes, truly. So… how is it?”

Obi-Wan knows he’s droning on again, as Anakin was so inclined to call it in his teenage years, but truth be told, he’s too nervous not to.

Watching Anakin struggle to recover has been one of the hardest things in this entire ordeal. They’ve got Anakin back now; he should be getting better, not barely healing because his body doesn’t have enough strength. Cooking is about the only thing Obi-Wan can do to help, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself if he fails even that.

He just… he can’t fail again.

Anakin swallows the bite, licks the syrup on his lower lip. By some miracle, he smiles. It’s a small and quiet thing, but it’s there. Obi-Wan thinks he could be soaring.

“It’s good, master,” he answers. “Tastes exactly like I remember.”

“Yeah?” A weight lifts off of Obi-Wan’s chest. “It’s truly the same?”

“Of course, even the powders are there.”

Obi-Wan pauses, blinking as Anakin takes another bite, making a pleased hum.

“Whatever do you mean?” It’s possible that the kitchen has become very warm from all the cooking. Obi-Wan feels his cheeks heat up. “What powders?”

The syrup coats the fork, so Anakin licks it clean. When he looks up again, a glint of mischief flashes across his eyes.

“Oh come on. Do you think I couldn’t tell? The nutrition powders they prescribed for me when I was still your padawan? The porridge you made was awful, and then the pancakes tasted exactly the same. You weren’t subtle, master. There must have been more supplements than flour in my meal. I noticed right away, of course.”

The pancakes are disappearing steadily from Anakin’s plate, picked apart and dipped in the syrup. Suddenly, they don’t seem like the best idea in the world anymore.

“And you never said anything? Anakin…” Obi-Wan’s heart constricts. “I only wanted you to eat something healthy because you were so malnourished as a child, and I didn’t want to force you. Force knows you had gone through enough already.” He meets Anakin’s eyes, half pleading and half heartbroken for the small boy that he used to be. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have tried something else.”

Guilt creeps into his chest, in place of the relief he was feeling mere moments ago. Anakin only stares, eyes big and impossibly soft.

“Well, it made you happy,” he answers, as if that is the simplest logic in the world. “So I didn’t mind.”

“Anakin…”

“Has it occurred to you that you were also going through a lot?” Anakin now drops his eyes, having stopped eating. “You had only lost your master, and immediately took on a padawan yourself. Every day you fussed over nutrition and proteins. My meals, my lessons, my health. But you…” he trails off in a whisper. “You were just…sad. All the time.”

“I didn’t know you could tell.”

“I can always tell.”

Obi-Wan opens his mouth and closes it. His fame as the Negotiator is nothing when it’s just him and Anakin. Clever quips and quick thinking are his weapons when the saber is out of reach, but here, he doesn’t need to fight.

“So you just lied? For years?” Obi-Wan asks, after a moment. “Putting up with your old master’s horrible cooking just to spare his feelings?”

“Not the part about pancakes being my favorite though. That is true.” When Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow in question, Anakin continues, “I saw you smile, when I ate all the pancakes. That was the first time you smiled since I became your padawan. It was so beautiful I just decided that I wanted to keep seeing it. And the pancakes were the way to go, obviously. Oh, and—” He laughs to himself quietly, looking entirely too young despite the bruises blossoming across his cheeks. Entirely too young for this wretched war. “—Do you remember the day I was finally, finally, taller than you?”

“You mean when you mercilessly rubbed it in my face.” Obi-Wan cannot hide a laugh himself. “The worst day of my life. It’s not one to forget.”

“You are joking, but do you remember I also stopped mercilessly rubbing it in your face very quickly?”

“Oh? Doesn’t sound like you.”

Anakin tilts his head, a strand of curls falling into his eyes, too endearing for Obi-Wan’s heart to handle.

“You were so proud when you realized,” he says softly. “You looked at me, barely half an inch taller than you, and the Force was singing with pride. I couldn’t keep making fun of you, you see. My old master looked like he was about to cry.”

The lump in Obi-Wan’s throat is simply a reaction to the fond memories. He is not about to cry now.

“I thought I did a half-decent job, when you grew up okay. I only wanted you to—” he swallows, the words difficult to get out. “I—forgive me—”

Obi-Wan looks away to give the turmoil of emotions in his chest to the Force. Fear, guilt, anxiety… they leave with another exhale. He lets go of everything except for love. Only love remains, wrapping around him like the bright Force signature that melds into his own.

Anakin looks at him all-knowingly, with mirth by his lips.

“Obi-Wan.”

“Yes, darling?”

The Force sings with pride again when Anakin straightens his back, puts down his fork, one arm stretched out as an invitation. “Come over here.”

“And why should I come over there?”

“Because you,” Anakin declares with all the conviction in the galaxy, “look like you need a hug.”

“Do I now?” Obi-Wan only thinks of denying it for a split second before rounding the kitchen counter and meeting Anakin’s embrace carefully, gathering him up with a feather-light touch. He maps out all the injuries mentally, hyper-aware of where his hands travel and soothe. Something within him shifts, settles into place, when Anakin is held between his arms. “Hmm, perhaps I do. My young padawan has become wise.”

“Only sometimes,” Anakin huffs.

The way he hugs Obi-Wan back is far less careful, pressing their bodies together. With Anakinsat on the kitchen stool, they are at the perfect height for him to fit right under Obi-Wan’s chin. He squeezes Obi-Wan’s middle, as if to burrow farther into the hug, as if they have not melded into one a long time ago.

He presses a kiss on Anakin’s head, hiding a content smile in his hair.

“Ow.” Anakin hisses in pain.

Obi-Wan pulls away immediately. “Am I hurting you?”

A pause, and a sheepish look. “…No?”

“Anakin!”

A boyish grin blooms across Anakin’s face. He leans forward to wrap both arms around Obi-Wan’s waist, half to pull him close, half for support. “Can you blame me? You were smiling. You haven’t since I got back.”

“And you are eating something, finally.”

“Must be the pancakes,” Anakin adds cheekily, “with your secret ingredient.”

The corner of Anakin’s mouth is still swollen and dark with a bruise, but he leans into Obi-Wan’s touch. Eyes closed, he lets his weight slump against Obi-Wan’s support and nuzzles into his chest.

He’s holding the most precious thing in his life, Obi-Wan realizes. Right under his palms, trusting and pliant. Even injured, Anakin is still trying to make him smile, and he is. The smile stays on Obi-Wan’s face, making him feel lighter and younger than he has any right to be.

“And now you feel like you need a kiss,” Anakin whispers against his tunics. “You get all quiet and shimmering in the Force when you do.”

“What will you do about that?”

Their breaths mingle when Obi-Wan lowers his head to meet Anakin. The kiss is barely there when both of them are smiling into it, tender and slow, mindful of the healing wound by Anakin’s mouth. Obi-Wan pecks him on the nose one last time before pulling back.

“You should try to eat a little bit more,” he reminds Anakin, pushing the plate closer. “Just a little, and we’ll rest. We’ve both earned it, I believe.”

“Of course,” Anakin answers, the quiet shimmers mirrored back in his Force signature. “They are your special pancakes, after all.”

#obikin #obikin fic #hurt/comfort #i want pancakes alright :3

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yesterdayiwrote · 1 year

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I’ve been nostalgia diving again and now I really need someone to write a galex au based on the John Paul and Craig storyline from Hollyoaks…

#galex #I fear I’m the only one old enough to remember it #but writers block is kicking my ass right now #but I feel like it would fit so well #I can map the whole thing out just not… write it #that storyline still has me in a chokehold 15 years later

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tedbecca · 2 years

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i sub at this one school fairly often and last week a kid stopped me in the hallway (i didn’t recognize him so i don’t think i’ve ever taught his class) and said “oh?! i saw you at fanexpo this summer”

#how in the world did he recognize me. there were like 100 000 other people there #at first i was like haha you sure it was me. and then he described who i was with/where he saw me. and i was like oh yup that sure was me #and then later that day a kid was like ‘i know your favourite show is gilmore girls’#and she’s older. like old enough to be Online. so i was momentarily struck by fear #until she told me she saw me with my ipad one day which has a lorelai sticker on it #which is an impressive observation bc i think i only used my ipad at school once last year and not at all this year #so she remembered that random piece of information about me for months #both of these things happened on the same day so i went home like ok that’s enough perceiving me for the day. i’m not leaving my house lol

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luveline · 5 days

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hotch sister idea-- convincing hotch to take you out to dinner with the whole team because you "want to properly meet his friends" (i'm a sucker for team dynamics) but then being shy and cute with spencer the entire time to the point that hotch notices and gets a tad protective...but ends with spencer getting her number or something

thank you for requesting 💌 —you attend a party with your older brother in a not so secret plight to see Dr. Reid. You fawn, Spencer flusters, and Hotch drinks a tad more than usual. fem, 2.3k

cw for mentions of past child abuse

The car is quiet besides the tread of the tires on asphalt. You click and unclick the clasp of your shoulder bag, checking for your purse, getting worried your purse isn’t in there, and checking again.

“If there’s something you want to ask me, you can ask me.”

You move your gaze to your brother. His quietness can make you nervous, a reflection of your father but with none of the cruelty. “I don’t want you to get mad at me if it’s stupid.”

“Well, I won’t. I promise.”

You know he won’t, but sometimes the fear remains. Even when you’re far from being a kid. “Do you remember when I got suspended for, um, disrespectful behaviour? My senior year?”

Aaron turns the wheel with care. “I do.”

“And we went for ice cream.”

“Yeah, honey, I remember.”

That’s the point you’re trying to make, maybe. That tenderness sewn into the middle of his sentence. If your dad knew you’d been suspended again he would’ve made you feel it. You remember the sinking sensation in your chest waiting for him to pick you up, having written the speech he’d give you in the car ride home in your head ten times over, the sting of his palm grazing your cheek before you’d even seen his hand. So you waited in a total violent panic, head rush, wondering if anything was worth anything, when Aaron arrived to pick you up.

How did you know? you’d asked.

I changed your emergency contact. I hope that’s okay.

“You asked me what I wanted and…”

What flavour did you want, honey? he’d asked. Honey, like he loved you, the only person in the whole world who’d bother asking. The only man who’d take you for ice cream at seventeen years old to cure a bad day.

“And you burst into tears,” Aaron says.

He’d sat down opposite you in his suit, torn from one of his trials, and you can’t remember anymore if he was an attorney or already in the FBI, but you can’t forget how he’d taken your wrists into his hands and asked you not to cry.

“When you took me home, Haley asked me if you’d upset me, and I didn’t know how to explain it so you said yes. And she shouted at you for a whole half hour.”

“Why are you thinking about this now?” he asks.

Maybe because college is over and you’re forced to move on. Aaron asked you to try hard and you have, but now you have your degree and you don’t know what to do with it, you’ll get a job, and then what?

“I’ve been thinking about… my love life.”

“Oh. And you have to talk about this with me?” he jokes.

“I don’t have anybody else.”

He tears his gaze from the windshield. “That’s not true.”

“But…”

He turns into the parking lot outside of Dan’s Fine Wine Bar and pulls into a tight space with ease. He hesitates before he flicks off the engine, turning to you with a smile. “You’ll always have me,” he says, “and we can talk about your love life. I want to. God knows you’ve heard enough about mine this last year.” You both grimace. “But if I have to listen one more time to you talking about Spencer–”

“You said you wouldn’t get mad!”

“Honey.” He takes off his seatbelt and opens the door. “I’m not mad. But imagine your younger sibling comes to you one day to tell you they have feelings for your employee and try to find some sympathy for me!”

He clambers out of the car. You rush after him, unbuckling your seatbelt and nearly smashing your door into the car next to you. The air outside is cold, and you didn’t bring a jacket even though Aaron told you to twice, so you can’t mention it aloud. “I don’t have feelings for him.”

“You have a crush. You’re too old for it.”

“I am not.”

He gestures for you to walk in front of him as he clicks the fob for the car and the doors lock automatically. “I don’t understand what this has to do with your suspension.”

You chew on your cheek. Neon from the wine bar mottles your skin as you pass under it and through the door, air quickly turned from cold to temperate, the smell of old rain replaced by carpeting and beer. When you lift your head to his gaze, he’s still waiting for your answer. “You told me things wouldn’t be that hard forever. I was just wondering when it’s safe to say you were right.”

He grins at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to give you a rough hug. “Right now. Be happy right now, honey.”

“There they are!” Penelope calls from a table near the back. Suddenly, Aaron’s entire team of work colleagues stand up where they’ve dominated a whole row of tables and booths alike to greet you. “Oh my gosh, I missed you!”

You met Penelope a long long time ago, and JJ and Derek around the same time, but everybody else is basically new. College was busy and Aaron busier —there was hardly ever time to visit, and when you did it was to see him and Haley. Meeting his friends was somehow put off.

You were introduced to Emily and Spencer, so Aaron directs you to David Rossi first. That’s the main team done quickly. But then he has to introduce you to Anderson, Sweeney, Kelly, Cory, Davidson, etc. So many agents for one man’s birthday. Anyone would think Derek Morgan was a celebrity.

“Happy birthday!” you say, when you finally get a moment to speak.

Derek reaches over the table to hug you quickly. “Thank you, gorgeous. We’re thrilled you’re here.” He pulls back, elbowing Penelope lovingly. “Aren’t we, mama?”

Penelope squeals and jumps for you. “So thrilled!”

Aaron touches your back, as if to say, I’m here, before taking a seat opposite Rossi. You hear snippets of a conversation about whiskey and when, but you’re distracted, because suddenly Penelope’s forcing you to sit down in her vacated seat, smack bang between Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid.

Dr. Spencer Reid. “Hi,” you say quietly. Can’t help it. You remember how you’d reacted when you met him the week before last and wonder if it’s too late to pretend you’re cool —you’d gotten so worked up about him. He wrote a bunch of papers you had to read for your degree, some of the most sophisticated theory on elliptical math you’d ever read, and you’re supposed to act like he’s just a normal guy?

It doesn’t help that he’s model pretty. You’d never have thought of him as he is now over email, his huge brown eyes, pale skin, the flicking curl of his hair behind his ears. When he turns his head, he has indents on his nose from a pair of glasses you wish you’d seen. You clear your throat.

“Hi, Y/N, how are you?” Spencer asks.

“I’m gonna go get a drink now,” Aaron says. “What do you want?” he asks you.

“Um, anything. I don’t really wanna drink.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” he says with deliberateness.

You feel heat like a rash on your neck. He’s embarrassing you doing his dad routine.

“You look pretty,” Spencer says.

You hide your hands under your thighs. “You think so?”

“You look beautiful,” Penelope says from across the table.

“Didn’t inherit that Hotchner scowl,” Derek says with a grin, “I thought it came with the name.”

“I learned how to do it the day they signed the adoption certificate,” you nudge in, “I just keep it to myself. I think Aaron has it down.”

Everybody within hearing distance laughs at you, to your relief. To your left, Spencer’s shoe hits your heel.

“So weird to hear his real name,” Emily says, tipping her drink to the side, ice and sugar on the surface. “I thought for sure you’d have to call him Hotch too.”

You look around in surprise. “He can’t be that bad. Does he really frown so much?”

You’re told vehemently that your brother is a grump, which is something you were aware of, just not experienced in. Sure, he’s had his unhappy moments, no one can smile every second of the day, but if everyone is to be believed he’s the sternest man alive. Eventually things drift into storytelling. Aaron brings you your drink with a straw and a napkin wrapped around the base, and you find yourself listening to a graphic rehash of Derek’s first case with the BAU.

Spencer’s leg is a coal at your side.

Your self preservation runs out. “You don’t drink?” you ask, nodding to his glass bottle of coke.

“I– I never did. I never had the opportunity. I’ve never even been to a party.” He pauses. “I don’t know why I just told you that.”

“I didn’t go to parties either,” you say, overjoyed to find common ground so quickly.

“I mean, I was never invited, but highschool parties didn’t seem like my thing. And, you know, I was twelve.”

“You were twelve in highschool?”

He’s doing that thing you noticed the day you met, where his lips move before he’s ready to talk, his emotion clear. “You weren’t?” he asks, not quite smooth but enough to make you laugh suddenly.

“I wish! I could’ve been done with college years ago.” Your brows pinch together. “Wait, so did you go to college as a kid?”

“I mean, sort of.”

“What? No wonder you didn’t go to any parties, that must’ve been insane. When I was twelve I was still setting my Barbie’s up for dance parties. Aaron has a photo of me dressed up in mom’s old clothes.” You lean forward for a sip of your drink.

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s a photo of me just like that when I was twelve, too.”

You laugh so hard you almost choke.

A cup comes down hard somewhere behind your turned head.

“You okay?” Emily asks.

She wears a smirk you don’t understand, a joke you’ve missed. You peer past her to look to Aaron for advice and find him rather sullen, hand curled tightly around his drink. You try to give him a signal to ask if he’s alright, but it’s to no avail.

“I’m fine, sorry, just a joke.” You turn back to Spencer. “That’s adorable.”

You’re breathless talking to him. He must notice, but Spencer doesn’t say a word.

If someone asked you why he caught your attention, you’re not sure you know the answer. He’s pretty, undeniably, and it’s fascinating that you used his theory while you were in school, but fascination isn’t endless. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you. No ones ever given such a clear sense of awe; he gets stuck on you, his eyes tracing your cheek and your nose and your lips. It’s noticeable, but it isn’t unwanted. You keep coming back to his smile as he talks, the flash of his teeth.

“I honestly didn’t know Hotch had a sister,” Spencer says.

“He was keeping us apart for a reason,” you say insistently, “I just don’t know what that reason is yet. He must’ve known you were the Dr. Reid I’d been reading.”

“It makes it sound like you’re reading me,” Spencer laughs. “Like, my hands.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Do I want you to what?”

“To read your palm?”

“You know how?”

“No parties, remember?”

Spencer gives you his hand. He has nice hands, big but slim-fingered like a pianist’s, though if he plays isn’t something you know. You angle it flat careful, your thumbs to either side of his open palm. “What do you want to know?” you ask.

“What can you tell me?”

You hum gently. “You have your life line, your head line, your heart line– your love line.”

“What does that– that mean for me?”

You press your thumb to his mount Jupiter, a soft hill of his hand under one of his fingers where the heart line begins. “Your desire for love, and your capacity for it. See how deeply curved it is?” you ask, drawing along his heart line gently. “It means you’re warm, and loving. That you could have a great love.”

You look up, his hand held gently between yours. “But I could be really wrong. I haven’t done this in so long, I might just be making stuff up.”

You sound insecure to your own ears, cringing away from his hand, but Spencer ducks his head just a little to keep your gaze, and he smiles at you softly. “It’s okay. I like your reading, even if it’s wrong. Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Aaron would buy me any book I asked for growing up, he…”

Your brother, sitting only a few seats away, can’t find it in himself to regret that particular generosity even if the sight of you holding Spencer’s hand isn’t one he wants to see. It’s odd. You’re fully grown up, and it’s not like Aaron thinks Spencer would ever hurt you purposefully, but it’s hard to see anyways. He can admit to feeling like a father watching his daughter finding a first love; he can’t keep you forever and he doesn’t want to, but it’s still hard to watch as you descend into giggles that border on dizziness.

“This is a good thing,” Rossi says. “You’ll never have to worry about her being out past curfew.”

Aaron laughs, it’s funny, and then he knocks back his drink.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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ma1dita · 3 months

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buddy system

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.2k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he comes with you to rescue your twin brothers, Pollux and Castor. A weekend 'quest' teaches you a lot about Luke, and about yourself too. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: um i cant apologize for this word count and ive been looking at this for too long so fuck. Anyways do yall think Luke felt bad when he found out Castor died in battle because of his army in this universe? just me?? okay :) also trouble gets a cool magic item that makes an appearance here, kinda works like polyjuice but with smoke

(posted 2/7/24 betad by lovely ellie @lixzey might edit again when i get some sleep)

—

“No. You might be my father, but you’re crazy, man!”

You’re standing in D’s office at the Big House, and what was supposed to be a short talk before the counselors’ meeting has turned into a full-blown argument. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the words leaving your godrent’s mouth.

You’re going to pick up your little brothers.

“Those two statements are both true, kid. You’re old enough to understand that!”

They need your help.

“You’re really letting your 16-year-old daughter drive down to Florida by herself to pick up some kids she’s never met? Won’t even send me with any quest companions, or like, Grover?” you say exasperatedly, before slumping down into a seat.

“Think of it as family bonding! They’re great from what I remember. You all need to get along anyway.”

Whether it was jealousy or the sudden urge to be petty, you impulsively grab your dad’s Diet Coke and chug it, crushing the can with your fist as a tiny act of rebellion.

Another one appears on the desk and you chuck it over your shoulder. Mr. D sighs as he conjures another one, to which you do the same thing.

“I can do this all day, kid.”

“So can I, and you know if I do, we’ll be sitting here until I’m 40,” you say expectantly, tapping your fingers on the hardwood surface of his desk.

“What do you want?”

The keys to his car are a start, as well as extra pocket money—but there was something, or rather, someone missing to make sure this weekend goes as smoothly as possible.

Your smirk widens at your father, and he wonders when you’ve gotten good at playing his own game.

It’s like looking into a mirror but his worst nightmare manifested as a teenage girl.

—

There are only two things Luke can think about when he hears the sound of your laughter.

The first is that, unlike your angelic singing that could rival the Muses, your laughter takes after the sound of a maniac, an incredulous crescendo that only something curated by Hades in the deepest pits of Tartarus could produce. It was almost madness-inducing, and it went off in his brain like you were a siren (although he means the kind used for weather advisory, he too gets lured in by your laughter each time he hears it like he’s lost at sea).

Second, as he watches you storm down the lawn of the Big House, your anger brewing something comparable to a Category 5, he raises an eyebrow and thinks, well this ought to be good. Or entertaining at the very least.

“You,” you growl at him, guttural and sharp like the finger you jab into his chest, “we’re going on a quest!”

“Me?” Luke blurts, eyebrows furrowing at you.

A loud groan echoes through the grassy space between the house and the counselors as everyone looks up to see Mr. D dragging his hands down his face at the sheer thought of his daughter causing him more gray hairs.

“That’s not what we agreed on, kid!” “If you want any of your children to come back to this hellhole in one piece I need backup!” “There’s more of you?”

Both you and your dad glare at Luke now, like he’s interrupting a private conversation.

“Since when do you like asking for help, princess?”

Mr. D’s arms are crossed over his chest as he speaks to you. Though your height severely differs due to the wooden steps of the Big House, the air is palpable with fear only an Olympian could invoke, reminding the counselors that the man wearing the ugliest Hawaiian shirt known to humankind, is in fact inhuman. You, however, are standing tall in the freshly-cut grass in your combat boots with wrath that could rival Ares’ as you stare your father down like the rest of them wouldn’t get struck into the next lifetime due to your impertinence, as Annabeth loves to call it. She looks up at Luke, with her eyes conveying that she thinks you must be clinically insane, but he knows that already so he shrugs.

“I’m not asking for it, I’m demanding it. Besides, he’s like my ESA,” you say, then taking Luke by surprise as you grab him by the wrist and drag him off the front lawn. You think you can hear Beckendorf and Clarisse bite back chuckles.

“Someone tell Rodriguez he’s in charge of 11!” you yell into the air, and words of affirmation and good luck are muttered in response.

“Don’t I get a say in this, trouble?” Luke says playfully, tugging at your arm lightly but unresisting as you sigh and pull him along. Who in their right mind says no to a long weekend away from this place? Monsters and demigods be damned.

“No. Besides, they’re gonna need more luck than we do.”

“Liam, I don’t know why she trusts you, but if my daughter dies, I’ll make sure you’re next!” Mr. D yells out to your retreating figures, and all of the counselors turn to face him realizing that without you, well… that means he actually has to be in charge.

“So what’s the meeting supposed to be about, Annabelle?” Mr. D says, looking at Annabeth only knowing that she’s supposed to be the smart one—and the small girl sighs.

This is gonna be the longest weekend yet.

—

You’re speeding down I-95 with the windows down and the wind brushing through both of your hair. While Luke watches you from the passenger seat with the road signs blurring past his periphery, he also notices that it’s the first time in a while that he’s seen you this carefree. With both of you taking up counselor positions a few months ago, and your dad appointing you to be in charge of all of them (because why have a counselor for a population of one), there’s a lot about you that’s grown up in the two years you two have known each other. But what type of demigod gets to enjoy their childhood anyway, right? Luke can only remember bits and pieces of his.

“How do you even know where we’re going? I can barely read the signs,” he asks.

“Cool blessing from my stepmom. Ariadne’s chill. We talk sometimes and she likes that I keep D in check, so now I can never get lost,” you grin toothily, violet eyes flickering to meet his.

“Was it true what your dad said? That you trust me?”

His voice is a bit louder than it should be over the wind tunnel that blocks out the sound of the radio as the air whips in and out of the car.

“Well, I wouldn't say trust,” you drag out, leaning back against your seat with your eyes still on the road, “More like if I got abducted by a harpy, I think you could cut its wings off and give me a fighting chance at living.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite Mason to come,” he mumbles, and you smirk.

“Who?”

His hands are clenched in his lap as a blush brushes his cheeks, windswept in the rays of the late summer sun.

“Your boyfriend. Wouldn’t he be a better companion?”

Something about the older son of Apollo always ground his gears. It was even worse that you both would sing Broadway musicals together during his sparring sessions. Your harmonious voices echoing from the amphitheater aside, the repetitive grating feeling in his stomach reminds him not to go see Hamilton if he ever makes it out to the city.

“He’s not…” you huff, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you think hard on what to say next, “He’s nothing serious.” You pull the sun visor down as you squint, tilting your head in case he says something else, but you hear nothing. Luke’s staring at your side profile, unable to hide his grin at the new information, biting his cheek.

“Besides, he’s a fucking terrible shot. And you’re supposed to be the best, so I’ve heard. Who else would I want on this trip with me?”

He chuckles at this lightly, your words bolstering his ego.

“So you’ve heard.”

And for a second, the sight of his smile distracts you enough that the car swerves a tiny bit closer to the median. You both ignore it and keep driving.

—-

Hypnos increases his hold on your senses as you finally take a break somewhere in North Carolina, taking refuge in a dimly lit corner of a gas station parking lot. The old car reeks of greasy fast food and all the sugar Luke could get his hands on at rest stops (it was really cute to see him indulge in more normal things like sweets instead of swordsmanship), and both of your seats are leaned back, but it’s hard to get comfortable after having your butt in the same seat for several hours.

You readjust yourself again, making the car shake a bit as you turn over to face Luke.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles through closed eyes. His head’s banged against the window one too many times, and it was starting to get annoying.

“Sorry. Just can’t sleep. Thinking too hard.”

He sighs, reaching over to toss your pillow into the backseat, and as you sit up, he rips your blanket off of you too.

“Hey!”

You go silent when you watch him make a makeshift bed for you, turning back with tired eyes as he gestures, “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“I feel bad, Luke. You’re taller than me and your knees almost hit the dashboard.”

He rubs at his eyes, looking at you impatiently, and you know his body is calling for comfort too.

“I’ve slept in worse conditions, you gotta remember that, trouble.” The stories Annie used to tell you about the both of them sleeping on the streets pull at your heart, and as you crawl towards the back, you move before you think rationally–tugging on his arm.

“Come on over here.”

“You sure?” “Before I change my mind, yeah.”

You both move around trying to find a place both of you can be comfortable in, first starting with your heads at opposite windows, legs tangling in the middle before he laughs a little too hard at your fumbling and you launch your pillow at his face. Awkwardly, you climb over his legs into his outstretched arms, slotting yourself against his side as he pulls your hair up from getting trapped between his shoulder and your back.

It’s deadly quiet, and Luke thinks if you could move any closer to him, you might hear his heart thundering in his chest.

“You smell like french fries,” you grumble into his sweater, and his laughter shakes you like an earthquake, uprooting the faint traces of sleep in your mind.

“At least the monsters won’t find us. Gonna be harder when the twins get here. A lot of demigod smell to ward off.”

You don’t answer, and he thinks you may have fallen asleep until he notices your hand playing with the frays of his sweater.

“Trouble?”

“They’re really little,” you mumble, so low that he barely hears the hesitance in your voice.

“The monsters? Yeah, I fucking ho–” “Pollux and Castor. My…half-siblings, with really Greek names, and a mom that depends on me getting them to camp safely…” you trail off before your head jerks up to meet his eyes. It’s colder at night now, your bodies and the tiny throw blanket from your trunk providing ample heat even if his socked feet fight their way out from underneath.

“How old are they, nine?” He feels you nod against his chest before he continues, “I was nine when I left home.”

Your eyes get glassy at the thought of a smaller version of Luke, one who’s not all gangly legs and lean muscle—one much softer and innocent than the boy you lean your weight upon, running away from home to find a place he can belong.

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, the arm propped against the headrest wrapping around you and resting on your hip, tapping you to continue your previous thought.

“I don’t know how to do this, I guess. I’m ripping them from their home and I—” “You’re not some kind of monster y’know? You put yourself down too much sometimes,” he sighs, and he watches the windows slowly start to fog up, “What don’t you know how to do?”

Ignoring his question, you change the subject hoping to talk about something lighter, and far less revealing to the thoughts inside your head.

“Do you remember all of that? Going to school and chalking up the sidewalks on the way home, hopscotch and ice cream trucks… I don’t want to take them away from that.”

Luke ponders, digging through his brain for anything happy from his childhood, but through the years his memories started to collect dust in the back of his mind.

“I don’t remember much.”

“Gods, I’m sorry…”

Mason had told you of your habit of putting your foot in your mouth. You dealt in extremes, giving too much or too little, always saying the wrong thing—and it was the reason why things didn’t go further with the son of Apollo. As well as with the daughter of Aphrodite you saw briefly that told you you didn’t know how to love, not if you didn’t know how to share yourself with others (yeah that one hurt a lot).

Sharing.

That’s what you’re hesitant about.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago now,” Luke mumbles, a beat of silence passing before he redirects the conversation like you did, “What don’t you know how to do, trouble?”

“How to share. Be a sibling. Someone likeable.”

Luke doesn’t mean to laugh at your expense, but he does, and you punch his stomach hard enough he gasps for air.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Everyone likes you.”

“Everyone’s usually scared of me because of D, or hates me because I take dessert privileges and write them up,” you say matter-of-factly, staring out the window above his head at the gentle shine of the moon on his features. It’s a crime for him to look so soft under the low light, and you realize you’re staring when he calls your name.

“No, you don’t get it—you’re the most selfless person I know. You give up sleep to sing to kids before bed, conjure juice boxes so they don’t pass out during training—I’ve seen you carry a kid almost as tall as you across camp because they broke their ankle. You’ve got a lot of love in that twisted heart of yours. I’d know… I mean—I have to share a lot… I’m basically an expert.”

You blink at him as if seeing him in a new light, and you realize then why you picked him to go on this weekend quest with you. Your heartbeat slows despite the show of vulnerability in front of him, and you understand now that Luke makes you feel safe. Biting your lip to hold back a sigh, you decide to just unload the rest of your thoughts, knowing that you’re in the hands of someone who wants to hold the weight. “I’m just used to being alone, I think. I mean who knows what we're like when we're alone but us, right? What a terrifying thought,” you deflect, and Luke closely watches the slope of your nose, down to the smoothness of your lips, unable to put the right words to how he’s feeling.

I know you, he thinks, and it's not as all bad as you make it seem.

“We’re never truly alone, y’know. Besides, even if you are, you still have me,” he says nonchalantly, and the warmth on your cheeks could generate enough heat to run the car for miles. Chuckling lightly as your eyes flutter closed, you know you need to rest before morning comes since you’re the only one between the two of you that can drive. You reckon you’ll teach Luke by the end of the year if he wants to.

“We’re getting pretty terrible at this enemies thing, Castellan,” you jest with nothing hard to back it, and a smile falls onto both of your lips.

“We were never really enemies, trouble. I just like getting on your nerves.”

Your laughs fall silent, settling into a comfortable silence, until his next words send you off into slumber as you listen.

“I remember my mom singing in the kitchen as she put peanut butter on my sandwiches. She'd act like she left the dishes out for me to wash, but let me lick the knife clean every time and I’d put too much soap and the sink would be filled with bubbles. I don't remember much else but that. Her kitchen. She smelled like…chamomile.”

A wandering hand pulls his free one into yours, holding it until sunrise.

—-

You push Pollux and Castor out the door before the sun rises after a short stay at their mother’s house, and as the engine heats up, you and Luke watch them say goodbye to her with the both of you thinking of last words with your own. The both of you ward off the hellhounds biting off at your heels for a few hours like how you deceived the police the day previous, a purple Zippo lighter in hand whose smoke grants temporary illusions wafting through the car, and it smells like grapes (thanks D!). The kids sleep most of the way, none the wiser and heavy with sleep and their emotions of leaving everything they’ve ever known. Your eyes flicker to their sleeping heads in the rearview mirror, ready to take them home.

Hours later, Luke decides to make you stop at a diner to get you a bit of rest, get actual food, and let the twins pee, and your head is bobbing slightly in front of your plate of food once he brings them back from the bathroom.

“You wash your hands?” you say tiredly, both Pollux and Castor shaking wet hands in your face in response, making you giggle before sipping at your coffee. Luke cut you off from Redbull yesterday, saying he was scared for your liver and saying you needed to drink something else for a bit. He bristles at the sight of you drinking more caffeine, and you smile as the mug touches your lips.

“You’re gonna kill yourself one day. At least your dad drinks Diet Coke.”

“Not by choice, though what a way to go!” you joke, and the twins giggle as the both of them gulp down root beer like it’s essential to their being. Luke sighs at the idea of you having two minions under your belt, who you’ll most definitely train to raise hell on Camp Half-Blood now that you’ve taken more of the administrative side of things.

“Is he your boyfriend, sissy?” Pollux, or maybe it’s Castor pipes up, swinging his legs under the table and you smile at the sound of the nickname, noticing the dimple in his cheek. Luke chokes on his burger, coughing until you elbow him.

“He’s more of my ESA,” you remark, and he still doesn’t know what that is, so he raises an eyebrow like your brothers do as they peer up at you from across the table.

“What’s an ESA?” Castor, you realize, who has no dimples, spits out behind munches of a pickle.

“Luke’s my emotional support animal.”

He eats the rest of your fries despite your confidence in that response, grumbling exactly how a resistant dog would.

As you’re paying the bill, a large shadow looms over the sunny disposition of everyone at your table—and then Luke shouts for everyone to cover their eyes. Glass shatters over you, revealing a hellhound the size of a minivan, and it pounces toward the twins, large teeth bared at their throats. Before Luke can pull his sword out, you whistle sharply and the sound whizzes through the air like a bullet as you toss the Zippo lighter at him as he’s pushing the kids to the car. Though he’s reluctant to lose sight of you, he wards them with an illusion, locking the doors despite their cries and he runs headfirst back into battle, you with your thyrsus and him with his sword, back to back.

“They okay?” you heave, jabbing at the red-eyed canine between the eyes as Luke pulls around to slash it across the neck, coming out of the tussle unscathed as you both watch it keel over at your feet into golden dust minutes later.

“Yeah. Are you?”

Though you originally found it funny, Luke does perform his job well, getting you to calm down as he holds you to his chest until you can breathe normally again.

“Mhm. Just scared me.”

The two of you run out of the destroyed diner and into the warded-off car before the police show up hand in hand as you escape without detection. As he falls asleep, Castor dreams that you two are Bonnie and Clyde like in an old Western movie he was definitely not old enough to watch.

—-

You’re finally back on the Island now, only an hour away from Montauk and Luke is getting restless in the passenger seat. He pulls apples out of his backpack, wiping them off with his shirt as you sing along to a Taylor Swift song playing on the radio.

And maybe someday when we’re older, this is something we’ll laugh about…. Foolish one… you hum, tapping the wheel to fight off your exhaustion.

Pollux and Castor are using their fingers to pretend to hop over obstacles in the smudged windows, babbling about something they did in class last week. The son of Hermes pulls out a pocketknife he nicked from a gas station this morning as he starts to cut the apples into pieces, putting some into a ziploc bag for the boys to share, and you smile at him, wistful at your trip nearing its finish line. If you weren’t enemies before this like he said, it’s crazy to consider him your closest friend. But he is, isn’t he?

His knuckles nudge yours over the console, pressing an apple slice into your palm.

“You know, Castellan, you’re sweet when you want to be. Shame you and that sister of Annie’s didn’t work out.”

Luke scoffs at the reminder of his ex, slicing another piece off for you to eat. She did say he had wandering eyes…always looking for you. He’s not going to admit that though.

“I just know you like your apples cut. Saw you battling it out with a butter knife last week. Couldn’t help but notice,” he says lowly like it’s normal for people to be that considerate about others, normal for him to care about you like that, a constant push and pull between you two.

“Hurts my teeth,” you mutter, and Luke chortles like you’ve told him something life-changing. Your hand bumps into his again, feeling nothing but his calloused fingers, and when you look up his cheek protrudes with the last slice.

“Tax,” he winks, and you’re delirious with this feeling that only he can bring you, almost comparable to being high.

The popstar’s voice continues to trill in the background, with my head in my hands, saying “How could I not see the signs?”

You both don’t realize you’ve stopped singing until Pollux pipes up asking for you to play Fireball by Mr. 305 himself.

—-

The car finally pulls into the driveway of the forest path and you’re all greeted by the campers holding blazing lanterns. Chiron, your father, and the nymphs are waving as the twins marvel at the fairy lights strung up along the way for a warm welcome.

“You’re alive,” your dad remarks, and this time he doesn’t say it in jest, sounding more relieved.

“I was in good hands,” you affirm, looking up at Luke amongst the noise of your cheering friends and the feeling that comes with calling this place home.

The boys are tucked in at your side, shyly looking at the crowd, Pollux holding your hand while Castor holds onto Luke’s, and Chiron calls your attention.

“I know you didn’t get your official announcement,” he starts, and you laugh at that, remembering the bubbles in the lake.

“Because I pulled a fast one on D.”

“Nonetheless, I would love for you to get recognized for your efforts. Dionysus. Storyteller, Herald of Chaos,” he continues by announcing your name, and then,” Pollux, and Castor– children of the grapevine, the God of Wine!”

The campers are kneeling and you look at Luke, who’s smiling from the ground beside you.

“Take a picture, trouble, it’ll last longer.”

“My children are home safe. And thank you, Castellan, for being a formidable companion. My deepest appreciation.” Mr. D sounds serious for once, pulling Luke up as he nods in respect.

It’s a crazy feeling to finally feel at home though you’ve been here for two years now. But you remind yourself quickly of why that is when you see Luke carrying Pollux on his shoulders as Castor latches onto his legs.

“You know, your family is a nightmare. You two hellions will fit right in,” he grins.

You can’t help but agree.

—

“I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you bathing in my eyes. I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you in my written words. The perfume of love cannot be concealed.” -Nizar Qabbani

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#luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader fanfic #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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websterss · 1 year

Text

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝟏/𝟐 — 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: I have a really good fic idea! would u mind taking mine? If you have watched the Netflix series “you” then this request might seem familiar. Basically Ethan is about to stab Y/n but she quickly says she is pregnant then you can do whatever you want to.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): angst, mentions of dying, mentions of pregnancy,

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,655

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Ethan Landry x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it love! I never fully watched the whole series, but I’ve definitely have seen that particular scene. I love Victoria Pedretti with my whole heart! lol

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐: (𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆) 𝐨𝐫 (𝐒𝐀𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆)

Fear struck every part of your body as you ran for your life. The old shrine of Ghostface trinkets and souvenirs like knives and wardrobes mocked you as you ran by the mannequins and display cases. You wouldn’t have imagined you’d be right where you were on this unlucky day. What should have been a fresh start after being almost butchered by Amber and Sam’s boyfriend Richie, well you didn’t expect to fight for your life once again, especially while at college.

You wanted a new year, a chance to leave all that was, behind you and move forward with your head held high. You wanted to fall in love…which you had. Now even that was ruined as you ran from the one person you let in. Someone you let love and cherish you in any way possible. Let him put you back together only to break you in pieces all over again. It just didn’t seem fair.

You yell out, panicking as you felt him grab you. You squirmed and wiggled in his grasp, kicking your feet out in the air as he lifted you up slightly then slammed you harshly on the ground. You gasp for air as you grow winded from the impact your back endured. You shake your head as the man you once knew became a stranger to you in mere seconds. You were scared as he stares down at you with a crazed look.

“No!” You scream as you push against his chest. “Ethan no, please!” You rasp out. Tears blind sight you, causing your vision to be blurry.

He smirks lifting a knife above you. “Remember this?” He asks. “My dad got a hold of your file you know. I knew the second I read about you that I wanted to get to know you.” He reached down and brushed some stray hairs away from your hot and sweaty forehead. Your chest rises and falls rapidly. “You were stabbed right here…” He lifts the hem of your shirt, tapping against the scar you received. “With a blade, three times might I add. God the picture they took looked nasty, but boy am I a sucker for recreations.” He chuckles darkly. “What’s three more times huh?” He goes to move the knife closer to your side.

You start to panic again as he moves his right arm to the side, getting ready to drive it past your first layer of skin. You cry holding your hands out, hoping that would be enough to stop him from hurting you physically. You were emotionally damaged by this point. “Ethan stop! Stop, stop! Stop!”

“This is for Richie, for your bitch of friend Sam for killing him! For ruining our lives!” He exclaims harshly at you. You wince, then immediately blurt out the one thing you have been excited to tell him, yet scared to do. Now it just made this whole situation worse.

“Ethan-“ You cry out.

“I should have killed you-“

“I’m pregnant!” You yell out. Your head thumping back against the hard floor. Your hands gravitate towards your stomach holding it protectively. Your face was scrunched with how hard you cried. It hurt, everything just hurt. Ethan's hands freeze in midair. Dumbfounded by your confession. “Stop, stop, stop. I-I’m pregnant!”

“You’re fucking lying!” He accuses you.

“I-I’m not…I’m not I promise!” You shake your head. “Please! Please I’m pregnant!” One hand remains on your stomach while your left hand tiredly falls limp to your side. You relax back onto the floor, waiting for the inevitable to come. Waiting to meet your end at the hands of the man you grew to love with your whole heart.

“Look at me,” Ethan instructs you to do. Your eyes open up slowly. The life drained from them as you stare up at him. The fight in you was gone. You didn’t wanna keep doing this anymore. “No, I–“ He shakes his head. He can’t wrap his head around it. His brows burrow in confusion. “Y-You’re lying!” He tears up.

“I promise you…” Another tear slips down your cheek. “I promise. I wanted to tell you…but everything turned to shit. I didn’t think you’d be one of them…” You sniffle. “It was a little over two weeks before we attended the Halloween party. You took us to your dorm.” You watch his face relax as he remembers. “I-I didn’t get my period at the time of the party when I should have…so I took a test. Three actually. All positive….” You begin to whimper as you look at the knife he’s lost his grip on. “You can go ahead and kill me if that’s what you want, I won’t be mad at you.” You offer a sad smile. “But I would’ve really liked the idea of us raising a kid together. I wanted a future you with you. I still do surprisingly.” You nod sure of yourself. “I-I won’t be mad. I’m at peace with my thoughts of you Ethan.” Ethan watched as your right hand slid down to your side this time. “M-My life rests in your hands now…”

The faint scream of the rest of the party echoed throughout the theater. He lifts his head looks around then drags you up into a sitting position with him.

“I’m gonna hide you.” He says more to himself than you as he helps you to your feet. It doesn’t take him long until he’s dragging you past the display cases. Pushing past the large screen protector sheet. You stumble over your feet trying to keep up with his pace.

“Ethan, what are you doing?” You ask him. Your head falls past your shoulder to glance behind you. You look forward again and collide into his back, you huff then feel yourself being dragged into a dark supply closet.

“Hiding you!” Ethan shuts the door behind you. The two of you are enveloped by darkness. The only light coming from the bottom of the door. Your breath hitches as a shadow moves past the door. You remain still as Ethan slowly reaches out for you. You still have your fingers looking around his own as you shift closer to each other.

You swallow your salvia down nervously as his hands shift up your arms to hold the sides of your face. Your breath shudders feeling him caress your skin slowly with his thumbs. You close your eyes as you lean into his touch. You open them back up, seeing a very faint outline of his face but the room was too dark, and turning on the light would be too risky. You had to rely on your sense of touch for now.

“Stay…” You quietly plead. “Just stay. Don’t go back out there.” You slide your hands up his arms now.

“I can’t…My dad, Quinn, they’ll know somethings up.” Ethan shakes his head even though you can’t see him do so. He leans forward and presses his head against yours. “I need you to stay in here okay? Don’t come out no matter what.”

“No–“ You begin to reject the idea.

“You need to stay.”

“No, you need to stay. Just stay.” You do your best to muffle your cries. “I have this feeling. I just feel it, okay! Once you step out the door, you won’t come back. I need you! Don’t leave me!” You breathe out harshly. “Please…” You whimper as he presses his lips to yours. You instantly move yours against his. Wanting to savor the touch of him, the feel of his skin against your fingertips, the way his hands held you with such care. You wanted it all to last, but when did anything good in your life ever truly last? The harsh reality was that it didn’t. Everything was always too good to be true. “Ethan no…” You pull away, crying out quietly. You wrap your hands around his neck, bringing his head down to touch yours.

“I’ll be back.”

“No, you won’t.” You try to control your heavy breathing.

“I will. You wanna know how I know I will.” You nod an answer. “Cause you given me something to want to stay alive for.” You feel his hands slide over your stomach. “I’m gonna be right back.” He whispers sweetly to you.

“They’re gonna kill you.” You voice your thoughts.

“Not unless I help Sam kill my dad.”

“She’ll still kill you. You stabbed Chad.” You remind him.

“Not anywhere serious. I didn’t hit any arteries or veins. He’s gonna be fine.” He brushed the thought off.

“You– You knew where to stab him?” Your voice goes quiet but sounds incredulous.

“I knew how to make you unconscious at the apartment…S’not important.” He winces, regretting opening his mouth.

“What the fuck Ethan!” You slap him over his shoulder. Your heart weighed down heavily. “God Anika…She didn’t deserve-“ You choke up, cutting yourself off. “What the fuck Ethan.”

“Nothing will fix what I’ve done okay? But I can make things right by saving them. It’s the least I can do now.” He sighs. “Just stay here. Do not come out!” He says firmly.

“If you don’t come back I’m gonna kill you…” Your empty threat makes him chuckle solemnly.

“See you in a bit okay.”

“Ethan.” Your voice trembles.

“I’ll be back. Promise.” He leans in after feeling for your cheek again with his hands and leaves a kiss on your skin sweetly. He slowly opens the door. The faint light entered through, casting a yellow highlight on his face. You catch his warm eyes for a second. He drinks in all the little details and characteristics that make you who you are. That makes him love you wholeheartedly. “I love you.” He offers a sad smile then slips past the open gap. The soft click of the door closing behind him felt like a gunshot to the chest. You just knew. You knew…he wouldn’t be coming back.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry x fem!reader #scream x reader #scream vi #my gif #writings by juls

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kiss-theggoat · 5 months

Note

I’m back again! I’m a sucker for Thomas Hewitt okay, and there isn’t enough about him! I was wondering if you could do another fic about him, a childhood friend of Thomas’s who moved away comes back in town. She ends up staying with them while she is in town, unknowingly having interrupted their killing plans, leaving a victim down in the basement and unknown from reader. But when the family isn’t home (who knows why) victim escapes and attacks reader. Reader attacks back but ends up killing the victim on accident. In fear she hides the body but the guilt kills her and she ends up telling Thomas. (I know out of character stuff)

A/N: Thank you for the request, I really love writing for Thomas and hope you like! 🖤

Surprise!

Thomas Hewitt x F!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Summary: After years of being away from home, you finally decide to visit your hometown…only to see it’s been shut down. Only one family still lives there, and thankfully, you know them, and they offer to let you stay there! But…after a few days, you start to sense that something isn’t right.

TW: Canon-Typical Violence

The drive to Texas was long, but as you watched the dust and sagebrush go by, your chest swelled with excitement. You hadn’t been back in your hometown since your parents made you leave when you were younger, and now that you finally had your own car and your own money, the first thing on your list was to visit that sleepy little Texas town you’d missed since you left. The only issue was that as you kept driving…you noticed that all of the street signs leading to town were decrepit. You thought…well, you’d been gone a long time…just normal wear and tear under the Texas sun, right?

Wrong.

As you drove into town…you felt your chest tighten at the state of things. Almost every single building was boarded up, windows shattered and spray painted, signs on the ground and covered in dust. There was no way that anyone lived here, hell, the only stoplight in town didn’t even work…

Your car sputtered to a stop in front of what used to be your favorite little convenience store. Where you used to go inside and beg your mom to buy you all of the candy she said was off limits. The same store you got caught stealing a candy bar with your best friend and thought you both might get arrested by the sheriff. You slammed your car door shut, dust clouding around you in a plume of sadness in nostalgia. It was so quiet…not even a cricket…until you heard a siren.

How can an abandoned town have law enforcement? You raised a hand to block the relentless sunlight, turning to the source of the sound, where an old cop car rolled up beside you. The tint on the windows was definitely illegal, but thankfully, the sheriff slowly rolled it down, revealing his scowling face, eyes blocked by sunglasses.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ in town?” He asked, lip stuffed with chew. His voice was gruff, but sounded so oddly familiar to you. You leaned in closer, eyes squinting in order to get a better look at him. You peered at the name badge…Hoyt. That didn’t sound familiar at all…but then he said your name. You continued to look at him in confusion as he pulled his sunglasses off, his eyes full of recognition. This man obviously knew you…but who was he?

He stepped out of the car and shut the door, leaning against it as he spit a puddle of black sludge onto the ground. “Well I’ll be damned. Thought I’d never see your pretty face again.”

“I’m sorry…it’s been a long time since I’ve been here and…the name Hoyt doesn’t ring any bells.” I told him, pointing at the nameplate on his chest.

“Oh this is a buddy’s uniform. Lost my own badge. The name Hewitt ring any bells? Charlie Hewitt.” He spit again, closer to your shoe this time, making you cringe and step away just a little. At first, you didn’t remember the name Hewitt either…until you remembered Thomas. The one boy in your class that never came to school, was always bullied or called names because of his face. Your eyes lit up as you made eye contact with him, a smile spreading onto your lips.

“Hewitt! Yes! I remember Thomas.” You said happily. If the Hewitt family was still here, then the town couldn’t be completely shut down, right?

This seemed to annoy Charlie in a way, his lip curling up into a sneer at the sound of Thomas’ name. “Course you remember that big oaf. Hard to miss ‘im.” He spat the rest of his chew onto the ground, wiping his lip with the back of his hand, “Where you plannin’ on stayin’?”

This made you sigh. You were hoping the little motel would still be open, but you’d just driven past it, and from the looks of it, its only residents were probably rats and roaches. “Well, actually…I probably have to drive back to Austin tonight. I didn’t know the town had…” you stopped talking, eyes landing on Charlie’s wrinkled face, not wanting to say anything rude about the hometown you shared.

“Gone under?” He broke out into a wheezy laugh, making it very clear to you that he’d probably been smoking like a chimney since you left. “Yeah. Not a lotta folks left. But Austin’s a long way and it’s gettin’ dark…not safe for a pretty little thing like you to be alone.” The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine. You knew him…but he seemed …different. His eyes had a sinister glow to them, the way he stared down at your chest made you want to hop in your car and never come back. “Why don’t you come stay at the house? M’sure Luda Mae would love havin’ another girl around.” He took a step closer to you, eyes still focused where they shouldn’t be.

You spoke quickly, definitely quick enough to make your uneasiness known. “No, that’s okay…I really don’t mind driving back into the city.”

This seemed to amuse Charlie. “Oh, we insist. Tommy will be there…don’t think he’s seen someone like you in his whole life.”

For some reason, the mention of Thomas made you actually want to go. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your memories of Thomas, while very little, were only fond. He was a big kid for his age, and very misunderstood, but always very kind and quiet. And…he did say there would be another girl there, right? So you wouldn’t just be alone with this creep. Maybe going to visit the Hewitt’s would be a nice walk down memory lane.

“Okay…sure. It is getting pretty late, I guess.” You agreed, making him smile and show off his stained yellow teeth.

“Perfect. Just drive behind me.” He told you, opening the door to his cop car.

The drive to the Hewitt’s home was longer than you’d thought, and their house was huge. As you parked behind Charlie, you stared up at the house in awe, seeing every single window illuminated. You supposed that with the entire town pretty much out of commission, they owned whatever property they wanted. Your shoes crunched against the gravel as Charlie led you inside, and the moment he opened the door, a feeling of discomfort settled deep in your stomach.

The house was cozy, but eclectic. Too eclectic, like every item inside belonged to a different owner at some point in time. It smelled like a mixture of expired perfume and rotting meat, a sickeningly sweet film settling on your sweaty skin, making it hard to breath inside the home. You stuck a smile on your face anyways, not wanting to seem rude as you were led into the dining room. It seemed as though you were interrupting dinner, everyone already seated in front of their bowls, full of some sort of stew. Your presence immediately turned heads, all six eyes fixed on you and Charlie standing in the doorway.

“Well I don’t believe it…” The lady whispered, who you immediately recognized to be Luda Mae. God, she’d gotten old. You remember her being old when you were in elementary school, and part of you wondered how she was still alive. Across from her sat an elderly man, who somehow looked twenty years older than her. He was sitting there, eyes on you but unfocused, like he was staring at the air between you and the table. Last to meet your gaze was Thomas.

Your heart sank when you saw him, or what was exposed. The leather mask covering his face upset you beyond reason. You knew that Tommy had been bullied for his looks when you guys were little, but never thought he’d make a custom mask to wear, even around his family, and at dinner for god's sake. That’s when it occurred to you, he wasn’t even eating.

“Found ‘er down by the old gas station lookin’ for a place to stay. Ain't she pretty?” Charlie asked, his voice low and predatory as walked towards his seat at the head of the table. The way he spoke about you, like you were just a piece of meat, made your skin crawl.

You gave everyone a polite smile and a little wave before speaking. “Well, I expected the motel to still be open…really, I can find somewhere else to stay, I hate to impose if-“

“Oh don’t be silly!” Luda interrupted. “We’d love to have you. You’ve just gotten so pretty…hasn’t she Tommy?” Your eyes shot to a very flustered looking Thomas, his eyes fixed on his steaming bowl of stew, still untouched.

“Please dear, have a seat, you’re just in time for dinner.”

To be completely honest…you didn’t want to eat their dinner. Something about the house and their demeanor made you want to leave, but if there was one thing you learned about growing up in Texas, it was to accept the hospitality.

“Thank you, Luda Mae.” You said softly, accepting the seat beside Thomas. Charlie scooped a full ladle of soup into a bowl and set it in front of you. With clammy hands you grabbed the spoon, noticing that none of their silverware matched. The spoon you had was delicate, handle slim with swirled details adorning the shiny silver.

All of the Hewitt’s stared at you with prying eyes as you scooped yourself a bite. It contained a chunk of meat, a carrot, and an onion, along with the broth they soaked in.

The moment that stew touched your tongue, you knew something was wrong. The meat tasted off, way too gamey. You’d had your fair share of meats, different kinds of game and homemade foods made with hunting prizes but this…unlike anything you’d ever tasted. It was tender, and didn’t taste bad, but the unfamiliar taste tainted the whole soup, causing alarm bells to go off in your head.

You were soon distracted by the sounds of the family scarfing down their own dinner, spoons hitting porcelain and lips smacking. In no time, your bowl was empty, and so was everyone else’s…except for Thomas’. But, this seemed normal among dinner time as Luda Mae cleared the dishes without a word.

“Tommy. Show our guest to ‘er room for the night, would ya?”

The wooden chair screeched against the floor when Thomas stood. He just seemed to keep going…he towered over you. You craned your neck to stare at him, mouth open and eyes widening. You stood from your own chair, noticing how much larger he was than you. You stood at his chest, and he easily doubled you in width.

Without a word he started walking past you, and you figured he meant for you to follow, so you did. The more you explored the house, the less cozy it got, and by the time you made it to the guest room, it was plain and simple, just a bed with white sheets in the middle of an empty room. Thomas stood at the door, taking up the entire entrance.

“Thank you, Thomas.” You said quietly, giving him a small smile that made him turn away from you. “It’s really nice to see you.”

The longer you stared, the more you realized that he was still the same old Tommy. A gentle giant with pretty brown eyes that sucked you in until you didn’t want to look away.

Just as you were getting lost in your thoughts, Charlie shoved Thomas aside, holding your bag that you’d left in your car.

“‘Ere you go, gorgeous.”

“Thanks, Charlie…” you said softly, grabbing the bag. That was nice of him, but you don’t remember giving him your car keys…

“My rooms just downstairs if you need anythin’.” Charlie sent you an uncomfortable wink, reminding you to lock your door tonight, and walked away. Thomas stood with his head down, still in the doorway.

“Uhm…goodnight, Thomas.” You said softly, a smile gracing your face again. This time, he looked at you. And you could’ve sworn that before you closed the door, his eyes crinkled, like he might’ve smiled too. You closer the door, and grumbled at the lack of a lock, finally getting ready for bed.

A shriek yanked you from your peaceful slumber, making you sit up straight in bed. Your heart was pounding, and you reached over to turn on the small bedside lamp. You were hoping it was just a nightmare, something you could just ignore and go back to the weirdly comfy mattress but the longer you sat there, the more you heard. Footsteps, whispering…but they sounded so frantic. Not like someone getting up for a glass of water or a midnight snack.

Slowly and hesitantly, you walked towards the door and pulled it open, bare feet finding every single splinter in the floor until you were finally in the hallway, staring down the stairs in the dark with wide, fearful eyes. Everything seemed fine…until a woman stumbled into your field of vision. She was bloody, open wounds on her back in an odd spot…did she just break into the house? She was near the front door and none of the Hewitt’s were with her. You stared at her, panicking, especially when you made eye contact.

Your blood went cold and you quickly backed up, barely hanging onto the banister.

“You have to help me, please! You have no idea what is going on here, we have to get out, you have to help me!” The girl started to ramble, but her voice was a whisper-like scream. Her bloodied hands hit the stairs and she began to crawl towards you.

You stared blankly, overcome by the fear and shock of seeing her inside the home…before you knew it, she made it to you. She gripped your ankle with a sticky hand, pulling you closer to the stairs. “Please!” She hissed, her eyes wide and crazed.

Instinctively, you tried to kick her hand away from you, pulling away. You felt your breathing speed up, panic overwhelming you. “Get off me!”

Her eyes flashed with realization, and she immediately recoiled. “You…you’re one of them…oh my god!” She wailed, voice full of dread and tears flowing down her cheeks. One of them? What did that even mean? This sorrow and dread only lasted a few seconds…before she turned to rage. Her face scrunched and it was like she’d been struck by lightning, body invigorated and suddenly strong enough to function. She stood and lunged at you, hands on your shoulders.

Your breath left your lungs as she slammed you against the wall, the back of your head aching in a way it never had before. In an attempt to get her off of you, you pushed her as hard as you could, feeling the slick blood on her shoulder and her neck where your hands hit her. Your eyes were closed tightly as you shoved, but it didn’t take vision to know what happened to her. Her body stumbled down the stairs, thumping all the way down, groans and grunts escaping her as she trailed blood all the way down.

You covered your mouth with your trembling hands…you’d just killed someone…you felt nauseous, you could feel your stomach turning as you stared at her body at the bottom of the stairs, laying limp. You prayed and prayed that she’d move, but she never did. A door slammed open from somewhere downstairs and that’s when you realized…

You’d just killed someone inside of someone else’s home. Tears rolled down your face and you slid down the wall to the ground, knees shaking and unable to support your weight anymore. Heavy footsteps approached the dead body at the bottom of the stairs…and Thomas came into your field of view. He stared nonchalantly at the woman, but turned to face you when he heard your sob.

“Thomas I’m so sorry I don’t know what happened…” you whispered, face bright red from crying and entire body shaking. Thomas stood still for a moment, but when he started moving, nothing could’ve stopped him. He knelt on the stairs in front of you, huge hand taking yours.

The warmth radiated through your fingers and up into your arms, making them feel less shaky and cold and traumatized. You stared up at Thomas, bleary eyes filled with tears, realizing that he wasn’t mad…or scared…he wanted to help you. Relief overwhelmed you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from moving closer to him, arms wrapped around his broad waist, head buried against his chest. With your panicking, you barely noticed the fact he wore a button up and a leather apron, droplets of blood smearing against your cheek. You didn’t care. Thomas wrapped his tree trunk arms around you and held you against him…it was like nothing else mattered. Comfort washed over you and for a moment you felt like you hadn’t just killed a woman for no reason.

“S-she just attacked me, she jumped at me and grabbed me and she was yelling and-“

Thomas’ hand gently stroked your hair as if to shush you, his cheek resting against the top of your head as he held you as close as he could.

There was nothing that would stop him from being close to you. Not the three bodies in the basement, and definitely not the bitch that hopped off the hook.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 month

Text

Inconceivable (Princess Bride AU)

Part I: A Kissing Story

Westeros has been at peace for nearly a year, and a wedding has been planned to celebrate the anniversary. King Jacaerys will marry his aunt, the only surviving child of the Greens, and unite both Targaryen bloodlines at last. It is a fairy tale ending, but this is no ordinary fairy tale...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x sister!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Jacaerys x reader

Warnings: Angst, grief, forced marriage

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: Nothing like watching an old classic movie to revive the writing inspiration, huh?

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Part I: A Kissing Story

“The princess was raised in a great castle along the coast of a glimmering sea. Her favorite pastimes were riding her dragon and tormenting her older brother. His name was…” Aemond. His name was Aemond, but she couldn’t say that. She had not said it in what felt like a lifetime. Not even to their mother.

His name was Aerion. But she never called him that. Nothing gave the princess as much pleasure as ordering Aerion around. ‘Lēkia, help me brush my hair!’ she would say.

Aerion would reply, “as you wish.’ It was all he ever said to her.

One day, the princess called him into her chambers before they were to attend a ball. When he entered, she was sitting at her vanity, a necklace of sapphires set in gold laid before her. ‘Lēkia, help me with my necklace. The clasp is quite tricky.’

The clasp was not tricky, but he put it around her neck anyway, his hands lingering on her neck as they gazed into each other’s eyes through the mirror. ‘As you wish,’ Aerion said.

That day, the princess was amazed to discover that when her brother said ‘As you wish,’ what he meant was this: ‘I love you.’ And even more amazing was that night when she realized she truly loved him back.”

“Is this a kissing story?” Young Aegon’s voice shattered the spell she’d been under like a pane of glass. The young prince – her nephew – was tucked into his bed as he recovered from a mild fever.

She laughed. The boy was becoming a man now if he no longer had a taste for ‘kissing stories.’ Once, he had loved them. “I’m sorry, Aegon. I can tell another if you would prefer?”

Aegon sighed. “No, I think I just want to sleep, muña.”

“Then I shall let you sleep, trēsy.” She did not let her disappointment show until she had left her nephew’s bedchamber. She needed to tell the story, for it was the only way she could keep it alive, the only way she could remember.

So, as she returned to her rooms and was readied for bed by servants she did not trust, she silently told the story to herself.

“Aerion asked the crown for permission to marry his sister, but before they could say their vows, war befell the kingdom, and he was sent away to battle to protect their family.

‘I fear I’ll never see you again,’ the princess cried as they said their farewells.

‘Of course you will,’ he assured.

‘But what if something happens to you?’

‘Hear this now: I will always come for you.’

Through her tears, the princess asked, ‘How can you be sure?’

Aerion smiled, ‘This is true love; you think it happens every day?’

His assurance gave the princess enough bravery to watch him mount his dragon and fly away. But Aerion did not return from battle. His dragon was attacked in the Gullet by his enemies and felled. When the princess got the news that he was murdered, she went into her rooms and shut the door and for days she neither slept nor ate, swearing she would never love again.

Two years later, King’s Landing was filled as never before to hear the announcement of the great King Jacaerys’ bride-to-be.

‘My people,’ Jacaerys said, ‘three months from now, our realm will celebrate a year since peace was at last declared. On that sundown, I shall marry my dear aunt, our princess, to reunite our family and signal an end to the strife that threatened to consume us.’

The people cheered so loudly that the princess thought she might be struck deaf. But she was not, forcing her to hear every moment of their adoration. Her emptiness consumed her.

Although the law of the land gave Jacaerys the right to choose his bride, the princess did not love him. He had fought in the battle where her true love had been killed, and every time she looked at him, all she could see was a vision of her brother as he and his dragon fell into the sea.

Despite Jacaerys’ reassurance that she would grow to love him, the only joy she found was in telling her story to her little niece and nephews – the only other remaining members of her family and the only ones who would not glean the longing in her voice. For if the king or his council ever learned that she still loved her brother…”

The door thumped shut as the last of the servants left. She let out a heavy sigh, at last feeling as though she could breathe again as she finished her story, whispered into her pillow.

“She would never be allowed to tell the story again.”

Hundreds of miles away, a weather-worn ship rocked lazily in the docks of Lys. Its crew was scattered within the city, enjoying its many pleasures.

All but the captain.

The man known and feared throughout the world as the Dread Pirate Symeon sat alone in his quarters, silent as death. He pored over a map of the Narrow Sea, but his eye was drawn again and again to a single mark – the small three-headed dragon along the coast of Westeros—King’s Landing.

He ran a finger gloved in black leather over the mark, tapping it twice as he again pondered the words that had echoed in his mind since he heard them.

“King Jacaerys has announced his intention to marry his aunt upon the anniversary of his taking the throne and restoring peace to Westeros.”

Symeon stood so quickly that his chair toppled over, one leg splintering on impact. He did not give it a second glance before strapping a sackful of gold to his belt and storming off the ship.

One of his sailors had the misfortune to be making his way drunkenly back to the ship when the captain pulled him aside. “The ship is Marlow’s now,” he said, naming his first mate. “You will tell no one that you have seen me, or I will return and slit your throat. Understood?”

The sailor nodded, his blood sluggish with drink and fear. The captain released him, and he nearly stumbled into the sea.

When he regained his balance and looked back down the dock, the Dread Pirate Symeon was gone.

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princessbrunette · 5 months

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rafe definitely would be the type to get his fwb pregnant, ghost her for a while, and then come back with his stupid shaved head and his hands in his pockets like ‘when’s the next appointment’. he has to take a little panic time to come around to the idea and remember that it takes two to make said child, and then the fear of being like his dad and neglecting his firstborn kicks in and he pops back up ready to sort shit out and attempt to be there to the best of his ability in his own way cause it’s still rafe and he’s not perfect ykwim. definitely could heal him though 🙏. Waddle around in those flowly little dresses cause they’re all that fit in the late stages but cause of the belly it makes them shorter than they already were and he’s a man starved.

GODDDDD this makes me go crazy😀

you’re by no means a pogue but your place is still just small enough to make rafe turn his nose up at it if you remember correctly, proving his disapproval of it when he shows up after a few months, a few shades tanner, buffer, with a buzzed head. he looked older, more mature— but the way he stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, staring unabashedly at the bump that had only just broken into vision, it was clear he was the same old rafe.

“so uh, y’know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?” he wanders, slowly pacing your kitchen whilst you brew him a coffee.

“no, rafe. i’m keeping it as a surprise.” your voice is quiet, untrusting. it makes him resist a sigh, scratching at his cheek with a look of discomfort. he just wants his girl back. he wants his family.

“right, right.” he nods, watching you for a moment. he supposes its true what they say about ‘pregnancy glow’ because you look fucking stunning. “baby, i’m really sorry.” he drawls and you flinch a little at the nickname. it’s been a while since you heard that. you turn to him, giving him a chance to explain himself.

“i freaked. i’m— i’m a fuckin’ coward and if you hate me, cool— alright i get it. but whether you like it or not, that’s my baby in there. and, and i’m gonna be apart of it’s life. just… let me take you out of here. we’ll start again. tanny hill’s all mine now, can set up a nice little baby room, paint it any colour you want, n’you can stay there too, with me—” he pauses, watching your unsure expression, not quite knowing how you feel about sharing the bed with rafe cameron once more. “…or sarah’s old room. up to you.” he adds reluctantly but gives you the option anyway. he does seem to really want this, and whilst you were mad he just up and left, leaving you to deal with the start of your pregnancy alone you could never resist him. you didn’t want your baby to grow up without a dad, not one bit.

“what’s wrong with my place?” you frown at your shabby little apartment your parents had set you up with.

“this place… tanny hill.” he holds his hands out mimicking a tipping scale, a cheeky smile growing on his face, voice still being gentle with you. that was the rafe you liked.

with his baby inside you, and the two of you spending all that time together, you didn’t stand a chance. you’d wondered how the two of you had ever commit to just being friends with benefits when it’s clear you had great deals of love for one another. he constantly doted on you, spoiling you and buying you whatever, if anything annoyed him he’d remove himself from the situation instead of getting mad like he used to, didn’t let you even walk anywhere alone despite telling rafe it was fine, jumping up to guide you with an arm around your waist once you got more swollen. he was treating you like you were made of glass, even showing reluctance to fucking you when you’d begged him, telling him how the pregnancy hormones were driving you mad and you missed his dick, the blue eyed man furrowing his brows in concern asking whether this could hurt the baby.

once he was passed the concern though, rafe couldn’t help sate his arousal almost every time you’d walk around in stretched out little nighties, swollen tits practically falling out of the top. he’d still be real gentle, don’t get it twisted— opting to grind his cock into you instead of thrusting like a madman remanent of your past with him. he’d stroke your clit with his thumb, your legs spread with his cock burrowed inside you, panting. “its true what they say, pregnant pussy is wetter. didn’t think you could get any better, baby.” he groans, your walls clamping down around him, crying out at his vulgarity.

“get used to this life, sweetheart, ‘cos i don’t think i’m ever gonna be able to stop fucking babies into you.”

#anon #babydaddy!rafe #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble

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awniie · 4 months

Text

HELLO KITTY

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ summary: sukuna breaks your favorite stuffed animal

content: fem!reader, pathetic attempt at fluff n angst , reader cries when he breaks the stuffie, mean!sukuna-ish, readers gets called a baby (derogatory), reader is called small, modern au, implied sex, proofread to an extent

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ notes: I’m not sure what compelled me to write this, like at all !! also I tried not to refer to him as a boyfriend in this cus I don’t see him as one :sob:

“what..is that?” Sukuna asked as he entered the room. He was talking about the little cat toy you were snuggling with. You held it tightly against your chest, the blue light of your phone casting onto the dolls white cotton covering.

“Oh her? It’s hello kitty!” You exclaimed, quite proudly for a grown woman with a cat doll between her chest. You shut off your phone and roll over to show him the toy. Sukuna snatched it from off your body and inspected the…thing. It was white and fuzzy with black sewn eyes and a matching butter-colored nose. As if that wasn’t trivial enough, the toy wore a tiny little pair of overalls and a small pink bow ontop its ear. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, It was the epitome of naivety and childishness, and it made him sick. Curiously, He tested the elasticity of the toy, pulling and stretching her limbs in awful ways.

“Kuna, be careful! You’ll break her.” You warned, arms reaching for your poor kitty. You quickly remembered why you were hesitant to show him the doll earlier, that your hello kitty was small and delicate and sukuna was quite the opposite, and now your worst fears coming true. Your protests fell on ignorant ears, and the sickening sound of ripping fabric filled them instead. Scratchy white poly-fil spewed in the air. Your boyfriend stood in front of you, a look of mild surprise played on his features as he held the now-headless hello kitty.

“Huh.” he murmured before throwing it on the floor sending more fluff scattered across the room.

“Sukuna! What is wrong with you?” You accused, rushing over to where your beheaded kitty laid. He couldn’t believe how quick you left off the bed, cradling the ripped doll in your hands.

“It’s not my fault it was made so cheaply. Plus, you too old to be playing with dolls anyway.” He said, quickly disregarding the whole thing.

“No! That was my hello kitty, you had no right to break it.” You told him between sniffles, holding the two pieces of your hello kitty in each of your palms. Warm tears ran down your cheeks and your nose reddened.

“Do you see yourself right now? You’re acting like a fucking baby.” Sukuna retorted, annoyed at your reaction. He honestly didn’t mean to break it, but what’s done is done and you were a fool for thinking that lashing out at him could change that. “It’s just a child’s toy, get over it.”

“You are sick. I hate you!” You yelled, holding the pieces of your broken toy close and leaving the room, not before slamming the door with teeth-rattling force.

Sukuna sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn’t expect you to get so animated over a cartoon cat replica, but then again human emotions were much more sporadic and quite frankly annoying. He gave your outburst no more than another thought. He knew you well enough to know you’d be back soon, crying and whining and begging him to talk to you and give you some attention. He’d just have to patient until your came your to senses..

..Or at least that’s what he thought. Your boyfriend seemly underestimated your ability to hold a grudge. You hadn’t truly spoken to him in 3 days, the most he’s gotten out of you being “uh huh” or “no”. He pretended your coldness didn’t bother him, but it did. A lot more then it should’ve. The pointed shoulder-checks, the refusal to make any eye contact, leaving the room whenever he walked in. It really bothered him. He knew that the only way to get back your favor was with probably some form of atonement. But, he has his own pride to worry about and he refused to be the one to grovel at your feet and apologize. No it would be you. He was Sukuna Ryomen and he would not bend to the will of a foolish mortal girl.

But, a week without speaking to your other can be unbearable, even for a callous curse such as Sukuna. After being with you so long, he found himself having a sort longing for you. Why would he though? He didn’t need anyone, especially not you. If anything, you needed him…so why weren’t you acting like it?

Even though you were mad at him, outwardly you seemed fine. You were doing everything on your own, pretending as if this giant curse of a man didn’t even exist. You still laughed at stuff on your phone, you still ate your favorite foods and enjoyed yourself, while Sukuna clearly wasn’t.

He hated the silence that he had grown unfamiliar with after being with you. You seemed to never shut up before, but now? Sukuna found himself longing for your annoying voice and pestilential chattiness.

He missed your body. He missed your delicate fingers that you would intertwine with his rough, pointed ones whenever you went to the store with him. He’d express so many times that he didn’t like you doing that and he’d “cut your fingers off” if you did it again. But you always did, and it never happened.

He hated the absence of your warmth. He had become so accustomed to your late night snuggling, he had trouble sleeping without it. One particular lonesome night, he watched you sleep from the door you always left slightly cracked. He longed to be next to you, to feel your faint breath tickling his neck, to run his hands down the curve of your spine, to have your sleep-mucked face be the first thing he sees in the morning.

So, that’s why he was now on the couch, hissing and cursing as he attempted to put the stitch through the tiny hole of the needle. He was trying to sew your god-damned hello kitty back together, which proved to be a much harder task than he thought initially. Sukuna had watched you do it many times, stitching whatever article of clothing he had ripped off of you the night before. You made it look simple, and of course you were just a little human. Nothing you did would take much skill, right?

“Fuck!” He hissed through clenched teeth and he stabbed the pin through the pad of his finger. A bead of dark-red blood swole and eventually dripped down his finger. Watching the blood drop made him think of you. You would’ve taken his tattooed hand and cooed at the injury, leaving a kiss on the stabbed finger. He always thought you were stupid for making such a display over a little nick, but now? He felt some sort of…emptiness without your comfort. Sukuna quickly chased those thoughts away, telling himself that he was only doing this for his own benefit, not for you. No, he’d never do something like this for you.

“Kuna…?” You called, the moniker sounding foreign on your tongue after a long week of ignoring the man to whom it belonged too. His head quickly snapped as he watched you come into the room, treading lightly as if the tension could break with a footstep too heavy. In your arms was the patched up doll, looking a little limp but still in one piece.

“What do you want?” He asked, his tone glacial, suggesting that he didn’t care. But he knew he cared a lot, a lot more than he should’ve.

Just a few minutes ago, Sukuna creeped into the bedroom, ensuring sure you wouldn’t hear him over the sound of a running shower. Afte the coast was clear, he meticulously placed the doll on your bed, propped up on a pillow, the hello kitty freshly washed and sewn. He relished on his work, shoving away the feeling of…anxiety? Then he waited and waited for you, hurrying back to his place on the couch only when he heard the shower faucet stop running.

“Did you…fix my doll?” You asked, leaving the question hanging in the heavy air. You avoided eye contact as you sat across from him, fiddling with the hello kitty’s stubby arms.

“What does it look like? It’s fixed, isn’t it?” He retorts, gesturing to the crude stitches that encircled that dolls neck. He sounded pissed off, but he was far from it. He missed your voice, even if you were wasting it by asking him stupid questions.

“Oh,” was all you were able to say. Sukuna rolled his eyes, mimicking your “oh”.

You stumbled with your speech, trying to find the right response. In all honesty, you were shocked. “T-Thank you.” You murmured, your voice a little louder now.

“yeah, whatever. Now you have your doll, so you can stop your damn sulking.” He muttered, waving his hand in dismal. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, careful not to break the delicate silence.

Warmth bloomed inside of your chest. Yeah the stitching was clusmy, revealing his lack of delicacy, but somehow it felt better than him buying a new stuffed animal. There was something that was almost thoughtful about it, and sukuna ryomen was anything but the sort.

He couldn’t believe himself either. Had he really done that, for you? It was impossible. He could’ve easily forced you to speak to him, or lashed out at you for being a brat. So why didn’t he? He sat there, waiting for the repercussions of his actions to hit him. Disgust. anger. anything. but strangely, it never came. Instead he felt a sense of relief and lets out a breath he had no idea he had been holding.

You then slipped into his arms, your ear resting against his surprisedly-existent heartbeat. The hello kitty was still in your grasp, and you fiddled into between your two hands. He didn’t say anything, because he wasn’t even sure that words would come out of his mouth. You felt so nice on him again, and he placing his around you, never wanting to let you go.

As the two of you laid there, distressing fact came crashing down on him. You had broke him. You contorted his barbarous heart into ways that no stich could fix.

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thoughtfulbearpanda · 4 months

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February 2024 Pick a Card

Piles 1 -> 2 -> 3

Hi there! This is a timeless reading, so remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. Remember that you have free will and nothing is set in stone. Yes, this is intended for entertainment purposes but if any serious topics that come up in these readings that you find yourself resonating with, please seek aid or professional help if you are inclined to do so. Also, if anything in this reading is triggering for you don't feel the need to continue reading; please prioritize your mental and emotional health.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

PILE I

Okana Oracle: Reconcile, Grandma's Baby Lenormand: Whip & Heart, Tarot: 6 of cups rx, 2 of wands, 4 of cups, the Tower rx, 9 of cup rx

What I see you going through in the month of February pile 1 is you walking away from something. With the 6oc rx coupled with the 2ow there may be a decision you will have to make, and this decision could lead to you letting go of past connections, I’m getting ‘leaving the nest' for some of you. Some of you could be moving away, beginning your own chapter of life solo; some of you could be traveling overseas in the month of February, or just simply moving out of house and getting your own place.

There is also this aspect of fear, not really knowing what you’re getting into, there is the sense of naivety. This could be towards a new job, maybe a change of career path or change in career studies for those who are still in school. This could be a small few of you but some of you may be weighing the decision to drop out of college or school. College/school/work may no longer be as exciting for as when you first started and you may be thinking about just calling it quits, but are delaying this decision because you may not have a backup plan and/or you don’t want to disappoint your loved ones. It’s like ‘I no longer enjoy this.’; ‘What if there is more for me out there?’; ‘What will my loved ones think?’; ‘What if I don’t have a back up plan and this ends being a mistake?’

Life is not full of easy choices. Every day we are proven that life is short. For those who resonate with the school/college message, I am not here to tell you what you should do BUT do what you believe is best for you. College is not for every one, but if dropping out is an option you are considering than have a back up plan ready for when you do. Figure out what you are going to do afterwards. Don’t just dive into this particular decision blindly.

I see you going through transformation pile 1. Some of you may have felt like you lost your spark, your joy, your purpose in life. I see you gaining that back in the month of February. You are going to start making decisions that make YOU happy, that bring YOU joy. February is the month where you consider how to get closer to your ultimate goal in life, and how you can rediscover your sense of purpose.

Shadow Message: Reconcile - “love yourself for only then can you love others” -> What is something that you find yourself struggling to let go of? What is this thing that is depleting you? Is it a job? Is is friends? Family? A partner, past or present? Do you find yourself pouring so much of yourself into this thing and/or person (people) that you barely have enough to pour into yourself? To whomever this resonates, it is time to take a look at your current attachments and come to terms with whether it is healthy or if you are simply a victim of codependency. Is this thing or person feeding off of you? If so, then it is time to cut the cord on that. Do some 'spring cleaning'. For some, it may not even a person or a job. Sometimes it just simply clearing out the old within your space, getting rid of old clothes, trinkets, furniture etc., to make room for the new. Find what is weighing you down emotionally, spiritually, mentally; find what is depleting your happiness and take the necessary steps to rid yourself of it.

Message(s) from the Ancestors: Whip & Heart - 'Sacrifice' & 'Love' -> Whip: "Everyone must pay. Nothing worthwhile or lasting was ever achieved by simply wanting it to be ours...sacrifice and work move things further than desire alone." Love: "There is an infinite supply of love for us to draw on, whether from platonic or romantic relationships, living or dead...but if we often lose ourselves in the need to nurture others, hiding in them to avoid being in ourselves...we must learn to love ourselves so deeply we find joy in solitude instead of heartbreak."

Final Messages:

"What is past is gone, what is hoped for is absent, for you is the hour for which you are."

"Wisdom outweighs strength."

"A snake that you can see does not bite."

"You cannot blindfold a man and expect him to ferry you across the river."

"Whoever stands in the need of honey should not be afraid of bees."

~additional messages: unexpected good fortune, generosity, possible travel, changes, postponement, disappointment and opposition

**PROVERBS 15:13 and DANIEL 10:6 for some of you**

PILE II

Okana Oracle: Grit & Confide, Grandma's Baby Lenormand: Rider rx & Clouds, Tarot; Page of swords, Queen of wands, 9 of cups, 7 of swords rx, & ace of wands Rx

The month of February is going to be very abundant for you pile 2. I see you socializing and being so vibrant and free, being the talk of the town. I'm getting 'social butterfly'. This month is going to be raining down blessings for you with the 9oc here. I see you filled with so much gratitude and happiness. Wishes will be coming true for you in the month of February; whatever you have been wishing for, praying for, hoping for, it will come true. I see you getting that dream job, dream car, dream house. Whatever you've been wishing for, you will be receiving it this month. Some of you could be starting a new project or job, and I see you being so excited about it. You have this eager, 'go getter' energy.

With the QoW here, a feminine figure could be significant for some you. This person could be mature, or just has a lot experience and wisdom under their belt. Who knows how to work a room, use their charm and charisma to achieve their goals. I see this person being some sort of a mentor figure to you this month. Someone that will help you harness this vibrant, off the walls energy that you may have. I see you shadowing this person, soaking up all the knowledge that she has to offer. *Be sure to take head from whatever advice this person gives you*

For some of you, there could be some snakes in your mists. In the month of February you may find yourself being on the receiving end of a lot of 'evil eye'. I see you being highly favored in the month of February, and with that comes with a lot of jealousy and attempts at sabotage. You may end up encountering a lot two-faced people; those who smile in your face but are quick to pray and revel in your downfall. Some of you may be up for promotion or have been promoted - BE CAREFUL. Be wary of those who are quick to befriend and try to get into your circle. It's like that saying 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer' - that is the mentality of these haters toward you. Just know that secrets don't stay buried and will eventually come to light. Karma never misses, so whatever these potential sabotagers have planned will back fire. You are protected by the Divine and your Ancestors.

The month of February, some of you may find yourself consumed with the drive to get something started. There may be an idea/project that you are trying to get off the ground to this point where you are obsessing over it. You are trying and trying and becoming more and more frustrated because it's not going the way you planned. With the ace of wands rx, you are being called to take a break. Step away from the idea/project and allow yourself to breathe. When we are so hyper focused on something, it can become easy for use to become consumed by to the point where we forget why we started said project/idea; and in some instances lose our passion fro what we do. That's why in moments of frustration we need to take a step back, put on pause on things. If this resonates, Spirit is prompting you to take a look out where you are, how far you've come, and remember why you started. Stop and smell the roses. Allow yourself to look at it from a different perspective.

For others, there could be a whole idea that you abandoned completely because it never got off the ground, someone may have told you that idea is not good, or maybe you felt like it could never be. Maybe it's time to revisit that project/idea from a new, fresher lens.

Shadow Message: Grit & Confide - Grit: "when a needle falls into a well many people will look into the well, but very few will go down after it" -> Take a look at yourself this month and ask yourself 'Am I biting off more than I can chew?', 'Am I involving myself in projects or places that do not pertain to me?', 'If I am doing all these things: why?' If you find yourself spiraling or just taking on so much, unnecessarily, maybe it's time to take a step back from it. It's good to have drive to have that grit/conviction but not to the point where it is at your own detriment. It can be easy, being caught up in 'the grind' and all but we also have to remember to take breaks; Confide: "all things are good to eat, but not all things are good to say" -> February is looking to be an abundant month for you, but remember to not get caught up in the high. You may be on the receiving end gossip, but try not to perpetuate the same behaviors as your haters. If find yourself engaging gossip with others ask yourself 'Is it true?', 'Is it kind?', 'Are these people doing the same thing to me behind my back?', 'Will they go back an twist my words to said person?', 'Why are they trying to get me involved gossip to begin with?'. Remember: Karma. Never. Misses.

Message(s) from the Ancestors: Rider rx & Clouds - 'Intention' & 'Denial' -> Rider rx: "Don't be hasty, Baby. Before taking action, we must be clear on our intention. And be certain our actions align with that intention." Clouds: "Clouds can be information that is hidden and outcomes that are uncertain...we must know truth before we know miracles, and what is before we know what can be."

Final Messages:

"Not to know is bad, to not wish to know is worse."

"Fire surrounded by elders cannot burn you."

"Luck at times will visit a fool, but it never sits down with him."

"Truth cannot be hidden forever beneath evil."

"He who wakes up early in the morning receives bundle of blessings."

~additional messages: good luck coming to you, harmony, property, achievement, love, dark-haired woman who is strong, helpful and attractive, warning of loss of friendship

**EXODUS 24:15 for some of you**

PILE III

Okana Oracle: Harmony & Reconcile, Grandma Baby Lenormand: Fish & Mice, Tarot: 10 of swords, 2 of cups, Knight of wands, 5 of pentacles rx, ace of swords rx

Are some of you in a relationship, pile 3? Or is there someone on your mind? Cause with the 2oc here there is a potential for love to blossom for you in the month of February. You could have met this person or will meet this person and you guys hit right off the bat. The knight of wands indicates that you and this person will 'click' so fast, and so unexpectedly. This person could be a fire sign; they could be someone who is vibrant, and has a lot of energy and passion to them. They could be 'go-getter', someone who acts before they thinks, who likes to dive into things head-first. And it doesn't necessarily have to be a romance either. This could be someone who you will end up having a genuine bond and connection with. This person could be a bit of foil to you if you are more on the shy side, or this is someone who will match your energy.

Some of you may have dealt with betrayal in the past, like been backstabbed by a person/people that you've trusted. This has possibly resulted you in having trust issues, you questioning the motives of those who try to get close to you. This connection coming in is going to help you heal those wounds. This connection coming is someone you can trust and they are going to prove that to you. They will be patient with you. Maybe this person coming in has probably dealt with same thing, and this connection will be healing for both of you.

For others of you, you may have fallen on hard times in the past pile 3. Some of you may have dealt with a lot of spiritual warfare. What I mean by that, is that you may have been feeling empty spiritually. Doubting your religion, your ancestors, spirit guides, or even the concept of spirituality itself. *With everything that has been going on in the world, I can understand* Maybe you've hanging on to this concept of religion or spirituality in hopes it will make your life better because that's what you've been told, only to be met with disappointment after disappointment. Maybe recently you've had one too many disappointments and began to question yourself: 'Am I doing something wrong?' 'Why isn't working?' 'Am I just playing myself for a fool?'

I see you starting to come back to that pile 3, because you can't ignore the call forever. I see rekindling your relationship with the Divine, with God, your Ancestors, whomever you believe in. That tarot deck that you've put away? You're dusting off and getting back into the swing of things. That altar that you abandoned, walked away from? I see resetting it and familiarizing yourself with your guides, with your gifts. And honestly, sometimes walking away is needed pile 3. It's okay to take a break for a while, reconnect with yourself, ground yourself, and find your way back to it eventually.

Shadow Message: Harmony & Reconcile - Harmony: "where there is life, there is always hope" -> You could be dealing with bouts of loss or despair in February. Have you lost all hope of being happy? Content? Have you lost hope in ever being able to trust again? Have you become a glass half-empty, glass half-full kind of person? It's time to confront those doubts, pile 3. Time to challenge those negative beliefs you've become accustomed to. Make the effort of bringing harmony and positivity back into your life; Reconcile: "love yourself for only then can you love others" -> It is time to heal pile 3. Heal those wounds. Hanging onto that hurt is giving the person who hurt you more power over you. What is something you have trouble letting go of? Is it the betrayal? The backstabbing? Is it becomes you should have saw it coming? Are you ready to let it go? Are you ready to move on?

Message(s) from the Ancestors: Fish & Mice - 'Gifts' & 'Fear' -> Fish: "If we give birth to what is within us, what is within us will save us. If we do not give birth to what is within us, what is within us will destroy us." Mice: "If we feed fear, we will be eaten alive."

Final Messages:

"You can kill the identity of a man on earth, but you cannot kill his spirit."

"Respect begets respect."

"Even as the archer loves the arrow that flies, so too he loves the bow that remains in his hands."

"The path to wisdom is a lifelong commitment."

"It is the one who lives in the house that knows where the roof leaks."

~additional messages: friendship, success, business meetings, reliable friend, conflict, love, affair, worry and fear

**JONAH 1:17 for some of you**

That's all I have for you! Thanks for reading! Stay safe, stay blessed!

Asé

#tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #pick a card #black tarot reader

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astridthevalkyrie · 2 months

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a weak heart | rafayel x reader

“Let’s go all the way, tonight, no regrets, just love,” she sings, and her voice is a little pitchy but Rafayel could listen to it all day, “we can dance, until we die, you and I, we’ll be young forever!” How very wrong she is about that last part. It’s almost funny. Someone with such a weak heart shouldn’t be this cocky.

cw: reader has she/her pronouns, fluff, light angst, rafayel being bratty but also down incredibly bad

word count: 1.4k

There’s a dip in the bed that alerts Rafayel to her presence. He’d already known she was inside, even though her footsteps were hushed. He’d heard her walk in and feed Reddie, and he almost gave up the vow he made to himself not to engage with her just so he could snark about how she was more invested in seeing the fish than in seeing him.

(Of course, she very well may have gone to the studio to look for him and decided to feed Reddie while she was already in there, but. He doesn’t want to be reasonable right now. He wants to be upset with her. And she gives him so little to get upset with because she is and always has been some kind of angel descended from the heavens with an embarrassingly weak heart, so he needs to take whatever chances he can get.)

A soft touch to the back of his neck is followed by a quick kiss to his cheek. “Rafayel?”

He doesn’t answer.

“I know you’re awake, Raf.” Well, his eyes are open so. Great observation, idiot. “You’re not even gonna talk to me?”

The window he’s staring through is so fascinating all of a sudden, all bright and stale with an afternoon light he’s painted a billion times. Literally a billion. That’s how old he is. One would think he’d learned to be patient in that time, but one would also think that after waiting for a woman for centuries, she could cut him some slack and not make him wait any longer.

(Not that she knows that but. Still.)

“It was really last minute.” She kisses his cheek again, hovering over him and he wants so badly to gaze up at her, because that will be something he’s never painted before—he’d title it Requiem For A Bland Thursday and Thomas would sell it for a couple hundred million and he’d tell her that and she would only ask him to buy her a rainbow popsicle because there isn’t a greedy bone in her body.

“I was going to text, Raf, I promise I was, but I’d pulled a night shift already and my phone was dead and Xavier and I both left our chargers at home, and we didn’t have a chance to stop and charge anyways.”

Always an excuse. Always a valid excuse that he can find no fault with. But it isn’t fair. The people she works with—Tara, Xavier, Captain Jenna who she’s definitely a little in love with—get her attention and her time every hour of every day. If there’s a mission to do, she’ll drop everything and do it. And Rafayel gets the crumbs, the vacation days and the after hours, whenever she remembers him enough to spare her time.

What’s worse than that is the fear. He doesn’t let it show through text, always opting to send whatever he thinks will make her smile, but everytime hours pass without a response from her, fear seizes his poor heart. All the twisted and cruel things that could possibly happen to her start playing on repeat in his head.

“Rafayel,” she pleads, tilting her forehead against his temple. “Please, look at me?”

His chest burns hot.

When he finally looks up, he finds he’s absolutely correct in his hunch. She presents like a masterpiece, hair mussed from whatever fights Xavier clearly couldn’t protect her from. Her eyes shine tiredly, lighting up when they gaze into his. And Rafayel’s heart releases a painful thump, thump, thump because if he could spend eternity with her looking at him the way she is now, he’d easily live the rest of his immortal life the happiest person in the universe.

She leans down and pecks his lips apologetically. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

(It’s what she always does.)

“It’s what you always do,” he says, not harsh but definitely blasé enough to make her wince. “Why should this time be any different?”

A sigh escapes her, and he starts to feel that old guilt again. To hold her up to a standard because he fell in love with two other versions of her, and to give her grief for being late as though she wasn’t doing an incredibly important job keeping people safe—it’s not exactly fair. To either of them, but specifically to her.

And yet, it’s not like he spends his time with her imagining a princess running through the sands calling his name. This version of her makes his heart pound all the same, whether she’s absolutely beating his ass at the card game in the cafe, or resting her head on his shoulder from behind while he paints, or when she’s in his bed just like this.

The biggest similarity is that damn sick bleeding heart.

“What do I need to do for you to forgive me?” She tilts his chin up with her index finger, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. Rafayel could never imagine being spoiled like this even if he was to be sitting on the throne in Lemuria right now, with jewels and gold surrounding him and beautiful maidens offering their hands.

Somehow, this is more. Somehow, this is better.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he answers flatly, “and there’s nothing I can do. So let me be mad at you in peace.”

Her response is to brush the bangs from his forehead and drop a kiss to his forehead as well. “You make me feel like I’m in high school all over again,” she teases quietly, a small smile playing on the corner of her lips now. “My teenage dream.”

He groans. “Don’t—“

How very wrong she is about that last part. It’s almost funny.

Someone with such a weak heart shouldn’t be this cocky.

“Is this my punishment?” His nose wrinkles. “To hear you sing terrible renditions of already overplayed songs?”

Her giggle is the real music to his ears. “You’re an artist, you should know talent when you hear it.”

“I do,” he insists, realizing too late that he’s giving in. The lightness in his stomach is a bit frightening too. This is the same woman who carved out his heart. This is the same woman who needed to do nothing but flutter her lashes at him to make him give in to her any request. If, tomorrow, she were to ask him to rip his own scales from his body and place the bloody pieces in her palm, he’d do so without question.

Her hand comes up to rest on his cheek and he leans into it with a soft sigh almost on instinct. Such power she possesses, over the God of the Sea, and she’s the only person who would never even fathom abusing it.

“You’re cold,” she murmurs, caressing his cheek. “Why do you always keep your house so cold?”

(So that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can—)

“It’s better for blood circulation.”

Her thumb gently brushes over his lower lip, like she’s mapping out her quest to treasure. “That’s like, objectively not true, Raf. My friend’s a doctor, he told me that cold is better for short-term pain and warmth is better for—“

“If you’re cold,” he interrupts, “get under the sheets.”

A brilliant, blinding smile lights up her face as she does just that, slipping under next to him and laying down at a slightly elevated level so she can tuck his head into her chest. Warmth runs through him like a flood, even the leather of her uniform is comforting because it’s smooth and light and smells just like her. Her lips press to the top of his head.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers, running her fingers through his hair, “I’ll do my best to text you and let you know next time, okay?”

And if she doesn’t, Rafayel thinks, curling into her more, they will still end up like this, quiet words and mutual teasing, memories of the past that he will forever be cursed by and she will never be burdened with, a heart that dances to the tune of her commands, wrapped up in each other, and absolutely nothing will change.

Because who really has a weak heart?

(It’s not her.)

#love and deepspace #l&ds #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x mc #rafayel #valkyrie stories

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krahk · 29 days

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Blood for Ruin

Part One : Part Two : Part Three : Part Four : Part Five

Masterlist

Alastor x OFC/Reader (no use of Y/N)

18+

Part Six

(Or, Alastor, snakes, and cannibals - oh my!)

The next morning Charlie wasn’t downstairs, and Vaggie looked like something kicked her dog. The vibes of the hotel were totally off. You had tried to ask the woman what had happened when she and Charlie had their meeting, but she was too upset to talk. Angel Dust and Husk were confused about what happened as well, and it was impossible to get to Charlie, she had barricaded herself in her room.

After 3 or 4 days you finally had enough and knocked incessantly on Charlie’s door, before she finally opened the door, eyes red and horns coming out of her head slightly. She looked like she had been crying all night, eyes puffy and bloodshot. You held up a bottle of wine and two glasses, shaking them back and forth. “Hey you! I think you need a break from…whatever it is you’re doing in here.”

Charlie opened her mouth, likely to tell you to go away, but you continued quickly, “We don’t even have to talk, but I think sometimes it's good not to be alone.” Charlie hesitated, her body slightly rocking back while her eyes went up in thought, debating on what she should do. She pushed the door open and walked towards her bed and sat crisscrossed on it. You closed the door with a flick of your hips and joined the princess on her bed, passing her a glass while you fought with the cork. Once the two of you had wine poured, it took a few sips before Charlie opened up.

”Have you ever had someone you love lie to you?” You snorted at the question, before realising the hurt on the woman’s face.

“Yes, for sure yes, probably everyone I’ve ever loved. They all do. But I also lived with humans forever, and I’m sorry to break it to you but a lot of them think that little lies to save someone from a little hurt now grows into something massive that hurts a lot later. Unfortunately, you only learn not to do it from experience. Is this person who lied to you…usually a liar? Or are you confident they aren’t still lying to you?”

Her eyes became glossy with tears as she swirled her wine glass. “I don’t know. I thought I knew this person but it turns out they were lying about everything that they were. I’ve spent the last few years of my life with them and now I’m not sure any of it was real.”

Okay, she was clearly talking about Vaggie. Because everyone else was pretty much new to her life, this would have to be a delicate conversation. What on earth was she lying about? You had to tread lightly and be vague, but hopefully helpful. “Do you think they lied to hurt you? Like wanting to make sure you hurt?” You asked. Good, steady start there. Charlie thought for a second. “I don’t think so?”.

“Okay, is it a new lie or an old lie?” No thinking required, Charlie responded with “Old lie. Right away lie. Like as soon as I met them lie.” Hmm. You took a second to think about your experiences, wanting to give good advice to her, as she deserved it entirely.

“Were they scared? Like look back on your first meeting.” You tried to remember if Vaggie and Charlie had ever talked about their meeting, but all you knew for sure was that they have met around 3 years ago during extermination. Charlie released a large sigh, and a tear fell down her cheek. “I mean, probably? There was a lot going on.”

“Okay, and did they know who you were? Like, not your name, but your position, status, etcetera?” It was good the demon was opening up, her voice sounded hoarse from crying and a lack of use. You filled up Charlie’s glass which was emptied from a large gulp. “No. No idea.” You nodded at her response and met her eyes with a soft smile.

“Okay, that sounds to me that the lie first happened because they were scared. Lies grow, and lies from fear only make a person more scared. It sounds like they might have been unsure on how to tell you the truth, because whenever the time was right they didn’t want you to hurt - probably because they loved you. Love makes us complicated and stupid, Charlie. It’s one of the reasons why it doesn’t make any sense, and it’s also why it exists in all factions of life and death. You can probably thank your dad for that actually, free will has a huge part in it.”

Charlie gave you a strained smile in return, but it was clear she was still unsure. “I’m not telling you to forgive right away, but if this is the first person who has lied to you in your life so far, that’s pretty good. People obviously try to be the best version of themselves around you - they can’t help it. That’s why it’s great of you to try and do this program! Nobody wanted to let you down, you’re too pure a soul. Especially down here,” You laughed, and gave her a rib nudge with your elbow. Silence took over as the two of you finished off the bottle. Eventually Charlie started pulling at the threads on her comforter, and you took that as a sign to give her some space.

”Hey, I hope you feel a bit better, I’m just a floor away from you if you ever need to chat, or paint each other's nails…hooves,” You corrected, glancing at her feet. Charlie laughed lightly, and gave you a smile. Not quite as big as you were used to from the woman, but still brighter than when you first came in. “I’ll let you get back to moping, sometimes laying in bed crying and being sad is therapeutic. It reminds you what makes you happy. I hope this…helped?” You inquired. Charlie nodded her head and said her thanks, crawling back under her covers.

You collected the glasses and empty bottle and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door quietly as you left. When you had returned to the kitchen to put the items in the sink, you caught the last bit of whatever broadcast Alastor was on. You made tea while the instrumental song played, filling the kitchen with a comforting sound.

Alastor ended his show with a polite goodbye, your tea was steeping and you thought about the conversation you just had . You felt okay about the advice you gave Charlie, and honestly hoped it was helpful to her. With less than a month before the guaranteed extermination, everyone needed to be in their best headspace. As you tried to go out the swing door it opened abruptly, knocking your tea out of your hand, and smacking you into the nose, resulting in teary eyes and your hands covering your face as you grimaced in pain and groaned from the impact. The cup shattered on the ground and tea splattered everywhere.

Cursing, you started to look down to help with the nose bleed, and a black and red hand came into view, holding a handkerchief. You grabbed it and pressed it into your face as you slowly rose your eyes up to see Alastor standing there, matching handkerchief against his own nose. He gave a disgruntled hmm as he looked down at you. You backed up back to a stool and sat down, spinning to put your elbows on the counter to keep pressure on your face.

Alastor had simply vanished his microphone and walked over to the kettle, which was still warm. He began to fix himself a tea and held up the kettle asking silently if you needed a new cup. Politely accepting his offer, he started to make you one as well. In a moment the two of you were seated opposite one another, nursing tea and letting the pain on your face diminish.

After snapping away the mess on the floor, he had conjured some sort of newspaper and was reading it, sipping his tea politely. You held the warm cup between your hands and found yourself constantly drifting your eyes to his person. He truly was unlike anything or anyone you had ever met, there was something simply fascinating about his character. The features that once scared you for being unusual now made you linger about how wonderfully unique they were. While his smile when wide was still spooky, there were a few times you caught him with a real smile. Like when Mimzy popped in, or whenever you noticed him and Nifty speaking with one another on their own. Even now, as he read the paper, his smile was small, but seemingly genuine. Like he was just decompressing from a hard day at work.

You glanced up to his face to realise he was staring back at you. When your eyes connected a sharp jolt of shock ran through you. How long had he watched you staring at him? Hopefully just a second. Maybe you could blame disassociation and staring into the void causing the uncomfortable staring. However, where you thought would be anger, or disapproval, was just curious acknowledgment. You both openly stared at each other, and somehow it wasn’t quite as awkward as it had been in the past. It was like a mutual new discovery, both just looking to learn or understand the creature in front of you.

Suddenly the door swung open so hard it hit the wall, and Vaggie had entered, clearly on a mission the two of you watched the woman scramble some food together before leaving the kitchen in a rush. She looked just as bad as Charlie did. You turned your head to meet Alastor’s gaze once more, his eyes already fixated on you. You coughed into your hand and realised your tea had cooled down significantly. How long had you two stared at one other? You rose up and intended to say goodnight, but Alastor had reached over to grab your cup, put it in the sink and turned around with a small bow and offered his arm to you.

“Would you care for an escort madam?” You laughed at his ‘performance’ voice, accepting his offer. The two of you headed up the stairs in silence, but you were thrilled that the two of you were capable of being in a silence other than awkward. This was a huge development as far as you were concerned. He walked you to your door as you unlocked it and turned around to face him while you opened the door. As you began to say goodnight, you noticed a small blush on his face before you felt the familiar burn across your own. Did he blush first this time? Usually it was you, right? You stuttered out a thank you, dipped your head down a bit just as he had taken a small step forward, resulting in your ears brushing past his chin, causing both of you to shudder. Blushes now bright, you repeated your thanks.

“Thank you for the tea, Alastor. And the escort. A true gentleman. ”You curtseyed lightly. He nodded at your words, putting a fist to his lips to cough lightly and break the strange tension that had suddenly built up between the two of you.

“A gentleman never leaves a lady in the dark, darling. Sleep well.’’ Before stepping backwards towards his own door, turning around on his heel to go through the threshold of his own room. As you closed your own door and began your nightly routine, you went over the strange night and moments just shared with the Radio Demon. What was up with the sudden flip in behaviour? Was this a part of his payback? And if so, why did it feel like a jolt of arousal surged through you when your ears hit his chin? Was that you, or his?

And these were the thoughts that plagued you before sleep, resulting in a restless night indeed.

After a few days (and Angel nosing about) the lie had finally spread through the hotel. Vaggie was an ex-exterminator, which explained why Charlie was so burdened with grief. Terribly discovered via Adam in Heaven, right after the Seraphim’s had decided plausibility that a soul could be redeemed. It was obvious Charlie had taken it like a punch to the gut. Still, though this was a peculiar situation in general, it did not explain why Lucifer, AKA the unknown number, was calling you first thing on a weekday morning. You were in bed, still half-awake, while the obvious genetic contributor to Charlie’s speed talking and manic tangents was bombarding you with all sorts of questions about the girl. You let him get all he had to say out of him before responding, hoping everything would catch up to your brain.

”-and that’s why I’m calling you because I know girls talk canyoutellmeanythingaboutwhatisgoingon??” He expelled a large gust of air from his lungs that had clearly been building during his rant, and you waited a couple of seconds before responding groggily.

“Lemme get this straight-”

“Uh-Huh!”

“Charlie isn’t responding to you, so you’ve called your way through the hotel, but I’m the only one who answered,”

“…Yes”,

“And you’re expecting me to just break whatever trust I’ve built with her to tell you what she’s feeling?”

A pause. “Um, yeeess?” He could tell you were unimpressed with his remark, and you could imagine the face he was making through the phone. You heard a soft slap, the sound of someone hitting his own face, which was well deserved.

“Yea, sir, Mr…Morningstar Devil sir, what you’re suggesting is a huge breach of trust to someone who is trying to deal with that exact thing from another close person to her. You’re just going to have to wait until she reaches out. She probably knows you’ve called and messaged her, and that alone is enough for her to know that you care.”

Silence.

“I promise, as a girl with my own daddy issues, forcing yourself into her life is not a great idea. It’ll likely push her away because she’ll feel like you’re trying to say she can’t figure this out on her own, which is exactly what she needs to do right now. Do I make sense?”

A sigh came out, and he hummed through the phone. “Stop pouting sir, you’re a bit above that, I think.”

”Uh-pfft, ah- rude. I am not pouting!”

“Mmhmm. Sure my guy. How about, I tell you what I know she does like, and you can have it delivered to the hotel, or someone can bring it to her door, a kind gesture can go a long way. Also, it is not an invasion of privacy.”

”Ah. So perhaps I shouldn’t tell you I’m outside the hotel?”

Oh for absolute shits sake. “You’re joking, right? Ha-ha? Funny guy?” Fingers crossed, but for the king of demons you could tell he was pretty terrible at lying.

“I won’t tell you then, but maybe don’t look outside. At least for another like, 10 minutes until I’m out of sight, god what was I thinking I’m an idiot- Hey! Why don’t you just show me what she likes? Maybe I’ll see why she’s so eager to save these unfortunate souls.” He was excited now. Could one say no to the devil? Should you even ask? “I mean…I guess?” You answered hesitantly, kind of hoping he would pick up on the not so subtle tone of someone who really didn’t want to go.

”Oh good! I was worried you would say no. To the Devil. The King of Hell. Lord of the Pride Ring” Ah yes, one does in fact not say no to the devil. You groaned inwardly, allowing a soft sigh out. “I’ll be down in a second, I have to get dressed.”

“Yay!”

Slamming your room door while hopping on one foot trying to get the second shoe on your foot you came a little too close to the wall and bumped into it, making a photo on it clatter loudly. This resulted in Alastors door opening up. He took in your appearance, nice but not too nice with a simple white cotton dress featuring a modest hemline, thin straps on your shoulders and a full circle skirt that ended right above your knees.

You were finally successful in slipping on your short red boot with a white toe & heel, which just edged the outfit into something a little fancier. You stood up straight and rubbed your elbow, the main victim of your impact with the wall. You laughed, slightly embarrassed that he caught the tail end of another clumsy moment, which did nothing for the worry the two of you had with basic survival in Hell. He gestured to your person with his microphone, eyebrow raised as he questioned your attire. For one who wore all black leisure wear most days, this was obviously a ‘going out’ look.

Ah, yes. Lucifer wasn’t Husk, but surely a safe person to walk around hell with, right? “Mr. Morningstar…the King? Lucifer?” What the hell were you supposed to call him? Both of Alastors brows raised at the mention of his name but he allowed you to continue, “Mr whatever he is. He wants to get Charlie something to cheer her up. But I think the both of us can agree that he probably isn’t the best to go grab her something on a whim. He asked for my help, and I’m pretty sure ‘yes’ or ‘yes sir’ were the only two acceptable answers for the ruler of Hell.” You shrugged your shoulders, waiting for Alastors reaction.

You expected snarky comments about Lucifer, you did not expect him to grip his microphone so hard his knuckles would be white if his hands weren’t black and a sharp, thin smile of disapproval. He was easier to read when he was mad, so you picked up on this vibe immediately.

“Is that so?” His voice slightly above condescending, “And he asked our little lost Doe for help? Our newest acquisition of the hotel? Out of all of Hell in general? Peculiar!” You made a tight lipped face, frowning in return.

“Alastor, I’m the only one who answered the phone. So really, I’m the last one who picked up. Trust me, I’m not overly pleased with it but I feel like I can’t say no. He doesn’t seem the type to take it very well.”

”And if I were to say you cannot go?” He remarked, looking towards the stairs now.

”Uhh. I am…not sure? I guess tell him that you don’t want me going and let him brew why I would listen to what you wanted? Again Alastor, he doesn’t seem like the most understanding person when it comes to not going with his plans. He is the King of Hell, and ‘Lord of the Pride’ realm.” The last bit said with a bit of a lofty attitude paired with finger quotes.

Alastor was clearly processing your statement, and it was hard for him to admit you were likely correct. What a pain. Lucifer was an absolute moron, unfit to be a father, unfit to be king. But he was top dog right now, and Alastor was not. “Perhaps I will join the two of you, to ensure no distracting detours take place. I am concerned his appearance will garner unwanted attention.”

Oh, that was a good point, and you let Alastor know. You invited him to come down, grabbing an apple on the way out the door. You were squinting your eyes looking around for the King, where you spotted a very white snake wearing a top hat wrapped around the gate. He was not one for blending in, not at all.

“There you are!” The snake said, slithering to the ground to come beside you. “You certainly like to make a man wait!” Your eyes rolled, and Alastor coughed, cutting into the conversation. The snake hissed, unimpressed with his presence. “Why is he here? I thought you were helping me?”

“Look, Alastor has known Charlie longer than me, and he is interested in making sure we find the right thing for her. His knowledge on this matter is invaluable.” What the Hell was going on. Was Lucifer jealous?

“Well, I’m not happy about it, always inserting himself where he isn’t wanted!” Alastor was behind the two of you, Lucifer slithering until the three of you made it down the hill out of the hotel’s view. You looked at him and scrunched your face a bit. He was a lot to take in. Alastor was right, he would likely bring unwanted attention. “Um…sir, do you have a disguise? Charlie will probably hear on the news that Lucifer is shopping for his daughter, this would probably be best as a surprise?” Please change form, please change form, please -

Oh thank god. He changed into a black goat-man hybrid thing, goat eyes and all. You noticed his horns in their natural state were larger than Alastors, Yang the two of you made eye contact with mutual understanding. Overcompensation. You coughed out a laugh, and grumbled out any remaining chuckles at his expense. Alastor, as always, needed to get an edge in however and had no issue pointing it out. “Making up for something? Those are mighty large horns for someone who has such a fine, delicate physicality like yours.” Alastors face was filled with glee, the fire in his eyes lighting up Lucifers. They stared at each other and you could feel the static from their clashing gazes.

“Well, I don’t think you need to be concerned, I am the King of Hell, after all. I think that means I can have big horns. Big, beautiful, horns. Sorry that your horns or…er, antlers aren’t as impressive. But you make them work for you and your ridiculous ears!” Alright, that was enough now, you needed to interject this ridiculous headbutting or else it would go on forever.

“Al~right! One, I take offence to the ear remark, we didn’t have a choice. Two, whip ‘em out for the world to see so we can put a period in this pissing contest, and three, I’m starving, this apple has a worm in it because of course it does, and bet your ass I am going to be the scariest damn thing on this street unless I get food in me so let's get going.”

You had crossed your arms and tapped your little boot on the street, thankfully with a well timed growl from your stomach. Lucifer scowled and turned to stomp down the street, barely containing his hissy fit. Alastor couldn’t help but smile at your outburst, you were quite adorable when you tried to boss people around. However one thing had confused him -

“My dear, what am I to ‘whip out’?” He asked as he gestured for you to start walking, him matching your stride and sticking by your side. Oh Jesus Murphy no. He was, like, a century old. This wasn’t new slang, was it? A couple of times you had to educate him on a few newer idioms, generally funny little cute things regarding stuff that took place long after he died, but this was just…not great. “Uuuh. Hmm. How can I put this without bursting into flames?”

You pondered, tapping your chin and mentally patting yourself on the back for not having done so already, “Think about what is required for one to ‘piss’ and perhaps how that could be used to measure such a thing and compare it to perhaps another persons…thing?” Oh such a good beginning only to tank it at the end. Alastor only hmm’d at your statement, glancing at his reflection in the windows as you walked by, Lucifer still ahead of the two of you kicking stones like a toddler.

“Well, I generally do enjoy entering in contests I know I will win, however I am not interested in learning what divine punishment may come upon me for utterly destroying the Devil’s self confidence. Let us consider him lucky that I am in a charitable mood this morning.” He was looking ahead, but his smile was certainly one of the cat that got the canary. You laughed, earning a small chuckle in return, and accepted his crooked arm by weaving your own and meeting his elbow with yours.

The two of you walked behind Lucifer as he tried to order the two of you to walk faster, he was in a hurry. Alastors grip was strong, and he shook his head as you tried to pick up the pace. It wouldn’t be until later that night that in no uncertain terms, Alastor definitely had just told you he was absolutely packing down under.

Spending the morning and early afternoon babysitting Lucifer was one of the worst jobs you ever had. He was all about grand statements, shiny, expensive things. Nothing about the things he wanted to get would interest Charlie. She would certainly say thank you and accept it to not hurt his feelings, but it wouldn’t mean anything to her.

Eventually his steam wore out, and while Alastor was occupied window shopping, bored of your many questions to this royal pain in the ass. “Sir, we’ve been over this. What do you know she likes. Even if it isn’t something we can get.”

“I told you! I only remember things she liked as a kid…and even then I don’t have faith she still likes to eat crayons and cut her own hair.” He sat down on the curb, head in his hands. “I really am a bad father, aren’t I? God, how did I think this would work.” You sat down beside him, patting his back, mindlessly offering support. A group of bull demons walked by and cat-called you, resulting in you rolling your eyes and Lucifer snapping them into bugs. Ah, to have such power over douchebags would be wonderful.

“Really, I don’t know why she wants to redeem some of these people. I understand why she loves you all so much, you’re all alright for sinners. Well, most of you…” He trailed off, looking to Alastors direction. His face held disgust before you realised what he had said.

“That’s it! Oh my god, I have an idea!” You were excited at what was going to happen. “can you conjure anything?” You asked the forlorn angel.

“Pretty much, yea. Living things is a generally a no, why?” You rattled off your idea, Lucifer's eyes brightening excitedly and jumping up with joy with the prospect of creating Charlie’s gift. Why had none of you thought of him making something until now? You relayed the gift to Alastor, and even he was unable to deny the predicted success of your idea. Lucifer said he would need to workshop it, but it wouldn’t take him too long to finish it. You sent him a few things via text message before he disappeared, clearly off to work his magic. A text hit you back right after he left, where he thanked you and left a winky emoji, and a heart. The man was a menace, for sure. Alastor looked at your phone while you responded with a thumbs up and tilted your head up to your left side to meet Alastor’s gaze. He didn’t seem too pleased with the familiarity Lucifer appeared to have with you, but honestly - no way, no how. Lucifer was just…full of love, mostly. Charlie had to get it from somewhere and if her mother could ditch her so easily you doubted she got it from that side.

“I think it’ll be adorable, I’m excited to see it complete. I hope he pays attention to the pictures.” You were breaking the silence, unsure of how the rest of the day would go now that you and Alastor had been left alone. He nodded before asking you to join him to meet a friend. He said he needed to catch up with an old friend, but you might enjoy her (her?) company as well. So, having faith it was harmless, the two of you walked towards his mystery destination, enjoying each other's company, honestly.

When your face paled at the sign reading ‘Cannibal Town’, Alastor laughed at you. “Re~lax! They are perfectly polite here, they do not simply pounce and consume! They prefer one to be dead before consumption. And you, my dear, are very much alive.” He still linked arms with you and pulled you close to keep you comfortable, as some of the locals licked your lips as the two of you walked by. Finally, when the two of you approached a large gazebo in the heart of town, Alastor announced himself to the actual tallest woman you had met. Impeccably dressed, as well. Her name was Rosie, and she was hilarious. It was clear she and Alastor had a long standing friendship filled with mutual respect. The woman had the two of you served with tea and while seated, took her time grilling you with questions.

”Now Alastor, is this the little thorn in your side? The other half to your coin? She’s an absolute doll!” She clapped her hands towards you and smiled wide. Alastor confirmed her theory, and that was when you knew Rosie was to be trusted completely. If Alastor spoke such secrets with her he clearly had nothing to worry about here. It was nice to be around such generous and lively company after your past few hours with a selfish baby. Rosie ate up a large part of your afternoon right into the evening, before politely wishing you a safe trip home.

“Wonda-ful to meet you Darling! Visit me anytime, I know he’s a handful!” Rosie shouted as she waved you off, resulting in you laughing at Alastors expense. ”She’s wonderful Alastor, thank you for introducing me.” Alastor hummed in acknowledgement, nodding in confirmation to your statement. “Rosie is a safe place if your safety is ever compromised. She was here before me so we have known each other for a long while. It was no accident I wanted the two of you to meet.”

You nodded, knowing he was more concerned for his own safety than yours. You weren’t hurt by the knowledge, not really, but for some reason the thought brought your mood down. And unfortunately the two of you were getting much better at picking up on each other's moods lately, and he remarked on it, stopping to look at you with what might have been concern, but was more likely frustration. “Have I said something untowards?” He asked, politely waiting for you to answer.

“No, I was just thinking that…hopefully Lucifer does a good job on Charlie’s things. I really want it to turn out, she really deserves it.” His silence and narrowed eyes let you know he was aware you were hiding something. But it had been a wonderful day, and he allowed the urge to call you out to pass. You yawned suddenly, surprised that you could be tired even though it was still light out. “Well, we should continue my dear. I suggest we take the express!” Alastor exclaimed, grabbing you very close, hands on both sides of you, bringing you close. Then suddenly you were absorbed by his shadows and it felt as if you were sinking but being pulled out at the same time. By the time the world around you stopped moving you realised that he used his shadow magic to spit the two of you into the hallway between your hotel rooms.

Not entirely unpleasant but not really something you were looking to use as a main form of travel anytime soon. Alastor walked you the 6 steps to your door and the two of you had another minor staring contest, the silence thick, but your heartbeat pounding in your head. Or perhaps it was Alastors heartbeat, as he was still quite close to you. “I commend you on your brainchild from earlier, why I do believe it is something that even Lucifer Moriningstar can accomplish!” You opened your door and smirked at his comment.

“You better be careful, you’re essentially insulting Charlie by proxy, that is her father after all, I think we both learned how similar they can be today.” Alastors familiar laugh was followed up by radio laughter, something he only saved for what you figured was ‘true funny’. “Have a good night Alastor!” You slowly entered, holding the handle behind you as you thought about a foolish fantasy. It was so quiet, and you turned your head back around, only to meet the Radio Demons glowing eyes. Awe fuck me! You should have just walked in and shut the door like a smart person.

Alastor was suddenly right behind you, your head still turned around so sharply that you body had started to make the same turn. Alastor whispered into your ears, and it made your whole body break out in a sensual chill. “I believe you owe me something, darling.” He said in a low, breathy manner. His voice shot straight down to your core. Your jaw, opening and closing in awe, had him interrupting your thoughts once more. “A thank you would be grand, considering I was on my best behaviour!”

Holy shit were you glad he followed up his statement with what he wanted right away, because your mind went straight into the gutter”. A small mouthed ‘O’ fell on your lips and you turned your body around so you were facing him entirely now. You did a small curtsy, and said your polite and proper goodbyes. He bowed slightly before grabbing your chin and filled most of the gap, leaning in softly saying “good girl” basically right into your ear. Was that a moan, did you moan? Judging by the insane smile that filled his face, you had indeed. He backed his head up slightly to catch your eyes, and the two of you sported twin blushes and deep breathing. Somehow in the tete a tete happening between the two of you, you had grabbed the lapel of his coat while he still held your chin in place. He was so close to you it felt as if you were breathing in each other's air. You were certain it was only a moment but time felt as if it had slowed down. Your lips were just a hair apart now, and you could surely feel each other's faces burning. What was happening?

When a door down the hall clicked you both shot back from one another, Alastor wiping his hand down the front of his jacket as he walked backwards to his room, nodding a hello to Angel Dust as he stomped down the stairs. You said nothing, focusing on settling your heart rate, clutching one hand above your heart. And once again the two of you were alone, but the moment had passed. You gave him a small smile and said a quiet goodnight as you went into your room and closed the door, forcing yourself to not look back. Once the door was closed, you leaned against it, head propped against it as you looked up to the ceiling. What was happening to you?

Outside the door it sounded like Angel had returned, as a string of angry italian was being shouted in the hallways. There was a knock at your door. You opened it wide, expecting to see the tall spider demon. “Ang-“ suddenly there was a hand fisted into your hair, another wrapping around your waist, and Alastor had captured your mouth with his, enveloping you entirely.

The impact had your heart nearly explode with shock and your body surged with arousal immediately. The kiss was strong, desperate, and long. Seconds, moments, minutes -who cared. The two of you fought your lips against another, him inserting his long tongue into your mouth, gripping you tighter as he almost bent you in half, Alastor kissed you like a man possessed. You moaned into his mouth as he swallowed you whole. Your hands had come up to his collar to pull him in harder, and nothing but sucking and wet lips were heard for a moment. As quickly as it happened it ended, Alastor straightening out his jacket as he looked you over. You could imagine how tousled you looked. The overstimulation of the physical connection had the two of you breathing hard.

”Well, that certainly went a touch different than I expected,” Alastor started, licking his lips of the blood present. Had one of you bit a lip? Or bit the other's lip? Oh god, what the hell just happened. “My apologies for losing control of myself there dear, but usually a gentleman offers a lady a kiss goodnight after a night out.” He bowed to you again, his professional gentlemanly persona returned. You only nodded in agreement and he took his leave, giving a quick wave as he shut his door behind him.

Standing there for a few minutes easily you just couldn’t get over that your pussy was throbbing, and the sensation was not letting up. In fact, it felt like it was building up. Was he? Your eyes flew wide open as you slammed the door and jumped into bed, stripping your clothes off rapidly before laying under the covers and allowing the quick buildup of desire take over you. You were wet, soaked, and your hips were shifting in an attempt to add friction to the mix, but you were close enough just thinking about what the man across the hall was doing. Because of you. You finally placed your middle finger onto your clit and hissed at the contact. You were so hot with desire your hips bucked once pressure was applied. In return you could feel a second wave of buildup happening, and you moved your finger to match the pace. As you pinched one nipple to a hard nub and pulled at it you came, and you came hard. An animalistic groan escaped you as your orgasm took over, sending a shock through your system. Your body felt like it was burning from the inside out.

As your hand came to rest on the bed beside your hip, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling again. You had just had the most intense mutual masturbation orgasm with a demon. In the next room. On another level due to the blood magic the two of you were wrapped up in. You yawned, deciding it really didn’t matter at that very moment, you had eternity to focus on this strange path life had taken you on.

You bundled up in the blankets, body spent and mind exhausted, smiling as you drifted off to sleep.

____________

Remember, slow burn.

Also, I want to thank @hazelfoureyes for inspiring me to materialize my brainchild! Read her stuff, it’s honestly the best. Like, I’ve re-read it 6 times already the best. All of it.

@queermaxwooo @drawings-by-meh @sirens-and-moonflowers @looking1016 @mo-0-o @blakeaha @mutifandomkid @ministarheaven @nightingale0603 @loadedwafflefries @rizzscary @bishiglomper @vividachromatic @fluffy-koalala @mkaella @readergirlstuff @xalygatorx @midorichoco @alastorssimp @xalygatorx

#alastor #alastor smut #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x ofc #alastorxreader #alastor x you #soulmates trope #hazbin #alastorxyou #slow burn #Alastorxofc #radio demon smut #radio demon #radio demon x reader #radio demon x you

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not-my-final-account · 4 months

Text

Danny is Gotham

PS most of the ghost stuff in this is fannon

Most ghosts had haunts. Technically Danny Phantom had the whole world, but it wasn’t his haunt.

Most cities had ghosts. Technically Gotham had loads of ghosts, but Lady Gotham was fading.

I went incorporeal as the beam of energy flew at me, then laughed “What?” Tucker asked, my hands flew over my key board as I beat the noob who had shot at me in the first place.

“I got shot at in game and disappeared in real life.” I said

“That’s you- Danny Clueless Phantom.” Sam said

“Hey!” I retaliated, but it was affectionate.

I didn’t fully understand this whole ghost thing yet. But I had figured out that ghosts had cores, and haunts, and ‘fraids. Cores were essentially the soul of a ghost and that’s pretty much all I’ve figured out. No one seems to remember that I have no clue how any of this stuff works! I’m still a new ghost.

But anyways, ‘fraids were… the best word I could think of was ghost families or animal packs but ghost, and like it or not Sam and Tucker had been accepted into mine. I wasn’t sure quite how it happened but now I seemed connected to them, and when I was happy with them (and/or we were laughing together) my core hummed happily.

Haunts however, I had none of. Haunts were basically a ghosts house or an area the ghost claims as their own or protects. I dunno if they represent status or anything but being a ghost king without haunt seemed pretty bad.

“Yeah!” Tucker yelled as we got another key.

“Only a trillion more to go.” Sam said sarcastically,

“Five actually.” I said. Suddenly I felt a tug on my core “Guys I gotta go.”

“Bye!” Sam and Tucker called in unison. It made me smile as I powered down the game and then my computer, I gave into the tug and let it pull me to where the summoning was.

I had already transformed into my most regal form on the short journey there, so I didn’t hesitate to grab the edge of the circle. What did worry me though was the screaming that started the second I reached my hand up. I cursed whoever made these things for making you pull yourself up and not just be able to fly out, but I got up due to Sams pull up training.

The second I got out I flew up and hovered above the circle ready for battle. I actually blinked when I saw three kids standing in front of me- well one was standing, the other two were lying on the floor and hugging each other.

“Ehh.” I said as I took in what they were doing. The two on the floor were shaking and in hysterics and the standing up one was staring up at me with wide eyes, I think he’s in shock. I reached out slightly and his mouth fell open and he dropped the book he was holding then passed out.

The books title was ‘ghost summoning’ oh my god I’ve been summoned by idiots. I gave them a growl so they wouldn’t try to do this again and prepared myself to dive back into the summoning circle and into the phantom realm where I could quickly fly back to my house and start playing DOOM again. Then I felt a tug in my core. It wasn’t like a summoning which tugged at my core from the outside, trying to pull me somewhere, this was part of my kingly duties; a ghost was in trouble and/or calling for me.

I flew off towards the ghost without a second thought about the party I had probably ruined just by existing and got there in seconds. I landed atop a hill and wind swept my hair away from my face, a skinny grey ghost who seemed like someone you’d spot it old movies looked at me.

She had straight black flowing down her shoulders, a large light grey hat with a grey peacock feather on it, a grey dress and a shade umbrella, she was clearly old although still beautiful and she moved with grace as she stepped before me and fell to her knees

“King Phantom.” she said, how weak her voice was worried me “I am lady Gotham. However Gotham is no longer the beautiful city I knew it to be, it is not close enough to my home and I fear that it has changed too much for me to be strongly connected to it, my power to protect it is fading. Please my King, I have heard you are strong and kind, protect my city, both from what’s outside and what’s inside.” she begged, she was clearly dignified and her begging meant this was truely important. Well, I did need a haunt.

“Okay.” I agreed, relief flooded her face and something else flooded my, I couldn’t name it if I tried but at least it filled an emptiness that had been resident there for a while.

The Lady Gotham fell to the ground, her body faded rapidly

“Please.” she rasped breathlessly “Take good care of them. Protect my city, protect my knight and his sons.” those were her final words.

“I will.” I said, and upon hearing that she slumped down and let herself fade.

I looked up at the city and went incorporeal and invisible. Good thing it was the school holidays, I think I’d need to spend a few days here and find Lady Gothams knight.

I sat down in a corner. I had found out that here I more or less was the city, not body horror or possession though, in a weird way. But it let me sit here fully visible and still be hidden, the shadows wrapped around me and nothing part of the city- my city would hurt me.

I watched as he fought. He was strong, smart, and had resources. I had read the news papers and this was the Dark Knight, he has multiple side kicks who many believed were his family, and even without my help he blended in with the city and knew it like the back of his hand. The blend wasn’t seamless anymore though, he had noticed something was different but didn’t know quite what. I knew though, I knew I had found Lady Gothams knight.

I let him tie up the criminals and he jumped onto a roof top. I followed him and and let the fog hide me, then I landed and let it fade. “Hello my knight.” I called because he was my knight now. He froze and spun around to face me but didn’t attack

“My name is Batman and I am no ones, if you’re some high ranking government offical I assure you I don’t work for the police either.” Batman said, he glanced at the inches between my feet and the ground “Who are you?” he asked, I hesitated.

What title would be best here? Danny Phantom? Danny Fenton? King Phantom? I thought about Lady Gotham and decided.

“You would know me as Gotham.” I introduced, wow that sounded more cryptic that I meant it to. Batman scoffed and I reached out and told the city to curl around him, to protect him and hide him and power him like it did with Lady Gotham.

He froze then relaxed slightly, his cape blended into the shadows instead of ending, his face became almost fully obscured, his eyes glowed in the dark menacingly, his form became something less human.

“Why reveal yourself to me now Gotham?” he asked, for once there was nothing hostile in his voice.

“Gotham has changed too much in the past years for Lady Gotham to have power anymore, she is too weak to be anywhere but the ghost zone.” I explained “She was the Gotham you knew. She called for me to protect the city and protect you.”

Batman looked wary again, I could understand why he wouldn’t trust me. New leadership could suck (or be evil) and it took a while for them to gain respect, especially if you didn’t know them.

“I’ll protect you in a general sense, but if you ever really need help, like life or death help, call for me.” I said, then I let a wave of fog swallowed me and disappeared.

#Danny phantom #notmyfinalaccount writes #dp x dc #danny is gotham au #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp

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