#This went slightly off the rails

[hermitscratch]

clothing swap ethubs?

Send me a pairing + a prompt! || Accepting

C1: Clothing Swap, Etho/Bdubs, 735 words

The world woke Etho slowly.

The windows were open, breezes airing the room with the smell of spring foliage from Bdubs' blossoming garden and wet dirt from last night's rain. Gently flapping curtains let streams of morning sunlight slip between them, twitters of birdsong heralded what would be a beautiful day, and Etho's eyes fluttered in the peaceful limbo between alert and asleep.

He rolled over, and gave serious consideration to staying put. Bdubs was very passionate about the quality of his sleep, and the bed was as luxurious as mid-game resources could make it. On his back, Etho was already sinking into the plush wool and sponge, but an intrusive twinge of soreness pushed him into full wakefulness.

Okay. Potion first, then the bed could eat him.

Etho sat up. Digging himself from the bed's comfortable clutches took Herculean effort, but it was worth it to feel the way his joints and muscles loosened with his first stretch. Arms over his head and back arched, he breathed deep of the nature carried in by the wind.

There was something else, too, a sweet smell from behind the bedroom door that told Etho exactly where he'd find Bdubs.

If he could just find his clothes.

They hadn't been particularly careful with that last night, things chucked left or right to get them out of the way as quickly as possible. Bdubs must have tidied after he woke up- if draping the shed articles in a pile over the bed's footboard could be considered such- but none of it was what Etho had walked in with yesterday.

It beat a nude stroll, though. He helped himself to a pair of boxers from Bdubs' drawers, and picked through the pile for the rest. Etho didn't have the broad shoulders Bdubs did, the white shirt's V-neck sitting lower than it should. The dark jeans were loose on his waist and short on his legs, the artful rips showing more of his thighs than his knees. It felt silly, but he could handle silly for a couple of hours.

Etho crept from the bedroom on bare feet, the sweet smell joined by the sound of sizzling and the promise of breakfast beckoning him closer to the kitchen. It was mouthwatering, enough that he almost didn't notice that he'd found his missing clothes.

Bdubs' back was to him, manning a pan that now held something savory- pork sausage, if Etho had to guess. He was humming something, slow and familiar, swaying on his feet. His sweatpants- or rather, Etho's sweatpants- were rolled up, the ankle elastic folded to hold the fabric around Bdubs' calves. The compression shirt, black and sleeveless, was doing the work of his absent binder, the neck zipper partway undone.

Etho leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, "I was wondering where my clothes went."

Bdubs startled, but recovered quickly. "My floor, my clothes!" He answered smugly, shooting a cheeky grin over his shoulder and brightening even further as he got a look at Etho, "And I knew you'd wear that if you couldn't find yours."

Ah. "Oh no," Etho chuckled softly, pushing off the doorway. Bdubs turned to face him properly, eyes sparkling as they looked Etho up and down, "You mean I played right into your hands?"

"Eeyep," Bdubs drawled, arms threading around Etho's waist. His voice was soft, chin on Etho's chest, looking up at him with something like awe. "Gods, get a look at you. I'm so proud of me."

Etho snorted, and reached around to take the pan off the heat before draping his arms around Bdubs shoulders. "This really does it for you, huh? An old shirt and ripped jeans that don't fit?"

Bdubs pulled away just enough to squint at him, "First of all, whaddaya mean, an old shirt? Cleo made it for me in Season Nine, I'll have you know!"

"Which was like two years ago now, but y'know..." Etho ribbed.

Bdubs scoffed, "Second of all! You look good in anything! I'll be accepting no complaints, criticisms, or depreciations-"

"What about grievances?"

"Nope!"

"Objections?"

"Overruled! Now, the third and most important thing," Bdubs continued, leaning in again to nuzzle the column of Etho's neck, marred in spots with bruising color. The scratch of morning stubble made Etho shiver, and Bdubs smiled, "It doesn't matter what you're wearing. I like that it's mine."

In that, Etho couldn't agree more.

[nikoisme]

Going absolutely insane over the concept of name and identity in The Odyssey. The concept of recognition. Like, the reveal of one's identity is present in both The Iliad and The Odyssey, but specifically The Odyssey drives me into despair.

The Phaeacians don't recognize Odysseus. His family doesn't recognize Odysseus (except his dog!! all praise Argos). Odysseus doesn't recognize Ithaca. There's barely any recognition without revealing, and Odysseus takes a while to reveal himself. Chronologically speaking, his first disguise in The Odyssey is Nobody. And when he does reveal his true identity, it causes him and his crew pain and suffering. Maybe that instilled a fear of revealing his true identity. His name invoked the death of his men. And all his other identities (too tired to remember/look for all the names he's gone under), while realistic and authentic sounding, are non-existent. All those people he claimed he was are not real. They are nobody. If he is not Odysseus, he is nobody, and if he is not nobody, he is Odysseus. But Odysseus, his fucking name drives me insane. His name means to hate. Since his childhood that hatred was imprinted on him. Do you think it left an lasting impact?? Some sort of "expectation" that he had to meet?? A curse, a constant shadow following him everywhere he goes?? Something he inherited, that is tied to him even if it's not his?? Hate was tied to him directly through his name that his grandfather gave him. In The Iliad, everyone refers to him as "Son of Laertes (which is obviously the way they identified as back then)", "sacker of cities", "long-enduring" etc etc. But Odysseus refers to himself as "Father of Telemachus". Also this:

He swears by his son's name, by the name of someone, something that is his. Something that is not inherited, that isn't placed upon him. Something that he earned himself. Something that he loves, the opposite of the hate that is his name. It's a part of him, part of his identity. And if he is not the son of Telemachus, then he isn't Odysseus. He is nobody.

But in The Odyssey, he refers to himself as the sacker of cities. When he introduces himself to the Phaeacians, he says that he is the sacker of cities. His invention of the Trojan horse was the bane of Troy. And that trick is a part of him, his cunning and trickery. He destroyed the home of hundreds, thousands of people. And do you think, that after every hardship he faced on his journey back home, he lost his sense of self?? In the war, he had the hope of going back home. He had the hope that he would see his wife and son again. As long as the other kings and soldiers are there, also longing to go back home, then his hope is real. He is real. But after all of his men died, he was alone. No one to share his longing, to share his hope. No one is there to remind him that he is real. So he only has his newer memories, new things that are tied to him. Sacker of cities. Long enduring. Doesn't sound all that happy. It almost sounds like hate. Without the hope of seeing everything that is his because he earned/worked for it himself, he goes back to his name. It might be the only thing grounding him, reminding him that he is real. And when he hears the bard sing of the fall of Troy, the man absolutely weeps. Because he sings about him. He sings about the fall of Troy, and it fell because of him. It fell because he is the sacker of cities. He is the sacker of cities because he is Odysseus. Because he doesn't know who he is. And even Penelope when she listens to the bard wants him to sing about something else. Someone else. Because that is not her Odysseus, her husband, her son's father. It hurts her to think that even though he might be alive, her Odysseus is gone. He is dead either way. And even his son when he sees him first thinks he is a god. That he is not human, that he is not a man. Because gods are immortal, ever lasting. And mortals have only a lifetime to make it worth it, to attach something to themselves and their names. And Telemachus thinks that his father is a god, that his father has no name and no identity of his own.

And when his loved ones recognize him, it's by the things he attached himself to during the war. The things that are a part of his real identity, of his identity. Odysseus tells his son that he is his father. Argos recognizes him as his master. Eurycleia recognizes his scar that he earned when he went hunting. He tells his father about the trees in the orchard. And Penelope finally believes it's him because of the olive tree bed story. The bed that he built himself. That he built his home around. And Penelope doesn't believe it's truly Odysseus, because he is not the man that left Ithaca twenty years ago. But when Odysseus is able to tell her about the bed, she can believe it's Odysseus. Or atleast a part of him is there. It's Odysseus Odysseus, the name and identity that he built. And not Odysseus, the name that simply means hate.

[sgt-tombstone]

The brainrot is rotting so

National Treasure but it’s Simon (Ben) and Roach (Riley) who team up with John MacTavish (Dr. Chase) to steal the Declaration of Independence before Shepherd, Graves, and the Shadows can. They eventually work with Price, Gaz, and Laswell (the FBI) to arrest Shepherd, Graves, and the Shadows after finding the treasure and donating it. Of course it ends with Ghost/Soap/Roach (because the movie would’ve ended in a throuple if the director wasn’t a coward) and they all live happily ever after

[villain-in-love]

One of the many reasons I love Xerxes Break:

As the oldest sibling I understand this exact emotion all too well.

[argiopi]

got the cops called on me for the most hilariously sensible reason last night

So i have a new industrial piercing (my first piercing..! i love it •w•), and it got infected because of course it did, it's a cartilage piercing and i live outside. Context i've been living in my car for the past few weeks, which has been pretty good but one of the tradeoffs is i do not have a bathroom. The piercer told me if the piercing got infected I could soak it in saltwater, so i needed a source of 1. salt, 2. water that is warm or at least not the below-freezing ambient temperature i currently exist in.

Gas stations have both these things. (I have yet to purchase salt for my occasional propane stove cooking). Only problem is it was past midnight in a rural area, so I didn't find a 24 hour convenience store until around 100 miles into my route for the evening.

At 3 AM local time the store was inhabited by just One stern-looking employee who was mopping the floor. My grungy ass walks in carrying a small collapsible bowl and immediately begins casing the place like the world's shittiest thief, looking for those little free salt packets. I looked around the (empty, no hot food at 3 AM) hot dog stand and saw only wet condiments so i circled back around to the grocery section in case they were selling salt shakers I could buy. No luck so i desperately returned to the hot dog counter in case I missed the salt, and noticed a cabinet labeled CONDIMENTS below the dog cooker, which did conceal salt packets. I stuffed a handful of them in my pocket and hoped the mopping woman wouldn't ask, then pivoted to the bathroom where I locked myself for the next fifteen minutes.

I filled my bowl with hot water which was actually cool water but at least it wasn't frigid, and mixed salt into it and held it to my ear. After a few minutes the staff, who had been understandably watching me from around corners the entire time I was searching for salt, knocked on the door. I replied "hello?" and she didn't respond, so I assumed she was just checking if anyone was in there before she tried entering to continue mopping. I finished cleaning my sad little ear and bought a bag of yogurt pretzels as a gesture of good will because I felt bad for taking her salt and taking too much time in the bathroom when she needed to clean.

Enter The Pig. I had returned to my car and grabbed my first aid kit to apply antiobiotic ointment, when an officer entered the store. Trepidation when he arrived since I knew I was being a freak, but then i thought he was just doing his own shopping, then he came back out and approached my vehicle.

Rolled down my window and he asks what was going on in the bathroom. (What if i had been just taking a long shit??). So I showed him my ear and my bowl and explained, as Alertly, Calmly, and Soberly as i could after driving for multiple hours after midnight, to the face of someone who can ruin my life with a penstroke, that I was on the road and had to soak this infected piercing. Luckily it was a confused young cop who was too bewildered to inquire much further, not an old hardass who might start asking more challenging questions such as "where are you going" or "where are you staying tonight and why are you washing your ear at the gas station and not there." He clearly barely even looked at my car - asked if i was a local when my license plate is from two timezones away - and let me go without even collecting my information.

That was the sixth time that police have confronted me for acting outside social norms. The first time was because I was plucking an invasive plant species from the side of the road and he thought I was falling when I walked up & down the slope. The second time I was walking home alone at night, and maybe someone called because I had a backpack on and they thought I was trying to rob a house. I was just walking home from the train. The third time I had been biking home in the dark without a headlight, and i fell on my face and didn't know I was bleeding until a bastard pulled up and told me someone called because they thought I got hit by a car. The fourth time was when I fell in the river last winter and i was knocking on random doors asking for directions home to minimize my risk of hypothermia, and I suppose the woman who drove me home called to send someone to make sure i was okay? The fifth time was the first time I slept in my car, which ironically was before I started serially sleeping in my car. I was falling asleep on the highway after an all-nighter so I took the next exit and took a nap in my driver's seat at the end of a random residential street before I ended up on the news, and that's how I learned suburbanites are paranoid as all hell about anything out of the ordinary because a cop knocked on my window and asked me if I was drunk (who would say yes to that question?). Now I select my sleeping sites very carefully, which is probably the most annoying thing about hashtag vanlife, but I haven't gotten The Knock again yet and sometimes when I pull into random public lands after dark I wake up to mountains I've never seen before and that fuels my soul.

Lesson learned is that if you need to snort sodium chloride in a gas station bathroom at 3 AM, just have an ear piercing and dampen the hair around it and carry a bowl around, and you've got a story that's Too Weird To Be Making Shit Up.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

i mean this amongst the material where we were Ever supposed to be at all on the same page about axe & wendy's nightmare quasiromance including that it was after the vicious pettiness stalking & relationship sabotaging from axe that we got the warmest & fuzziest rather than wendy finally reaching a breaking point, or know that it's not great if prince goes around taking advantage of young employees his kid's age but we would never disrespect that person by calling them a victim and also we can't even think too badly of him until he outright confirms (rudely!) he feels entitled, and then we also will actually do nothing about this save for eventually saying actually it looks bad if his wife also has sex outside the marriage, which would defy his entitlement

[nalyra-dreaming]

When they said that Lestat's murder will be revisited, I thought we'll see that it was Claudia who killed him, because it makes more sense for Louis to just let her do it without getting involved than for her to leave him alone with Lestat. I still think we'll see something like that but imagine if one of the changes we see is Louis telling Lestat he loves him right before the end. I know the "do you love me now?" scene maybe has more meaning if he never said it before, but I think it can still work even if he did, and it does feel like something Louis would leave out of his version of events.

Hey nonny!

Could very well be! As I said, I do not think that the final part of the "murder" happened as it did. I think that is something that Louis told himself, and that Daniel has only just begun to... strip to shreds^^.

Ohhhhh and Louis definitely would leave this out of events, if he said he loved Lestat then. And oh boy, I mean... despite it all, and all the shit, Lestat is quite forgiving in the books. And yet I'm not sure how he'd react to something like that... it has the power to break him, or make him furious I bet.

That said... I bet that if they truly revisit this (and I bet that would mean that they filmed it already imho gnaahhh), then it will extremely painful. I mean, the murder scene was a bit like a sanitized version of it. It was still painful, and they still went for the throat, pun intended, but... it wasn't the 11 times of Lestat calling out to Louis, or Louis standing by in terror.

So yeah. I'm expecting that to change actually. To absolute (fanfiction-level we-put-everyone-through-it) pain.

(If I just may, since we're on the "pain" - the fact that they inverted the church scene and the murder scene is just... so brilliant thought?!)

(Didn't find longer gifs of the scenes right now, but Louis description of the church scene doesn't fit with what we saw... he's sitting to Lestat's left, while Lestat is laying on the floor. In the death scene, we saw Louis "sitting a ways away from" Lestat. Just... ugh.)

[brokendownhearse]

WIBTA for coming back from the dead two years after I died, even though we agreed she could move on?

My immortal wife and I were together for 67 happy years, but it had to end eventually. I died two years ago today. Before I did, I made sure she knew I wanted her to move on and find someone new. She didn't seem thrilled, but she accepted it.

Anyway. I didn't expect to come back, but at some point after I died I started... idk, haunting, I guess? At first it was just a moment or two here and there, but I've gotten pretty good at it and now my essence can linger for hours at a time. Once I figured out who I was and what was going on, I decided it wouldn't hurt to haunt her a little. After all, nobody could see me unless I wanted them to - I just wanted to make sure she's okay.

Problem is, I think she could see me? Sometimes she would react to my presence as if she knew I was there. I got worried that maybe haunting her would keep her from moving on, so I decided to just stay in my graveyard instead. Maybe if I stop lingering in her thoughts she'll be able to let me go.

That was two months ago. She just turned up at my graveyard, middle of the night, armed with a shovel, glint of madness in her eyes, and it looks like she's intent on digging up my body. It's pretty gross right now, I don't want her to see that. Should I appear to her and tell her to knock it off, or would that just make things worse? Should I let her continue so she can accept the inevitability of death and move on?

[tyunniez]

converse high... bttm male reader

!!.. this has to be my worst work yet,, uhh rough sex, creampie, kinda vanilla ngl, not proofread idfk also bts ref borahae 💜

you jumped around in excitement to see one of your favorite group is finally going on tour! and they're coming to your city!

you immediately rushed to check the tickets, choosing the vip standing seat. " wait, how much money do I have left? " you stopped yourself before making a bad decision.

you looked at your bank account and almost passed out. you're broke as hell.

" why the hell am I so broke? " you questioned yourself, trying to find a genuine reason.

you scanned throughout your room till your eyes landed on your closet. " ah. that's why. "

multiple articles of clothing brimmed your closet causing it to overfill, making you slightly grimace at how your clothing rail was holding on for its dear life.

you recently went on another shopping haul after seeing your favorite idol adorning a new collection that was released by your favorite fashion brand.

you just had to get it.

yeah, maybe you had a bit of a spending problem..

your parents have spoiled you since birth because you're their one and only child. no, you weren't wealthy. you had to take on jobs multiple times, but hey hard work pays off!

you were currently on your break, and you intended to spend it going shopping till you went broke but unfortunately, due to you blowing your money to buy another vip standing ticket, that money mysteriously vanished.

" hmm.. is there any job I can do right now? " you rolled around in bed while scrolling through your phone, trying to find any quick gag you could do to earn some cash.

you ended up throwing your phone to the wall, groaning aloud when you could find none.

" i'm so lazy! not to mention my piles of assignments... " you sighed to yourself, opting to go downstairs instead to eat your sorrows away.

you were greeted by both of your parents downstairs, your mom already getting started on making lunch. " oh dear, what's wrong? you look stressed. "

you go to stand beside her, washing your hands in the process to help her cook. " I'm looking for a job to buy a ticket for a concert. my fav group is coming here you know! " you complained to your mom.

you grab the onion and began slicing it, shedding a few tears meanwhile. your mom thinks to herself, turning to you with an idea.

" you know our neighbor is actually looking for someone to babysit her kid. the pay is quite good since her kid is quite.. naughty. " you stared at the soup you were stirring and hummed.

" i can send you the details if you're interested, dear. " you nodded and decided to see how much would the pay be, who knows it might be enough.

a bonus is the kid has a total hottie as her brother!

you took one look at the pay and were sold immediately. you did the math and doing this for the amount of time needed will be more than enough.

i mean, babysitting can't be that hard, right?

⊹₊⋆

you sighed nervously as you finally approached the front door, your tote bag on your shoulder with everything you needed inside. you knocked on the door, anxiously waiting for the mom to greet you.

instead, you were greeted by someone else. " you the new babysitter? "

you stuttered, brain short-circuiting. instead of answering, you stared at the man in front of you.

the red-haired cocked his head to the side, waiting for you to answer with a raised brow. " hello? you there? " he asked in an annoyed tone.

" oh, oh yeah sorry. y-yeah, i'm the new babysitter. " you gripped the strap of your tote bag, trying your best to maintain eye contact with the man in front of you.

he hummed and opened the door wider for you to come in. you excused yourself and stepped into the house.

you walked up to ms. moore to greet her but before you could say anything she rushed towards you, her bag already in her hand.

" oh yn dear! i was just about to leave! thank god you're here. so there's money on the counter in case maya wants anything to eat. you can ask my son for any help. i'll be back before one so i hope you can withstand.. "

before you could ask any questions, she already rushed her way out towards the door. " jason, you better help the babysitter this time! thank you again and i'll see you when i get back, dear! "

with a slam of the door, she was gone.

you stood there, trying to process the information she just dumped on you. in your shocked state, jason gave you a pat on the shoulder. " she always does that. good luck dealing with that devil. ", was all he said before leaving you alone.

" maya, go easy on him! " he shouted upstairs.

you turned to the kid staring at you from the couch, a little concerned about what he just said. you've dealt with kids before, this will be easy.

⊹₊⋆

god, you regretted even thinking that.

there was a reason why babysitters kept dropping out like flies. this kid might as well come straight from hell!

you let out a long sigh as you crashed onto the sofa. you finally managed to put maya to sleep. though you couldn't really relax, still scared she might pull something with you thinking she was asleep.

" don't worry she's asleep. " you looked to the side to see jason slipping next to you on the couch, remote in his hand as he scrolled through various movies.

you let out another sigh, leaning your head back against the headrest and closing your eyes. you crossed your legs over one another, inspecting your slightly dirty converse high.

you peered over next to you, silently admiring jason.

you observed how his grown-out wolf cut, his red-haired that was now washed out is slightly messy, making it look like he just rolled out of bed.

your eyes were especially glued to his piercings. from his industrial to his snake bite, god he has so much.

you were more so drawn to his lips, that you could see his tongue-piercing. he purposely toyed with it, flicking his tongue out to tease you.

he licked his lips ever so slowly, his pink tongue grazing over his lower lip, not forgetting to graze over his snake bite. you gulped and looked away to try to get your mind on something else.

you didn't want to pop a boner in someone else's house!

" had enough already? " his sultry voice suddenly asked. you whipped your neck to look at him, eyes wide like a deer caught in a headlight, did he catch me staring..?

you cleared your throat and grabbed a nearby pillow to try to cover your growing hard-on.

" w-what're you talking about? " you glued your eyes towards the tv, trying to seem as unbothered as you can, thou the stuttering clearly gave it away..

jason rolled his eyes and discarded the pillow you were clinging onto, " oh come on, don't play dumb now. "

he pinned you down on the couch, caging you in leaving you no choice but to look at him.

" don't tell me you didn't notice at all.. "

you tried your best to look at him in the eyes, trying to figure out what he was talking about. well, he was really touchy.. his hands always found their way to touch you no matter.

he always knows just where and when to linger his touches to make you slightly flustered, the way he held your waist earlier still not leaving your eyes.

he also never took his eyes off of you ever since you stepped into his house. his eyes always trailing over to wherever you are, observing whatever the hell you are doing.

your cheeks got redder as you turned your head to the side, trying to hide from his gaze. " see i know you were a smart boy, now how far are you willing to go, bunny? "

you clasped your hand over your mouth, eyes rolling back to the back of your head. this is all too lewd!

you peeked down to look at him and the view below you was breathtaking.

jason's messy hair was now slicked back with his sweat, his big hands holding your legs open as his tongue worked its way on your dick. you could feel his tongue piercing along it, the added sensation making your thigh quiver.

you slowly released your hold on your own mouth, breath shaky. " jason, i-i'm close.. " your meal voice was shaky from the amount of pleasure you were experiencing.

he hummed and just continued to suck you, his hand now fondling your balls, massaging them as if to coax you to release.

you gripped the bedsheet below you, the warmth of his mouth mixed with the occasional cold feeling of his piercing was driving you over the edge. with a loud moan, you finally released in his mouth, eyes closing in bliss.

jason swallowed it all, making sure not to leave any drop behind. you didn't know whether to feel grossed out by it or not.

" ready to move on now bunny? " jason asked you while grabbing a bottle of lube, squirting a glob of it on his fingers. you silently nodded and watched as he squirted another glob on your hole.

" cold.. " you whined at him, feeling the chilliness of the lube. " don't worry, i'll warm you right up bunny. " he smiled.

he first inserted one finger into you slowly, letting you get used to the feeling. he began slowly moving it, occasionally grazing over that spot that made you see stars.

he then inserted another and another, steadily picking up his pace and getting more rougher as time went on. your eyes shoot back open as you kept your lips as tight as you could.

you were close and jason seemed to know this too.

before you could reach your climax, he swiftly pulled his fingers out. you looked up at him in confusion, dumbfounded as to why he stopped. " w-why'd you stopped? "

he took off his boxer, tossing it somewhere else. " don't tell me you were gonna cum just from that. the real fun begins now, bunny "

you watched as jason stroked his own dick, pouring lube on it. he was big. maybe too big for you. " are you sure it'll fit.. " you asked him while your eyes still trained on it.

" don't worry.. " he aligned himself with your hole, " i'll make it fit. "

with that, he shoved himself into you, the student action made you let out a loud moan. your eyes instantly teared up from the sudden stretch. you bit your lips to make sure no other noise escaped from you.

he was so big and you felt so.. full. his tip perfectly kissed your prostate, almost as if you were molded just for him.

" look at you taking it so well.. i knew i should've stuffed you full the moment i saw you. "

you stifled another incoming moan. your hands both covered your face, trying to hide your flushed face. two hands suddenly held onto your wrist, effectively prying your hands off of your face.

" don't hide this gorgeous face from me now. "

his own fingers intertwined with your own as he pounded into you roughly, going fast and aggressive from the start. a string of moans left your lips, your voice shaky due to how fast he was.

soon, one of his hands sneaked its way onto your thigh, hoisting it up. you almost screamed from how much deeper he was inside you. you didn't think it was even possible.

" jasonn, i'm near.. " you whined. your own dick bounced and twitched begging for release. " i'm close too, bunny.. cum with me, yeah? "

you nodded while jason held onto your ankles, his fingers digging into the fabric of your converse high. he somehow began speeding up, chasing his own climax.

you closed your mouth with your own hand, knowing damn well your moans were echoing throughout the house already.

with no warning whatsoever, you felt the warm liquid soon filling your inside, dropplings of it escaping from your hole. the feeling of being filled with jason's thick cock mixed with his own cum running down your ass caused you to also release.

you shut your eyes as your release painted your stomach white, some of it landing on jason's.

after a few moments of silence, he then let go of your ankles, slowly pulling out. you winced at the feeling of emptiness. you rolled to the side, jason also crawling next to you.

you soon almost lull yourself to sleep before remembering that tomorrow you have to babysit maya. oh god maya. you prayed she was sleeping like a baby and didn't hear anything.

" shit.. i honestly can't feel my legs and i still have to babysit maya tomorrow... " you groaned out loud next to him, trying to brainstorm an idea on how to babysit that devil in your current state.

jason only laughed next to you. talking about how he'll figure out a way to deal with her tomorrow. you hope he will since you can't miss the pay...

[cryptidghostgirl]

omg omg omg totally new silly idea- human! alastor x human! reader where they meet at a party and go outside for a walk near the pier and the moon is beautiful and… they pull out weapons on each other (specifically Alastor a knife and reader a gun) and thats when they decide to form a partner in crime partnership

And in other to keep appearances they are forced to “fake date”

Mimzy: youve been spending some time with that new girl havent you, is she your gf or smth?” chuckle

Naize 20 yr old smth Alastor trying to think of a response thats not that:...

Mimzy: OMG IS SHE?

Alastor: sureeeeee

And they aren't actually into each other until a lot later into their partnership when they’re chasing some guy and reader gets to them first and just starts going at it “hey man i think hes had enough” “YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING???” thpe shit

and Alastor has to catch his breath and he lowkey thinks hes dying because his heart starts beating a lot, And he goes again to mimzy for advice cuz i dont think he has anu friends and shes like “oh sweetie…”

And because its quite impossible to not get attached at one point theyre in another chase and reader starts laughing hysterically like “did you see him trying to run away??? lmao” and he goes “I couldnt take my eyes off you” and then just grabs her face and SMOOCH >:)

I think its a good trope- fake dating to actual dating even if its. about. murderers- :3

A/N YOU GUYS COME UP WITH THE BEST REQUESTS JESUS CHRIST!!! Also I promise I will get to the rest of the requests this weekend, I had two exams today so this is the only thing I am gonna post. Sorry.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: uh, murder. Mild gore. Violence. Weapons.

Word Count: 4,460 (I went a little overboard with this one)

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

"I'll walk her home, don't worry Mimzy." Alastor was saying as Y/n pulled her coat over her shoulders.

The noises of the party still raging on filtered into the grand entryway of the house, muffled through the walls. Mimzy shot her two friends a suspicious look.

"It's nothing like that, Mimz." Y/n sighed, straightening the collar of her fur coat, "I just asked cause of all those murders in the news. Kinda freaky, don't you think? I don't really wanna be out alone at night and Al here was kind enough to offer."

Mimzy crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

"Sure." she teased.

"Mimzy." Alastor sighed in response and she put her hands up in false surrender.

"Sorry! Sorry." she hummed playfully, "I know you two free birds would never."

Alastor rolled his eyes and, turning to Y/n, held out his arm. She took it daintily, a grateful smile on her face. The pair had just met a few hours earlier but had quickly fallen into a casual camaraderie. He lead her from the house, Mimzy calling her goodnights and wishes for their safety after their retreating forms.

It was a mostly quiet walk through the desolate midnight streets of New Orleans. Y/n hummed softly, kicking a can along with the toes of her healed shoes.

"You'll ruin them that way, wont you?" Alastor asked, feigning concern.

Y/n just shrugged.

"They're shoes. Yeah, they're nice but I wont let that stop me from living. Let's stop by the water, it's so pretty tonight."

Alastor turned slightly, looking out at the Mississippi with it's slightly turbid waters reflecting the light of the stars. He tried not to smile, it was like she wanted him to carry out his intended work. She was making it so easy for him.

"Sure."

They turned towards the rail and Y/n let go of his arm, leaning her elbows against it. She let out a sigh of longing as her eyes tracked the ripples in the surface.

Alastor watched her for a moment, the moon illuminating her features. She was a handsome woman, there was no doubt about it. It had been proved to him tenfold by the amount of prospective partners she had turned down dances with at the party in favor of drinking with him at the bar. That was not what Alastor was interested in, however. Once he was sure she was distracted, once he was sure she had no intent to take her eyes from the glowing river, he looked down. Moving his coat slightly to the side, his hand quickly found its way to the hilt of the knife he had stashed in his waistband for just such an occasion.

He pulled it out, the weight familiar, almost comforting in a sense, in his hand. There was a click. He looked up, the blade pointed to its intended target.

Y/n was facing him now, a wry smile on her face. One foot in front of the other, she took a step forward. The muzzle of the gun, the cocking of which had been the source of the noise which had drawn his attention, just a few centimeters from his chest. The tip of his knife hovered indefinitely by the open center of her coat. He chuckled in amusement, eyebrows raised.

"I thought there were a few more bodies in the news than there should have been. A gun? Really?"

Y/n shrugged.

"I'm little. I don't have the privilege of being able to overpower my victims like you."

Alastor hummed softly. A slight breeze picked up, playing with the edges of their hair.

"What a shame."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"I don't think so. It works well enough."

"Those machines are inelegant, they are detached."

"And you prefer a sense of intimacy to be involved in all your escapades?"

Alastor removed the knife, holding it up to his eyes. He turned the blade over in his hand, examining it closely. Following suit, Y/n let her hand fall to her side, the gun still cocked should an occasion arise to use it.

"I have an idea." he suddenly announced.

"Oh?" Y/n asked.

She took a step back, returning to the water's edge. Alastor followed, leaning over the railing beside her. They watched one another closely, weapons still clutched loosely in their hands.

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me what it is or am I gonna have to guess?" Y/n teased after a moment, breaking the oddly comfortable silence that had fallen after Alastor's last words.

"There have been a few times, of late, where I've come a bit... uncomfortably close to being seen."

"Getting lazy." Y/n hummed, "Or maybe just cocky."

"It seems like you could use a hand, someone with brute strength in case anything goes wrong."

She scoffed, smiling just the slightest bit.

"Are you proposing we work together?"

"You're the one who said it, not me."

Y/n shook her head slightly, amused.

"How would I know you wouldn't just turn on me? End up killing me or decide not to step in if I needed help?"

"And how would I know that you wouldn't rat me out? Alert someone to where I was and what I was doing rather than telling me someone was coming? It's called trust, Y/n."

Y/n thought it over, fiddling with the gun in her grip as she did so. Alastor watched, seeing the gears turning in her mind through the light of her eyes.

"Fine." she said at last, un-cocking the gun and holding a hand out to him, "You've got yourself a deal."

Alastor smiled, slipping the knife back into his belt before grasping her hand in his. It was chilled by the air of the January night enveloping them.

"Deal."

Y/n quickly learned Alastor's preferred demographic. He had a penchant for angry men, drunks. Y/n had been a one off, a spur of the moment opportunity he had thought to take hold of. Alastor had not been like that for her. Y/n's preferred victims were also men. Anyone that showed any pressing interest in her, anyone who tried to take her home for the night, always ended up six feet under. For both, murder was a way of processing their personal experiences and traumas.

As a result of their deal, Y/n and Alastor began to spend more time together. They had to learn one another's intricacies, their ways of thinking, their nature of being. It was a necessity if anything was actually going to work. They both had rather busy work schedules, Alastor as a radio broadcaster with his very own show and Y/n as a seamstress at a local dress shop. Because of this, more often than not, the only time they had to get to know one another was through shared meals. Both of them had to eat, needed a lunch break or dinner. It was just what worked. Because of their slightly shared demographic of victim, they ended up in bars together quite frequently as well.

It was in one of these meet ups that they ran into their first difficulty. Y/n was sitting across a table from him outside a cafe, lazily sipping on a coffee as she perused the missing persons list in a newspaper. The newspaper was old, they were exchanging information about who was responsible for what. Working together didn't just mean knowing one another as they were now, but their histories as well.

They should have known not to sit in such a public place. Both had many connections in the city due to their jobs, though few friends. It just so happened on that day that the one true friend they did have in common was walking down the very street they sat on.

"Alastor?" Mimzy exclaimed, catching sight of his familiar face and moving towards their table.

Y/n folded the newspaper, placing it on the table as she turned towards the sound. Mimzy came to a stop, her brow furrowing in mild confusion as she saw her friend was not in fact alone.

"And Y/n, fancy meeting you two here."

"Pull up a chair, Mimz." Y/n smiled and Mimzy obeyed.

Swinging a spare chair from a nearby table, she quickly joined them.

"I haven't seen you two since the party! How have you been."

"Fine, fine." Alastor hummed and Y/n nodded her assent.

"And whats this with you two getting coffee?" Mimzy asked, a teasing smile slipping onto her face as Alastor took a sip of his own drink, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, not at all Mimz." Y/n shook her head, a slight smile on her face, "It's always a pleasure to see you."

"You sure this isn't a date or something? I mean, with the way you two left and everything... having coffee alone..."

Alastor nearly choked on his drink. Y/n and Mimzy turned to him as he put a hand to his chest, clearing his throat.

"Excuse me." he said and Mimzy's grin widened.

"Oh this is totally a date."

"No!" Alastor exclaimed, exchanging a fervent glance with Y/n across the table.

She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. Without words, she told him to handle it. Alastor sighed.

"Are you sure?" Mimzy asked, a suggestive tone to her voice.

"I... uh..." Alastor stuttered, his brain working in overdrive to think of anything else. It came up empty, "Fine. Yes. We're... we're on a date."

"You caught us." Y/n chimed in and Mimzy turned to her.

"Oh my stars! You two.... I shoulda guessed you'd get on like a house on fire. Shame I can't invite you to any more of my singles parties though Y/n, you are a riot."

Singles parties. A hunting ground. Y/n smiled.

"No, no, Mimz. We're not exclusive or anything."

Mimzy's eyes widened slightly at the revelation as Alastor shot Y/n a look across the table. Dating was going to be hard for them to sell but swingers too? What was she thinking.

"Really? How exotic." Mimzy hummed in thought.

"We're all going to hell anyways so, why not." Y/n shrugged.

"Oh you." Mimzy laughed, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder as she got to her feet, "Well, I won't keep you love birds any longer. I'll see you next week for the next party then?"

"We'll see." Alastor hummed placidly.

Once Mimzy had gone, he rounded on Y/n.

"Swingers?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Really?"

"Hey, you're the one who started the whole 'we're dating' thing." Y/n sighed, picking the newspaper back up and resuming the task at hand, "I just made it easier for us."

"It will utterly destroy my reputation if this gets out you know."

Y/n shot him a look over the top of the paper.

"Al, you got a lot more to worry about than pretending to be a swinger in terms of your reputation. Now, Marcus Alcost? Six four, buff, scar on his left forearm? Brown hair?"

"Blue eyes?"

"Umm... yeah."

"Yep, that was me."

"Nice. Musta been a tough one to take down."

Alastor would track men, following them out as they left the establishments in the small hours of the morning with the intent of returning to their families. He would stalk them, corner them, lead them in. Y/n would stand watch, alerting him at the first sign of trouble.

The moment she heard footsteps, chatter, Y/n would duck in. Grabbing Alastor by the arm, she would whisk him off in some random direction, having consistently used the time she was on lookout to scout for escape routes.

They had had a few close calls, one or two times he had had to press her up against a wall and pretend to kiss her to avoid prying eyes. They always had a good laugh after something like that. Mostly, things worked out well. They each had survived on their own for years at this point. They knew what they were doing, adding another person into the mix just made it a tad easier.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't need to track her victims down, they did that work for her. She would dress up all pretty and the moment someone asked to take her home or something of the like, would agree. Then she'd pull them into some ally or another under the guise of not wanting to wait a second longer and attack. Alastor would stand behind her, arms crossed menacingly as she carried out her work. He threatened so she could perform and she never had any trouble thanks to him.

That was, until one night about a year into their little partnership. As the time had passed, their relationship had grown. They still held the ruse of dating up before anyone who asked why it was they each spent so much time with the other but, a real friendship had begun to blossom between them as well. As it turns out, they had a lot more in common than just a tendency to commit brutal murders. Y/n knew Alastor well by now, better than anyone else most likely, and he knew her as well. That was how he could tell something was wrong.

Y/n had given Alastor the usual signal from across the bar and he had settled his tab. As he followed the pair, Y/n and the tall man whose hand she held, Alastor had noticed something was off. Normally by this point Y/n was stumbling around, pretending to be drunk and ditzy. She was doing this very thing now but in a more halted and jagged way. The man she was with seemed more believably drunk than she was, swaying this way and that. Her movements were uncharacteristically harsh as she pulled the man into the ally about a block ahead of him.

Alastor picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog. He reached the ally and turned down it, expecting to see Y/n flirting with the man or with her gun out already. Instead, he was met with something entirely different.

At the back of the ally lay the huddled mass of the man. On top of him was Y/n. The thuds of her knuckles against his face was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. She hit him, again and again. Alastor stood there, stunned.

"Dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked at last, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Y/n."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see the splatters of blood now, on the ground around them and the wall behind. The thuds included the occasional squelch, the crack of a bone.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"You'll ruin your hands for work tomorrow if you keep at this."

Still, she ignored him. There was a sickening crunch. Sighing, he approached.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see it now, the man's mutilated face. Part of his skull looked like it had caved in. He had stopped moving long ago.

"Y/n, dear," Alastor tentatively reached out a hand towards her shoulder as he spoke, "don't you think he has had enough?"

Y/n whipped around to him, her eyes wild and her bloody raw knuckles raised. He froze, his hand hovering above her shoulder. There was blood everywhere. It soaked the sleeves of her collard shirt, it dripped from her fingers, it decorated her face and her bared teeth.

"What, you fucking want some too?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, begging for escape. It wasn't fear, it couldn't be. He could take this girl down in ten seconds flat, blood hungry as she was.

Y/n's eyes, sharp with violence, softened slightly as she saw his reaction. She let her hands fall, resting them on the man's chest.

"He tried to drug me." she revealed, turning her eyes back to her mess, her masterpiece.

"He what?"

"Yeah." she sighed, using the back of her hand to push her hair from her eyes, leaving a residue of blood in the wake of the movement, "I caught him, switched the drinks."

Alastor shifted his gaze to the man before falling on Y/n once again. Her face was blank now, all the rage gone.

"He tried to drug me." she said again, her voice hollow.

At last, his hand found its home on her shoulder and she turned to face him once again. Alastor extended his free hand to Y/n. She examined it for a moment before daintily placing one of her own in his and allowing him to help her to her feet. Both her hands now rested in his as they looked back at the remains of the man.

"Well, he's definitely dead."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hands. Now free, he used one of them to turn her face to his. Blood spattered, wide eyed, lips slightly parted -- his heart fought for freedom from his chest once again.

"He deserved it."

Alastor let go of Y/n's chin and used the cuff of his jacket to wipe some of the blood from her face.

"Can you walk me home?"

Normally if she had asked something like that, Alastor would have teased her to no end. Why be scared of the monsters in the dark when she herself was one of them? But her voice had been small, timid. She had avoided his eyes and his fingers tingled at the prospect of her viewing him as protector.

"Of course, my dear."

They did not have another planned meeting until two weeks from that day. Y/n had a big project at work and wouldn't have any spare time because of it. Alastor, normally restless at the idea of having to wait so long to satisfy his bloodlust either by killing or seeing the show of death, was grateful for the respite. He was confused, overwhelmed even, because his strange reactions, the change in his patterns of thought towards the girl, hadn't ended at Y/n's front door.

No, she was haunting him. Like a vengeful ghost, he saw her in his mind. She took up every waking moment, he didn't know what to do. Alastor waited a day and still, it persisted. The skip of his heart, the odd slightly sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of their reunion. He waited three days and it didn't stop. By the time the end of the week rolled around and Alastor still found himself smiling at the prospect of only having to wait another week not to kill but to see Y/n again, he did the unthinkable. It was the only option he could come up with. Besides Y/n, she was the only other person in the world he even half trusted. Alastor called Mimzy.

"Alastor, darling!" she excitedly exclaimed into the phone, "What a surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, hey Mimzy. Um..." he struggled to find the words, fiddling with the phone cord as he walked to the window, looking down at the street below, "I just... I need your advice about something."

"What is it, hun?" she immediately replied, "Seems its got you in a tizzy, not a lot can do that."

"I... It's about Y/n."

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?"

"No. Maybe?" he turned from the window, collapsing in his desk chair, "I don't know."

"Spill."

"Well, we... I just.... Mimz, I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well I would hope not, you've been together for almost a year now."

"Yeah well, about that. It may have been a... stretching of the truth? Shall we say?"

"Al." Mimzy warned after a moment's silence, "If you are playing with this gi-"

"No!" he exclaimed, cutting her off and quickly crafting an excuse, "No. It was just to get our parents off our backs. We had a deal. They were both pestering us about when we were gonna get married, you know how it is."

"I thought your dad was dead?"

"My ma though, she really wants to see me settled down."

"I guess that explains the swingers thing." Mimzy sighed, "It didn't really seem in character for either of you. So, whats the matter?"

"I told you, I can't stop thinking about her. It's like... it's like... look, we're not dating, but we're friends, you know? And we were out at a bar together a few nights ago and she just... she did something and when I looked at her, it was like I died."

"That little minx." Mimzy laughed in glee, "What the heck did she do?"

"Just something, okay?"

"I have got to quiz her about this."

"No! Please, no. She'd... probably be embarrassed."

"Mmm... okay...." came Mimzy's doubtful reply, "So what was it you needed help with?"

"Well, that. It was like the breath had left my body entirely. I felt... sick, my chest hurt. It was so strange. I thought it would go away once I got some sleep but it didn't. Every time I think about her, it feels like there is a vice around my heart and I can't stop thinking about her."

"Al, seriously? This is what you're asking me about?"

"Yeah?" he uncertainly replied after a moment.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Mimzy, are you going to help or not?"

She sighed.

"Alastor, you have a crush on her."

A beat.

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. Maybe even more."

"I..." his brow furrowed, his breath left his body.

This was bad. This could be dangerous, detrimental even.

"Are you sure?"

"Butterflies in your stomach? Pains in your chest? Can't get her out of your mind? You're even breathless for christ's sake Al. It's textbook first pangs of love."

"Fuck."

Mimzy laughed.

"You're already pretend dating, what harm would asking her to do the real thing with you do? My bet is, she's probably been feeling the same thing about you. That tends to happen in cases like yours, I've seen it before. The whole 'fake love turns real' trope. It's overdone if you ask me."

"Mimzy, this isn't one of your trashy romance novels. This is my life."

"So live it radio man! Go get that girl."

Alastor was nervous, trembling even as he sat at the bar. His glass of whiskey had gone warm on the table as he watched Y/n dancing and having fun in the crowd. This was how it usually went when it was his turn to hunt, she'd have fun and he'd find a target. Once the target left, he'd grab her and they'd move out.

Tonight he was distracted and it showed. The man had nearly given them the slip. With Alastor's knife still sticking out of his shoulder, he had ducked away and started running. Of course that meant Alastor and Y/n had to give chase. They ran after him through the streets of New Orleans as he screamed bloody murder and Y/n's heels clicked definitively on the ground. He was thankful that the hour was late and no one was out and about, thankful the man was so drunk his words came out closer to garbled singing than pleas for help, thankful he was slowed by his consumption.

When they at last caught up with him, Alastor grabbed his second knife from his belt and, taking the man's hurt shoulder in his free hand, buried it deep in the man's back. He fell to the floor, sputtering, coughing up blood. In a few moments he was still. Alastor turned to Y/n, panting.

Her pretty eyes traced a path between murderer and victim a handful of times before a smile broke out onto her face. Before he could really register what was happening, she was doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

Alastor watched Y/n, eyebrows raised as they both caught their breath. After about a minute, she straightened up and turned to him, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What?" Alastor asked with a wry smile, "What is so funny about a dead man."

"He..." she broke out into laughter again, "He... the way he ran! And we almost lost him?! Oh my god, Al, that coulda been so bad."

"The way... he ran?"

"He... didn't you see it? Oh my god, it was so funny. Like he was running in a three legged race with an invisible partner." she wheezed.

Alastor felt the heat pooling in his cheeks. Mimzy was right, it was time for him to live his life. A normal existence could coexist with his hobby, Y/n had already proved that to him.

"Didn't you see?" she asked again.

"No." he shook his head, "I was... I was watching you."

"You were... Al, theres no way you were." Y/n scoffed, "No way. If you were watching me, he would have gotten away. If you were watching me, it would meant that you were unconcerned by your oh-so-precious reputation being ruined. If you were watching me, it would mean..."

She trailed off as he took a step closer to her, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. Y/n's cheeks flushed pink.

"Alastor."

Her voice was a dying prayer. Reaching a trembling hand up, he laid it on the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Alastor closed the gap.

He had been so scared. Scared she would push him away, that she wouldn't kiss back. Even a little bit scared he'd just become the next name on her list of degenerate men she'd killed.

There was a moment, a split second, where his fears were realized. Then, she washed them all away. Hands buried in the lapel of his jacket, she pulled him closer, Y/n leaned in.

They broke apart after a moment, their cheeks flushed and utterly breathless.

"I-"

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/n?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you going to try to kill me again?"

"Oh please, I thought we'd moved past that darling."

Y/n smiled, still holding him close. Alastor let his hands fall onto her waist as they swayed slightly under the light of the moon.

"Yes Alastor. I will let you take me on a date."

"We will not be swingers."

Y/n laughed.

"Just had to make that clear."

"No, Alastor. If I am going to get you, I want you all to myself. Now, what are we going to do about that body?"

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 2

[wyniepooh]

Protect

Logan protects you, in the only way he knows how.

bodyguard!logan x reader. just assume that reader is some high profile public figure lol. mentions of smoking. use of the nickname ‘kid’.

you could no longer feel the expression on your face.

It was only when you passed by a window— an awfully tall glass panel with an elaborate gilded frame— did you notice that the pleasant smile that had donned your face for the entire evening was finally beginning to falter.

a flash and click of a camera went off behind you, and through the reflection of the window, you could see a reporter walking eagerly towards you. you quickly swiveled in the opposite direction, hands grasped onto the front of your long gown as your feet guided your body towards a dark and isolated corridor.

but, you weren’t scared or alarmed in the slightest at the empty and unexplored room you were entering. because you knew that wherever you went, he was right behind.

after endless fidgeting with the hatch on a pair of doors, you could only sigh in relief when it finally opened. you stepped out into the balcony, sighing as you felt the abundance of fresh air fall over you.

your silent lonesome didn’t last. before long— just like you had suspected— a quiet, but familiar pair of footsteps trailed out from behind.

“I’m fine, logan. I just needed some air,” you turned your head slightly to the side. “you don’t need to follow me everywhere.”

he aligned himself beside you, arms clasped together behind his back. “Actually, I do. according to the contract I signed with your father, you require 24-hour supervision-“

“Please, enough,” you cut off, head fully turned to face him as you felt a warm teardrop drip down your cheek. you could see the rapid rise of your own chest, the consistent motion getting faster and more panicked by the second. you gripped the metal railing of the balcony and closed your eyes, hoping the cold sting would distract from the embarrassment.

when you opened your eyes again, logan seemed to be standing closer than before. his previous— and usual— stern expression was long gone, replaced by one of genuine empathy.

His softened brows twitched. you watched as his hand slowly reached up towards your face, arm pausing for just a second before a pointer finger extended gently to your cheek. You looked away as the wetness spread across your flushed face, and when you heard the parting of his lips, you turned your head and swatted his wrist away.

you spun towards the sky, looking at no star in particular, but focused on the scattered beads in the nightfall regardless. All was completely silent and still for a minute, which provided just enough time for you to slow your breathing and dab away at the mascara you were sure had traveled down your face.

You had just made a decision in your head to leave and return to the spectacle when you heard the muted click of a lighter. you smelled the tobacco before you saw it, and when you did, nothing but a scoff could escape you.

“I- I don’t think you’re allowed to do that here.”

he shrugged, and simply took an experienced drag of the cigar in response. He leaned a little closer to you, supporting his weight on the balcony railing as he raised the lit object up to your face. “who’s here to stop me? Or you, for that matter?”

You laughed dryly, crossing your arms as you asked, “are you seriously offering me a cigar? I thought you were supposed to protect me.”

He bounced his arm in suggestion of the cuban again and muttered, “kid, this is me protecting you.”

your smile faded away as you took in his words, and after a long second, your hand came up to reach for the cigar. but before your fingers could hook around the shaft, Logan opened his mouth and moved his arm away.

“ah— slow down. i still have a job to do. It’s my obligation to at least teach you how to smoke it first, so you don’t puke all over the prime minister or something. Plus,” he bent his head in, lips angled towards your ear, “if you’re not holding it and you get caught, you can talk your way out of it.”

he retracted his head, raising his eyebrows as he took one last puff and switched the direction of the cigar to face you. “Don’t be shy, kid. Just put your mouth around it.”

You followed his instruction with skepticism, delicately wrapping your lips around the brown paper of the cigar with your eyes down. With a mouthful of tobacco smoke, you looked up from your downward gaze, and as your eyes connected with his hazel glare, logan’s proud smirk seemed to falter for just a second; the corners of his mouth dropped, and his lips parted for a minute too long before he spoke.

“Just… don’t inhale into your lungs like you would a cheap cigarette,” he whispers, “you’re meant to enjoy it.”

You exhaled, clearing your throat as you watched the smoke dissipate into the dark background of the sky. “enjoy what?”

You notice the hesitancy in his response, his arm pausing half-way to his face as his eyes flicker to the imprint of your lipstick on the stick. finally, he puts his mouth on top of the red stain, takes a puff, and breathes, “the taste.”

The moonlight reflected off of his slicked back hair, and it looked like a star or two were dancing around in his eye. It was only now did you see the prominence of his wrinkles and the grey in his beard that you had never noticed before.

you don’t know why you stayed silent. It wasn’t as if there wasn’t anything to talk about— your very recent breakdown provided obvious proof that you needed to talk. And if there was anyone you could and wanted to talk to, it had to be logan.

You broke the silence first. “So, why’d you take this job anyways?”

he chuckled. “Honestly, I’d like to say some sappy bullshit like ‘i love helping others’ but,” he purses his lips, “I’m afraid you’d find the real reason quite selfish,” he responds.

You laugh. “So, for the money?”

“Something like that.”

You sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know anyone else who’d know exactly what to do when I’m freaking out, even if it’s by giving me a cigar at an event where reporters are swarming everywhere.”

He smiles, a lopsided one that only further emphasizes his wrinkles hidden within his beard. “I’m glad you consider me as a friend.”

You remained quiet. After a windy moment, you stepped closer to where he was leaning against the metal railing. You grabbed his wrist which contained the still-lit cigar, and turned your back towards his chest to take a hit. You look back to him, blowing the smoke into his face.

“a friend, right.”

now it was his turn to be silent, eyes frantically scanning over your face before lowering down to the hand around his wrist. His gaze jumps back to your eyes, a fog of something indistinguishable knitted between his brows.

“you know, I don’t really taste anything special. Just smokey.” you turned, pressing your chest against his as a casual hand toyed with the edge of his shirt collar. There was no space between the two of you, and yet there was no resistance, from either side, to step back and separate. “What’s it supposed to taste like?”

He tilted his head. “a little earthy. nutty,” his unoccupied hand fell upon the small of your back. “sweet.”

you couldn’t tell if he had more to say, but if he did, his words were all swallowed up by your lips on his. The hand on your waist tightly squeezed, pulling you flush onto him until the two of you were on the edge of practically falling over the balcony. both of your hands curled tightly around his gelled hair, tugging harshly as you silently gasped against his mouth.

the desperate roughness of his teeth scraped against your lip, and your respective chests rose up and down in synch with one another before he pulled back, his free hand coming up to caress the side of your hair.

“I’m supposed to protect you, kid,” he panted.

your fingers lingered over his chin, nails scratching at his overgrown stubble. You pleaded, “Logan, please, i’ve never felt so safe.”

you felt a sudden rush of coldness as Logan turns his head away. “I lied, you know. I didn’t exactly take this job just for the money. Your dad pays well, of course, but, that’s not why I stayed.”

He turns back, the star-splattered sparkle still twinkling in his eye as he mumbles, “you’re the selfish reason, sweetheart. you always have been.”

you pulled his forehead to yours, arms crossed around his neck to bring his warmth even closer. His eyes were closed, his eyebrows furrowed with uncertainty.

“Logan,” was all you muttered, and it was all it took before a low growl escaped through his chest and he drew your face in firmly by your chin.

You heard the faint drop of the half-gone cigar on the ground, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You tasted the sweetness on his tongue, just fine.

-

a/n: logan was canonically a bodyguard and I feel like we writers need to take more advantage of that fact

[obaex]

four - hockey player!ex!rafe cameron (pt. 1)

summary: rafe knows he's screwed up, but when he offers you a way to make amends, you can't resist. the catch? he'll have to do the impossible.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: rafe is slightly toxic in this ngl! i am in love with this. hockey romance is very near and dear to me (this is v loosely based on a real life experience). *mwah*

You saw your phone light up out of the corner of your eye and lowered your mascara wand as you leaned over to glance at the screen and let out a shaky sigh.

A part of you knew the right thing to do by now was to block his number. You hadn't responded to a single message he'd sent for over two weeks. And the messages had been relentless.

I'm thinking about you in the afternoons.

Hi beautiful in the mornings.

I'm sorry.

You're still my girl.

And on and on, escalating to paragraphs at night, as he typed out things he'd never once said out loud to you before; about how he felt the first time he met you, the things his teammates said, about how Wheezie was asking about you and Sarah spent an hour on the phone lecturing him, about how he'd do anything to get you back.

Reading his messages was like drinking a honied poison that went down sweet, warming every inch of you, only to make you sick in the end. But you couldn't stop. You couldn't block him. And even though you'd made him think you were ignoring him, you craved every message, every word he said something you had ached to hear when he had the chance.

Now it was two hours before the biggest game of the season, arguably one of the biggest of his career. He should be focusing on his pregame routine, on his way to the rink, if he wasn't there already and instead here he was texting you. You were the one on his mind and you drank that poison down, allowing yourself to feel special, even if the text had made no sense to you.

How many?

How many what?

His last message before that was from a couple of hours ago, before his pregame nap, the one you often took together as he had reminded you, in excruciating detail.

Your fingers twitched with the urge to reply. You knew he was baiting you into responding, but you swallowed down the urge and took a deep breath to still your beating heart and went back to applying your makeup, dragging up the same memory you did every time you were tempted by him.

It was just after 2AM, and you were sitting in your car that you had driven to his apartment, unable to sleep, desperate to talk to him. He lounged in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead at the windshield, tracking the rain that was falling steadily.

"Can you please talk to me?" you whispered, trying so hard not to come across as needy or desperate.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, shrugging, avoiding your eye contact.

"I don't know, just tell me what's going on with you? You barely talk to me anymore, you won't even look at me. Did I do something?"

He shrugged again and you felt physically sick. Maybe it was because you couldn't remember the last thing you'd eaten, the last time you'd slept more than a few fitful hours, all consumed with the feeling that your five-year relationship was running off the rails. Rumors were flying that there was another girl... or girls... And when you had asked him about it, he brushed it off, not strongly enough to give you even an ounce of comfort. You were falling apart. And he was letting it happen. He was forcing you to end this, too cowardly to do it himself.

"Do you even want to be with me anymore?" you whispered, barely audible over the pounding rain, like maybe if he didn't hear you, he couldn't answer.

He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed loudly, frustrated, like you were just so annoying to him, and you wished you could suck your words back into your mouth.

"I have practice in like four hours, I can't be doing this with you right now" he said, aptly avoiding the conversation again.

Your chin was wobbling and you bit back everything you wanted to say, not wanting to be needy, or nagging, hoping if you were on your very best behavior he would have a change of heart, change his mind.

You pursed your lips and nodded, averting your gaze to look out at the rain and gathering the strength you needed to say the words that felt like nails in your mouth.

"I can't do this anymore" you whimpered, as tears fell that matched the droplets on your windshield. "I can't keep giving 100% and getting nothing in return. I'm sitting here spilling my heart out to you and you won't even look at me. After everything we've been through... You won't even deny that you hooked up with her."

Silence.

You could see him grimace, the tic in his jaw as he pushed his tongue into his cheek. You wanted to grab the front of his sweatshirt, shake him and scream 'SAY SOMETHING!'. But you didn't. And his silence persisted a moment longer.

"So that's it then?" he said finally, like you had any other choice.

You wiped futilely at the tears that were now pouring down your face, even as you tried to hold them back, sniffling with a shaky breath to avoid outright sobbing in front of him.

He opened the car door, got out, slamming it forcefully behind him without so much as a glance your way and you broke down. You didn't make it one block before you had to pull over. You couldn't see, you couldn't breath, and you couldn't hold your hands steady on the wheel you were shaking so badly. You threw your car in park, lay your head on the steering wheel and cried.

Two days passed before the first text came in.

"I'm sorry" is all it said.

You could see the bubbles at the bottom of the screen, indicating that he was still typing before more messages appeared.

At this point you were grasping your phone with both hands, like a lifeline, eyes glued to the screen, heart hammering so hard in your chest you felt nauseous and your hands were shaking. There was a chance, a glimmer, a hope and you were clinging to it.

Your fingers hovered over your phone, ready to forgive him, to forget, to run right back to the way things had been, to have him looking for you at the end of every game, for stolen kisses in the parking lot at the arena, to whispered I love yous as you fell asleep in his arms. And then more messages came flooding in.

More messages were coming now but you couldn't read any further. Your heart was battering around your ribcage like a pinball machine with the whiplash of information: your boyfriend of five years had been actively texting another girl... because she was easygoing, and fun to talk to and didn't stress him out… like you did.

Your tears were back like no time had passed from the night you broke up, heavy sobs coming from your mouth at how stupid you felt, at all the rumors being true. And did you really believe that nothing more had happened between them? He was Rafe fucking Cameron of the Carolina Eagles.

Your eyes skimmed over the second half of his message, about how you were it for him, about how much he loved you, how he wanted to marry you and for you to have his babies?? The ache of wanting that so desperately to be true and knowing it couldn't be was too much for you as you turned and cried into your pillow.

You recalled all of those messages now as a new one came in. You shoved your finger into the bruise on your heart, forcing yourself to feel that pain again, to imagine him laying in bed, in the bed you had slept in with him, while he texted another girl, maybe even texted both of you at the same time, and you refocused on your makeup.

You had faithfully followed the Eagles for five years, his teammates were some of your best friends, like brothers to you. Despite everything that had happened with Rafe, you weren't going to miss their game tonight. Rafe's best friend and linemate Nick had texted you earlier in the week to let you know he had a ticket for you.

Fine. It was hard to say no to that. Everyone you knew would be there anyway and you didn't need Rafe thinking he had power over you if you weren't there. So, you were going. And you decided if you were going to go you were going to look stunning, and as you put the finishing touches on your makeup, there was no doubt in your mind that you were.

You had spent more time on your hair and makeup than potentially every other game that season combined. You may have gotten a little comfy towards the end, wearing Rafe's team-issued sweatshirt with his name and number on it and a pair of leggings. He claimed that he loved you in that, but that wouldn't cut it tonight. You wore skintight jeans that accentuated every perfect curve of your body, heeled booties and a tight-fitting long sleeve shirt. Your hair was immaculate and your makeup was admittedly a little extra for an AHL game, but effortless nonetheless as it amplified your natural beauty. The pain in your heart had been ebbing its way into anger: you were going to make him regret every single thing he'd done, the thought nagging at you as your phone lit up again.

You huffed. You had been strong for weeks, and now he was throwing that at you?

Your perfectly manicured fingers hovered over your phone as you nibbled your glossed bottom lip, and finally relented.

What the hell? you thought, confused.

Feeling pretty good about your level of engagement, you sent another question mark before his response came in.

You scoffed before laughing out loud. He was truly unbelievable. You weren't on some sort of barter system here. This wasn't a deal you had ever discussed nor agreed to. This isn't how the world worked, this isn't how relationships worked. It was stupid. So so stupid. And Rafe wasn't the team's lead goal scorer anyway. Sure he was good for a flashy goal every few games, maybe two, but this was the semi-finals of the league championship, everything was on the line here, it was not the time to be playing games...

...But damn if you didn't love the semblance of power he'd given you over the situation, and you desperately wanted to fuck with him.

Four goals in one game. Essentially impossible. A joke. Sidney Crosby, arguably the best player in the NHL at the moment hadn't even achieved that. But not a second passed before his reply came through, simple, straightforward, no arguing or complaining:

"Done"

And then:

"I love you!"

"I'll be looking for you 😍"

You rolled your eyes, throwing your phone down on your bed, annoyed at yourself for even answering him.

And yet you couldn't fight the smallest bit of excitement you felt.

It was impossible. It was never going to happen, but Rafe Cameron was going to try to win you back.

(part two)

taglist: @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @ihe4rttwd, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @jjsbank444

[fangswbenefits]

Another Chance

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You go into labour and all you know is that you need Miguel more than ever.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

Mentions of childbirth. Dad Miguel. Comfort. Fluff. Happy father’s day to the best of the best!

“I'M GONNA KILL MIGUEL O’HARA!”

Usually, that sort of threat would send everyone that was standing around you into an uproar. But given the extremely specific set of circumstances, they merely exchanged understanding glances, returning their attention to the task at hand.

“Jess… I’m going to kill him.”

The pain of the contractions felt too unbearable and gritting out empty threats was the only relief you could find right now.

“You have my blessing,” she nodded, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "But for now, we need to deliver the baby."

It was too early. This wasn't supposed to happen right now... not like this.

A spider-nurse approached you with a fetal heart monitor to strap around your belly. Your already accelarated heart nearly imploded at the sight, fearing what the machine might reveal.

"Jess... I can't do this..." your voice broke.

Where is he...

Where is Miguel?

Your friend glared at you with kind eyes, swipping a piece of cloth along your sweat-drenched forehead. "You can and you will."

As another contraction tore through your body, you barely managed to grab the railings of your bed with a huff of pain. The spider-nurse was done setting the monitor and was now probing your arm for a vein.

"Where is Miguel?" you managed through laboured pants. "Lyla... where is he?"

The AI's hologram appeared from the watch on your wrist, that Jess promptly removed. You gave her a confused look, but it was probably for the better.

"He should be here soon. The anomaly is—" Lyla was cut off immediately by Jess.

The heart monitor was switched on and the room went suddenly eerily too quiet, save for your gasps.

Tense seconds rolled by that felt like excrutiating hours, until the sound of a thudding heart was heard.

"Slightly accelerated heartrate going at 191 beats per minute," spider-doctor informed. "The baby might be in distress."

Panic took over. "Do something! Miguel!"

The team attending you were working relentlessly, but no consolation came. The pain was borderline unbearable and your fear for your child's life.

... and Miguel was not here.

"You need to push," one spider-nurse said.

"Push," Jess urged. "You're doing great," she added with a warm smile.

She kept trying her best to soothe and guide you through the untimely turmoil, but it wasn't until your eyes caught a flash of two sets of claws tearing through the barrier of time and space in the middle of the room that you allowed yourself to slump back into your bed.

A cry of relief broke from deep within you as a fully suited Miguel O'hara emerged through the portal, sprinting to your side. The mask vanished instantly as he framed your face with both hands.

"I'm here."

You started sobbing uncontrollably when he planted a kiss to your forehead.

"Boss, she's fully dilated," spider-doctor spoke. "We really need her to push now."

"Miguel... this wasn't..." you stammered, gritting your teeth as the crescendo of another contraction began. "Where... I—”

He hushed you and anchored you through the pain. "You have to push, okay?"

Compared to a few minutes ago, Miguel's presence was nothing short of absolute comfort. But it wasn't enough the push away the fear that had overtaken you.

Jess was still by your side, whispering encouraging words as the staff worked in between your spread legs. Your vision blurred momentarily and you felt the sudden and overwhelming urge to push.

"This is all your... fault," you seethed at Miguel.

"On that much we can agree," he said softly, his thumbs brushing away the tears that mixed with sweat down your cheeks. "Push."

Blaming him was just a quick way to ease some of the frustration. He wasn't to blame. You had both wanted this.

"I can see the head!" you heard someone announce.

Miguel offered his hand for you to grip as you pushed. "I'll break it," you warned.

"You won't."

"He deserves it," Jess said teasingly.

But Miguel was right. As strong as you were — and the strength that women in labour were capable of mustering — you wouldn't even cause a dent in him. He was strong enough for the both of you.

"What´s taking so long?" his faint voice filled your ears.

"Almost there."

Suddenly, he had cradled your face in his large hands once more, forcing your eyes to fix on his. "You can do this. I'm so proud of you," he said, pecking the tip of your nose.

The air in your lungs was suddenly forced out with a finally throat-ripping grunt.

"It's here!"

You collapsed, feeling Miguel's arm promptly offering support on your back. A screeching sound of distress reverberated through the walls.

"It's a girl," one spider-nurse informed.

Even through your hazy eyes you were able to see Miguel's face, eyes transfixed on the little squirming baby that was being placed on your chest.

She was crying her heart out as someone who has been ripped from all the comfort and security a place could offer.

But now she had you and Miguel.

"She takes after you," you teased with a faint smile. "Already being so dramatic."

He chuckled, eyes permanently glued to the wailing baby. "I'm not dramatic. Just intense."

"Yes. Intensely dramatic.”

Miguel fell silent as he stroked a finger along the back of one soft tiny hand, miniscule fingers wrapping around it reflexively. The cries stopped abruptly.

His face softened and you wondered if he was about to tear up. He had longed for this for such a long time.

"Miguel?" Jessica said, covering your child with a towel.

He seemed too lost in his own thoughts, glaring at his daughter in a way that overwhelmed you. Like it was meant to be.

"I'll be going now," she said, offering you both a warm smile before leaving.

Suddenly, you realised Miguel was inspecting each limb with utmost attention. "What are you doing?"

He cleared his throat, placing a tiny hand on the palm of his. "Oh... uh... just counting how many fingers and toes she has."

"All five?" you offered with a chuckle.

"All five."

"No talons?"

He glared at you as if taken aback, then smiled. "Maybe one day."

"Do you think she'll have your fangs?"

"Oh, I hope not," he said, slowly checking the baby's bare gums. "That would be painful."

You then allowed yourself to take in the sight of your now relaxed daughter that lay on top of you. The wispy beginnings of hair that covered the top of her head were dark. Babies don't tend to resemble either parent when they're born - or so Miguel had once told you - and you couldn't wait to find out.

"What if... she doesn't like me?" he whispered, caressing a puffy cheek.

You almost chuckled, but he was dead serious. "She'll love you."

He leaned to place a kiss to your temple. "Thank you."

"For what?" you asked, feeling your heart bursting with absolute adoration for him.

"For giving me another chance at being a father."

Masterlist

[sweetbans29]

Hesitation - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Carrying a lot of baggage, Caitlin's patience shows you there is hope (based on THIS request)

Warnings: Caitlin with kids (yes in my mind this is a warning)

Word Count: 4.7k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Our girl is too cute when it comes to kids...tell me I'm wrong. This is also set in like 2027...

"Mommy! Come on, Mommy!" Carson yells as he is dragging you through a crowd of people trying to get to the front of the crowd. The grip you have on his hand is frightening, you could feel his little hand begin to slip out of yours.

"Baby, slow down," you say in a rush as your heart begins to race. His hand completely leaves yours as you begin to panic.

"Carson!" You yell pushing past people. You can feel your throat closing as more seconds pass without Carson by your side. You mutter 'excuse me' as you continue to make your way up to the railing. When you reach the railing, Carson is nowhere to be seen.

You eyes frantically scan the crowd, looking for you little boy. When your eyes land on his curly hair you feel your whole body ease. You watch as he turns around and looks at to ground as you approach him.

Running up to him and sweeping him into your arms, you finally are able to breath.

"Sweetie, you can't run away like that," you say as his arms come to wrap around his neck. "Are you okay? You scared me baby." You are too caught up in the moment to see who is standing in front of you.

"I'm sorry Mommy," you little boy says. "But look!" Carson yells as he swings and points at someone. You are still too caught up in making sure he is truly okay. The time you were away from him wasn't enough for something to happen but your mind went to the worst case scenario.

"I would have made sure he got back to you," a voice says and your eyes finally meet.

You stand there speechless as the Fever guard looks at you with a soft smile.

"It's Clarky!" Carson yells in excitement. Caitlin smiles at the nickname coming from the little boy.

"I'm Caitlin," she says as she extends a hand. It is extended for an awkward amount of time before your hand meets her. You laugh at the fact that she introduces herself when the whole arena knows exactly who she is. You introduce yourself and then Carson.

Caitlin's only thought is how soft your hands are. She hears her name being called by Lyss as they are about to be called out.

"Well, it was nice meeting you Caitlin. Good luck," you say.

"Go Clarky!" Carson yells, causing Caitlin to give off a goofy grin. As she walks back to the court she can't help but look back where you were standing. She sees you walking back to your seat, making note of where you were heading, and sees Carson waving at her. Caitlin offers the little boy a wave as his head drops to your shoulder.

Caitlin doesn't know why but her heart swells. She turns away smiling once again as she thinks about how Clarky might be her favorite nickname.

The game is the most exciting of the season yet. You watch as Caitlin and Aliyah lead the Fever to another win in Gainbridge. Carson, like every game, having the time of his life. After the team secures the dub, Carson is asking if he can go back down to the railing.

"You already got her autograph baby," you tell him.

"I wanna give Claky a high-five," Carson says. You lean over to him and adjust his glasses that are slightly crooked and smile at him. How could you say no to his cute little face.

"Okay, but you are staying right by my side," you say as you lead Carson down to the railing next to the team's tunnel.

You put Carson right in front of you as your legs box him in against the railing. He sticks his little arm out and you see his hand rotate back and forth as he waits for the team to walk past. You can't help but smile at your boy as the team begins to walk by.

Lexie is the first to give him a high-five, then followed by KLS. One by one the Fever team heads back, Caitlin being one of the last to make her way through the tunnel.

Caitlin is typically one of the first people back to the locker but she took her time on the court greeting people and secretly scanning the crowd. She takes time looking at the section she saw you make your way back to only to come up empty handed.

When she finally decides to give up, she makes her way back when she stops to sign a few more autographs. Rarely looking up as she makes her way down the line. That is until she is met with a little hand and a familiar nickname.

"Clarky!" Carson yells with a smile that could turn anyones bad day into a good one.

"Carson!" Caitlin yells in equal excitement.

"Mommy! Clarky knows me name," Carson says with pure excitement. You look down at him and rustle his hair.

"She does sweetie," you say.

Caitlin turns to her security and whispers something to them and they give her a nod.

"Hey Carson, how would you like to come and meet the Fever team?" Caitlin says and then looks up at you. "But only if Mommy is okay with that."

Hearing Caitlin refer to you as Mommy has more of an affect on you than you ever realized it would. You know it is completely innocent, but you feel your cheeks heat up.

"Mommy, can I? Can I?" Carson is jumping up and down and pulling at the bottom of your shirt.

"And you would be there too, of course," Caitlin says, her eyes meeting yours. You keep the contact for a second - everything else falling away and you know you are in trouble. You slowly nod and before you know it security is leading you through the tunnel.

Carson's hand is in yours as he swings your connected arms in excitement. Caitlin wants to get in on the action but doesn't want to overstep. That is until Carson's free hand comes and grabs Caitlin's, starting to swing the newly connected pair.

Caitlin can't help but smile as she lets Carson swing away. The trio walks into the locker room and Carson's eyes light up.

"Team, we have some visitors," Caitlin says. Lexie is the first to come up and introduce herself. The team come up one by one saying hi and having little conversations with Carson. You watch as Carson is on cloud nine.

While you are watching Carson, Caitlin is watching you. She watches how you smile any time Carson smiles. She watches how you are never more than an arms length from the little guy. She watches as your hands run through his curls and she wonders what it would be like to have such soft hands run through her own hair.

"Okay baby, I think we should let the team get to their meeting. Can you say thank you to everyone?" You tell Carson and he lets out a giant 'thank you'. In the few minutes you have been there, the whole team has fallen in love with Carson and his quirky personality. He balances the quirkiness and sweetness well.

"I'll walk you out," Caitlin says, not wanting your time to be up just yet.

The three of you walk out and she stops right before heading back out to the court.

"Thank you for this, it was not necessary but I know you have made Carson's whole year," you say to Cait. She smiles at the thought.

"Of course, I love getting to do things like this," Caitlin says as she watches Carson look at the basketball the team had signed and given him. "You have a special one there."

You smile at Caitlin's words, a fact you knew since the day he was born.

"I know, don't know what I did to deserve him," you say looking at Carson with so much love in your eyes.

Caitlin takes the moment to look at you, she feels like she could look at you forever. She looks down but doesn't see a ring on your left hand and decides to be bold.

"I'd like to see you again," Caitlin says, eyes now back to yours.

"Well we are season pass holders, so I am sure Carson will be looking to give you another high-five," you say with a little laugh, thinking back to how a high-five led to meeting the whole team.

"I don't mean at a game," Caitlin says, hoping you would take the hint.

You look at her, head tilting a little but then realizing what she was was saying.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"Just think about it," Caitlin says as she hands you a little piece of paper with her number on it. You hesitate but end up taking it.

Before you can say anything, Carson comes running to hug Caitlin's legs.

Caitlin leans down and gives your boy a real hug.

You say your final thank yous and goodbyes before parting ways.

That night, after putting Carson down, you lay in bed looking at the piece of paper. Your phone is next to you but you haven't moved to pick it up. You just stare at the 10 digits. It was a bad idea. Thinking back to your last relationship and the fact that you are no longer thinking just for yourself, decided it was a bad idea. You put the piece of paper on your side table along with your phone and get some much needed sleep.

You can't take Carson to the next few Fever games which you feel bad about but have plans to go to the next one in a few days.

You have the day off and decide to take Carson to the park. You are watching him on the playground when you feel someone come up and take a seat next to you. You give a quick glance then turn your gaze back to Carson. It isn't until a moment after that you realize it is a familiar face.

"Hi there," a smiling Caitlin Clark says.

"Hi," you say with a polite smile.

"You never called," she says, her eyes never leaving yours.

You turn to get eyes on Carson and also to ease the tension Caitlin is so clearly bringing into the conversation.

"You told me to think about it and I did," you say remembering your thoughts.

"And you didn't call," Caitlin says, trying to hide her disappointment.

"Well, even though I didn't call, you got your wish," you say with a little smile. A smile makes its way to Caitlin and she nods.

"I did," Caitlin says. "And I am glad considering you didn't call."

You roll your eyes as you see Carson run over.

"Clarky!" Carson yells as he practically throws himself at Caitlin.

"Hey little man!" Caitlin says matching his energy.

You sit there and watch as Carson tells Cait all about his imaginary world that he build while being at the park. Before you know it, he is running back to the slides and it is you and Caitlin alone again.

"Carson really likes you," you say to Caitlin as Carson waves back to the two of you, knowing he is really just waving at Cait.

"I like him, he is a sweetheart," she says. "How old is he?"

"He's 5," you say looking at your little boy.

"And how long have you and his dad been together?" Caitlin asks boldly. She doesn't know what it is about you but she has now made several bold moves with you.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" You say teasing the girl.

"I would, that's why I asked," she says with a little laugh. You like her laugh.

"Carson's dad and I are not together, haven't been since before Carson made his debut," you say.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says and you shrug.

"What happened?" Caitlin's curiosity getting the better of her.

Before you can answer, Carson is running over telling you he is hungry. Caitlin sees your time coming to an end. She helps as you pack up your stuff.

"It was great seeing you," you tell Caitlin.

"Can Clarky come to lunch with us?" Carson asks. Caitlin gives you a look, waiting to follow your lead.

"Oh Sweetie, I don't think today is a good day," you say and Caitlin hides her disappointment well.

"Next time?" Carson asks.

"Maybe next time baby," you tell him as you ruffle his hair. He nods with a smile.

You look over at Caitlin.

"When do I get to see you again?" Caitlin asks.

"You are a persistent little thing," you say but give the girl props.

"It's all Carson," she says.

"And to think I thought you wanted to see me," you tease.

Caitlin liking the light flirting going on between the two of you, reaches up and brushes a strand of hair that the wind blew across your face. You freeze as she fixes it, then brushes her thumb across your cheek.

"We will be at the game this weekend," you say and Caitlin smiles.

"Another chance for me to ask you out," she says. You shake your head with a little laugh.

"Bye Caitlin," you say as you and Carson make your way home.

"Bye Clarky!" Carson yells with an adorable wave.

"Bye little man!" Caitlin waves back.

"Mommy! Clarky called me lit-tle man," Carson says to you with a giant smile.

Caitlin hears Carson's remark and can't help but watch you until you are out of sight. She makes her way back to her apartment and opens up IG. She heads to her recent search history and clicks on your profile. She scrolls through the photos and clicks on a photo of you and Carson laughing. She looks at how much joy each of you holds and only hopes to be apart of that in the future.

Saturday rolls around and the Fever are back in Gainbridge. You decide to take Carson to the game early to watch the team warm up. You are surprised as each member of the team comes up to give Carson a high-five and say hi to him.

Caitlin comes over and messes up Carson's hair.

"Little man! How would you like to come out onto the court?" Caitlin asks and Carson lights up brighter than a Christmas tree. He nods his head with speed. Caitlin looks at you for approval and you nod. She lifts Carson over the handrail and takes his hand as they jog over to the court.

You watch as Caitlin passes him a ball which he begins to dribble in a circle. She helps him with his form and tells him to pass it to her. Carson throws the ball at Caitlin and she puts it up, draining a three. Carson runs around cheering and you take you phone out to record the moment.

You watch as Caitlin is practically perfect with Carson and it makes you question why you are still hesitant to let Caitlin into your life.

Caitlin brings Carson back over, leaning on the rail after passing Carson back to you. He sit in his seat as you give him an apple sauce.

"That was very sweet," you say.

"You'll have to send me that video," Caitlin says, happy you will finally have a reason to use the number she gave you.

"Okay Clark," you say and she holds her hand up.

"It is Clarky to you," she says with a smile. You return the smile.

"Okay, Clarky," you say. "If you put up 30 points this game, I'll do you one better."

She quirks her eyebrow, intrigued by your proposal.

"Put up 30 and I'll use your number to set up dinner," you say and Caitlin lights up.

"A date?" Caitlin asks with a wide smile on her face.

"Dinner," you clarify, still hesitant but willing.

"Deal, I will take what I can get," she says. You extend your hand to shake on it and Caitlin meets you half way. Her thumb rubbing the soft skin of your hand before letting it go.

Caitlin returns to the court and the game begins. She has 11 in the first quarter and you can see the work she is putting in. You would like to think you played a little part in her dominant start but don't get your hopes up.

Caitlin has her 30 points in the third and you sit in the fact that you are going to be scheduling dinner with the all-star.

The game ends with the Fever win. You don't wait around at the end of the game due to both your hunger and Carson's. Caitlin looks everywhere for the two of you but never finds you - she would be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed.

It is later that evening when Caitlin hears her phone go off.

[Unknown number: Looks like I owe you dinner]

[Clarky: Looks like you do]

[Clarky: What did you have in mind?]

[Carson's Mom: Do you have plans tomorrow?]

[Clarky: I'm all yours]

You send a time and address. When that time rolls around Caitlin is knocking on your door.

She had actually arrived about 15 minutes ago but sat in her car when she realized she would be having dinner at your house. Part of her was glad that you had chosen a private place to have dinner, so private in fact that the typical wave of anxiousness that she felt about leaked media went flying out the window. But the other part of her was nervous, she hasn't dated anyone since her rookie year.

Once the door opens, Caitlin is met with what at first glance seems like no one.

"Clarky!" Carson yells as he immediately hugs her legs.

"Hi," she says with a little laugh and rubs his back.

"You got me flowers???" He says with pure joy. Caitlin looks at the flowers in her hands and nods. As much as she was hoping you would be answering the door, her heart couldn't help but swell at seeing the excitement on Carson's face.

"I did," she says and she hands him the flowers. Carson runs back to what she imagines to be the kitchen yelling 'mommy' several times. Caitlin closes the door and follows.

When Caitlin sees you in the kitchen, she feels like she could fall in love with you.

"Caitlin!" You say with just as much excitement as Carson did when he answered the door.

Yes, Caitlin is indeed falling in love with you.

"Mommy, Clarky got me flowers." Carson says, showing her the bouquet.

"Wow, those are beautiful. I wish someone got me flowers like that," you say. Caitlin holds back her comment of how she chose this specific bouquet because when she saw it, it reminded her of your smile and the joy it brings her.

"Don't worry Mommy, we can share," Carson says as he hands you the bouquet.

"Thank you baby," you say and them in a vase with water.

Caitlin looks around and by the looks of it, there hasn't been much cooking yet.

"So, Caitlin, have you ever made pasta before?" You ask, setting the the vase down on the table.

"I have not, but I have a feeling I am going to tonight," she says playfully.

"You would be correct," you say and hand her an apron.

The three of you spend the night making pasta and enjoying each others company. You show Caitlin how homemade pasta isn't too hard to make and Carson shows her how good he is a kneading the dough. You through a sauce together as Caitlin and Carson watch over the pasta and set the table. Dinner itself was delicious and the three of you sat around the table laughing and talking about all of Carson's favorite things. When it is time for you to put Carson down, he gives Caitlin a big hug and whispers something in her ear. It causes Cait to smile and whisper something back to him before you swoop him up and take him away.

As you are tucking him in, you ask him what he said to Caitlin.

"I told her I wish we could do this forever," Carson days with a tired smile. "I like having Clarky around, she is funny." Carson then rolls over and your rub his back as she drifts to sleep.

As you sit there rubbing Carson's back, you can't help but think about what it would be like if this was the normal. It has been so long since you have done life with someone other than Carson and you were terrified of changing that. Even in your fear, Caitlin has showed you no reason not to trust her but then again so did Carson's dad.

You head back to the kitchen to see Caitlin drying dishes.

"You didn't have to do that," you say taking a stack of plates and putting them away.

"It's a rule of thumb, one person cooks while the other cleans," she says lightly.

"But we all cooked," you say and she shrugs.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you. Once the dishes are dried and put away, you grab two wine glasses and grab a bottle.

"Care to join me on the porch?" You ask her and she nods with a smile.

"I would love nothing more," she says following you.

The two of you are sitting on the porch siping wine, looking out at the quiet neighborhood you live in.

"I really enjoyed this not date," Caitlin says which earns her a laugh from you.

"I also really enjoyed this not date," you say. The two of you are sitting side by side on your porch swing. Caitlins arm is slightly touching yours but stays at a respectable distance. A comfortable silence sets in again as Caitlin begins to slowly swing the two of you. You lean into her a little which encourages her to bring her arm up, wrapping it around your shoulder as you lean into her more. It's comfortable.

"You scare me," you say breaking the silence.

Caitlin doesn't say anything, but she begins to brush her thumb along your arm.

"Not necessarily you but the idea of you scares me," you say. "Carson's dad left me when he graduated and I was going into my senior year of college. No warning, no explanation, just decided that one day he was done. It was right after I had found out I was pregnant with Carson."

Caitlin squeezes your arm but remains silent, listening to every word you say.

"I decided not to tell him about the pregnancy because I couldn't stand the thought of him only staying because there was a baby involved. He made it clear he was done with me. My parents told me I needed to tell him since he was the father but when I finally mustered up the courage to tell him, he was already dating somebody else. After having Carson, my life changed for the better. I tried dating a little when Carson was a toddler but being a single mom was a big turn off for a lot of people. It was then that I realized I didn't want or need anyone else because it would be me and Carson against the world."

"I have gotten so comfortable with it being just the two of us. I also know how much people cycling in and out of a child's life can affect them. Carson is such a sweet boy that I would do anything and everything I can to make sure he has what he needs. He pushes me to be a better mom and better person. He understands so much and just enjoys life. He is my reason."

"You scare me because Carson is getting comfortable with you. He's getting comfortable with you and it terrifies me because I don't want there to be a day when I have to tell him we won't ever see you again. It is early enough now that he would remember you but not be too attached, but if I do open up our lives and you enter, I am terrified of how that would affect the two of us. Carson has never experienced heartbreak and he shouldn't have to until he is old enough to date for himself."

You shift to look at Caitlin.

"You scare me because of how amazing you are with him. You don't treat him like he's a child but bring lift him up. You scare me because every time I see you with my son I think about what life would be like if that was the normal. You scare me because I have never felt the way I feel with you, you scare me Caitlin."

You are looking in her eyes and she can see the sorrow and love and conflict all swirling in your eyes. Her arm comes down to hold your hand. You look down at her intertwining her fingers with yours.

"Your fears are real and understandable. You aren't just thinking about you and I completely respect that. I am not here to storm into you life and then leave it once I am satisfied. You are not someone I want to be casual with. I don't want a fling. You are someone I want to pursue."

"I know we are just getting to know each other and we are in a fragile state because you are right, you are not just thinking about yourself, you are also thinking about the best little man this world has ever seen. But even in the little time that we have had with one another, I know you are worth pursuing. I don't plan on going anywhere and we will take this as slow as you want."

"Slow is good," you say looking at her in awe. The fear and anxiety you were feeling have has been suffocated by Caitlin's understanding.

"I can do slow," she says.

You look in her eyes and decide to be bold. You remove her hand from yours, taking both of your wine glasses and putting them on the ground. When your eyes meet hers again you bring your hand up to cup her cheek. Leaning in, you kiss her.

Caitlin's hand finds your neck, pulling you in closer to her as your hand falls to her chest. You pull away from her, just long enough to take in her beauty before kissing her again with a little more heat than before. She pulls you onto her, your legs straddling her on the swing.

Her hands massaging your waist as yours find their way to her hair. Cait's fingers slip under the bottom of your shirt touching your warm skin. You pull apart from her, leaving you both breathing heavy.

"I'm sorry," you say as your begin to move off of her but her grip on your hips tightens. She shakes her head no as she pulls you in for a hug. She wraps arms around you as you lean into her. The two of you stay pressed against each other.

When you finally part it is past midnight.

"I had a really great time tonight," Caitlin says.

"I did too," you say with a light smile.

Caitlin pulls you in for a hug and you let her. She kisses the top of your head.

"I know this was a not-date but I was hoping I could take you out on a real date, when you are ready of course," she says and you let out a little laugh.

"I would like that very much," you say and Caitlin smiles. She wants to kiss you again and you can see that in her eyes. You pat her chest and part from her, taking a few steps back. She feels empty without you in her arms.

"Slow Clarky," you say, now standing in the doorframe.

"Llke I said, I can do slow," she says. "But that doesn't mean it won't be hard."

You blow her a kiss and watch her leave. You close your front door and smile.

AN: I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you enjoy reading it! Let me know what you think. And as always, thank your for your love and support 🤍

[thealtoduck]

Greedy (Pt 2): The Morning After

Peter Parker x Male Black Cat!Reader

Warnings: Smut, bottom!Reader, top!Peter, friends with benefits, anal sex, semi-public sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, cum-in-ass, mention of breeding, sex on balcony, one of your neighbours watches from his kitchen and jerks off to it (with your and Peter’s consent, of course)…

Male Black Cat!Reader: Masterlist

Summary: It’s the morning after you fucked Peter senseless and you see another oppurtunity have fun on the balcony but end up being seen by your neighbour, Mr Smith…

——

When Peter woke up the next morning still in your parent’s bed, he noticed you weren’t in his arms, you weren’t even in bed and up looking around until he spotted you. The doors to the balcony stood open and there you were completely butt naked in the early morning sun.

Peter was lucky he healed fast from his powers after how rough you’d been with him last night. He stood up from the bed and walked towards you. You were leaning against the balcony railing, breathing in some fresh air as you heard Peter speak up.

”Y/n, you’re naked, come back inside someone might see you” Peter said. ”It’s six on a Sunday morning, Peter” you stated simply. Turning back to see Peter’s also naked body waiting inside. ”Join me?” you suggested lightly. Peter thought for a moment before he shyly stepped out on the balcony next to you.

It was weird feeling a slight breeze against his manhood as it hung out in the open, for everybody looking at the balcony to see. Though there weren’t any people to actually see, the early weekend morning left the suburbs silent as the dead of night. Not even the birds were awake to chirp.

”Bit disappointed you can walk today” you said, ”Maybe I should’ve been rougher with you”. ”No you were good, I just… heal quickly” Peter said hoping you wouldn’t take the hint that he actually does ”heal quickly”. You didn’t pick up on the hidden message and continued looking out over the other houses and yards.

Peter glanced at you, your naked form mixed with your complete nonchalance of the idea of people seeing it stirred up something in him. ”Tell me if you want me to stop” Peter said standing himself beside you before groping your right ass cheek in his hand.

You let out a small gasp at Peter’s action but didn’t say anything and let him continue, Peter stood himself behind you and squeezed the globes of your ass playfully. ”How does it feel?” he whispered in to your ear.

”Nice, continue” you let out softly. Peter placed kisses on the crook of your neck and worked his hands over your body. You felt your manhood harden at Peter’s touch and the feeling of his cock grazing against your ass.

Peter felt daring. He trailed a hand down your back to your butt, he felt his way down to your tight hole, running a teasing finger against it making you let out a needy little sound. Peter regonised that sound from you, it meant you wanted to be taken then and there.

”Out here… on the balcony, really?” Peter asked amused.

You shrugged with a small smirk on your lips. ”A guy wants what he wants” you said, bending over the balcony railing slightly, pushing your ass out to Peter, showing you were ready for whatever he wanted to do to you.

”Wait here a sec” Peter said, going back inside, he went to the bedside table and got the bottle of lube from last night. When he walked back to the balcony, you were just as he left you, obidiently waiting for his return.

Peter spread lube on some his fingers and asked politely ”Can I start?”. You turned your head slightly, a genuine smile on your face. ”Go ahead” you said invitingly, widening your stance slightly.

Peter started teasing a finger over you hole, before slowly pushing a finger into your enterance. Despite you being rather ”experienced” with other men you always felt just as tight everytime to Peter.

He added another finger inside you, as you let out quiet moans into the open air, looking out over the neighbourhood. Once Peter added a third finger, he could tell you were getting needy for his cock. You were hard as rock when Peter stroked your dick.

You were really getting a kick out of being outside for everyone to see (if they were actually awake). ”Peter, I’m ready-fuck, please just take me” you said as Peter placed kisses on your shoulder. He wasn’t used to you sounding like this, but he liked it.

Hearing the most popular, most wanted, most sexy guy at Midtown as good as beg for his cock made him feel good. Peter felt like he imagined jocks in 80s movies felt. He lubed his cock and lined himself up with your enterance and decided to tease you a bit, poking your hole slightly with his tip.

”You want it?” Peter teased slightly, kneading your ass proudly in his hand. ”You know I do” you said readily. Peter smiled and slowly started pushing his thick cock past your enterance, slowly insterting himself in you.

”Fuck” you swore at you ass slowly opened to accomadate Peter’s size, it was like he got bigger for everytime you bottomed for him. Peter bit his lip cockily as he watched his shaft disappear into your tight hole.

The way you gripped the railing hard while bent forward like that was almost to make Peter cum on the spot but he knew he needed to give you a nice long fuck.

Once Peter was fully stuffed inside you, you breathed heavily while getting used to his size. ”Fuck, yeah” you swore quietly to yourself, Peter put his hands on your hips readying himself for when you wanted him to start moving again.

After a while, you had been spread out to accomadate Peter’s swollen cock. You uttered a quiet ”Ready”, Peter slowly started pulling out of you before once again pushing in, setting a slow pace for the two of you to begin with.

You moaned quietly as Peter continued to place loving kisses along your neck and back. The scent of you along with the warm gripping feeling of your hole around his cock, was almost enough to drive him mad.

”Oh yeah” Peter uttered, eyes closed in bliss as he slowly pushed into you once more. He was dragged out of his fantasy by the sound of your voice uttering ”Pervert” in a annoyed tone. ”What?” he said, opening his eyes, confused thinking he’d misheard you.

”We have an audience” you stated, nodding in the direction of the house left to the one across from the balcony. Peter immediately paused his movements into you and looked in that direction and saw through a window on the bottom floor.

There handsome man in his mid-to-late twenties, standing in his underwear with a coffee cup in hand looking out through his kitchen window, he had obviously just woken up, and had a rather dazed and confused expression as he had just caught the two of you and ”activities” out on the balcony.

”Oh shit!” Peter swore swiftly pulling out of you, covering his crotch with his hand and running back inside to the bedroom. He had expected you to come with him but you remained out on the balcony, gaze fixated upon the man in the window.

”Y/n, come back inside! He saw us!” Peter panicked. But you remained on the balcony as unbothered as ever. The attractive man was still meeting your eyes. You knew him as Mr Smith, you couldn’t remember his first name, he hadn’t moved in too long ago, living in the house for maybe a month or two.

You noticed Mr Smith’s briefs had grown tighter in the croth area revealing his morning wood. His confusion turned into a seductive smile and he brought a hand down to his crotch and palmed his dick through his tiny briefs. He had been enjoying what he saw.

You bit your lower lip looking at the man, scanning his bidy, you didn’t know he was THAT well trained and you hadn’t noticed how good looking he really was until now. Maybe it’d be fun giving him a little show for him to ”enjoy” himself.

You moved a hand down to your dick and started stroking yourself, to the enjoyment of you neighbour who continued playing with his clothed cock. You turned back to Peter who was looking at you stunned from the bedroom.

”Wanna give him a show?” you offered in your seductive tone almost like a cat’s purr to Peter’s ears. ”What?” Peter questioned confused, what you were suggesting was a new level of adventure for him.

He had lost his virginty to you, all of his sexual experiences had always been with you and you only… this felt completely new and foreign to him… and yet he felt really curious.

Peter slowly stepped back on to the balcony, covering himself with both his hands. He stood himself beside you. ”That’s Mr Smith” you informed him. Peter made eye contact with the attractive Mr Smith who looked intrigued at the two.

Peter removed a single hand from his crotch and gave Mr Smith a shy wave. Mr Smith returned it with a friendly smile. Peter removed his other hand revealing his full naked glory to the stranger who looked impressed at him.

Mr Smith then put away his cup of coffee and slowly pulled down his underwear revealing his own hung cock, to you and Peter. The man could tell by your expressions only that you were impressed with the size of him. He slowly started rubbing his hand over his big cock.

But he was waiting for the two of you to start with the real show for him to watch.

You postioned yourself as you had been, before the interruption. And Peter stood himself behind you and slowly started to re-insert himself into your warmth. Grabbing your hips once more as he started moving slowly in and out of your ass.

He gave a glance to Mr Smith, who had started jerking himself in satisfaction of the show you displayed for him. But Peter wanted to impress him even more than that, he wanted to show the neighbour how good he could fuck you.

Peter gave a sudden thrust forward, his pelvis meeting your ass with a slap of your skin meeting. You released a louder moan and you uttred a ”So big” to which gave Peter a sense of pride. He started speeding up his thrusts in to your hole.

Giving you a sense euphoria as Peter’s cock jabbed at your insides, in a steady but rough pace. You glanced at Mr Smith who was beating his meat to the sight, he was licking his lips as he looked up to the two of you on the balcony.

To Mr Smith it felt as if he was allowed to watch the intercourse between two olympian gods on Mount Olympus, so beautiful and sacred but also inviting, but yet so far and off limits.

You moaned loudly on the balcony as Peter pummled your hole without mercy, as if you were calling out to your neighbour. As if asking him to help you and Peter reach your climaxes.

Peter grabbed your shoulder with one hand and your waist with the other to position you just right for him to plow your as hard as he could. Fucking his cock right into you, his tip jabbing at your prostate wildly.

”Peter!” you called out through heavy breaths and loud moans. ”Yes, babe?” he said confidently, loving your struggling yet heavily pleasured voice. ”Breed me for Mr Smith to see” you said blissfully.

”Yes, sir” Peter obliged delightfully and delivered several feral thrusts into you. You felt your orgasm building up from Peter taking you like this, then you glanced over at your neighbour.

And the combination of Peter’s loving rough thrusts and Mr Smith’s face as he was getting close to cum sent you over the edge. You let out a growling moan as your dick sprayed cum like a hose, some on the railing, some on the balcony floor and some shooting into the backyard below.

Peter hearing your moan was unable to control himself as he planted himself inside you with a powerful last thrust and uttered a satisfied ”Fuck Y/n” as his cock then drenched your insides with floods of his white sticky seed. Which started leaking out of you before he even had the chance to pull out.

As you both came down from your highs, you looked to Mr Smith down in his kitchen, who seemed to have came, his cum had shoot so hard it stained some of the window. He had a satisfied look on his face and gave you both a thumbs up in ”Thank you” and ”Good job”.

You both waved teasingly back at him, and he disappeared out of your sight from the window. Peter finally pulled out of your battered hole, making cum seep out and run down your legs and drip down to the balcony floor.

”Can you help me back inside?” you asked in exhaustion, feeling your legs shaking. ”Of course” Peter said supporting you back inside, you laid down on your front on the bed, the remenants of the mess Peter had made of you still clearly visible, hole gaping wide, splashes of cum on your ass and legs.

Peter took a mental picture of his work, it was an image he would never wanted to let go, all of this and you were still stunning as ever.

”You need help cleaning up” Peter asked, back to his sweet normal self, with a hint of boyish pride in his voice. ”No” you said simply ”I wanna stay this way a bit longer”.

”Besides, you should get cleaned up, weren’t you meant to go helping your Aunt with that bake sale for charity” you reminded him. ”Right” Peter remembered ”Can I borrow your shower and a set of clothes?”

”Go for it” you confirmed as Peter went and cleaned himself up.

When he came back clean and changed, you were laying on your side still butt naked, but drying of Peter’s cum with a towel. ”I need to get going now to make the bus” he said, Peter came and gave you a goodbye hug and kiss on the cheek.

”See you tommorow” you said stroking his cheek playfully. You laid back down on the bed as Peter turned to leave. ”Oh! And Peter?!” you stopped him.

”Yeah?” he asked turning back to you. ”If you see Mr Smith, please tell him he can stop by here whenever he wants” you said in a playfull tone.

”Oh right” he said a bit awkwardly and left the room and made his way out of your house.

You wanted to invite Mr Smith over? Peter thought as a feeling suddenly blossomed up inside him, jealousy. That man couldn’t fuck you and make you cum better than he could.

Then there was another feeling… confusion… weren’t the two of you mutually exclusive. Peter had thought so, but the two of you had never put into words what your relationship actually was.

Couple? Friends with benefits?… Just benefits?

Had you been messing around with other people on the side through out your friendship? He thought to himself.

Peter was left with the same questions through out the day.

[some-bunniii]

My Charming Red Savior [4]

・❥ A friend revealed, and warm feelings.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

x: pronouns are she/her. no use of y/n.

xx: decided to change the saving fem!reader to its AO3 title, so all parts of this fic have been updated for this change as well!

~6.8k words

warnings: depictions of blood/injury

“Did I miss anything?” 

Those were the first words the King of Hell had spoken atop the large patio, as you stood in awe, battered, with dust and debris sticking to your body. You blinked, frozen in place as your eyes scanned over the pearlescent man’s figure, who grinned charmingly across from you. 

He leaned lazily against the gold railing, now partially destroyed from the small explosions that had peppered the front of the hotel. The screams and snarls from below were all but silenced now, except for one or two stragglers who could be seen making a run for it in the distance. But, not before a large, swamp-green tentacle snaked around them, and began beating them into the ground. It wasn’t long before your gaze was back on Lucifer, a million thoughts racing through your head.

It wasn’t until Lucifer’s smile faltered slightly at your silent staring, did he clear his throat, nervously tapping against the apple-tipped cane in his grip. “You look a little shaken up, are you doing good over there?” 

You were about to open your mouth to speak, until your eyes darted to another small, cylindrical object flying right towards Lucifer. You recoiled, throwing your hands in front of your face as it closed in on the fallen angel.

“Watch out!” You cried to him, squeezing your eyes shut as you waited for the familiar boom of the grenade to shake the patio. Lucifer whipped his head around, eyebrows raised as the grenade soared towards him. Lifting his arm, he caught it in his hand before it could hit him in the face, before raising it to get a closer look. 

You splayed your fingers, peeking through the small gap when you realized once more that your heart was still beating. Raising an eyebrow, your face contorted into surprise as your gaze rested on the object in Lucifer’s hand.

The bomb ticked quietly in his palm, slowly increasing in speed as the seconds went by. It vibrated in his grip, and Lucifer only inspected it casually, rolling it between his fingers with interest.

Was he just going to hold it until it exploded? You watched silently with wide eyes, unsure of what exactly was going to happen. If it went off, would the King of Hell even have a scratch on him? Maybe, that was why he seemed so confident holding a bomb in his hands. Watching Lucifer catch it casually in the air a few times only cemented that thought.

The perks of being immortal, you supposed.

“Hm, seems they got the timing off on this one,” Lucifer observed, just as the ticking seemed to increase to every millisecond. Right when you were sure it was about to go off in his palms, Lucifer’s fingers curled around it. It looked like he was squeezing the cylinder like a balloon, as the black, metal surface contorted, shifting from the pressure.

Instead of lighting into a ball of flame, the bomb exploded in a burst of multi-colored confetti. Which sprayed across the patio, a few stray pieces landing on your face as they settled onto the floor. You were silent, in awe at the magical display. Lucifer only grinned at you, a silent boast of his powers as he caught you gawking. He adjusted his collar, still leaning against the railing as he brushed some confetti from his shoulder pads.

Realizing he had noticed your staring, your cheeks began to heat in embarrassment. You lay your eyes for the first time on the most powerful man in Hell and all you can do is stand there and look dumb, get it together! Leaning forward, your head practically hits the cracked tile flooring as you bow.

“Your Majesty, I apologize for my rudeness!” You quickly pipe up, your eyes still locked to the floor as you keep your head down, “Thank you for saving my life, I don’t know if I’d be alive without your intervention.” 

“It was no biggie.” Lucifer shrugged, waving his hand in the air in a sweeping motion, as he brushed off your compliment. He lifted himself from the railing, taking a few steps forward as he began to cross the patio. “Can’t have my daughter’s friends be attacked by a couple of low-life thugs.. again! What kind of a father would that make me?”

You straightened, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your brows furrowed as the words left his lips, mouth opening slightly as if you were about to question him on his statement.

‘Daughter’. Was he talking about Charlie? Of course, he must be, she looked like a carbon copy of him! But, that would mean… it wasn't an imp that had approached you yesterday morning during your shift. At least, not any normal imp. Does that mean you had been talking to…?

It was in the same instance that Lucifer leaned in closer to you, his eyes squinted in thought as he inspected your face. He placed a finger on his chin in thought, as he regarded you with a curious expression through those soft, yellow eyes of his. 

“Wait a second… do I know you from somewhere?” He questioned finally, raising an eyebrow in anticipation. You smiled as you thought of a response, your hands rubbing together in a soothing motion. Lucifer’s eyes lit up in recognition before you could say anything, and he snapped his finger as connected the dots.

“That's right! You were that sweet worker at the formalwear store yesterday, weren’t you? The one that opened early for me!” He beamed, taking another step closer as your eyes widened at the proximity. 

“Y-yes, that was me, Your Majesty.” You stammered out, cursing yourself so being so godamn nervous. “Except, I wasn’t really aware that you were... well, you?”

“Oh, heh, yeah, my impish disguise. Pretty good, eh?”

Yeah, it was. There wasn’t anything that would have made you guess that imp was actually Lucifer, at least before you had met the man. Except, for the height. That hadn’t seemed to change between the two appearances, as you still had to lower your head to meet his gaze even now.

You took a deep breath, calming your jittering nerves as you again realized who was standing right in front of you. Never once did you think a lowly citizen of Hell like you would be this close to the Lucifer Morningstar! Should you have kneeled instead when you greeted him? What was the proper etiquette for this kind of thing? Alastor would have surely known.

That thought made you lean over slightly to get a peek past the fallen angel’s brimmed hat. Your eyes followed the slender, shadowy forms of tentacles snaking around the last two criminals, who were trying to shoot the large masses.

“Aren’t you, um, going to go help..?” You pointed behind him, and Lucifer turned to follow your finger just as another thug was flung past the large fence that surrounded the hotel. Their squeal of fear faded as they disappeared from view. Static-laced laughter filled the air as the tentacles began to dissipate.

“Nah, I think your… friend down there has it covered.” Lucifer shrugged after a moment, turning back to face you. 

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath to calm your jittering nerves. Between last night and this, you were about ready to lay in your bed and hibernate for the next three months. Life was exhausting, it seemed. 

“Well, that was fun!” Lucifer smiled, nodding along as he clasped his hands together. “Didn’t think I’d find drug dealers trying to knock down the walls, though. Looks like I really have to up the security around here.”

You nodded along half-heartedly, and watched as he strolled past you towards the door. He only made it a few steps before he halted, and you jumped slightly as he pivoted to face you. He waggled a finger at you, mock suspicion in his gaze as he leaned in. Now that you could get a better look at him, 

“I also was not expecting to find you here, either. Only yesterday, it seemed like you had no idea the hotel even existed. Now, I find you in the raging path of a feral tea table. An odd turn of events, don't you think?”

You smiled, heat creeping onto your cheeks in embarrassment. You probably looked pretty pathetic when Lucifer was saving you, curled in a ball while you accepted your grim fate. You wished you had some kind of badass demon magic, so you didn’t have to be so helpless. Did Alastor ever feel helpless? No, probably not, he seemed so confident in every situation you saw him face.

The way he strolled down the stairs so casually when the thugs had first attacked, made it seem like he had done that kind of thing many times before. But, it seemed like that was true, since you patched up one scuffle on his coat, and were told of his encounter with Sir. Pentious–which you simply couldn't believe would attempt such a thing, now that you’ve met him–a few months prior. 

You wondered what made him and Lucifer struggle to get along, had something happened in the past between them? Maybe, you could get Alastor to budge with that with a little prodding. For now, you were unsure of what to tell the King. How would he react if you said the only reason you were here was because of Alastor? You didn’t want to lose the friendliness you had with Lucifer, it probably wouldn't be fun to be on the King of Hell’s bad side.

Plus, it seemed like Lucifer liked you. Did that have something to do with the fact that he claimed you were a ‘rare gem’ when it came to being a nice person in Hell? He did give you all that money.. which you lost. Maybe, he’d give you some more if you played your cards right.

And, if it was as friends, you wouldn’t mind getting closer to the fallen angel. He was just so funny and charming, you couldn’t imagine the kind of gossip he had to share, and you wouldn't be bothered if he shared it with you.

“Oh, well, beeeecause I was interested in redemption! Ha-ha, yeah. When we talked earlier, your words just struck something in me! So, I took a tour and stayed the night.”

“Really? I inspired you to come to the hotel?” Lucifer asked incredulously, tilting his head thoughtfully at you. He raised an eyebrow, doubt written across his features. 

“That’s right! I mean, you even gave me a bunch of money like it was no big deal. That was very kind of you!” You nodded enthusiastically. That wasn’t exactly a lie, since the conversation with Lucifer yesterday did lead to Alastor revealing more about the hotel, which in turn piqued your interest enough to even consider staying for an extended period.

Slowly, Lucifer's eyes lit at your response, a gleam of happiness that you hadn’t noticed before. He seemed to be standing a little straighter too, as if that was some kind of confidence boost for him. Did Lucifer not… genuinely help people often? Was it something he wished he could do more often?

Seems like ruling a realm full of demons that continually commit the worst atrocities known to mankind would break an angel’s will to want to make a change. 

“I wanted to thank you again for your generosity,” you started, your tone genuine as the glint in Lucifer’s eyes only seemed to grow, “All that money you gave me would have really helped, 

“Would? What happened?” Lucifer inquired, tilting his head curiously.

“Some guy mugged me,” you stated bluntly, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. It felt weird telling people about your most vulnerable moments. You found no enjoyment in retelling any of these scary events, and hopefully, your bad luck would end soon. 

“And they stole everything from you?”

“Yeah…”

Lucifer huffed in annoyance, his teeth baring slightly as he exhaled a hot breath. He couldn’t exactly be surprised, it was Hell. Not to mention, the guy has been neglecting his kingly duties for a while now and has only just started going to meetings for crying out loud.

“Jeez, I’m sorry about that. Here, let me jus–”

“Where did that new girl go? What do you mean you haven’t seen her?” You could hear Vaggie’s voice from downstairs, as the gaping hole in the side of the hotel made it much easier to hear their conversations now.

You heard multiple inaudible responses to the question, before Vaggie’s rose above them with renewed anger.

“She’s still up there?! you’re telling me none of you numbskulls went to get her after that big explosion?”

“₩Ⱨ₳₮?!” You heard a snarl of static at Vaggie’s words.

Tensing, you kept your eyes trained on Lucifer as you strained your ears to eavesdrop on the voices below. It seemed like they were looking for you now, did they even know whether Charlie’s dad was here? 

“Alastor, hold up!” You heard Angel Dust’s call from the bottom of the staircase, which made you pivot to face the closed doors not too far away. Lucifer, who was standing a few steps away from you, looked up curiously as the doors swung open.

Standing there, chest heaving slightly, ears twitching, was Alastor. His eyes instantly landed on you, before quickly scanning over your figure for injuries. Did he just leap up all those stairs? That wasn’t a very short distance by any means. 

His arms were outstretched beside him, as he gripped both doors. Alastor’s claws slightly dug into its wood frame as he observed the smoking, half-burnt balcony with a tight-lipped smile. It wasn’t until his eyes met Lucifer’s–you swore you saw a flicker of surprise cross his gaze–that something seemed to flip like a switch inside the demon, and Alastor straightened instantly, his ears returning to their normal placement as corrected his posture. 

A large, toothy grin appeared on his face, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze darted between you and Lucifer only a few feet apart. His eyelid twitched as Lucifer sent him a deadly grin behind you, the tension in the air thickening to the point where you felt like you’d suffocate even in this open space. 

You only smiled brightly in return, sending Alastor a finger wave as you sidled a step away from the fallen angel beside you. Lucifer, on the other hand, seemed to be having fun as he pivoted slightly to face you. A mischievous glint in his eye as he cocked his head at Alastor, a haughty look on his face.

“Can I help you?” He feigned irritation, an eyebrow quirked as he sent the demon a pointed glance. As if Alastor had just barged in on the two of you deep in discussion, souring the mood. 

Alastor wasn’t able to get a word out when multiple footsteps echoed from behind him, noisily clopping up the long staircase as they bickered amongst themselves. A familiar pink spider popped his head over Alastor’s shoulder, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the pearlescent face beside you. More heads appeared around, their eyes scanning across the balcony as they observed the scene.

“Dad?” Charlie asked, squeezing through the clump of nosy demons, surprise written across her face as she passed Alastor. 

“Honey!” Lucifer beamed, a smile gracing his features as he met his daughter halfway. Charlie extended her arms, ready to accept Lucifer’s large hug as he returned the gesture. He held her for a moment before he released her, backing up a step as the others pushed past Alastor’s figure to get a better place behind the princess.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at that art auction?” Charlie questioned, tilting her head at him. 

“That ended last night.” Lucifer nodded, “Now it’s some kind of celebratory artist-only afterparty, which means even the King of Hell cannot attend, unfortunately. So, I thought I’d drop by. Good timing, it seemed, or else your friend here  would not be standing here any longer.”

Lucifer turned to you, gesturing to the dust and debris hanging to your clothes, as you stood there silently with that same awkward smile. 

“Oh, yeah. She’s interested in being a resident of our hotel, for redemption!” Charlie smiled excitedly, proud to be able to show her father that her dream was slowly expanding. You nodded along, your hands clasped together politely as they discussed you.

“Yes, I heard! We’ve been having a nice discussion these past few minutes, her and I. A real doll, this one is, just like when I met her previously.”

“You two... have met before?” Charlie finally asked, confusion laced in her voice as she looked between the two of you. The demons behind you shot curious glances in your direction, silently waiting for more juicy details.

“She was there when I bought your tuxedo! I was in disguise, though, so nobody saw me as.. well, me. She even opened up early for me, just out of the kindness of her soul!” Lucifer scooted beside you, nudging you in the arm playfully as he spoke. “Guess you could say I owed her a rescue after that considerate gesture.”

“Did you throw a party up here, too?” Vaggie piped up from the doorway, kicking away at a few stray pieces of the colorful confetti that was sprinkled across the floor. Charlie’s eyes were glinting as she processed her father’s words, before glancing down at the new red suit that she was wearing. She looked up at you with renewed interest, a blooming on her face.

“That was all His Majesty, actually,” you finally spoke, lifting a hand to your mouth as you giggled, “It was pretty impressive, to be honest, I’ve never seen a party trick like that before. I thought the confetti was kinda funny.”

You purposely avoided looking at Alastor as you spoke, so his reaction to your praise was a mystery. Lucifer only smiled proudly beside you, your words boosting his ego. 

“Well, that’s not the only trick I’m good at,” Lucifer chuckled. Before he sent you a wink, then a playful smirk that he swept across the small crowd. Their eyes were locked on him, captivated with anticipation for the charming angel to display some of his magical talents.

Except, for Alastor, who only smiled widely, his eyes crinkled in annoyance at the theatrics. You didn’t pay him much mind, instead keeping your attention on Lucifer. During your time in Hell, you hadn’t come into contact with many figures that could harness demonic magic so effortlessly, apart from Alastor.

The King of Hell, however, was on a whole different level, he had pure angelic power. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you were not going to miss this for anything. However, it seemed your admiration was a little too evident, as you missed Alastor's squinted gaze analyzing your expression.

Lucifer finally rested his gaze on Alastor, who met his eyes,  just as he tapped his cane against the ground, a flurry of golden sparks igniting from the touch. a vortex of golden eaves began to swirl around his cane, before flooding across the destroyed, cracked floor of the balcony. It was like a small ocean pooling at your feet, and it felt like the ground was shifting underneath you. 

Sticking a finger gun towards the split table, Lucifer shot an explosion of magic against its surface, and it crackled with energy. Before you could blink, the two pieces slid together, attaching like Lego pieces back onto their legs. Fresh color adorned the wood, a lovely shade of peach with matching chairs. It settled onto the ground, with not even a scratch from the abuse it had just received.

He aimed a few more magical-loaded digits towards the broken railing, and the spilled flower pots, making pew pew sound effects with his mouth as he did so. 

The balcony began to shift back into even better condition than it originally was, the broken scenery straightening itself back into form. Slowly, the golden waves against your ankles dispersed and were pulled back into Lucifer’s cane.

The large, white marble tile beneath your feet was perfectly sealed, not a single crack upon its surface as it sparkled with a newfound shine. You lifted your leg, surprised finding your figure to be completely dry.

The demons around you stood mesmerized by the display, their eyes glowing and lips puckered in a small o. Alastor only tapped his claws against his cane impatiently. 

“How is that for a party trick?” Lucifer turned to you, sending you a charming grin. 

You were about to open your mouth before Charlie appeared at your side with a happy squeak. Her blonde hair cascaded down your shoulder, the silky strands like feathers against your skin. 

“Thank you for the help, Dad!” Charlie beamed, squeezing her cheeks as she stared lovingly at her father, “it’s so great to see you make new friends, too!”

“And, new clients!” Lucifer boasted, adjusting his bowtie with a grin “Last time we talked, I told her all about the hotel and what it offered. Seems like my salesmanship charm prevails once more.”

“How funny,” Alastor’s voice crackled with static as he strode up beside Charlie, planting himself into the small group’s discussion with a grin,  “but it appears His Majesty is mistaken, for it was I who persuaded our darling belle here to take a chance at redemption.”

“Pfft! You? Please, you couldn’t even convince an angel to redeem themselves. At least, not with that haircut!” Lucifer laughed, and your mouth dropped open, your gaze flicking to Alastor, who seemed to hesitate for a moment in shock at the bold insult. 

Your eyes darted to Charlie. She returned the look, before slapping a hand over her dad’s mouth.

“Okay, moving on!” She replied cheerfully, pinching her dad’s lips closed as she turned towards the staircase. Vaggie shot a glare toward the rest of the onlookers, who began to sadly shrink away.

“I’m afraid Your Majesty is uninformed!” Alastor ignored Charlie, as he walked closer to stand right beside you. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your heartbeat quickening at the realization you were directly in the middle of the two dueling forces. 

“Of what?” Lucifer questioned.

“Why, of our association, of course,” Alastor said sweetly, grasping your arm gently as he gestured to your figure. Heat crept onto your cheeks, as you let him slide in closer to you.

“You two know each other?” Lucifer asked, doubt laced in his face as he shot you a questioning stare. You only averted your gaze, unsure of how to respond to all of the prying eyes.

“Indeed! I’m sure you’re familiar with a charm like this?” Alastor smiled innocently, before gingerly holding out your hand, gesturing to your ring finger. That golden ring glinted in the sunlight, and the small rose-gold engraving of the letter A was on full display. 

Lucifer’s eyes widened after a moment, and his gaze shot to you, then to Alastor, before landing back on the ring. He seemed to reel back slightly as it finally dawned on him, before his face settled into a look that silently grumbled ‘You gotta be kidding me.’

Charlie gasped, clutching her cheeks as she leaned in closer for a better look. The ecstatic look on her face was a complete inverse to her father, who only averted his gaze at the sight. 

You stood with an awkward smile, heat creeping onto your cheeks as you sidled slightly away from Alastor. You did not expect him to be sprinting it back onto these guys, in front of Lucifer no less.

The King only turned to you, disbelief in his features as he sent you a pointed stare.

“You’re telling me you work at a formalwear store, and you picked a guy with this bad of a wardrobe?” He gestured subtly to Alastor’s suit, a grimace on his face as he eyed the demon’s style with contempt.

Alastor only adjusted his bow tie, throwing his hair back as he straightened. He shot you a pointed look too, prodding you with a ‘Are you really going to agree with him?’ stare.

You said nothing, so Alastor only turned to face Lucifer, clasping his hands with a large smile, “I’d take your fashion advice to heart, Your Majesty, but it seems your taste lies at the bottom of a bargain bin, so I must respectfully disagree.”

“Bargain bin?!” Lucifer gasped, a hand shooting up to his chest as he recoiled. A growl rose from the fallen angel’s throat as he opened his mouth to retort, only for Charlie to grab him from behind and pull him away from Alastor.

“I’ll pay you triple the amount from yesterday if you just take that ring off!” Lucifer begged as Charlie dragged him down the steps. “Do you fancy goat horns? I know of someone in the Wrath Ring that is available!”

The father-daughter duo disappeared from view, their voices muffled as you watched the doors slam shut with a crackle of green energy. Turning to face Alastor, you find a smug grin dancing on his lips. You frowned, did this guy really just insult the King of Hell like the man couldn’t stomp him in a moment?

“Your arrogance knows no bounds,” you chastise the demon, waggling your finger as you spoke, “speaking so comfortably with the King in such a condescending manner. He could smite you for that, you know.” 

“Verbal sparring with the monarchy is a favorite pastime of mine, sweetheart! I’m sure our dear king enjoys it just as much as I.” Alastor shrugged, twisting the cane between his claws as he regarded you with playful eyes.

“You are such a pain in my—”

Your words died in your throat when the outline of a dark-red rose was thrust towards you, Alastor’s fingers gently curled around its stem as he held it up for view. 

“For you.” He smiled, his lips curled in a soft grin. 

“Me? But, where did you get this?”

“Some bumbling oaf down there was going to stomp on it, so I stomped him, instead,” Alastor shrugged, extending the rose closer to you as he spoke, “I thought it would be something you’d find interest in. It… reminded me of you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, gaze lowering towards the wine-colored flower. It was beautiful, even with its slightly jagged petals, and the much larger thorns that covered the black stem. 

But, for Hell, it was such a relieving sight. To know that something that presented emotions could exist in such an apathetic, pessimistic environment like the realm around you. Honestly, it didn’t have that many similarities in comparison to Earth’s rose, but its mere resemblance made nostalgia pull at your heartstrings.

Old emotions began to boil inside you, and your throat tightened. Even after all the hardships, you still missed the trees and the smell of real, fresh air. The feeling of the sun against your skin, kissing you with a warmth that always stirred a smile onto your lips. Hearing the morning doves in the early spring morning, their gentle coos echoing through the thin veil of fog that settled onto the dew-filled grass. 

Now, you were stuck here. A dark, dirty realm that gave you its fair share of grief too. A lot in the span of two days, even. But, the good in it, was seeing the genuine smile that greeted you every time Alastor drank in your presence. Like this morning, when you agreed to join him on the patio, and the way his ears seemed to stand even taller when you said yes. 

It was also the fact that Alastor was so intent on presenting this lovely gift to you, that he killed someone just so the rose would survive the chaos, that made you feel so warm and giddy inside.

A smile bloomed across your face, and you gently wrapped your fingers around the stem, right above Alastor’s own. The top of your hand grazed against the softer texture of the rose’s petals, but its sharp thorns nicked at the skin on your fingertips, causing you to grimace slightly. You adjusted your grip slowly, the pain ebbing as you found a comfortable hold.

Your hand brushed Alastor’s as he released his grip, pulling his hand towards him, his gaze traveling to your arm lifting as you inspected the rose closer. All the memories of long, forgotten experiences made years prick at your eyes. 

“I.. don’t know what to say. This is so sweet of you,” you replied softly, eyes still locked on the rose and you gently caressed its petals, “thank you, Alastor.” 

Alastor watched the emotion flood across your face, and for the first time, he didn’t know what to say next. The look on your features made him feel.. strange. 

As if, this was a reaction nobody in Hell has ever given him before, excluding Charlie. It was fear and anger that only ever greeted him. Which he preferred, it made him feel strong, made him feel powerful. 

Your soft, sweet smile, however, was something Alastor could get used to. The way the dimples on your cheeks deepened slightly as your lips curled delicately. As if you too were a rose, your petals softly opening for the new day. 

His gaze still rested on you as the tip of your nose inched closer to the petals, before you inhaled a deep breath.

It smelled surprisingly sweet, but also with a warm, earthy scent. A hint of smokiness underneath the layer of the sugared aroma. It reminded you of a wood-burning stove, or the smell of firewood that clung to your shirt after a night in the wilderness.

But, also… the faint metallic tang of blood. 

Brows furrowing, you pull the flower away, your eyes traveling to the barely visible glistening substance coating part of the stem. It almost mirrored the color of the dark-red petals, and you lifted your gaze to Alastor.

When your eyes traveled up his figure, it was the small trails of red liquid that dripped from his fingertips that made you recoil, a hand to your mouth as you gasped.

“Alastor, you’re bleeding!” The worry in your voice was obvious as you stepped closer to him, trying to get a better look at the small gashes on his skin. He regarded it with indifference, as if it was just a simple bother. You frowned at his reaction, there was no way that didn’t hurt!

He was a sinner, just like you, and almost everyone in the hotel. Mortality was still present in his afterlife, including the sensation of pain. No matter how hard he tried to present himself as a powerful being like Lucifer, he was still just a man who felt the same things you did. If not, with a little different... perspective. 

“It is nothing, do not fret about me, my doe,” Alastor brushed off your words, beginning to pull his hand away from your view. You saw a drop of blood leave the tip of his claw, falling onto the cracks below your feet, “they are just feeble scratches, nothing I, the Radio Demon can’t handl–”

Alastor’s words died in his throat, the last of his sentence coming out in pure static as his pupils dilated on your hand wrapping around his wrist. Your grip was firm, preventing him from shielding the wounds from you, as you tugged his hand closer.

This was the boldest move you had made since the two of you had first met. It was usually Alastor who made the first gesture, who took your hand and touched you softly. As if you were a fragile doll that could crack at the teeniest bit of pressure.

The man was so used to control, having complete say in who touched him—which was never, unless you count Angel Dust whenever he tried riling up the demon—and why. If you were some normal face in the crowd making such a move, he’d probably have torn them apart.

But oh, the warmth from your touch that greeted his cool skin had him yearning for more. That blissful feeling that seemed to bloom from inside his bones, that traveled like a river through his veins, filling him up with a strange, yet awfully familiar feeling.

Like, when his mother would sit him down at the table for dinner, a bowl of hot, steaming Jambalaya in her hands that she made just for him. Anytime she noticed he had a hard day, she’d cook his favorite meal.

As a child, he had eagerly scarfed it down, impatient to fill his stomach with such a treat. When he grew older, however, he learned to slow down and savor the explosion of flavors that tickled his taste buds in every bite. 

He remembered the way the delicacy traveled down his throat, and how it felt like a fire was igniting in his belly. The warmth emanating from your skin reminded him so much of that.

And that smile that always graced your features at the sight of him? Alastor remembered that from somewhere too. His mother’s lips always curved into a soft, gentle grin that would make anyone butter up in their presence.

Your lips seemed to curve just the same, and the demon was sure if the two of you would have met before the afterlife. His mother would have loved to meet you. 

Alastor remained deathly silent, his muscles tense as you splayed out his claws, turning his hand over to have his palm face up. There was dried blood across the smooth skin, which meant he had been bleeding for a while now. 

How hard was Alastor holding the rose during the fight that he cut up his hand like this? If it wasn’t for the bickering between him and Lucifer, you surely would have noticed it earlier.

Your fingers gently brushed against the small cuts, blood still slowly seeping from beneath the demon’s skin. You nudged his wound softly, inspecting it with worry. 

“Does that hurt?” You asked softly with furrowed brows.

“Does it matter?” Alastor scoffed, averting your expectant gaze.

“Yes! It does, actually!” You retorted, before your gaze moved to your outfit with a determined look. Quickly, you reached down, taking a fistful of fabric in your grasp before pulling it hard. With some friction, it began to tear away from the rest of your garment.

Now, you had a large piece of cloth in one hand, and Alastor’s wrist in the other. Reaching forward, you began to cover his cuts tightly against the fabric.

“Must you ruin such a pretty outfit for something so insignificant like my hand?” Alastor inquired, exasperation lacing his voice, “You’re treating it like some kind of battle wound, I am fine, my doe.” 

He didn’t pull away from you, however, as you finished patching up his injury. Inspecting his hand closer, you eyed work for a moment, before you shook your head, dissatisfied. 

“I forbid you from doing any activities for the rest of today until you address your wounds,” you declared, crossing your arms sternly. 

“Forbid?” He inquired, quirking a brow in amusement.

“That’s right! If you don’t take care of your injury, or let me do it for you, then I’ll have no choice but to put my foot down.”

Alastor squinted at you for a moment, that grin masking his thoughts as he regarded you. Was he going to argue? Sweat beaded on your forehead as you anticipated his answer. It wasn’t like you could exactly stop the powerful demon from doing what he wanted, but you also couldn't just let him strain his wound further because of pride.

Alastor didn’t argue. Instead, he simply shrugged, a pleased smile gracing his features. He closed his eyes thoughtfully, before holding a limp hand towards you. 

“Well, if you insist,” he hummed, cracking one eye open to watch you expectantly.

“Really..?” You asked in disbelief, regarding his hand with suspicion.  

“If the lady wishes to fuss over my health, I suppose I could heed her demands,” Alastor responded casually, lifting his hand closer towards you, “and, how could I refuse such a generous offer?”

You smiled playfully before slowly wrapping your fingers around the makeshift gauze, trying to get a good grip around his cuts as you held his hand.

“Is there somewhere I could get medical aid inside? Baindaids, alcohol solution… ibuprofen?”

Did Ibuprofen even exist down here? There had to be something similar at least, the Pride Ring was full of mortals that could still feel pain. Was Alastor in a lot of pain? Even if he was, you probably wouldn't get a straight answer from him. 

Now, you understood why Alastor and Lucifer didn’t like each other. They were just fighting for who was really the embodiment of pride.

“Hm..” Alastor tilted his head in thought, before his ears twitched, and a sly smile graced his lips, “I do believe I know just the place!”

Without a word, he returned your grip and pulled you closer to him. Your breath hitched, your chest almost bumping against Alastor’s as he took your other hand. The two of you looked as if you were about to start a waltz, as the demon looked out towards the railing, his chest still facing yours as his smile grew.

“Hang on tight, my dear!” He stated chipperly, and you fastened your grip hastily. The air began to crackle with energy, goosebumps rippling across your skin as static seemed to tickle at your figure. Green smoke pooled at your feet, and that familiar tingling sensation overtook you, just like the first time you were teleported. 

Alastor only pulled you closer right as the smoke blasted up, cold air hitting your face as you were pulled into darkness. The presence of the hand against yours was faint, but at least you weren't alone this time. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, your heart racing as you waited to feel the floor against your feet once more. Then, you felt a thumb brush softly against your knuckles, it circled soothingly across your skin, and you relaxed slightly.

What felt like minutes really only took a couple of seconds, as you felt soft lighting hit your eyelids, and Alastor stir beside you. His hand didn’t leave yours, as he waited for you to join reality.

“Not so bad, hm?” He prodded you slightly, beckoning you back into reality.

Letting your pupils adjust to the light, the familiar wallpaper from the hotel corridor met your vision. Did he really just materialize the two of you across the building? You didn't have any problem walking, but perhaps Alastor was trying to avoid the small crowd that would have met them at the bottom of the patio stairs.

“I feel kind of queasy,” you responded, shaking your head of the fog in the back of your mind.

“After a few times through, it won’t bother you anymore,” Alastor assured.

Trying to get a better estimate of your location, you turned your head to one side of the hall, taking in the sight of a dark, oak door. The familiar numbering made you quirk a brow, tilting your head towards the smiling demon. He met your gaze, a soft, lipped smile on his face.

“We’re going in my room?”

“Not quite..” he hummed, gripping your shoulders and pivoting you to the opposite side. Your eyes widened, gaze locked onto the matching door of Alastor’s room.

You stayed silent, feet frozen in place as you watched him take a few steps, his good hand wrapping around the spherical doorhandle. Slowly, he twisted the knob until it clicked softly. The hinges creaked with age, and the hallway lights began to spill into the darkened room as the crack in the doorway widened.

You couldn’t see anything through the slightly opened entryway, but your heart quickened as the second passed by. Your eyes flicked up to Alastor, who regarded you curiously, his gaze gentle as your nerves began to display on your face. 

“Ladies first!” He beamed, his smile an assurance to your heated skin.

He obviously wanted you to go inside, and part of your brain was nudging you forward with excitement. Alastor was inviting you into his quarters, he was allowing you to take a step inside his world, to get to know him! 

The other part whispered hesitation. What lay behind that door? Surely, more than just medical supplies.

It was as if you wrapped a sheet around the reluctance that was beginning to plague your mind, stuffing it underneath the floorboards of your brain. You weren't going to let your flustered mind get the better of you, and have you miss such an opportunity to get closer to the charming demon.

Exhaling a quiet breath, you banished your nerves into the air. Straightening your back, you sent Alastor a warm smile and took a step forward.

wingman!lucifer anybody? ✋

let me know what you think! ☺️ comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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