#already moved em to a new town

[nekrophoria]

Okay, yeah I give up.

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Farm-boy x Reader

'City Boys ain't worth nothin'

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut, NON-CON, mentions of exs, p-in-v sex, mentions of religon, mentions of conservatives, bondage, mentions of marriage, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of divorce, female and male genitalia, female reader, pet names, sub-par writing of southern accent.

(AN: Had fun with this one!)

Sitting on your porch, you sip from a cup of sweet tea provided by your lovely Aunt May, when you hear the sound of a truck approaching. A cloud of dust can be seen flying up from the dirt road as the beaten-up yellow pick up from the McCall farm rolls up the edge of your aunt's driveway. A freckle faced, redheaded boy parks the car, and hops out, his face and arms already red from having been working in the sun all day. You huff, but call out to your aunt. "Aunt May! That McCall boy's here!" You yell, a twinge of annoyance in your voice.

Ever since your parents split up, you moved from the city to live with your aunt May in this godforsaken hick town. You've always seen yourself as a city-girl, and just the thought of spending even a month on some dusty farm in the middle of nowhere made you want to gag. Despite the fact you've been here for several months now, the feeling has not gone away. Aunt May is nice, but you miss your friends, and you would rather die than go to another country-bumpkin harvest festival or Sunday service. Your predicament isn't helped by Joey McCall, the youngest son of the McCall family. From what you've gathered, the McCall's have been the largest family in this county for years. While not necessarily rich, they are well-known as salt-of-the-earth people, always willing to help. The McCall family has six kids, with the oldest four already married and starting their own families in the county. It seems that's Joey's goal too.

Everyday, even before you arrived in town, Joey was hired as a farmhand for your aunt, tending to animals and mucking the horses. He took pride in his work, and it only furthered his position as a town darling. When you arrived, despite your arrogance and clear disgust at your new life, he feels that you just need to see how great it is to live in a community like this. Joey hadn't really ever felt anything serious for the girls from town, and some would even say he didn't seem like the romantic type. This was far from the truth, as it was plain as day what he wanted when he would go doe-eyed at the preachers sermons on marriage, and god's purpose for it. He hasn't relented since he met you. Flowers, offering you baked goods, offering to do your chores, whatever you need to get him on your good side. Frankly, you can't stand him. It's not that you hate him persay, but you want nothing to do with this community of red-necks, and you would NEVER sink so low as kissing one of these country bumpkins sons.

Joey hops up the porch with a grin, adjusting the strap of his overalls as he approaches you. 'Aunt May, please hurry up and give him his chores already!' You think, trying to suppress rolling your eyes. "Mornin', stranger!" He teases. "It's a nice morning, sun's not too hot neither..." You nod, trying to simply wait out the conversation. He waits for you to speak, and when you don't, he sighs, but is happy to do the talking. "I'm glad I ran into you, I hadn't seen ya the last few times I visited. I-I sure hope you're not avoidin' me!" He laughs awkwardly, his grin faltering a little when you don't deny that this was your intention. He clears his throat, and quickly turns around, grabbing something from his back pocket. He thrusts his hand out, and a bundle of mixed flowers and weeds rests in it, still covered in dirt. You look disgusted at the half-dead bouquet.

"I don't want that." You say. His hand shakes a little, and he rubs the back of his neck with his free-hand. "Yeah, I understand. I was actually riding Maisie this morning, and by the time I saw these out in the field, she'd trampled right over em' with her hooves." He tosses the bouquet away over the porch, and it falls apart immediately upon impact with the ground. "It was stupid a' me to think ya'd like em'. Worth a shot though!" You open your mouth to retort, but before you can your aunt finally comes to the porch.

"Mornin' Ma'am!" Joey greets, and she responds sweetly, before pointing out a few things round the farm from her spot on the porch she'd like him to get done. He nods, and after grabbing the toolbox he'd always leave by the stairs, he sets off. You decide you've had enough off outside for today, and head back inside, placing your now empty glass on the counter.

Several hours go by, and as you flick through the channels on the tv, (most of which are static due to the terrible signal out here), you hear your aunt call you from the kitchen. As you enter, you can see she's finishing preparing lunch, a salad bowl to her left and a knife in her hand. Her free hands steadies some lettuce on the cutting board. "Hiya kiddo', how's your day been so far?" She asks. You don't hate your aunt, and lie to protect her feelings. "Fine. Just fine." You lean against the counter. "That poor McCall boy has been out there all mornin', hasn't even come in to ask for a glass of water." She sighs. You roll your eyes. "Be a dear and bring him this sandwich, would ya?" You want to say no more than anything, but when your aunt raises her brow and gives you that look, you quickly take the plate and scurry out to the barn.

As you approach, the sound of hammering and heavy breathing can be heard. As you enter, you see Joey trying to patch the gate on one of the horse-stalls. It seems he sent the horses out into the field, as the barn is empty save for you and him. "My aunt wanted you to have some lunch." You say coldly, placing the plate on top of a turned-over bucket which you considered to be the only place clean enough for it. Joey looks up, eyes wide in appreciation. "Well, thank ya' very much! I'll admit, I've been getting might hungry sittin' out here tryna' fix this darned gate." He huffs. He thinks it's a problem with the hinge. You let out a 'hmm', in response, and begin to leave, when Joey abruptly hops up and grabs your wrist. As soon as he sees your face change to one of disgust and shock, he recoils.

"Sorry to spook ya', I just wanted to ask you something before ya' ran of like ya' always do..." He places the hammer down, and his hands come to fidget at his side. "There's a party being held soon, outside the church. It's a picnic on the lawn sorta' thing, we have one every year. It's a real big deal." You raise an eyebrow. "I guess what I'm tryna' ask is if you'd considering going with me? I could show ya' around, help you meet some of the other townsfolk. Hell' ya' could even meet my sisters! I bet ya'd get along swell." His smile become shy, his freckle disappearing into his skin as a bright red blush covers his face. He hopes you think it's just a sunburn. You sigh, and shake your head. "I'm sorry, Joey. I don't think so..." You say. He frowns, but quickly nods. "Nah, I get it. It's kind of a big event. Maybe we could start with something smaller, maybe just the two of us? Say- I know a real nice spot north of the creek, I could take ya down there, a-and we could-" You let out a loud groan, and stomp your foot.

"No, Joey! It's not that I don't want trampled flowers, or I don't want to go to some big event with all you hick's, it's that I don't want you!" You exclaim. His face falls immediately, that light in his eyes extinguished like squashing one of the fire flies you'd see in the fields on a hot evening. "What..." He mumbles, shaking his head a little. "I don't want to date some small-town guy, okay! I don't even want to be in this town. I have a life back in the city, where I belong. Shit, I've got a BOYFRIEND!" You yell. His sadness at your rejection falls for a minute, and he seems to freeze his panicked breaths. "Ya- Ya' gotta' beau already?" He asks, his voice trembling as he swallows heavily. "A beau? What the hell does that mean, some kind of country talk? Yes, I have a boyfriend, and a very handsome one from the city at that." You sneer, turning your nose up at the boy.

"He pretty?" Joey mumbles, licking his lips as his gaze falls to the floor. You raise an eyebrow at the odd question. "Yes, he's very handsome." You respond. "S' got a lotta' money?" He asks. You nod again, not bringing yourself to be able to speak at Joeys sudden change in demeanor. When Joey does finally look up again, his face is no longer blushing red, but red with shame and embarrassment. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "W-well, it ain't gonna work out. I know how boys from the city are. They only want one thing from girls... that's what the preacher says." He points out the barn door. "You know Peggy, from the grocery store? She went and ran off with a boy from the city once. H-he knocked her up and left her alone, no where else to go. She came back to town, and she eventually married my brother Samuel. She always says he's the best thing that happened to her. He saved her..." Joey whimpers, his fist trembling at his side. You scoff. "Please, boys from the city have plenty to offer-" He cuts you off. "MORE THAN ME?!" He yells, a sob cracking his voice. "Have you done it with your pretty beau? Has he made you feel good?" You gasp, shocked at his vulgar question. "I don't have to tell you that..." You exclaim. "I'm not asking, I'm tellin' you to tell me." His voice is now filled with an equal tone of contempt, though you don't think it's direct at you, but rather the image of your boyfriend he's conjured up in his head. "He has. We've had sex before, he was my first." You say, swallowing nervously as you try to stand your ground.

"Then lemme ask you one more thing..." Joey huffs. "Is he gonna' marry you? Get ya' a nice house, some pretty dresses, keep ya' safe?" You shrug. "Uh, we're only twenty, we don't need to think about that." Joey shakes his head. "Cause'... Cause' that's what I'd do for ya'. Get you a nice ring, somethin' to match all your pretty dresses and clothes from the city. I'd build ya' a house right on my ma and pa's land, make sure we're still close to the family, but still give us some privacy..." He swallows harshly, taking a few steps towards you. "But most of all, I'd make sure you were safe, safe from any city boy who'd try to get off in ya' and then leave." He's now only a few inches from you. "And I intend to do that." He whispers.

You gasp as his calloused hands grab your wrists, turning you around to face the barn wall. He frees one of his hands up and moves to the stall door he was working on, bumping it open with his hips and shutting it behind the two of you. "L-Let go you brute! Get off of me!" You yell. He rips the red patterned bandanna he usually wears around his neck to keep the sun off, and quickly shoves the cloth in between your pretty, soft lips. As you try to kick, your feet only seem to bounce off the boys firm chest. "That's one thing about us farm boys, we're pretty strong. Firm, ya' know?" He whispers. He forces you to turn over, and you sit on the floor of the stall with your back to the wooden wall of the barn. Joey fumbles around, looking for something. His hand brushes across a rough rope for leading the horses mixed into the hay of the stall, and in just a few moments your hands are bound up to a horse feeder, just above your head. You whine through the gag, tears beginning to fall down your face. He shakes his head.

"Nah, c'mon now... don't cry. It's gonna be okay, I promise ya'." He whispers, brushing away one of your tears with the pad of his thumb. "Don't be scared, I'm not gonna do anything that hurts ya', I just wanna prove to you how good I can be. I realise, I can give you all the things that I said earlier, but... but I know the one thing that city boys have given you." Your eyes widen when you understand his words. He smiles softly. "I know the pastor says we should wait till' marriage, but I kinda need to convince ya' to marry me, and I know now to do that I have to prove that I can give everything some city boy can, and more." His hand comes to rest on your knee, before he uses the palm of his hand to bunch up the fabric of your pink skirt, now smudged with dirt. "Sorry about the location, didn't want anyone to see us. I-I'll buy ya' another dress after this, one even prettier, okay?" He says. Hiking up your skirt, your trembling thighs are visible to him, and the sheer lace of your panties allows him to see you without even taking them off. "Wow, I've never seen something as pretty as this..." His fingers trace the top of the lace, brushing your outer lips slightly. Despite your fear, the contact with a sensitive spot makes you whimper through the makeshift gag. "Maybe I don't wanna get ya' a new dress, maybe I want to see ya' in more of these." He laughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck.

His rough hands try to pull down the fabric around your womanhood, though your resistance makes it hard. Eventually, he groans and simply rips the lace in two, tucking it into the pocket of his overalls. "Surely, since this is damaged now, ya' won't need it." He mumbles. He toys with just the fabric in his hands for a moment, his curiosity evident, before he turns back to you. "I'm gonna get a look at ya', okay? See what exactly a pretty girl like you is workin' with." He roughly slots himself in between your knees, making closing them impossible. His large fingers part your folds, giving him a full view of your moist, aroused pussy. He bites his lip, letting out what can only be described as whimper. "G-geez, darlin'. This is definently better than them' health videos they used to show us in the schoolhouse..." He sighs. Joey's face falls for a moment, suddenly insecure.

"I guess you'll be wanting to see me now, too." He removes one hand from your inner thigh, and unclasps the shoulder straps of his overalls. "I-I'll admit, I know there's a little more to all this, but I only really know the basics, so I'm gonna show ya' what I know how to do. Rest assured though, I'm a quick learner." He stammers. His hand is shaking, and it takes several seconds for him to even undo one button on his overalls. Eventually, they fall, resting just below his wait. He lifts his button up shirt slightly, revealing a pair of briefs, and a very prominent bulge. He blushes as he looks down at it, and your eyes widen at the size. "Y'know, I've never had to deal with these before I met ya'. But, sometimes I go home and thinkin' of you is the only way to get em' to go away." His face is even redder with shame. He pulls the briefs down, allowing his cock to spring free. It's thick, and veiny. Somehow, it's freckled, much like his face. He spits into his hand, shivering as he rubs it down his length. "Sorry I don't have something better than my spit. I know it's kinda' gross, but, we are doin' it in a barn." He pulls his hips forward a little, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance, which against your will is now soaked with arousal. "See, I've already got you wet, I can do whatever that boyfriend back home can do for ya'." He says.

"Listen, I know ya'd said you've had sex with him, but I know it can still hurt a little. So, I promise to be real gentle with ya'." He stroke your face with his free hand, and presses his chapped lips to your forehead in a tender kiss. "I'll never get over how much softer you are than me..." He whispers. He begins to hump his manhood against your entrance, biting his lips each time he angles away from you instead of penetrating. "Huh, this is a lil' harder than I thought..." He seems upset at the idea he is under-performing. He takes his hand, and with a solid grip on his member, he pushes the tip just past your hymen, making you squeak into the gag. Before he's even fully got the tip in, his legs are shaking at the feeling. "Oh... Oh lord..." He stammers, fighting the urge to put himself in you all at once. He musters all his strength to pull out, then go back in, just a touch deeper this time. After a few thrusts, he's almost bottomed out in you. Despite your shaking head, your pleas for him to stop, muffled by the gag, soon turn to wanton moans. He places his hands against your hips, allowing him to work himself in and out of you. "God, you're so wet, a-and it's tight... God, didn't know you'd be this tight." He shakes his head though, and leans forward. "Not bad though, not a bad thing, darlin'. You feel so good around me, do I make you feel good too?" In a moment of weakness you nod, prompting him to grin widely. He's so overwhelmed in the moment, from the pleasure and happiness, that his eyes begin to swell with tears. He quickens his pace, almost sobbing now. "My pretty darlin', taking me so well. Making me feel so good, such a good girl. Not city boy could give you what ya' need, not like me..." He huffs. He angles his hips up just a bit, so his tip smacks against a spot deep inside you.

At this, you practically convulse, making him continue once he notices your reaction. "I'll make you finish, don't worry. That's what a good beau does, makes you finish..." He groans, his pace now rapid as he hammers at that spot. Both you can him feel a coil forming in your stomachs, ready to burst. "Hah, I think I'm gonna cum to, you wanna' come together?" His minds fills with thoughts as he thinks more on this while chasing his high. "I already said I-I would marry ya', build ya' a house. We could add on an extra room, for a baby." Your eyes widen in panic at the thought. "Don't worry, I wouldn't leave ya' if you got pregnant from this. That's what that city boy did to Peggy, remember?" He moans. "I'd help ya' the whole way. Build our little one a crib, get them clothes, and I'll bet you'd still be beautiful, if your worried about that." He assures you. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, as as the coil inside you bursts, you feel yourself cumming around him. He gags, inhaling a breath at the feeling. Soon, you feel him convulsing to, a warm liquid filling your caverns as he groans. "God, you're milking me, taking all my seed. So good for me... C'mon baby, just let me stay in a little more, fill ya' up." He groans. After a few seconds, he finally pulls out, and pants, wiping some sweat from his brow. He makes sure to close your legs, wanting to keep in all the seed. He chuckles a little. "Y'know, I'm sure that seed'll take pretty quick... my dad says all the McCall boys are fertile..." He pauses .

"That's why I've got so many siblings."

[brain-deadx0]

(Got a brain worm that I had to write. No plans to continue so feel free to take for yourself)

Batman was responding to reports of Harley Quinn running around Gotham. Joker had been put back in Arkham several months ago so there was a chance she was making a move to set him free again.

But apparently Harley was expecting him.

"Well finally! You sure know how to keep a gal waiting Batsy. Ive been running around all night waitin for ya."

When Harley turned to face him his eyes were immediately drawn to her stomach.

"You're pregnant..."

"Yeesh your manners are bad ya cant just say that!" Harley rolled her eyes before pausing with a sigh and a serious look that almost seemed out of place on her, "But yeah... I am."

"Joker?" Batman asked softly.

Harley nodded, "Thats why I was runnin around tonight. Wanted to get your attention." She looked down before continuing, "I was in denial about it at first. I was always careful with that birth control stuff ya know? And I didn't want it to be real. Before I knew it it was too late to... you know... but. But I dont think I coulda anyway. I know its selfish but I love em too much already. Thats why I need your help."

"I'll help in anyway I can." Batman told her, "I can set up a place for the two of you where Joker won't find you."

Harley shook her head, "No can do Batsy. Mista J wouldn't let me go that easy. Specially if he knows about my little puddin. And if I'm honest I love him too much to leave too.

"I need someplace to have 'im that won't tell. And... I want you to look out for him. Not like, take 'im in or nothing. If I see my baby runnin around as one of your birds in ten years I'll let you have it-" She sighed, "But find someplace away from Gotham and all this. I don't want this for my little puddin. I don't want him to turn out like me or Joker and his best chance is someplace else.

"Please Batman."

-

Bruce kept his promise to Harley. She gave birth in secret and Daniel was taken to the other side of the country to be left at a firestation with nothing but his name and a note from Harley saying she loved him.

When Daniel was adopted Bruce ran a background check on his new parents. Inventors who seemed to be researching some sort of renewable energy and already had a child. Seemed safe enough.

He checked the area when they moved to a small town in Illinois and it seemed safe enough even with the likely tourist trap of "most haunted town in America"

Daniel, or Danny as he seemed to prefer, got decent grades and had a few close friends. His grades dropped suddenly for a time but eventually they returned to their previous state so he didn't worry too much.

But when the boy applied to and was accepted into Gotham U, Bruce started to worry.

They had left Danny as far away from Gotham as possible. So what were the chances he should return?

[billysgun]

hand holding

billy the kid x virgin!reader 18+|requested!|your perfect first time with billy as he passionately and softly shows how much he loves you|

his warm chest presses into yours, blue eyes sparkling as the candle-lit room dims each second with night swallowing the small town

"are you sure?" he whispers, his finger circling your palm as you nod slowly

"yes, I'm sure" you say, trying to keep your excitement at bay

he smiles, looking over your face before moving to your neck and collarbones,

"I'm going to kiss every inch of you" he honestly whispers, you feel giddy as the gunslinger keeps one hand interlocked with yours while the other one teases your first button

"like here," he said, dipping down to kiss your collarbone while simultaneously removing the first button

"and here" pop another button comes undone as he kisses your neck

"...here" the valley of your breast is now in view and you feel your breath become shallow as he slowly exposes you, he kisses your chin and removes another button to kiss your cheek

as another kiss is laid on your forehead and nose, he's at the last button. and as he removes your shirt, releasing your breasts, he kisses your lips

"you're beautiful" he tells you, his thumb rubbing the hand that's holding his as he kisses down your stomach, reaching your pants.

he swiftly yanks your pants and suddenly you're in your thin bloomers and he tickles the rim of them with his fingertips

"gonna remove 'em now, love" he talks you through, slowly pulling them to reveal your center. you close your eyes, feeling your slick already at your thighs as he brings the interlocked hand to rest on your tummy

"keep holdin' on to me" he whispers, lifting your legs to spread them open as your wetness shines prominently

"fuck, darling" he mumbles to himself, looking up at you only to see your eyes still closed. he quickly brings his free hand to your chin to gently guide your face to his

"I need you to be lookin' at me the whole time. need to make sure you're alright" he tells you, you almost forget to speak at the sight of him between your thighs but you manage to say,

"I will, billy."

he smiles, letting his hand rest on your thigh and giving an encouraging squeeze to the other one

"I'm gonna try somethin" he starts,

"to make sure you're ready for me. if it's too much, let me know"

you nod and he experimentally licks your slit, you surprise yourself with a moan and he grins

he does kitten licks at your center before moving up, wrapping his lips around your clit and you squeal

he calms you down with a few flicks of his tongue before using his fingers to go up and down your center, blue eyes trained on you.

"sweetheart, I'm gonna add a finger" he rests his forehead on your spread thighs as his ring finger slowly sinks into you, waiting until you nod before gradually pumping it into you

your heart quickened at the sensation, he leans to lick your clit as he speeds his finger up

you squeeze his hand and lock yourself around his finger, almost twisting your eyes shut at the feeling of all your senses being stroked but keeping them open to see his tongue repeatedly flicking your bud as your hips swirled around

"tell me when you're ready for another one" he whispers, wild eyes staring as his lips wrap around you

"I'm ready" you moan, he grins and slowly adds his middle finger, once you feel like you can handle the new stretch he begins to expertly pump them

your back arches up and billy began to hump the bed softly, pants tight as his erection became painful

"I need to taste you." he growls, curling his finger as your legs shook

"billy!" you cried and his fingers slipped out of you, replacing them with his tongue as you came into his mouth. he hungrily laps at your core, flat tongue scooping all of your juices as you contort from the sensitivity

you tiredly pushed his head back and he kisses your thigh, rising up with a glossy chin he undoes his belt

his erection was extremely noticeable as he quickly removed all of his clothing, wiping his mouth before leaning toward you.

your eyes were wide at the sight of his cock, it stood proud with veins pumping and red tip leaking. he squeezed the hand you two still held before putting it above your head

your noses touched as you both tried to catch your breaths, his eyes stared into yours as he whispered,

"can I put it in, love?" his thumb went back to soothingly rubbing your hand as his other rested at your waist, you felt hot as his dick bumped into your stomach and you nodded,

"yes, billy." he softly kissed you as he lifted his hips and began to slowly sink into you, your nails dug into his hand at the feeling, he kissed your cheek before whispering in your ear,

"tell me if it's too much"

"o-okay"

he moved back up to rub his nose into yours, his smiling stretching his lips distracting you from the feeling, and soon he was inside of you.

"can I move, honey?" he asked, you felt full of him, even fuller with love as he kissed your nose.

"yes" you smiled, he moved back before inserting himself in again, the feeling made your entire body shiver as you unconsciously whined at the feeling

"fuck, I love you" he groaned, other arm bent next to your head as he rhythmically snapped his hips inside you, he moved to kiss you as he quickens his pace

"I love you, I love you, billy" you babble as your legs begin to shake, knowing the feeling all too well from moments before

"come on, sweetie. come on me" he whispered, your back arched as you squeezed him. he watched your face and his hips stuttered at the sight, he released himself inside you with your lips kissing and hands holding.

he kept himself above you as he panted softly, still inside of you and most of your fluids leaking out. he kissed you slowly as he removed himself and held you,

"you did amazing, love" he rubbed your back softly as you smiled at him, he moved to catch your lips

"now, let's run a bath before we melt into each other"

an: omg thank you so much for requesting this! i loved writing it sm <333

[luvvyouforever]

my girlfriend (wife) is a witch - sdv harvey x reader

-> in which our beloved small town doctor falls in love with the new resident who just so happens to own a black cat, offer tarot readings in her farmhouse, and loves nothing more than a full moon.

-> not an accurate depiction of witches, just something fun, short, and sweet, harvey's a cutie patootie!

"so, this card seems to be say that your business is gonna take off, which is strange considering your only available pool of patients is about thirty people who all already have yearly appointments booked."

harvey let out a deep chuckle, one that came from the pit of his stomach and traveled up through his chest. to the left of him was a stack of tarot card decks, with crystals stacked on top of those. to his right was an steadily flowing stick of incense that surrounded the backyard patio in a soft haze of lavender.

"maybe the citizens of zuzu will start making their way out here just to see lil' ole me," he said. his fingers toyed with the edge of one of the cards displayed on the table.

you shrugged your shoulders and began to shuffle your deck again, searching for another card. "you never know! the cards once said that lewis and marnie were secretly together and look what happened there! you can't doubt 'em."

harvey chuckled again then, remembering the moment you had bursted into the farmhouse, screaming about finding lewis's purple shorts in marnie's bedroom, all but confirming your suspicions that had been growing for seasons.

he was never much of a believer in anything but the real, practical world. as a doctor, he never allowed himself to indulge in the supernatural or superstitious. going under a ladder is bad luck? not for dr. harvey. however, the moment he fell in love with you, he let himself get absorbed into the world of daily tarot pulls, of drying flowers, of black cats, of full moons, of everything you loved.

snap! snap! "hellooo, earth to harv, please!" your voice snapped him out of his reverie and he noticed two new cards on the table.

"what do those say, dear?" he asked sweetly.

"well, this one says you should give in to spontaneity sometime today and this one is telling me that we should consider forgiving someone's faults," you said, admiring the foil art of the card.

"hmm...maybe i can spontaneously forgive george for verbally accosting me when i recommended that he lower his sodium intake," harvey suggested with a fake thoughtful fist on his chin.

"i think he'd be more open to drinking the elixirs and syrups i make in the basement before eating a salad, hon," you said with a laugh.

after the last pull, you slowly collected every card into a neat pile and tucked them back into their original packaging. harvey admired your handiwork as you placed your crystals back into a wooden box gifted to you by robin. with a smile, you looked up at your husband, only to find him staring at you with love-filled eyes.

you asked, "what are you looking at, huh?"

harvey shrugged his shoulders but made no move to turn his gaze away. "can i not look at my sweet, hard-working wife?"

with a playful roll to your eyes, you stood from the chair and planted a kiss on harvey's head. "speaking of hardworking, i have some strawberries that need harvesting! would you like to come help, my sweet, caring husband?"

harvey gladly stood and followed you through the backyard, into the house full of plants and charms hanging from the ceiling and walls, and out to the porch. at his heels was your black cat, meowing relentlessly for attention. on the porch, he slid on his gardening gloves and sun hat (sun protection is very important, he'd always say, and he always forced you into a straw hat at least).

perhaps his form of spontaneous forgiveness was forgiving himself for not admitting to his feelings earlier, for stressing so hard about finding someone to love, for not knowing sooner that this was always where he was meant to be, tarot cards and black cats and all.

[anikaluv]

JUST FOR PRACTICE —

❤︎︎ pairing: Miles (e!42) × fem!reader

❤︎︎ genre: fluff (slight angst?)

❤︎︎ cw: cussing, nail biting, Miles (e!42) is named Myles (creative Ik), Miles (e!42) teases reader a lil bit <3

❤︎︎ summary: Spider-Man!Miles and Prowler!Miles as Twins where you have a crush on Miles (e!1610) and Miles (e!42) suggests you make out with him for practice.

❤︎︎ w/c: 1.6k

❤︎︎ a/n: I was reading miles morales x reader fics then I thought of this and went “It would be so cool if someone wrote it”. Then I did, cause I’m a bitch who gets shit done. 😘

PART TWO EXTRA

You and Miles have been inseparable since y’all were born. You two seemed to be tied together like a knot. You could always fondly go back and look through memories of him holding your hand while leading you through forests, him sharing his PB&J’s with you during lunch time, and him protecting you numerous times from bullies as the years went by. He was always there for you.

So much that you’ve fallen head over heels for him.

Yet you were too scared to ruin the deep friendship you two have. Too terrified of the chance that everything you two had going to waste because of your feelings, so you kept to yourself.

Which leads you to the present day, you sit on Miles’ bed as he takes a shower before you start the study session you both had planned.

Nervously, you fidget with your fingers, eagerly awaiting his return. The truth is, you don't need these study sessions. As an all-A student, you grasp the subjects effortlessly. However, you seize any opportunity to spend time with Miles.

Your mind wonders as curious eyes scan his room and land on his sketchbook. Your instinctively get up and reach for it, not caring for the overstep of privacy because c’mon, you knew this guy before you knew how to walk.

Excitement courses through you as you eagerly flip through the pages, revealing beautiful sketches of family, sunflowers, among other things. However, as you reach the more recent pages, your heart starts to sink.

Gwanda, Miles' so-called friend who conveniently always seems to be "out of town," yet he never ceases to endlessly complement her and fills his sketchbook to the brim with pages of her. What's so extraordinary about her? You've known Miles since you both were starting to crawl, while she has only been in his life for a few months, and suddenly she's this incredible person?

With a heavy sigh, you set your sketchbook down, feeling your vision blur as you make your way back to sit on Miles' bed. Tears well up quickly as you bury your face in your hands, sobbing silently. Unfortunately, the sound of approaching footsteps awakens your senses. You hastily wipe your eyes with your sleeve, although it's already too late.

"Oh great, looks like la llorona (crybaby) is sobbing once more. What's the matter, ma?" Miles strolls in, his voice oozing with condescension. He leans against the doorway, owning a smug expression. You can't help but roll your eyes and let out an exasperated groan at the mere sight of him.

Myles Morales. The worst person you’ve ever met. You’ve always wondered how him and Miles are even related. Ever since you were little he’s been a stick up your ass. You would always go back and flinch through memories of him pulling your hair as you scream and cry, him destroying all of your brand new dolls because they “needed a makeover ” , and him notoriously bullying you numerous times mercilessly as the years went by. He was always there, annoying you.

You cross you arms and let out a exasperated huff as you turn away from him. “Don’t you have someone else to annoy Morales? I’m not in the mood.” Myles chuckles at your childish behavior and struts into the room to sit beside you.

He inspects your face, frowning at your red eyes and stuffy nose. “I’m serious, mami. Those pretty tears only look good on your face if I’m causing ‘em.“ Myles softly grabs your chin and moves your face towards his. He raised his fingers to softly wipe your tears as you look deeply into his eyes.

Your heart quickens yet instead you release the insult bubbling in your throat. "Thanks for your oh-so-worrisome concern, Morales," you retort, venom lacing your words. He smirks in response. “Anytime, princesa (princess). I’m serious though, you cryin’ cause of my brother again?” You nod slowly looking away from his pitying gaze.

You bite your nails as your eyes look around the room once more landing on Miles sketchbook. Pain flickers in your eyes, catching Myles' attention.

The realization settles in Myles which is showcased by his new scowl on his face. “Ah I see, Its cause of that lil’ white chick, right?” Your eyes widen at how Myles was able to guess it correctly, you nod again slowly and try to concentrate on breathing before you continue wailing. “I just don’t understand, what’s so special about her? Was I ever even special to him if I could be replaced so easily?” You clench your fists, digging your nails into the fabric of your jeans, scrunching them up as your lip quivers.

Myles sucks his teeth in annoyance, followed by a deep sigh that catches your attention. “Why don’t you just tell him this, ma? Bet that’ll make him realize what’s in front of him.” You quickly shake your head, rejecting the idea. "I can't. It's not that simple. If I confess how I truly feel, what if it ruins everything? I can't risk that," you explain anxiously. Myles rolls his eyes at your dramatic response.

"There's no way it would go down like that, but let's entertain your idea. Are you saying all it would take is courage for you to confess to him?" he asks, testing the waters. There’s a different look in Myles eyes, they’re filled with mischief as he slowly scoots towards you.

“Well, yeah, I guess? Why?" You answer your voice layered with curiosity at Myles newfound demeanor. You tilt your head in confusion, What was he planning?

A gasp escapes your lips as Myles firmly grabs you waist tightly. His big hands pull you against him harshly. Instantly his lips lock with yours, showcasing deep desire as his kisses you. Your eyes widen momentarily before you surrender, closing them gently and placing a hand on his chest.

You wrap your arms around Myles' neck, deepening the kiss, your tongues intertwining desperately. He tastes so sweet, like slightly burnt caramel. Your body molds into his, feeling the hard contours of his muscled yet lean chest beneath your palm as you press into him.

You let out a soft whine against his lips, the sound echoing with a mix of pleasure and longing. Your breaths become heavy, synchronized with the intensity of the moment. Your mind becomes fuzzy, confused how you got to this point.

"There's no way it would go down like that, but let's entertain your idea. Are you saying all it would take is courage for you to confess to him?"

“Well, yeah, I guess? Why?"

“Why not just practice the having the real thing wit me?” Myles watched you scoff at the idea and laughs softly.

“I’m serious, ma. C’mon, just for practice, it’ll only be fo a lil bit. Just imagine I’m him” Myles brings his face closer to yours making your noses brush against each other.

“It’ll only be for a sec right?”, you question Myles nods, sensing he’s winning you over. “Promise, mi alma (my soul)”

You nod your head, and that gave him everything he needed.

Now you have your arms wrapped around Miles neck, playing with his braids as he layers kisses across your collarbone, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. Myles tugs at your shirt rising it up to lay his hand against your waist skin to skin. The heat from his hand placed on your waist shoots heat throughout your body.

You begin to sway, your strength ebbing away as your mind becomes blissfully hazy. Myles, ever attentive, keeps you steady, his hand resting firmly on your back while the other remains securely on your waist. He rises slightly, locking eyes with you, a playful chuckle escaping his lips as he delights in your slightly intoxicated-like state.

“C’mon, mi vida, you can’t be tired yet. I just got you.” he playfully teases, causing your face to twist with confusion. You lean your head into his shoulder leaving kisses along his neck.

Myles takes up your hand and interlocks it with his fingers. He tilts your face up to him. You look into his eyes and see something there, you just can’t tell what. He places kisses laced with adoration across your face, feeling like lighting sparks erupting across your skin.

“Mami, I haven’t always been the nicest to you, I admit that, but I also wanna admit that I-“

Right on cue, you once again hear the steps of someone walking towards the room. It must be Miles finishing his shower.

Your suddenly feel a wash of consciousness rush through your senses as you try to shuffle and fix your wrinkled clothing and correct your shriveled hair. Myles watches you and smirks at your attempt to clean up.

Miles soon steps into the room wearing a fresh set of clothes, “Sorry it took me so long, I got way into my shower playlist haha. You ready to sta-“ He eyes land on you and Myles, you watch as his face turns to confusion.

“Imma take that as my sign to leave” Myles gets up and heads to the doorway and starts to head out, before he turns his neck around to say one more thing. “I’ll see you around, ma. Let me know if you ever need more practice aight?”

EXTRA: You hurriedly shuffle to your backpack to go get your notebooks and supplies you usually use for your study sessions. As you do that Miles can’t help but watch as his brother slowly struts out the room pride written all over his face. Miles swore that as his twin left the room his could see a lipstick stain adorning Myles’ neck.

ENDING A/N: Thank you for reading this- Ion know if imma keep writing I just felt like making this at 2 am lol. Also please lmk if this is fast paced or not, that was on my mind while writing this whole thing. 💀 Love ya’ll babes <3

TAGS:

[majimasleftasscheek]

I've been thinking, about how you would make sea creature kazumaji... do you already have headcannons for that or is it something more new?

a lil mix of both 🤔 I originally drew eeljima for MerMay and was gonna leave it at that but I got really attached to the idea of kiryu and his dumb fish boyfriend so I rolled with it kdlsjfddsf. I got a few ideas tho 👀

majima's an eel - nothing specific but I leaned to electric since the rpg games give him electricity as an element. also, knifefish (what a coincidentally convenient name 👀) have spots that remind me of his snake's spots so that fit well with his overall theme plus they're related to eels so even better >:D saejima's also a fishdude, a grouper specifically because they're huge and chonky but also gentle uwu

kiryu's a silly lil fisherman guy, one of them commercial types that goes out on a boat to get big hauls. nishiki's there too being the saddest wettest little beast. other characters make up part of the crew in similar ways the canon families are set up. so like kazama and kashiwagi for example are captains of the crew

I have thought about if they were fish too if I wanted to do a branching AU of this and kiryu could maybe be a thresher shark - because they got that big slappy tail but also their huge beautiful eyes™. OR a betta fish because I think the colors would really compliment his heat colors. nishiki can be a koi because of course

kiryu and nishiki live in a lil shack on the shore. nishiki hates it but kiryu likes the simplicity and being close to work. nishiki would move closer to the city but frankly all the haircare product he buys is so obscene that he can't afford a place on his own ✌

majima and saejima (+ yasuko) live in some nearby kelp forests/coral reefs. merfolk tend to stay away from humans and live further out in the ocean, deeper underwater but these three take advantage of all commercial fishing going on to get some easy food. but being so close to fishing trawlers, this leads to majima getting caught in a discarded net, being trapped and beached where kiryu finds him 👀

merfolk can breath air and go on land but it is as awkward as you can imagine. when majima hangs out with kiryu, kiryu drags him up the beach to enough dry land where the tide isn't a problem. merfolk do have to be moisturized often so majima's either doused with a bucket of water or gets a big ass lathering of lotion. whether or not that'd actually be realistic doesn't matter to me I just think it'd be funny for nishiki to be very suspect of the comical amount of lotion kiryu suddenly starts buying

majima's fav thing to do with kiryu is have him fry up some fish since he's never had cooked food before and thinks it's the bee's knees. kiryu will often go into town to buy all sorts of things for majima to try or majima will catch some wack fish from who knows where for kiryu to fry up. they pick secluded beaches as not to be disturbed but kiryu is ready to fling majima into the ocean at a moment's notice just in case

majima has a second set of jaws normally not visible unless he's snacking on a fish. sometimes he pops em out for a smooch and kiryu is wary but willing to try anything 😤 nishiki is often very worried about the numerous weird bite marks kiryu comes home with but kiryu chalks it up to clumsily falling face first into some coral. you can tell by now I'm very into the trope of person dating a cretur is very bad at keeping it a secret dsklgjk

majima tends to have electrical flare ups when he's feeling emotional so kiryu ends up getting zapped a lot. it's not enough to be dangerous but kiryu has since avoided touching light switches and makes nishiki use them first

rarely kiryu will take majima out on the town in a wheelbarrow covered in a blanket and everyone's like *squint* but eventually gets used to his funny lil friend who seems fascinated by literally everything

there's defo some tigerfish action at a later point once nishiki eventually decides to follow kiryu to one of his little secret beachside escapades to not only find out kiryu's being a weirdo as usual but now with a weirdo fishguy. on the other side, saejima is eventually convinced that there is not a bunch of people on the shore waiting with harpoons and nets and joins majima for one of kiryu's fish fries and finds out hey maybe humans ain't so bad if they can put up with majima for more than five minutes

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Change

Summary: When a strange illness spreads across the world, the reader's father takes her away from society in an attempt to keep her safe. Ten years later the reader runs into some trouble when forced to be on her own one night but it's nothing an overly friendly sheriff can't help with...

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!reader

Word Count: 6,000ish

Warnings: language, attempted assault, minor violence, medical emergency

A/N: This is my first time doing Alpha!Beau and did a little twist on ABO for it. Please enjoy!

__________

Ten Years Ago

“Y/N!” You poked your head into the living room, giving your dad a smile when he stood there, back to you.

“Dad, I already got enough graduation presents. I mean it was just college, I didn’t need-“

He stepped aside, revealing the breaking news story on the tv.

Mystery Illness Affecting New York City Residents

He looked over his shoulder, frowning at you. “You’re not moving to the city next weekend.”

You scoffed. “Dad. I start my first adult job ever in two weeks. In New York City. I have to go.”

“No. Whatever the hell this is, it's happening there and putting people in the hospital. If your new job has a problem with that then tell them to kiss my ass.”

“What is wrong with you?” You stormed closer, furrowing your brow. Something was off. He was swiping a hand over his mouth, his eyes filled with dread. You glanced back at the screen with a swallow. “Daddy, do you know what this illness is?”

“No,” he said quietly, glancing down at you with a longing glance. “Tonight we need to leave town and go to camp.”

“Hunting camp?” He nodded. “But that’s in the middle of no…”

His face looked so much older all of a sudden, years and years of worry etched into the deep laugh lines around his eyes. “Why do you want us away from everyone?”

“Because isolation is the only way to guarantee you don’t get sick.” Paranoia. You should have called him paranoid. Said he was worrying over nothing. Said he was acting crazy.

But you simply nodded and excused yourself back to your graduation party with your friends, knowing it’d likely be the last time you saw them for a while. Or ever again.

“Dad,” you said that night as you packed up the cars, your father more frazzled than the time he lost you in the grocery store for all of eight seconds. “Should we call Em?”

“He’s the one that called me.” He shut the trunk, inhaling the night air deeply. “London. New York. Sydney. It’s global and it’s flooding hospitals. Em said small towns are next. I wanted you to have one last normal day, kiddo.”

“What exactly did Emmet say? Does he know more than what they’re saying?” you whispered, clutching your cardigan tight. “I thought he was in Africa doing that volunteer doctor program.”

“He is. But something…happened. People started getting ill and then acting crazy. Biting each other in the neck. Like animals.” Slowly you blinked, your dad pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know how it sounds, believe me. But I know my son and it’s the truth. He told me to get you safe.”

“Is he safe?” He closed his eyes. “Is he safe?”

“Emmet’s….” Your throat tightened, your dad wincing. “He called from his sick bed. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen. He said he loves us and we need to go before the whole world goes mad.”

Your bottom lip wobbled as he opened his eyes, gently shushing you. “Em isn’t dead, right?”

“I don’t know. His phone is dead,” he croaked out, wiping away your tears that threatened to fall. “But if what he said is true, the world will be incredibly dangerous in just a few days. We need to get you away from here before that happens.”

You wearily nodded, hugging him hard. “Dad.”

“Yeah, pumpkin?”

“We’ll be okay.”

“Yes we will. I promise.”

Present Day

“Fuuuuuck,” you groaned, the wind knocked out of you as one, no two, men pinned you down on the hard pavement of the pharmacy parking lot. The supplies you’d bought for your dad in the middle of the night were scattered on the ground. Half your mind grappled with how you needed to get those back to dad at the cabin while the other realized the men were trying to remove your pants and hoodie.

You snarled and kicked, hitting something hard, probably a shin bone. 

A gunshot went off nearby and all three of you froze.

“On your bellies. Hands on your head or the next one goes through your spine.” The two men were rigid before rolling off of you on either side. You risked sitting up, backing away a few feet and turning on your bottom. 

It was dark but even so you could make out the handsome brown haired man aiming a gun at the men. He had a presence about him, a calmness to the situation you weren’t expecting. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone, his jacket riding up so you could spot the shiny gold badge on his hip.

This guy was a cop.

Good news and bad news.

“Mam, are you alright?” You blinked, realizing he was talking to you between speaking into the phone. You nodded, the man humming, mentioning something about backup.

Shit. You had to leave before you got wrapped up in this. You started to gather up your dropped items as the officer handcuffed one of the men. “Mind if I borrow that?”

You froze, staring at him. He nodded toward your hand and the new package of zip ties. You handed it to him carefully, the officer quickly placing one on the other man.

“Thank you, mam,” he said, handing the package back. You nodded, shoving the package in your bag and crawling over between two cars, reaching for the bottle of pills that had rolled underneath. “Are you sure you’re alright, miss?”

“Never better!” you squeaked out, grabbing the pills and tying off the bag tight. You popped to your feet, the officer rising to his own. “Uh, thanks.”

You started to leave when he took two big steps over, catching your arm. “Whoa, whoa. These guys can’t do anything to you. Backup will be here in two minutes tops. I know you want to get home but we need a statement and you should get that scuff cleaned up by a paramedic. Hell, I can do it for you back at the station.”

You blinked slowly, the man’s friendly smile turning concerned as you weighed your options. “Alright. I think you hit your head a little harder than we both realized when they knocked you down. Why don’t you take a seat-”

You kneed him in the groin, the officer crumping into a heap and releasing you. 

“Sorry!” You took off running to your car and peeled out of the other end of the parking lot before he could even get on his feet.

“Dad?” It was only twenty minutes later when you were entering the dark cabin, frowning that he wasn’t on the couch where you’d left him. “Dad!”

“In here for crying out loud!” You rushed over to the bathroom door, carefully nudging it open. Your heart seized when you saw him lying on the ground, his previously red inflamed leg now looking dark and swollen. “Did you get the-”

“Daddy, it’s broken. Why didn’t you say something?” He scoffed, forcing himself to sit upright against the tub. “Dad-”

“I’m not going to a damn hospital and becoming one of those…things.” He spit out the last word, venom laced behind it. You’d kept to yourselves the past ten years, dad only going to town in the dead of night to get food or supplies. Suffice to say, despite your best efforts, years of isolation hadn’t been great for his paranoia. Or your own.

He could never know that you were almost attacked. It’d destroy him after all he sacrificed for you. His home. His career. His life. Making sure you never got sick like Emmet had was his sole purpose.

“What if I drop you off at the hospital and…” both your heads whipped around when bright headlights shone through the windows. 

“Someone followed you. Get the shotgun and-” You slammed the door shut on him, ignoring his angry shouts. 

“Miss? It’s Sheriff Beau Arlen. We met just a short time ago. I’m doing a wellness check. Please answer the door.” You swallowed thickly, staring at the heavy wooden object. Shit, he’d followed you home. He was going to make you give a statement which meant being around other people long enough to get sick.

You glanced over your shoulder and sighed. Dad was no spring chicken anymore. Living in the woods and keeping up the land had kept him in good shape but he was getting older and there was no way he could survive a broken leg without help.

“Fuck it.” You stepped over to the door, frowning when you opened it. The man from before was standing there, a cautious smile on his face. “Hi. My dad fell earlier today. I think he broke his leg. He’s in the bathroom.”

“Okay. We can call an ambulance and-”

“He’s terrified of public places. Of catching the…sickness.” He raised his eyebrows, biting the inside of his cheek. “I know he needs a hospital but is there any way we can limit the number of people he’s around? Like a doctors office or something?”

He only cocked his head, eyeing you up and down. His nose twitched, inhaling sharply. You glared and subtly did a pit check. Okay, maybe you were a little sweaty but you’d nearly been attacked-

“How the hell…” Sheriff Arlen shook his head. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do to accommodate his…needs.”

“Thank you,” you said, starting to shut the door when he put a hand on it. You stared at one another, the sheriff’s nose twitching once more. “Please leave.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Visions of what the men from earlier had planned on doing flashed in your mind and you clenched your fists, ready to fight. “Oh, sweetheart I am so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You grit out, widening your stance. He frowned, shaking his head.

“Your father might be able to be treated at a doctors office but you need a hospital.” You narrowed your eyes, the sheriff holding up his hands. “You call it the sickness? The rest of us call it the change. Now it seems to me that you lack some education on the topic-”

“I know exactly what those men tonight were going to do. I know exactly what the sickness, change, whatever you want to call it does to people and I’ll tell you right now, I’m not getting sick and becoming someone’s fuck toy.” He closed his eyes, muttering under his breath. Slowly, they opened to reveal green orbs, softly watching you.

“Sweetheart, your body changed ten years ago whether you believe me or not. Judging by the fact your only interaction with other people has been your Beta father-”

“He’s not Beta,” you growled.

“-Or very few works at convenience stores at night, you have never been around an Alpha long enough to be triggered into your first heat-”

“I am not one of those-”

“Omega.” Your brain went fuzzy when the word left his lips, hand gripping the back of the couch hard. “We need to get you to a hospital. Your first heat is incredibly painful without medicine. I know, I have a teenage daughter-”

“Stop talking!” you shouted, suddenly feeling flush in the face. You wiped off your brow before grabbing the nearest object, a pillow, and chucking it straight at his handsome face. “You did this to me! You made me sick coming here!”

“You became Omega ten years ago, the same night I changed, the same we all did,” he said, looking down his nose at you. “Now let me help you and your father before I have two patients on my hands instead of one.”

“Get out!” The room spun, a strong pair of hands catching you the last thing you remembered.

Your body felt considerably cooler when you woke although the sterile scent filling your nostrils made you want to gag. Great, you were in the hospital. You turned your head to the side, your oh so favorite sheriff giving you a waggle of his fingers from the other side of room as he read his phone.

“What are you doing here?” you grumbled, sitting upright with a strain. 

“I figured you don’t have an emergency contact besides your father on account the whole survivalist in the woods energy I’m getting.” You glared at him, the man leaning back in his chair, relaxing further. “Your father is alright but he’s in the ICU. I’ve been told he’ll need to go to a in-patient rehab facility to learn to walk on it.”

“What?” You threw back the covers and got out of bed, freezing in place when you caught his cologne. Your eyes fluttered, jaw dropping slightly. “Jesus christ what is that smell? That’s…fuck is this what crack is like? What kind of drugs did they give me?”

He chuckled, glancing up with a smirk. “Let me guess. Vanilla with a hint of tobacco. Fresh cookies, a campfire, the cool mist of rain and something fluffy you can’t quite describe?”

“How did you…” You said, daring a step closer. You had a million questions in your mind about your dad but all your body seemed to want to do was get more of that smell.

“Because I know what my scent is.” You licked your lips involuntarily, breathing hard. “Down girl.”

You immediately backed up, shaking your head. “I-I’m sorry. That isn’t like me at all.”

“It’s your first heat and I’m the first Alpha you’ve properly scented on one. You have urges. Nothing to feel sorry for.” Your cheeks burned as you returned to bed, sitting on the edge with your legs hanging off. “In a few hours, your medicine will have fully kicked in and then you’ll be fine. I have a teenage daughter and so you’ll get monthly heats but as far as I understand, it’s extremely similar to your monthly visitor you were already used to.”

“I’ve been having periods for years and it doesn’t feel like this,” you said, his scent tickling under your nose, turning you on more and more by the second.

“The…randiness fades. You’ll be fine,” he said, glancing at you. “You really don’t know anything about the change or what it did to us, do you.”

“I know enough.” He frowned. “Why is my dad in the ICU?”

“His leg is shattered. The surgeon said he suspects he broke it a few days ago. He’s lucky to be alive and still have use of it.” You closed your eyes, gripping the mattress. “He didn’t tell you he was injured until recently, did he.”

“He said he fell today and it was sore. I was getting some bandages and a painkiller at the store tonight.” You groaned. “The fucker. He’s so scared…”

You opened your eyes when you heard footsteps, the sheriff kneeling down in front of you. Gently, he took both your hands, offering a kind smile. “Yes, the world was scary for a little while when we didn’t understand what happened but now we do. There is no reason you and your father have to hide away in the woods away from the rest of us.”

“You called yourself an Alpha.” He nodded. You noticed how small your hands were in his, could feel the surge of power he held within them. “Like how in animal packs, there’s an Alpha sometimes.”

“Let me explain this to you in the most basic of terms.” You swallowed, his fingers sliding up to wrap around your wrists loosely. “People that were bad before the change are bad now and people that were good before are good now. All that happened last night was you ran into a couple of bad guys. They were Alpha but so am I. We are not animals and neither are you.”

“But you could bite me and make me…” He smiled, a tiny eye roll in there. “Excuse me? What was that?”

“What you’re describing is a crime. Consent is still very much a thing, little lady. Believe me, I have no problem putting Alpha’s in their place if needed.”

You raised your head, the man tucking your hair behind your ear. “Are you sure you’re not just an anomaly?”

“Miss, I have a fifteen year old omega daughter. If I thought that world was truly that far gone, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight. Now, do you see her in this room?”

You rolled your eyes, the man standing with a chuckle. “You’re going to be just fine.”

“So you’re here out of the goodness of your heart?” you asked. He bit is bottom lip, looking shy all of a sudden.

“You’ve had a long night and I remember how frightening it felt the first night I changed. The world is no more dangerous than it was a decade ago. But it never hurts to have a friend when life gets hard.” 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, a painful cramp ripping across your abdomen. He caught your wince and helped you to lie back down.

“Get some sleep. I’ll check on your dad for you.”

“Thanks. Oh wait.” He pulled up your covers and hummed. “Why were you at the pharmacy in the middle of the night?”

He smirked, patting your thigh. “I’ll check in with you in the morning, darlin’.”

Later That Morning

“Get out!” You flinched and backed out of your dad’s hospital room, closing the door behind you. 

“He’s still angry, huh?” To your left appeared your sheriff, sporting a tan jacket and khakis, brown cowboy boots adorning his feet. You sniffled and nodded, the man giving you a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. “Have you been discharged yet?”

“Yeah.” You sat down on a nearby bench, the sheriff joining you. You rubbed your palm with your thumb, skin peeling off eventually. He caught your wrist, gently moving it away. “He doesn’t want to go to a rehab center. He says he’s fine and I should take care of him until he’s on his feet. The part I hate is we both know it’s horseshit. He knows he needs help but won’t admit it.”

“Stay here a minute for me.” He entered your dad’s room, closing the door and remaining inside for a few minutes. The door opened with a creak, your sheriff waving you inside.

You frowned at your dad in bed, his arms crossed. 

“I’m sorry for acting like a child,” he grit out. Your eyebrows shot up, gaze shooting to the sheriff who was giving your dad a friendly smile. But there was an undercurrent of authority to it that made your heart skip.

“Thank you?” you said. He sighed, quiet for a moment.

“I will go to rehab. I’m not your responsibility.” He cleared his throat. “I heard you’ve…changed.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Your gaze shot down, your dad tsking you.

“Sheriff Arlen….informed me of some things about the world. I think while I’m recovering maybe you…could get a job. Get back out in the world, not be stuck with me.”

You bit your tongue. What the hell was up with him? Did he not want you around anymore now that you were one of those…omegas?

“Mr. Y/L/N, we’ll let you rest. I’ll be sure to get Y/N home.” Your sheriff put a hand on the small of your back that sent a pleasant chill down your spine. God, he smelled even more alluring than last night. 

Why did you kind of like it? How large his hand was, how comforting it felt. Maybe you were just touch starved after a decade of being alone.

“What is going on?” you asked when you were in the hallway. “Is he okay whatever your name is again?”

“Sheriff Beau Arlen. Call me Beau. Your dad and I had a small conversation. I explained a few things about the change and dynamic to him, told him I’d keep an eye out for you since he’s a tad paranoid. S’all good.”

You stopped, Beau leaving his hand on your back. He paused by your side, turning his head down. “I may have…sternly explained that you are the exact same as you were and that he can’t keep you locked away from the world. You’re a grown woman, you deserve to live your life.”

“And by sternly explained you mean scared the shit out of him.” Beau said nothing, only walked down the hall, urging you along. “Where are we going?”

“Home. I know you were discharged but you should still relax. I have some things to do but I’ll be by later on today.” 

“You don’t have to come back. I’ll figure everything out on my own-“ Beau held up a hand before stopping in front of you, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans.

“Darlin’, I made your father a promise and I intend on keeping it.” He looked past you, licking his lips and making your nose twitch in response. “But first, we need to make a pit stop.”

You woke with a groan, jerking up in bed. A quick glance at the clock showed it was early afternoon. Ah, right. Beau dropped you off with some medicine and a book on the Change or so everybody referred to it. You’d taken a pill and fallen asleep a few hours ago, your body warm but otherwise feeling okay.

You clutched your blanket to your chest when something loud crashed beyond the bedroom door. 

“I can’t believe they let you carry a gun,” said a young voice. 

“Next time you get kidnapped, I’m letting them keep you,” he grumbled. 

“Funny, dad,” the voice deadpanned. “Wasn’t it Cassie who found me actually? Hm?”

“Eh, eh, eh. Stop with the sass, child and help me make this.”

“Why are you helping this random lady so much anyways?”

“Just…cause it’s nice.” Your stomach grumbled loudly and you decided to risk exiting to the main part of the cabin. The door squeaked like it always did, two pairs of eyes on you when you poked your head out. “Y/N. How are you doing, darlin’?”

“Fine. Why are you in my house?” you said, glancing at the teenage girl standing in the sad excuse for a kitchen off to the side.

“Did you break into her house?” she asked, Beau looking back at her with a glare. 

“Of course I didn’t.” He punched the bridge of his nose. “I told Y/N I would be back later.” 

The girl looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “I apologize for him. He gets a little too into helping people sometimes.”

“Why don’t you go on the porch and do your math homework?” She stared at him for a moment, shaking her head with a smirk. “Emily…”

“I said nothing. But your scent did,” she sang song before slipping outside. Beau rubbed the back of his neck, a strong whiff of a nice scent, his scent, hitting you. 

“Ignore her,” he said, still rubbing his neck nervously. You hummed, taking a seat at the two person table by the wall. “I hope you don’t mind we’re here. I figured you’d be hungry and Emily’s also an omega so she offered to talk to you if you’d like. She presented last year so she’s familiar with the growing pains.”

“You mean second puberty?” He chuckled, putting a casserole dish that didn’t belong to you in the tiny camping oven.

“It might not seem like it but we got off easy. You and I we just got a little something extra to figure out over a couple of months. She’s got to go through the whole deal.” You hummed, Beau wiping his hands off on a towel by the water pump and spinning around with a smile that made you relax. “So. How’s the pain?”

“Alright. Honestly it feels like a normal period, I’m just a bit warmer than usual.” You frowned, Beau’s face matching it. “You can skip the biology lesson since they gave me a run down at the hospital.”

“Will do. You get used to people’s scents pretty quick. It’s like personal deodorant and yes, you still need to use deodorant,” he teased, the air becoming thick. “Sorry. I’m intruding, aren’t I?”

“Well…if you were going to hurt me, you had your chance last night.” 

“Those men…” He glanced down, stepping forward to grab hold of the back of the opposite chair and lean over top. Green eyes met yours, worry etched in them. “Did they explain the change to you at all, like what happened ten years ago, or just the body stuff?”

“No. I only remember people were getting sick and then my dad got us out of the city after my brother called. I’d just graduated college. I was meant to start my first adult job in NYC. So I don’t know what happened, only that my dad said the world was too dangerous for me.”

Beau pulled the chair and sat, biting his bottom lip. “It’s believed a highly contagious virus spread rapidly across the globe. A pandemic. This wasn’t an ordinary virus though. It didn’t cause illness, only…activated something existing within human DNA. What you remember from TV is when people got infected with the virus. I was living in Texas at the time. Me, Em, her mom, we all were floored. My ex was very warm but her fever never spiked high. Myself, I was exhausted. I could barely move for three days. Emily thankfully slept through most of it. She was only a little girl so it didn’t hit her as badly. When I woke up the fourth day, my ex was doing better and I felt much stronger.”

“And you had that thing on your dick?” He chuckled. “How the hell does that even work without absolutely destroying the person on the receiving end.”

“Because you changed too. Yours are just not as easy to see. You know child birth complications has gone down significantly the past decade. Women report far less pain too. We just…evolved as a species a little fast if you want to think of it that way. Most of us. There are a few people that were lacking in the genome sequence to be affected but by and large, we all became Alpha, Beta or Omega.”

You crossed your arms, tilting your chin up. “My brother is a doctor in Africa, one of the first places that got sick. He told us people were like animals. Biting each other in the damn neck and then I never heard from him again. Anything to say about that?”

He looked up, scrunching up his face. “Well you don’t seem to have a phone around here but I will track down your brother for you. Um, we may have also…gotten physical proof that we have souls and biting an omega in their bonding gland connects them to the alpha that bit them on a metaphysical level but it only takes if it’s consensual on both sides and fun fact the bond will break if one person doesn’t love the other one anymore, like a divorce, not that I would…know what a broken bond feels like,” he rambled out, clearing his throat. You blinked slowly, Beau’s face stuck in that awkward position. “I overshared, didn’t I.”

“Just…a lot to take in,” you said, rubbing your own neck and feeling a tight, hard lump. “Is that my-”

“Yes. It’s where our scents come from and I uh, I got to head back to work,” he said, quickly standing. He adjusted his pants and you noticed the bulge, giving him a glare. “No! No, it’s not…Emily!”

“What?” she groaned, giving you friendly smile when she came inside.

“I need to check in at the station. Please explain…things to Y/N. Heats, scents, true mates, that sort of thing. I’ll be back soon.” He left quickly, Emily raising her eyebrows.

“He’s kind of weird,” you said, Emily laughing before giving you a smirk. “What?”

“Now I get why he’s being so extra. You’re his true mate.” You put a hand on your head, holding up a finger. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything.”

Three hours later, you were more confused than ever. Emily was only a teenager but she was a smart girl and had explained the change, what being an omega meant and all of it. You were stuck on one little tidbit though. She could smell that her dad, your sheriff, was connected to you. Like soulmates connected.

What. The. Fuck.

You were still trying to process that information when his red truck pulled up, Beau waving awkwardly to where you and Emily sat on the front porch.

“Emily, pack up your stuff. We should let Y/N-”

“No, no, Alpha boy. This is how it works,” you said, freezing him in his place. His shift shifted wildly, strong and heated, musky with need. “I know why you smell so good. Were you planning on telling me you were not in fact just being nice last night but you were physically incapable of leaving my side at the hospital. On account of the whole fated mates thing.”

Beau’s gaze shot to Emily, his eyes turning stern. “Oh no big boy. You don’t get to be mad at her.”

He put his hands on his hips, sighing to himself. “Would you like to have dinner with us?”

You felt like you had whiplash. Wasn’t he just about to argue something like you were too new to this world? Or no, we’re not mates, I was only helping. Or that it was only affection? Or that he couldn’t know?

“Would you like to have dinner with us?” he repeated.

“Wow,” said Emily besides you. “Her face is literally the what the fuck emoji right now.”

“Emily,” gritted out Beau. You held up a hand, Emily taking it and walking you down the two front steps. 

“Have you ever been to Donno’s diner? Oh my god, they have the best food. Come on, let’s-”

“I’m sorry, I’m not…” you gestured to yourself. You were in sweatpants that were a decade old, a plain t-shirt and your hair was a frazzled sweaty mess. Beau gently took your hand from Emily, his touch telling your body to calm down, that everything was okay.

“If you’d like we can eat in private but you do not need to hide from the world anymore. You are gorgeous just as you are,” he said, voice soft. Emily tilted her head, looking him up and down.

“He totally means that too. I can smell it.” Beau growled, Emily returning a cheeky grin. “Do you want me to leave so you two can bone?”

“In the car ladies, in the car,” he said, grabbing your shoulders and walking you towards the driver side as Emily got inside. “I apologize for the sassy child.”

“Don’t. I like the sassy child,” you grinned, Beau’s face lighting up.

“Really?” You hummed, Beau turning bashful. “She’s a good kid.”

“Seems that way.” You put your hands in your pockets, inhaling deeply. “Today’s been…”

“I understand.” You glanced back at the cabin, frowning. “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.”

“I’ve always hated this place.” His large hand interlaced with yours, squeezing the digits. “I don’t want to be alone tonight but I’m not ready for…this yet. I will be but I need to…live a little first. If that makes sense.”

Beau only smirked, a glint in his eyes. “I have an idea.”

Three Weeks Later

“Morning,” said Beau, knocking on the door to the air streamer, aka your new living arrangements for the time being. Beau and Emily had a home built last year after her abduction, something to give her some more stability. With that meant moving his air streamer onto part of the property and having it sit empty for the past six months.

Which meant it was perfect for you to be close to them, you were in town for your new job and you could easily drive to visit your dad at his rehab center. Beau had even offered to let him stay in the house when he got released but thankfully your brother was in contact again and he was going to take dad with him to Seattle where he’d been the past few years.

“Howdy sheriff,” you said as you opened the door, leaning against the door jam. He offered a cup of coffee and your heart fluttered. God, he was so cute how he did that every morning.

“Emily insists on you joining us for breakfast at Donno’s and I couldn’t tell the poor girl no so we’ll be ready to go in fifteen.” He looked up through his lashes, a smidge of cockiness in it. 

“Oh, we’re just going in fifteen, huh?” He shrugged, a strong whiff of his scent curling under your nose. Beau licked his lips as you absently scratched your neck. “I’m still in my pajamas.”

“You mean my pajamas,” he said, reaching out, tugging on the end of the oversized shirt that you’d taken from his room last night. Your stomach jumped as his knuckles grazed your bare skin, Beau stepping up into the airstream, making you walk back. A large hand rested gently on your hip, thumb stroking the skin lightly under the fabric of his shirt. “I had fun last night.”

“Me too.” You placed your hands on his chest, grinning up at him. “From what I’ve gathered, true mates bond immediately most of the time so I really appreciate you being patient-”

“Whoa,” he said, taking your arms in his hands, running them up to your shoulders. “Let’s get something clear, darlin’. You will never thank me for respecting your wishes and doing the right thing. You’re owed those things and sweetheart, I will wait as long as you need me to.” 

“I never met anyone like you before.” 

“Good,” he chuckled, leaning down and letting you press your lips to his. “Take as much time as you need to get ready.”

“I just need a few,” you said, reluctantly letting him pull away. “Hey Beau?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I lost ten years of my life? Because I let my dad convince me the world wasn’t safe?” He pursed his lips, leaning back against the small counter.

“There certainly was a spike in violent crimes those first six months. There was a lot of fear. We went into a lockdown, loosened restrictions as the science caught up. Emily was homeschooled that first year and I barely let my ex leave the house. But we figured out that the evil bastards that’d do those sorts of things were always the type of people to do those things. It’s like how-”

“You’d love to bite my bond gland and so would I deep down but you’re not jumping my bones to do it because that’s not the kind of guy you are,” you interjected. He smiled softly. “It’s hard to feel like I didn’t lose time, you know?”

“I understand that perspective. But…I didn’t move here until just last year and there was a lot going on with that camping disaster and Emily and my ex and I wasn’t ready for you either until recently. This is how and when we were meant to find each other. We’re soulmates, we didn’t lose any time at all.” He reached out a hand and cupped your cheek. You nuzzled it, placing your hand over top. “I thought you had to get ready.”

“I do,” you said, closing your eyes. “My heat’s coming up soon. I like you being here.”

“Stay in the house with me when it starts. It’ll help.” He kissed your forehead, a strong sense of calm washing over you. “Don’t take too long, omega.”

“I’ll be right there, Alpha. Promise.”

________________

A/N: Read The Change from Beau's perspective here!

[bbystark]

toxic!ghost x soft!reader

summary: ghost meets a soft little thing and quickly makes her his and his alone. (based on a request from @catoncrack59!)

a/n: tysm for the request, i'm sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted i did get carried away haha. enjoy!!

mdni mature themes

first sees you when he's freshly home from deployment, stalking the aisles of his local grocery store to fill his empty fridge.

there you are, politely tapping the shoulder of an elderly clerk and asking him where something is. you're in the cutest little sundress, eyes big as you point to an item on your list to show the employee.

he finds himself immediately enthralled. you laugh he gets a glint of your pearly teeth, your canine glinting in the florescent lights, and he's completely done for.

he forgets his quest for frozen tv dinners and finds himself trailing you throughout the grocery store, at one point pretending to be interested in tortilla chips when you glance his way.

you finally stop in the dairy section, quietly browsing the options while you chew on your lip. he briefly wonders what your lips feel like- soft no doubt- and why you needed help finding something so simple.

his question is answered when he's in line at checkout, one person behind you. you make small talk with the cashier, and he learns you just moved here for work, managing a new woman's shelter downtown. what a sweet thing, he thinks, so selfless.

it continues like that for weeks, simon tailing you all around town just to get a glimpse of your sweet smile and calming demeanor. he doesn't know what it is about you, maybe it's how polar opposite the two of you are.

simon thinks you would never be with someone so opposing of what your entire life radiated, but it only fuels the fire he has to claim you.

then he gets deployed. almost goes insane, can't stop thinking about your curves and sickly soft features.

more than once angrily fists his cock in the showers thinking of you beneath him, innocent eyes beckoning him closer.

he almost never feels satisfied after, watching his spend circle the drain feeling mildly disgusted with himself and the fact that you literally weren't even aware of his existence.

finally gets back after months and once again sees you at the grocery store and simply decides that life is too short and you're going to be his one way or the other

decides to grow a pair and ask you where something is, and oh! look at that, sweet little you even guides him to the exact aisle and shelf it's on. he makes up some bullshit about trying to bake and not knowing where to begin, knowing you'll eat the lie up.

ends up getting your number for, you know, baking advice and soon thereafter he's in your little house baking cookies with you

you fall for him almost immediately, big soft man who bakes. simon barely tells you anything about himself, omitting details and changing subjects whenever anything personal comes up. but you don't even notice, too dumb and in the middle of falling in love

simon begins to subtly change after the first two dates

he's already obsessed, and the man hasn't even gotten a kiss on the cheek. but your obvious budding adoration for him just isn't cutting it. no, he wants you to himself.

it's the least he deserves right? a soft, kind, sweet little thing just for fucked up, damaged him. his own personal angel.

He starts with subtle manipulation, getting into your head when you have small tiffs with family and friends and saying they aren't good for you. "you're better off without 'em luv. forget it and come gimmie a hug."

then he's purposefully sabotaging your work, deleting important files and changing things in your calendar so you'll be late or miss things completely. it sends you in a tailspin, and soon you start messing up on your own, completely overwhelmed.

he's always there though, wiping tears off your cheek with calloused thumbs and comforting words.

asks you to move in with him before he even asks you to be his girlfriend, but obviously in this economy you say yes

living in domestic bliss, ignorant bliss, in your case, but bliss nonetheless

then he pushes it a little too far and says he doesn't want you to go to a family dinner back in your home city

you snap at him for the first time ever, and simon would never admit that he chubbed up a little at the sight of your irritated and upset face- it was a sight really, his little princess throwing a tantrum

you tell him that he's being ridiculous, that it's holiday season and you haven't seen your family in forever. simon throws it back in your face with a "aren't I your family luv? gonna leave me all alone here?" and a carefully timed voice crack.

you concur and cancel your flights, and simon apologizes by fucking you so raw you honestly forget what had you so upset when you wake up the next morning.

continues to slowly cut off contact with the outside world. your phone breaks and he replace it with a flip phone like his, saying social media was rotting your brain and this would be good for you. you listen to him, of course.

nearly goes insane when he gets the call that he has to ship out soon. thinks about locking you in the apartment, hiring one of his old buddies to drop groceries off every once in a while.

while tempting, he knows he has to tread lightly with you. he needed to take his time, so he settles with getting you a pretty necklace with a gps tracker in it and wiring his apartment and your car with cameras. crazy? no! he just wants to make sure you're safe and also not interacting with anyone but him and him alone

besides, with his great manipulation guidance, you had basically cut off all your friends and family. the ones who stuck around eventually left (simon threatened them)

so he wasn't worried. however, he does grow worried when he's lonely one night on deployment and pulls up the footage of his apartment, and watches as you find one camera by accident, and go on a rampage throughout his apartment and find the rest. oops, simon really shouldn't have rushed putting those things up.

doesn't really stress, knows he'll just have to wait and go find you again. at least now he won't have to hide just how much he loves you.

enjoy your freedom now and good luck when that man finds you

request more

[oneforthemunny]

how you like them apples |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: you surprise eddie with his favorite fall treat, and, oh, is he surprised.

since i'm feeling so fall, i decided to write a ficlet around my love cowboy!eddie. also follows the lore that sweet girl is not the best cook lmao. super fluffy. genuinely nothing but the sweetest fluff and love.

Your head turned at the rumble of the truck, moving slowly down the gravel driveway towards the house. Eddie always drove much slower than you, always on to you about speeding down the gravel, flinging it everywhere. 

The red truck’s bed was filled with lumber, left over from the recent renovations the Ives’ family had done to their new fence, just up the road- well, that’s what Eddie always said, it was more like a good ten miles away. Irvine Ives had called Eddie up last night, asked him if he wanted it before he took it to the junkyard. He knew Eddie was repairing a patch in the fence a Bronco he was training had kicked out. 

“Back so soon?” You grinned, pressing a hand over your brows to shield you from the September sun. Not as bright as it was in June, but still unforgiving in the middle of the day. 

“Yep, wasn’t much, but I think I got what I needed.” Eddie hummed, turning the key and killing the ignition, cigarette still lit between his fingers. “Think I got enough to patch it though. Just gonna need to repaint it since it’s not the same kinda wood.” 

Your brows raised, walking over towards the driver’s side, leaning in towards the window. “I can help you with that.” You hummed, breathing in the cloud of smoke he exhaled with a content sigh. “I love to paint.” 

Eddie grinned back at you, a soft crease in his dimples that made your body buzz with excitement. “Yeah? We can go to town tomorrow if I get this done. Pick out a color.” 

“That sounds like fun.” You beam. “I was going to say we need to go to the grocery anyways, so that works out.” You hum, a large brown bag catching your attention, nestled beside Eddie in the passenger seat. 

“What’s that?” You ask, leaning on the door to see. “Apples?” 

“Yeah, Mrs. Ives insisted I take a few. Said their trees were overflowin’ with ‘em.” Eddie nodded towards the bag, lightly tapping your hand to move, opening the truck’s door. “Figure I’d give a few to Medusa. Try to do something with the rest, maybe.” 

You nodded slowly, wheels in your mind already spinning with an idea. Eddie handed you the apples, cradling the bottom until you got your grip on the heavy bag. “‘M gonna go start on this. Try to get it done today.” 

“Ok,” You hummed, hugging the apples to your chest. “Have fun, baby.” 

Eddie snorted in laughter, head ducking down, stealing a quick kiss from you. “I shouldn’t be too long.” He looked back at you, eyes narrowing in suspicion as you simply nodded, pulling the screen door open and slipping in the kitchen. 

Normally, you’d offer to come help him, sit with him and talk about nothing in particular, and hand him the tools while he worked. Not this time. You didn’t seem mad, or upset- really, you seemed perfectly happy. Which left him a little suspicious. 

The clanging of a large, steel pot falling on the floor soothed his worries, left him grinning to himself in humor as he started off to the barn. 

“Sift? What does- like move it around?” You muttered, brows pinched in concentration that was teetering on annoyance. Your eyes squinted in concentration, trying to decipher the loopy, old school cursive on the faded, yellowed recipe card in front of you. 

The first time you found the recipe box, it was buried under piles of other things, lost in the mess that was Eddie’s bachelor pad before you moved in- really, before you were in his life. His Mamaw Munson’s recipes, all her best dishes, all in one tin box. He sat in the kitchen with you between his legs, he’d poured over each one, told you which ones were his favorite, sometimes even added a little anecdote that had you beaming with joy. 

“Oh, this one was one of my favorites, baby,” Eddie had said, eyes lighting as they scanned over the card. 

“Apple Cobbler. She’d bake it in this cast iron skillet so it’d stay hot, and we’d put vanilla ice cream over it- holy shit, it was so good.” Eddie swallowed his drool, he could practically taste it still. “She used to have an apple tree before it got blown away by this bad tornado one year. But she’d go and pick them every fall when they were ripe, and she’d always make it for us. It was my favorite thing.” 

Looking at the recipe in front of you, you could see why Eddie loved it so much. It did sound really good. 

It was just very complicated. 

“Take your peeled- shit,” You looked at the sliced apples, still with the skin on, in the bowl in front of you. “Why wouldn’t you say that before I added the other stuff, Mamaw?” You huffed, pulling the drawer open for the whittling knife. 

The kitchen was a disaster, sticky and flour filled, bowls piling high in the sink; and you hadn’t even gotten halfway through the recipe. Grabbing a handful of the butter and sugar rolled apples, you placed them on the counter’s free space, carefully carving around the edge where the skin was. 

This isn’t too bad, not taking as long as I thought it would, You thought to yourself, finally in a grove of cutting around the skin, tossing the apple back in the mixture. 

A smoky, sugary, thick smell alerted your senses on your last few apples. Turning, you saw the filling that was supposed to be simmering, now bubbling with thick, burnt globs in the pot. You grabbed the handle with a panic, shoving it to the free stove eye, turning the hot one off. 

The mixture, which was supposed to be a light caramel brown, was a deep dark molasses shade. You lifted the whisk, cringing at the toughness of the gooey substance. “It’s ok,” You shook your head lightly, looking at the clock. “That’s- whatever. It’ll bake and soften in the oven.” 

Pulling out the pan, you shoved the now skinless apples to the bottom, scraping the hardened filling mixture on top. The wooden spoon nearly broke trying to mix it in, sticking out of the cemented filling. 

You could see Eddie through the small window over the sink, down to the last stake in the fence, already beginning the wiring. He’d be done soon, this had to cook for forty-five minutes, and the kitchen was a disaster. 

“It’s fine, it’ll be fine.” You muttered to yourself, pouring the batter on top, not bothering to smooth it out like the instructions said- there was no time for that Mamaw. Instead, you slid it in the oven, turning the timer. 

Eddie came in just as you’d finished putting your last dish away. Your body surged with excited heat, smug that you might actually get away with your little surprise- well, as long as he didn’t go to the back porch, where the burnt filling was in the pan, cemented in. 

“Mm,” Eddie sniffed the air, sugary and a little… smoky? “Smells good in here, baby.” He gave you a dazzling smile, hoping you wouldn’t pick up the hesitancy in his tone. 

It was no secret that you weren’t exactly the best cook. Not that Eddie cared, but after you almost burnt the house down making lasagna, he was a little weary when you’d cook. 

“Does it?” Your eyes lit up, filled with excitement that he wouldn’t dare take from you. Whatever you’d made, no matter how charred or inedible it was, he’d scarf it down with a grin if it’d make you happy. Even if it gave him food poisoning like the chicken ala king did. 

“Yeah, what’re you makin’?” Eddie reached for the oven’s handle. 

You pushed it closed with a click of your tongue, smacking his hands away. “Don’t.” You shook your head. “It’s a surprise.” 

And you were true to your word. It certainly was a surprise. 

When you placed the concoction in front of Eddie, grinning so big, so proudly, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but grin back. “Wow, you, uh, you made this for me, sweetheart?” He smiled, eyeing the plate in front of him. 

“Yes,” You giggled, topping the runny dough on top with a scoop of ice cream. “You said it was your favorite, and when you brought the apples home, I just thought I’d surprise you.” You chirped, sliding him a spoon. “I followed your Mamaw’s recipe.”

“You spoil me, sweet thing. You know that?” Eddie smiled, heart swelling at the sentiment. You really did spoil him, were too good and too sweet to him- even if you’re cooking wasn’t as good. 

“Try it.” You sat next to him, bursting with excitement. “I know it won’t be as good as hers, but I think I did a good job on it.” 

Eddie looked down at the plate, swallowing the dread building in his throat. He dug his spoon, sawing it through the thick middle until it finally came out in a clean cut. Taking a large scoop of ice cream, hoping it would mask the flavor, he took a bite. 

“Is it good?” You leaned forward, eyes rounded in hopefulness, scanning his features eagerly. 

Eddie hummed, his teeth cemented together from the filling, sure his crown might pop out from the material. The filling was tough, the dough undercooked and lacked something that made it rise, but the apples were delicious- just like his Mamaw’s except…

“Oh,” Eddie winced before he could help it, finger digging in his mouth. He pulled out the hard thing that was wedged in his molar, turning it with a brow raised. “Is that- is that a seed?” 

Your face fell, looking at the seed back at Eddie. “Well, yeah, from the apples.” You said, heart skinning in your chest. “I didn’t- it didn’t say to take them out or anything, so I just left them in.”

Eddie swallowed, stomach turning lightly at the bite. “No, it’s- I mean, it’s good, baby. Some people take them out, but- no, this is, it’s really good.” He nodded, smiling at you gently. “‘S really good.” 

“Really?” You squeaked. “Better than the muffins?” 

“Yes,” Eddie said truthfully, whole heartedly. That was the truth, this was so much better than the mess that was the blueberry muffins. “So much better. This is really good, sweetheart. You really surprised me. Too sweet of ya to do this.” 

You squealed, hugging him tightly, legs straddling his waist in the chair, lips pressing kisses over his cheeks, his chin, his lips. Eddie’s arms wrapped around you, squeezing you into him, playfully nipping at your jaw to hear you squeal, before his lips caught yours, pulling you into a heated kiss. He’d eat all your burnt cobblers if it meant you’d be happy like this, if it made you this happy. 

[qqueenofhades]

AAAAHHHHHHHH It's TIM! 1000% strong MN girl here and boy it's been real fun to watch Tim (and Peggy! Our amazing lieutenant governor) take a small small Democratic majority and do incredible things. My kid ate two meals at school every day for free. DELIGHTED that he's the VP pick. LET'S GOOOOOOOO!!!!

Listen, I am just ECSTATIC. Ever since I seriously became tuned into the veepstakes, he was my number one pick (I mean, I was not immune to the brief flirtation everyone had with Beshear/Buttigieg/etc), but yes. Walz was my top pick and I was trying desperately not to get my heart too set on him in case it fell through, but he was the obvious best choice of the contenders by a country mile. He has an almost absurdly Midwestern pro-America background (military veteran, public school teacher, football coach from a small rural town, etc) AND he has managed to enact a long list of progressive policies in Minnesota with a very narrow majority in the state legislature. Also, you're going to be seeing a lot of this video, for good reason:

Also.... let's be real, Shapiro would have been an incredible distraction/drag on the ticket, unfortunately. We don't need to deal with his retrograde views on Gaza and his other baggage, and while he is a very popular governor in Pennsylvania, it's less certain that his appeal would translate to other states. We can argue (or you know, let's not and move on) about whether or not that was fair, but this is just not the year to try to win the most critical high-stakes election ever by pissing off young voters. Shapiro has done plenty of good things and has time to develop his career further, but he would have been a BAD pick for 2024 and I was alarmed at how many Respected Pundits (tm) were pulling for him. Reuters even claimed that picking him would "defang Republican attempts to make Israel-Gaza a wedge issue for Democrats," which is such a mind-bogglingly stupid statement that it makes you wonder how anyone writing it actually got paid for their political insight, but it also explains a lot about mainstream media these days. Picking Shapiro would have been an absolute gift to the Republicans and bad-faith actors and others (plus like, I don't want to have to spend time winning back the young voters who are actually once more engaged in the process!) and would have led to the media eagerly jumping into the feeding frenzy (because they're desperate to have a reason not to cover Trump's increasingly crazy-ass shit) and other Democratic-on-Democratic infighting. And it goes without saying that WE CANNOT AFFORD THAT.

As well, picking Shapiro just because you need to win PA this election cycle is yet another example of why the Electoral College sucks, and the polling averages in PA have been moving solidly blue anyway. You can just park Shapiro there and have him campaign in the state as the sitting popular governor, rather than expose him to the liability of a nationwide campaign where, as noted, all the other stuff would be a drag. If it's true that the establishment was pushing Harris to pick Shapiro and she picked Walz instead, a) GOOD! and b) if anything, this election cycle needs to fucking teach us that we have got to stop going with the Conventional Wisdom Tee Em. Walz was already out there, he was already popular with the public/energizing the grassroots, AND he was the guy who coined the "Weird" attack line that is actually effective and organically popular against the Republicans and drives them batshit. So for Kamala to lean into that and take him as her running mate is... zomgz... smart, and I am not used to the Democrats playing smart and aggressive and not just passive-defensive. I don't understand. Wow.

Anyway, now watch the New York Times (and the others, lbr, but especially the NYT) desperately try to dig up scandalous stories about that time Walz didn't stop at the 4H booth at the county fair, or walked past someone without saying "Ope just gonna sneak by ya first" or some other terrible Midwestern sin, but fuck those guys. I am EXCITED I am ENERGIZED I am THRILLED. This is a GREAT new ticket that came together at incredibly short notice and completely changed the dynamics everywhere, Walz is gonna make JD Vance cry (unsure whether I want to see Harris demolish Trumpster or Midwestern Dad to turn the cranks on Weird Couchfucking Fascist Skidmark more, but both, both, both is good). LET'S GO GET THOSE WEIRD MOTHERFUCKERS, Y'ALL!!

HARRIS/WALZ 2024!

[mypoisonedvine]

emmet or bearded cillian who is dads best friend but is also a mechanic or something and he fixes your car and u thought it would be free but he wants a specific form of payment IF U CATCH MY DRIFT and everything is dirty and grimmy and maybe against the side of the car or inside whatever you like

i love your writing so so much im yelling any time you post something new, have a good day <3

THIS IS SO EMMETT CODED OMFG IT'S PERFECT

length: 1.7k

warnings: SMUT (18+ only!!), unspecified age gap (but everybody is an adult), semi-public sex, oral f receiving, creampie

"Well, I think she'll live," he announced with a laugh as he stood up, wiping oil-covered hands on a rag. "Just needs a new spark plug and probably a patch on the fluid exchange."

You chewed your lip as you pretended not to be a total idiot about cars. "How much is that gonna put me out for?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about that too much, honey. Your dad's a good friend, we'll just call it even."

"No, Em," you sighed, stepping closer to him-- having to walk carefully so you wouldn't trip on any toolboxes left out on the garage floor. "Come on, let me at least pay for the parts or something."

He shook his head, giving you one of those smiles that melted your heart just a bit. "You've been too good to me already, sweetheart. Don't worry about me."

You felt a little awkward, realizing he was referring to how you'd helped him after his ex-wife moved out. There wasn't much you could do, of course, but you'd tried to show your support-- first by bringing some food over, first a casserole and then allegedly 'extra' cookies, even though you were a little worried he'd be offended by the possible suggestion that he couldn't cook for himself. Then, you'd given him advice on how to keep the zinnias out front alive, since their normal caretaker was too busy running away to California with her hairdresser to water them. He seemed to appreciate that, and your heart might have skipped a beat when your hands brushed against his while you were gardening together.

(Um, it was a male hairdresser, by the way. Not that it matters a whole lot...)

Maybe you would let him give you free work on your car, if you didn't happen to know that the auto shop was struggling at the moment. Sure, you figured he'd give you a deal, because that was just who he was, but you never expected to take his time and spare parts for nothing in return. "Em, please," you frowned, leaning against the hood of your car just after he'd shut it. "Let me make it up to you-- you're working so hard for me."

As his eyes fell on you, you suddenly noticed a new darkness in them; he was looking you up and down, making you shudder slightly as he leaned closer. "Jus' tryin' to take care of you, honey," he said, a little softer, and you fought the urge to bite your lip. "Can't let you drive around town in somethin' that might break down any minute."

"Well, I can't let you eat TV dinners every night," you smiled in reply. "How about I pay you back in meals, hm? You liked the chicken casserole, right?"

"Yeah, you're a good cook," he relented, "I guess I can't turn down an offer like that, can I?"

"Good," you grinned, "then I'll bring something over tonight."

"But what if I'm hungry for somethin' else?"

You got a little shaky all of a sudden, and tried not to get your hopes up-- you were probably imagining the sultry tone to his voice...

"Somethin' a little sweeter than casserole," he added, closing the space between you and lifting your chin so you would look up at him.

"...cookies?" you wondered with a weak voice, and he laughed softly.

"Don't get me wrong," he replied, "your cookies are great. But I think you know that's not what I'm talkin' about."

You didn't know how to respond to that... you weren't even sure if you supposed to respond. Apparently, he got whatever he needed just from looking into your eyes.

"Sit on the hood, honey."

He knelt in front of you as you did what you were told; he kept his eyes locked with yours as long as he could, until he started to spread your legs slowly and his gaze had to dart down under your dress.

"Oh, sweetheart," he sighed heavily, making you struggle not to press your thighs together to satisfy your sudden desire for friction. "Look at those cute little panties-- can I take 'em off for you?"

"Y-yes, please," you nodded, and he gave you a little smile as he reached up under your dress to slowly-- so painfully slowly-- pull them down your thighs.

You opened your legs perhaps a bit too eagerly once he'd slipped the panties off around your shoes and stuffed them into his pocket-- yes, you'd noticed that-- and he bit his lip at the sight, pushing your dress up just enough to get a good view. "Baby," he growled, "you're just too perfect."

You thought maybe he'd ask again, like he had before he took off your panties-- maybe just because he knew you'd say yes. But he didn't: he just dove right in all of a sudden, making you gasp and moan as his tongue and lips explored all over you.

He devoured you with every lap, humming and moaning between those beautifully filthy, wet noises the whole ordeal created.

"P-please," you gasped, running your fingers through his long, wavy hair.

"Oh, honey," he groaned proudly, pulling back slightly to look up at you before delivering a gentle peck to your swollen clit. "You sound too cute when you're beggin'."

Going back in again, he sucked harder on your clit until your thighs instinctively clamped down on his head-- which didn't deter him at all, anyway. "E-Emmett, fuck, just like that--" you choked out, holding tighter to his hair, "oh fuck!"

Groaning encouragingly, he slid his tongue inside you and shut his eyes tight as you started to rock your hips on his face.

He found a pattern pretty quickly, holding you steady by your thighs so he could force every sensation on you; he teased your opening with his tongue, but focused mostly on your clit until you were shaking all over. You kept trying to tell him you were going to come, but it was obvious by how hard you struggled to put a sentence together. When you did come on his tongue, it was quieter than you expected-- a silent scream, which broke into a long, low moan when you were actually able to breathe again.

His tongue on your clit became too much all of a sudden, and your hand in his hair started to push him away. Thankfully, he did stop, and you started to slowly come back to reality.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he stood up to face you again, starting to open his jeans quickly.

"Fuck, Em," you panted as you tried to catch your breath, blinking the blur out of your eyes to get a better view of his proud, tilted grin. "What'd you do that for?"

"Just needed to hear you scream, princess," he winked, reaching into his boxers. "And I figured I won't last long when I'm inside ya, anyway-- s'been a while..."

He pulled his cock out of his pants, instantly pressing the tip up to you and lining himself with your opening.

"And I like the idea of still being able to smell your pussy in my beard tomorrow," he added, just before he slid inside your waiting channel.

He grunted as he filled you, head falling back with a heavy sigh through his nose. "O-oh," you choked out, grabbing one of his shoulders to stay stable as he started to move.

"God, baby," he purred, "I was right-- fuck, I won't last. Sorry, but I've been waitin' too damn long..."

You wanted to tell him that you didn't care-- that you actually thought it was insanely sexy how affected he was by all this-- but when you opened your mouth, you could only moan desperately. Your previous orgasm had left your insides all sticky and sensitive, every thrust overwhelming you with tension and friction. And thank god for how wet it had made you, too, or you might have had more trouble fitting his generous girth inside you...

"Knew you'd be so good for me," he grunted, "such a good girl-- wanted you for so long, honey."

You whimpered behind a bitten lip, blinking up at him expectantly. "How long?"

He smirked a little, before leaning in to kiss your neck playfully-- teasing your pulse with the very tip of his tongue. "I shouldn't say," he mumbled.

"Please," you gasped, "god, Em-- I gotta know..."

"Before the divorce," was all he'd say, but that was enough to make you quiver inside-- you'd always wondered, hoped, that he shared your interest, but you had spent most of your time pretending you didn't have a crush on him since he was closer to your dad's age and, you know, married. At the time. "She used to get mad at me when she caught me lookin' at you," he admitted with a low chuckle that made chills run up your spine in delight. "She was jealous of how fuckin' pretty you are... how sweet you are... how good you are..."

"Emmett," you whimpered, clinging to him tighter, "Em, please, I'm so close--"

"Fuck, baby, g'na come again?" he taunted with a grin, one of his hands tightening its grip on your waist. "Go ahead, honey, give my cock a nice li'l squeeze, huh?"

"Yes, fuck, yes," you gasped. "Fuck!"

"Not too loud, sweetheart," he warned, "got another mechanic in the other garage-- don't want him hearin' you... don't want anyone hearin' those pretty sounds but me, okay, princess?"

But he found a much more reliable way to shut you up: he kissed you, hard and desperate, and you moaned against his lips as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Your whimpers of his name were almost unintelligible as he kissed you, but he clearly understood them: he fucked you harder, faster, deeper, grunting promises to come inside you and leave you dripping with his come for the rest of the night. You encouraged him as best you could while being totally speechless-- and with a whine, you came around him just before he filled you with a gruff purr of his own.

Sighing, he dropped his head onto your shoulder, running his fingers down your back through your dress to make you shiver in his arms one more time. "Beautiful," he praised under his breath, kissing softly beside your ear. "So beautiful, honey..."

You smiled softly, wrapping your arms around him in a lazy embrace. "You're the one that's too good to me, Em," you whispered. "When did you figure out I had a crush on you?"

"Sometime after you brought me the casserole, but before you came on my face."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Even if the work is a lot and at times tedious, you’re grateful for the excuse to stay inside. As you hole yourself inside the house and tidy the messes, big and small, you can hear the conversations out the walls, wafting in through open windows. It’s as content as your mother’s been in the last few years. Steve is nice enough and he doesn’t have that same snooty lean as the other suburbanites.

As you mop, you think of how he mentioned the city. You wonder what it was like. Before your grandma passed, you and your mom lived in a walk-up in a small town. Everyone there knew your names too and reviled it just the same. You never mean any harm but wherever you go, you seem to inspire spite.

Dishes, floor, walls, dusting, errant cobwebs, clutter...

You work until your mother comes in, swinging the door violently as she drags herself inside. You go to help her and she swats you away. You retreat and she finds her way to the recliner. You shut the door and lock it.

“Wonderful man,” she groans as she lays her head back and tilts the chair, extending the footrest, “don’t make ‘em like that anymore. He’s the sort I shoulda picked.” She closes her eyes and gives a wry hum, “’specially over your dad.”

You don’t say a word. She only mentions your father to remind you of that half of you she hates. You gather up the clothes on the couch into a basket. The laundry will have you up late. Your own fault; you should’ve done this all a lot sooner.

“Should I start dinner?” You ask.

“I don’t know if I’m in the mood for burnt chicken,” she scoffs meanly.

“I could do mac and cheese,” you offer.

“I’m teasing ya. Jeez, you got no sense of humour,” she sighs dreamily, “not like Steve. Such a charming man.”

You pass through the kitchen and descend to the basement to fill the washer. You add soap and twist the knob. You leave the basket on the lid and head back up. You peruse the fridge as you ponder what to make. Mac and cheese would be easiest.

You get started and the TV blips on in the next room. The audio helps chase away the tension. You leave the water to boil and lean on the archway that looks into the front room.

“Um, mom, what should I make tomorrow? For uh, dinner? With... him?”

“Well, don’t sound so damn excited,” she sits up, “whatsa matter with you? The nice man wants to come see us, unlike the rest of these snobs. My own sister won’t come through that door.” She snorts and shakes her head, “you can go to the store tomorrow and grab something nice. I don’t want ya serving that man starchy potatoes. Down at the fancy store, they got those premade meals.”

“Those are expensive,” you remark.

“And? You get your stipend, you don’t gotta be leeching off of me,” she snips.

“Um, yes, I know, I wasn’t--”

“God, look at that,” her eyes flick up to the ceiling, goddamn dusty, it’s a wonder I can breathe.”

You look up and see what she means. There’s a layer of dusty on the ceiling fan as it turns lazily on its lowest setting.

“I’ll get it--”

“Better. You’re not gonna embarrass me tomorrow. I’d be better off if you stay in your room,” she tuts.

“If you want--”

“No, you come out and say hi. Don’t be rude. You know I did try to teach you manners. You just never spoke enough to use them.”

You frown and look down meekly. She’s not wrong. You turn and go to grab the duster. You don’t think tomorrow is going to be any different than any other.

🏠

The next morning, go out to the grocery store to grab the meal for that evening. As you return, you linger at the end of the street. You can see Steve on his lawn. You wait for him to go inside before you drive up and pull into the driveway.

You carry the bags inside with your sights set on the house and nothing else. Inside, you put down your haul on the counter and put each item away, one at a time. Your mother is in the bathroom, chirping out a song out of key.

“God dammit,” she snarls, “I can’t find my red lipstick,” she rattles through her bin of makeup. She doesn’t wear it very often. “Get in here.”

Before you can pass the open door, her demand pulls you back. You enter as she sits on a stool in front of the mirror. She shoves the bin away and grumbles.

“Here,” she holds out a pair of tweezers with a tremble, “damn brows are unruly.”

You nod and step closer. You press a hand gently to her forehead and pluck out the stray hairs, shaping them as best you can.

“Don’t forget my lip,” she huffs hot breath onto you. “Don’t think he’ll like the tickle.”

She chuckles to herself. You don’t get it. You finish and step back, holding up the hand mirror for her. She shrugs.

“Get me some of that moisturizer,” she points unsteadily to the shelf above the toilet. You do as she says. “Mm,” she grumbles as you face her again, “not wearing that, are ya?”

You look down. The loose tee shirt with butterflies on it and the faded jeans are a bit plain. You tug on the hem and raise your head.

“You got a dress somewhere in there,” she shakes her head as she flips the cap up on the bottle after three tries. “I bought you some nice ones and you never put them one.”

“Uh, okay, yeah, I’ll check,” you promise. “Need help?”

You reach for the bottle and she keeps it out of your reach. You back up and leave her. You can sense her agitation growing.

You cross the hall to your bedroom and go to the closet. You slide the door open and sift through the contents hung from the bar. There’s a dress. A pink polka dot dress she got you in high school. Nothing special; a bargain bin cotton a-line with thin straps.

You take it out and examine it. That was the only dance you went to. You got stood up by the boy who asked you. You realise now it was only ever a joke at your expense.

You undress by your bed and put the dress on. It’s tight. Maybe it’s shrunk or maybe you’ve gotten bigger. You didn’t think your chest had grown that much since high school but it’s bulging out and your thighs feel a bit too exposed. You go into the hall and back into the bathroom. You shift the door as you mother works as spreading the eye cream above her cheekbones.

You look at your reflection and cringe. You turn to your mom.

“It’s too small,” you say to her.

She peers over with a scowl. She looks you up and down and drops the tube of cream. She shakes her head.

“Put a sweater over it,” she sneers, “it’s fine.”

“Right, uh, okay,” you agree and swallow. Even with a sweater, you don’t know. The skirt won’t be any longer.

“Would ya stop crowding me?” She shoos you tersely.

You push the door back against the wall and slip out of the bathroom. You head back to your bedroom and pick out a grey cardigan. It has no buttons but it’s at least as long as the dress. It’s better than feeling so exposed.

You hardly think it will matter. You already feel like a third wheel. Steve didn’t exactly spend hours talking to you and your mother as much as said you are collateral. They’re both just putting up with you because you’re there.

You run your hands over your face and hair. Can't dress that up. You pout at your reflection. You wish you could iust hide on your room and draw.

You look over at your sketchbook and cross the room. You sit on your bed and slide the folding table close. You open the pages and pick up the pencil. You straighten the page you tore from the old home and garden magazine and copy the shape of the amaryllis petals.

You can forget a little longer until real life wakes you up.

[nobody-nexus]

Obsession AU: UPDATED

I promise I didn't forget about this AU- In fact I've been updating it behind the scenes ever since episode 2 released! And now, with proper reference sheets, you now have a better idea of what they look like, and who they are! Alongside the new members!

(5 Facts About Pomni)

-She will never feed human meat to any person. It is THEIR hunt, and therefore if she eats it, it's ALL THEIRS. She'd never give it to others for that very reason

-Their hands are heavily damaged, having MANY scars. Due to this, she will wear as much hand covering as possible, refusing to give any more details on their appearance due to her record

-As if their stalker like obsession with Amanda isn't enough of an issue, she also has a mannequin in their home that she practices dancing with to old songs they like

-She has Hematolagnia- AKA a blood fetish. YES, she has issues if that wasn't already clear enough

-The scars that are on their body are from self-defense attempts from three different victims

(5 Facts About Amanda)

-Her damaged eye is from an incident where a kid hit her with a meat cleaver. Although she thankfully didn't lose her eye, she's 1/3rd blind and legally isn't allowed to drive because of it

-She knows how to cook! Although she does more baking than cooking, she loves to collect cookbooks and learn new recipes of various kinds! Especially ones from outside the United States

-She has scented candles in her home, and her home never smells like the same thing twice

-While she was away from her hometown, the only one that she kept in contact with was her brother, Jackson via text

-Her vitiligo started to pop up when she was 19

(5 Facts About Jackson)

-He is Zoey's roommate

-Jackson was an accidental child unlike his older sister

-He plays violent video games of all kinds. He loves being able to cause blood, death, and chaos without having to go to jail for it

-He likes sour candy a bit too much. Like it's a borderline issue with how much he's willing to pay just for sour candy and the feeling of it numbing his mouth

-Has a habit of stealing and shoplifting, being a bit TOO good at the action. He's gotten in trouble a few times before, but nowadays no one really seems to notice or care

(5 Facts About Grace)

-Grace was born an albino, having the palest skin out of most people in the town along with red eyes and white hair. It's unknown if her being albino was why she was so sickly as a child

-She loves to draw and will constantly have drawing/writing tools with her alongside notebooks or loose paper

-She's in the middle of quite the complicated situation between Amanda and Pomni

-Her most eaten food is soup, stew, and ramen

-She sees Ceaser as a father figure, being the most to visit him and keep him company ever since Quinn went missing. She'll occasionally even sing for him to make him feel better

(5 Facts About Zoey)

-They're very talented on the drums and are willing to be a temporary drummer for a price

-Zoey has a bit of an anger problem, quick to snap and easy to piss off given the topic of discussion. However, they are going to anger management classes to help with it

-Strangling is a common attack it does

-They decorate their prosthetic leg commonly

-VERY much smokes weed and makes edibles. Once tricked Amanda into eating some- and it likes the memory

(5 Facts About Kinger)

-He has a bit of a staring problem, however no one knows why

-He refuses to touch knives of any kind. This was a more recent thing about him, so most people just help him cut things in case he needs any help with it

-Still loves insects, and you can get him to ramble about bugs depending on his mood. He can't help but love em

-He has a nurse help him in his home, however it's not uncommon for Grace, Amanda, or even some of the new outbackers to come back and help him

-Has a daughter, but she moved out of state years ago. They talk occasionally

(5 Facts About Caine)

-He wears a top hat to not only stick to his brand, but also because he's kind of compensating for his height

-He has a small limp to his walk, thus why he constantly has a cane

-Caine's pet is a white pug named Bubble

-Pomni is his favorite customer! He constantly attempts small talk whenever she buys from him because he's always so curious as to why his pigs love her so much

-Although it's undiagnosed, he very much has ADHD and is on the spectrum to some degree

(5 Facts About Marina)

-She was a detective before she even moved into town, however her skills were finally noticed more so thanks to moving there

-She straightens out her hair

-Marina HAS to work in silence or she'll 100% get distracted. Caine's not allowed in her office for that very reason (but he knows)

-She is usually the one to come home late at night and snuggle in with her partner at like 2 in the morning

-Her favorite activity to do is stargazing, finding the night sky to be absolutly beautiful

(5 Facts About Summer)

-She is LOUD. You can and WILL know when she's talking and what she's talking about

-Constantly will ask her sister Marina about Caine. She is VERY wary of him even if Marina keeps telling her to stop

-Never share secrets with her because she IS a gossip girl. She adores to overshare about others and spread rumors just because she finds it fun

-Summer's seen to be a lot better around kids then people closer to her age. Thus why she's a teacher

-Can NOT let go of grudges no matter what

(5 Facts About Gabriela)

-She was the one who came up with the idea of the stripper outfits for her club. It somehow works

-She calls herself the 'Gloink Queen' as a bit of a joke whenever she's on the floor

-Can, will, and HAS flirted with at least half of the adult residence in the town just for the fun of it

-Although she claims to be married, no one has ever met her husband before, and probably never will

-Gabriela is the reason Pomni sees adult based activities as more of a transaction than anything else

(5 Facts About Gareth)

-He has a picture of his mom in his wallet. His mom nicknamed him Gummi at some point, but it's not known why

-He seems bossy, but only around his friends OR when he's upset. He's a lot more chill when one on one

-He has a manual truck that he drives around, but no one is ever impressed by it

-The reason he's good with skinning and cutting up meat is because he helped his dad since his father was a hunter

-His favorite music is country music

(5 Facts About Max)

-He's the one who came up with the idea that him, Gareth, and Chad all wore hats. He somehow convinced them to do so

-He bickers with Jackston a lot because they're both working at the same diner

-Out of the three friends, he's the most likely to flirt with someone, but if they reject him he will respect the fuck out of that

-Constantly forgets how NOT flexible he is as a person, will and has gotten stuck in multiple locations

-Always calls things that almost killed him 'the reaper'. He has also almost died WAY too many times

(5 Facts About Chad)

-He has a super high metabolism, thus why he's so skinny

-Usually carried medication in his fanny pack alongside trail mix and breath mints for some reason

-He's trying SO hard to grow facial hair, but it never cooperates with him like ever

-Chad has a habit of slumping/crouching constantly, and he has back pain as a result

-Is the most likely out of the friend group to be VERY confidently incorrect

(5 Facts About Loo)

-She was born in Britain but moved to the United States for an easier start. Who know it'd lead to being the mayor of a town?

-She's been the mayor for about 5 years by the time Amanda moves back to the town

-She dyes her hair cause she doesn't like the grays that have started to pop up

-She's painfully oblivious to how unhinged the town can be sometimes

-Loo hates being called Penelope unless it's by close friends or family

(5 Facts About Ivy)

-Although she DOES shower, just speaking to them makes you think it doesn't actually shower

-She never thinks before they speak, leading in incredibly horrid things leaving its mouth in common conversation

-Ivy is the only one who actually knows Pomni is a killer, however she finds it very attractive (this is NOT a good thing)

-Their diet consists of purely junk food and as a result it has basically a beer belly

-She has a dark/deep web fanbase, and they simply refer to itself as 'The Influencer' on the web

================================================

If you have any questions, feel free to ask me!

If you want to make your own OC for this AU, here's the blank sheet for it!

[wannabehockeygf]

calgary - matthew tkachuk

part of the think later fic series

“I’m drunk, oh wow,

All my habits came back around.”

***

this has two parts!

part 2

***

request: “could you do calgary with matty tkachuk?? maybe something fluffy, and him being overprotective?”

summary: an attempt to relive your highschool glory days turns into a night of drunken confessions.

word count: 7k

pairing: matthew tkachuk x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol, unnamed pills

notes:

- ty for requesting! fun to write! keep ‘em coming <3

- ^ you guys already knew your girl had to go all out for her hometown, because calgary natives fuck it up the best!

- the plot is basically the lyrics of the song

- some friends to lovers because it makes me feel so lonely and I have to make y’all suffer too

- not super proof read

***

At some point in every Calgary native’s life, those wild, reckless nights of stumbling down Stephen Avenue after too many shots morph into something that feels suspiciously like maturity—like finding yourself sipping ritzy, overpriced cocktails on Seventeenth at six-something pm, wondering when your life turned into a scene from a yuppie rom-com.

The moment you realized this was your new reality, you spiraled. The “Oh my god, I’m so old, I can’t have fun anymore” pit of despair opened up beneath you, and you were falling fast. You had your shit together—no, scratch that, you have your shit together. You’re a bona fide adult. But still, you can’t help but yearn for the glory days of sneaking into clubs with a fake ID at fifteen, batting your lashes at some guy named Jason in a cowboy hat just to get him to buy you a drink.

But then, just as you’re about to spiral further, you remember tonight’s mission. Matthew, one of your closest friends, is back in town. The guy is practically a legend in your life—a hockey player sent off to South Florida but always makes his way back to Calgary for Stampede. You met him in the most random way—some Tinder date with a different Flames prospect gone awry. Who could have guessed that a failed date would lead to one of the most solid friendships of your life?

Matthew is that rare breed of guy—fun, charming, and completely non-threatening in the “someone’s gonna catch feelings” department. At least, that’s what you’ve always told yourself. But let’s be honest, there’s something about him that’s always felt…different. You’ve sworn up and down that, it’s not you, that you’re just friends, but there’s always that little nagging thought in the back of your mind. Could there be more? Should there be more?

Nah, you shake it off. Tonight isn’t about overthinking. Tonight is about channeling your inner fifteen-year-old, if only for a few hours. You’re on a mission to relive the glory days, and Matthew—well, he’s the perfect partner in crime.

The pulsating bass of the club thunders through your veins, the kind of beat that makes your heart race and your feet move, even if you didn’t want them to. But you do. Oh, do you ever. You’re dancing like you’re possessed, limbs flailing in a way that’s somewhere between “I just got electrocuted” and “I’ve been training for this moment my entire life.” You’re definitely more of a mosh pit person than a rhythmic dancer, but tonight, it’s all about the vibe, not the technique.

The lights are flashing wildly, casting everyone in an array of colors—red, blue, green, pink. It feels like you’re inside a kaleidoscope, everything spinning and twirling and making your head buzz in the most exhilarating way. The crowd is a sweaty mess of bodies, a hotbed of random hookups and questionable dance moves, but you’re right there in the middle of it, soaking it all in like the club’s ambiance is your life source.

“Another one?” someone yells over the music, thrusting a shot glass in your face. You don’t even see who it is, but hey, free alcohol is free alcohol. You down it in one go, the burn of the tequila (or is it vodka? Who even knows at this point) sliding down your throat and settling warmly in your belly.

You’re officially shitfaced. You can’t even remember how many shots you’ve had, but counting stopped being a priority after the third one. Or maybe it was the fourth. Whatever. You’re having fun—so much fun that you’ve completely lost track of time. How long have you been here? Is it still tonight? Did you miss Matthew’s arrival?

No, you tell yourself. There’s no way you could miss him. Matthew Tkachuk is not the kind of person who goes unnoticed, even in a crowded club like this. He’s the kind of guy who walks into a room and makes heads turn, who laughs so loudly you can hear him over any DJ set. You’d know if he was here.

Still, a small part of your brain—a part that isn’t totally soaked in alcohol—reminds you of tonight’s mission. You try to channel your inner teenager, that reckless, carefree girl who did whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. And right now, what you want is to dance. And maybe make out with someone. Or eat a greasy cheeseburger. The list is long, okay?

It’s in this haze of euphoria that you notice him—a man with a slicked-back ponytail that’s trying too hard to be edgy but just comes off as greasy. He slides up next to you, his cologne almost as overpowering as his confidence. You give him a half-hearted smile, not really paying attention, too busy reveling in your own carefree abandon.

“Hey,” he shouts over the music, leaning in too close, his breath warm against your ear. “You want something to really get the night going?”

You blink, trying to focus on his words through the fog of alcohol. His hand is outstretched, palm up, and there, sitting innocuously in the center, are two little pills. Your mind stumbles, trying to catch up with the situation. Pills? Like, drugs? The room seems to tilt slightly, the strobe lights throwing everything into sharp, disorienting relief.

The room seems to spin faster as you stare down at the tiny pills in the man's hand. They look so innocent, like candy, but you know better. Your brain, soaked in alcohol and barely clinging to reality, tries to do the math. Pills equal bad. Very bad. But you're also floating on a cloud of recklessness, and there's a small voice in your head whispering that maybe, just maybe, these little white ovals could make the night even crazier.

You can't quite decide if that's what you want or if you're just drunk enough to think it's what you want. Your vision blurs, the man’s face morphing into a smudge of colors and cologne. He leans in closer, his greasy ponytail brushing your cheek like a wet mop. “Come on,” he urges, his voice slicing through the booming bass, “just one, for old time’s sake.”

Old times? You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen this guy in your life. But then again, you’re also pretty sure you saw a unicorn prancing through the dance floor five minutes ago, so who knows what’s real at this point?

Just as you're about to reach for the pills—because why not?—you feel a hand grip your arm, firm and unmistakable. You whirl around, nearly losing your balance, and there he is: Matthew Tkachuk, your knight in a tight-fitting black tee that clings to his shoulders like a second skin. Even in your drunken haze, you can tell he’s pissed. Like, really pissed.

You’d seen him mad before, like that time when someone cut him off on the Deerfoot trail and he laid on the horn for so long that you thought it would get stuck that way—or, that one time when a ref made a call that had him throwing his helmet at the glass, shattering it. This feels so different, especially since he just got here.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Matthew’s voice is like a thunderclap over the music, his eyes narrowing at the greasy-haired guy who suddenly looks a lot less confident. There’s something about Matthew when he’s angry—a fierce, protective energy that’s as magnetic as it is intimidating. He’s not the tallest guy in the room, but he doesn’t need to be. He’s Matthew Tkachuk, for god’s sake.

You blink, trying to process the scene. This isn’t the carefree, dancing-like-you’re-on-fire vibe you were going for. This is… something else entirely. The man with the pills tries to pull a sneer, but it’s more of a grimace. “Hey, man, just offering her a good time,” he slurs, attempting to puff up his chest in a way that’s more pathetic than threatening.

Matthew’s grip on your arm tightens, and you can feel the tension radiating off him like a furnace. “Yeah, well, she’s not interested,” he snaps, stepping between you and the guy, effectively cutting off your view of the man’s greasy face.

And for a moment, you’re glad. You’re glad Matthew’s here, glad he’s taking charge, glad he’s keeping you from making a possibly life-altering mistake. But then, that little rebellious streak in you flares up. Who is he to tell you what to do? You’re a grown-ass woman, a bona fide adult, remember? You don’t need a babysitter.

You yank your arm out of Matthew’s grasp, wobbling slightly as you do so. “I can handle myself,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him. It sounds stronger in your head, but the words come out slurred and weak. Matthew’s eyes flicker with something—concern, frustration, maybe a mix of both.

“Yeah, it sure looks like it,” he says dryly, and even in your intoxicated state, you can catch the sarcasm. You want to snap back, say something witty and sharp, but your brain is moving in slow motion, and the words get tangled in your throat.

The greasy-haired guy takes a step back, clearly not wanting to get into it with Matthew. “Whatever, man. Just trying to help,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Who even are you, anyway?”

Matthew steps forward, blocking your view of Ponytail Guy entirely. The energy in the air shifts from fun and carefree to something sharp and heavy. The club’s lights seem harsher now, flashing in sync with the tension bubbling between them. Matthew is all broad shoulders and clenched fists, the muscles in his neck taut like he’s seconds away from doing something reckless.

And as for you? You’re swaying slightly, blinking like you’re trying to remember where you are—or maybe why you’re here in the first place. The tequila haze is doing you no favors, and all you can focus on is how intensely Matthew is glaring at Ponytail Guy. It’s like watching a lion size up a gazelle, except you’re the one caught in the crossfire.

“Who am I?” Matthew’s voice drops, low and dangerous, a tone you’ve only ever heard him use when talking about losing a game he should’ve won. “I’m the guy who’s about to ruin your night if you don’t get the hell away from her.”

Oh, god. Oh, no. You can already feel this heading toward disaster, but your reaction time is slower than usual. The alcohol has turned your brain into mush, and you’re having a hard time deciding whether you’re more turned on by Matthew’s sudden intensity or mortified by the scene unfolding in front of you.

Ponytail Guy, to his credit (or lack thereof), doesn’t back down. “Relax, man,” he sneers, taking a step forward like he’s trying to prove something. “She’s not your property.”

It’s a bold move, considering the sheer size difference between him and Matthew. And judging by the dark look in Matthew’s eyes, you’re not sure this is going to end well for Mr. Ponytail.

You should probably intervene. You should definitely say something, do something to diffuse the tension before Matthew decks this guy in the middle of the club. But you’re still trying to figure out why the room keeps spinning, and why your feet feel like they’re glued to the floor.

“I’m not anyone’s property,” you slur, finally finding your voice. It’s not as commanding as you intended—it’s more of a drunken mumble, but hey, you’re trying. Matthew glances back at you, his expression softening for a split second before snapping back to hardened fury as he turns toward the guy again.

The guy doesn’t seem to take the hint. “She said she can handle herself,” he repeats, puffing out his chest like some budget version of an alpha male. “Why don’t you back off?”

There’s a pause, and for a split second, you think maybe—just maybe—Matthew’s going to back down, let it go, and this whole thing will blow over without anyone throwing hands.

But then, Matthew steps forward, closing the gap between him and the guy with a terrifying calm. “Listen carefully,” he says, his voice so low you can barely hear it over the pulsing music. “If you don’t walk away in the next five seconds, I’m going to make sure you regret ever coming here.”

Okay. Yep. This is escalating.

Your drunken mind is slow to react, but you know one thing for sure—this is not going to end well if it keeps going. You need to say something, anything to stop this from turning into a full-blown fight in the middle of the club.

“Matty, come on,” you say, stumbling a little as you step forward, reaching out to grab his arm. Your fingers barely graze his sleeve before you lose your balance and fall right into him. Smooth. So smooth. “Let’s just—let’s just go get a drink or… or something.”

Matthew catches you with ease, his hand steady on your waist as he looks down at you. “You’re drunk,” he mutters, his voice softer now. “You don’t need more drinks.”

You blink up at him, trying to focus on his face, but everything’s a little fuzzy. He’s so close—close enough that you can smell his cologne, a mix of something woodsy and clean, like he just stepped out of a forest after a fresh rain. God, why does he always smell so good?

“I’m not that drunk,” you protest weakly, even though you totally are. The tequila haze is thick, clouding your judgment, and you’re still thinking about those little pills in Ponytail Guy’s hand. It would be so easy to take one. Just one. You’d feel amazing, right? Invincible, even.

But Matthew’s grip tightens slightly on your waist, grounding you. “Let’s get out of here,” he says firmly, his eyes flicking back toward Ponytail Guy, who’s still lingering like a bad smell. “Before I do something stupid.”

Ponytail Guy seems to get the message this time. He mutters something under his breath—something about how you’re not worth the trouble—and slinks off into the crowd, disappearing in a sea of bodies and strobe lights.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The room still feels like it’s spinning, and your head is buzzing, but you’re suddenly grateful that Matthew’s here. Even if he’s being overprotective, even if you’re still mad that he’s acting like your personal bodyguard.

Matthew keeps his arm around your waist as he leads you out of the club, guiding you through the sweaty, writhing crowd. The cool night air hits you like a splash of cold water when you step outside, and you sway slightly, your legs feeling like jelly beneath you. The bass from the club still thrums in your chest, an echo of the chaos inside, but out here, the world feels quieter, slower.

“Okay, you’re definitely done for the night,” Matthew mutters, more to himself than to you, as he helps you toward a bench near the entrance. You plop down, the wooden slats cool against the backs of your legs. Your head tilts back, and you look up at the sky, where the city lights drown out most of the stars. The world is spinning, a slow, lazy carousel, and you close your eyes, trying to steady yourself.

Matthew kneels in front of you, his hands firm on your knees as he tries to get your attention. “Hey,” he says softly, and even in your drunken haze, you can feel the concern radiating off him. “You okay?”

You open your eyes and blink down at him, the edges of his face blurring slightly as you struggle to focus. He looks so serious, so worried, and it tugs at something deep inside you. You don’t want him to worry. Matthew’s supposed to be your fun, carefree partner in crime, not your babysitter.

“I’m fine,” you slur, trying to wave him off, but your hand misses the mark and flops uselessly against his shoulder. “Just… spinning. Everything’s spinning.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he replies dryly, his brow furrowing as he studies you. “Let’s get you home.”

Home. The word sounds nice, comforting, but also distant. Like it’s miles away instead of just a short walk. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Matthew’s chest, and he stiffens for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, holding you steady.

His heartbeat is strong and steady against your ear, a comforting rhythm that contrasts with the chaotic whirl in your head. He smells so good, like fresh pine and clean linen, and you take a deep breath, trying to anchor yourself to him, to the solidness of his presence.

“You’re so nice, Matty,” you mumble into his chest, your voice muffled by his shirt. “Like, really nice. And hot. Why are you so hot?”

You feel his chest rumble with a quiet laugh, but there’s a tension in the way he holds you, like he’s trying to keep his composure. “You’re drunk,” he says gently, one hand coming up to stroke your hair. “Let’s focus on getting you home, okay?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes wide and earnest. “No, seriously. You’re like… you’re like a hot lumberjack or something. All rugged and… and strong.”

Matthew’s lips twitch into a smile, but his eyes are still filled with that soft concern. “I think you’re mixing me up with someone else. I’m not that rugged.”

“You are,” you insist, your fingers fumbling to grip his shirt. The fabric is soft under your fingertips, and you run your hand down his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath. “You’re… you’re like… if a grizzly bear was also a teddy bear.”

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “That makes no sense.”

“It does,” you argue, though your voice is thick and sluggish. “’Cause you’re big and strong, but also… also soft and warm. Like, I just wanna hug you forever.”

You press yourself closer to him, your face nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His skin is warm, and you can feel the faint prickle of stubble against your cheek. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you sigh contentedly, your body relaxing into him.

“Come on,” Matthew says, his voice a little strained now as he tries to coax you to your feet. “Let’s get you home.”

But you don’t want to move. You’re too comfortable here, wrapped up in his scent, his warmth. It’s like being swaddled in a blanket made of pure safety and affection. Why would you want to leave that?

“Nooo,” you whine, your arms tightening around his neck. “Wanna stay here. With you.”

Matthew sighs, though there’s a hint of a smile in his voice. “You can stay with me, but let’s at least get you up.”

He stands, pulling you up with him, and you stagger slightly, your legs unsteady. He keeps a firm grip on you, one arm around your waist as he starts guiding you down the street. The city is a blur of neon lights and passing cars, and you lean heavily into him, your head lolling against his shoulder.

“Okay, but do you know how hot you are?” you ask, your voice soft and dreamy. “Like, I’m pretty sure you’re the hottest guy in Calgary. And Miami, or… wherever it is you’re playing now.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” he says, though there’s a faint blush creeping up his neck. “And talking nonsense.”

“I’m not,” you insist, pouting up at him. “You’re so sexy. And nice. And I bet you’re really good at kissing.”

Matthew clears his throat, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “Let’s not talk about that right now.”

“Why not?” you press, your eyes half-lidded as you gaze up at him. “’Cause I bet you’re amazing at it. Like… like you know exactly what to do with your hands and your tongue and…” Your voice trails off into a giggle as you try to imagine it, but your thoughts are too jumbled to form a clear picture.

Matthew doesn’t respond, his jaw clenched as he focuses on getting you down the street. You don’t notice the tension in his shoulders, too lost in your drunken haze to pick up on the way he’s fighting to keep his composure. All you can think about is how close he is, how solid and warm he feels next to you.

Matthew unlocks the door to your apartment with one hand, the other still holding you steady against his side. The hallway is dim, the faint hum of the city outside seeping through the walls, and the familiar smell of your home—clean linen and a hint of vanilla—greets you as you step inside. But you’re too lost in the comforting haze of alcohol and the warmth of Matthew’s body to notice much else.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” you mumble, your words slurring together as you nuzzle closer to his neck. “Like, really amazing. And hot. So, so fucking hot.”

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your cheek as he guides you through the living room and toward your bedroom. “Yeah, you’ve mentioned that a few times,” he says, but there’s a tightness in his voice, like he’s trying to keep his emotions in check.

Your head spins as you lean heavily into him, your body swaying with the remnants of the alcohol coursing through your system. The room seems to tilt slightly, and you cling to Matthew, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

He helps you sit on the edge of your bed, kneeling down in front of you as he starts to untie the laces of your shoes. The motion is gentle, almost tender, and you watch him through half-lidded eyes, your vision blurry and unfocused. But even in your drunken haze, you can see the concentration on his face, the way his brows knit together as he works to loosen the knots.

“You’re… you’re the best, Matty,” you mumble, your voice thick with affection. Your words come out slurred, but the sentiment behind them is clear. “So good to me. Always so good.”

Matthew lets out a soft chuckle, but there’s something strained in the sound, like he’s trying to hold back a flood of emotions. “Just trying to make sure you don’t sleep in your shoes,” he says, his voice low and calm as he pulls off your first sneaker, setting it aside before moving on to the next.

Your head lolls to the side as you watch him, your gaze tracing the lines of his face, the curve of his jaw, the way his lashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks. He’s so close, so solid and warm, and you feel an overwhelming surge of affection well up inside you. It’s like a tidal wave, crashing over you and drowning out everything else.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur, your fingers trailing down the side of his face, clumsily brushing against the stubble on his cheek. The texture sends a shiver through you, a spark of electricity that ignites something deep in your chest. “I don’t deserve you, Matty.”

Matthew’s hands still for a moment, the laces of your shoe halfway undone. He looks up at you, his expression soft but serious, and there’s something in his eyes that makes your heart squeeze. “You deserve the world,” he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper, as if he’s afraid of saying it too loud. “And more.”

Your chest tightens at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the fog in your mind. It’s like he’s seeing right through you, straight to the core of who you are, and it’s both exhilarating and terrifying. You’re not used to being seen like this, not used to someone looking at you with such raw, unfiltered care.

He keeps moving, finishing with your shoes and gently lifting your legs onto the bed, his touch careful and precise. He doesn’t respond to your words, but there’s a tenderness in his actions that speaks louder than any reply. He’s taking care of you, making sure you’re comfortable, and that’s all you can ask for right now.

“Let’s get you ready for bed,” he says softly, his voice soothing as he reaches for the hem of your shirt. “You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.”

You let him lift the fabric over your head, your arms limp and uncooperative, but he’s patient, guiding you through the motions with practiced ease. You’re left in your underwear, feeling oddly vulnerable but also safe in his presence. There’s no judgment in his eyes, no discomfort—just pure, unadulterated care.

He’s trying to focus, to keep things as platonic as possible, but your touch, your words—they’re making it difficult. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches for your pajamas, and you can’t help but notice the way his breath hitches when your fingers brush against his.

“Matty, you’re so warm,” you mumble, your voice thick and slurred. You cling to his arm, burying your face in the crook of his elbow. “And soft. Like… like a big, comfy pillow.”

His chuckle is soft, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s trying to keep himself from reacting too much. “That’s a new one,” he says, his voice a little strained as he helps you into your pajamas. “Never been compared to a pillow before.”

You giggle, your fingers fumbling with the hem of his shirt as you try to pull him closer. “But you are! So warm and nice. And you smell so good…”

He’s trying so hard to keep things light, but your words are cutting through his defenses, making him acutely aware of every little touch, every breath you take. He knows you’re drunk, knows you won’t remember half of this in the morning, but that doesn’t stop the way his heart clenches in his chest at your every compliment.

“Let’s get you into bed, okay?” he says softly, brushing your hair back from your face with gentle fingers. “You need to sleep this off.”

But you’re not ready to sleep, not yet. There’s too much you want to say, too much you’ve been keeping bottled up. The alcohol has loosened your tongue, and you find yourself blurting out things you’d never have the courage to say otherwise.

“I love this shirt,” you mumble, nuzzling into the fabric as he helps you pull it over your head. “Smells like you. No matter how much I wash it, always smells like you…”

He freezes, his hands stilling on your shoulders as your words sink in. “What do you mean?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blink up at him, your vision blurry but your heart full of unspoken emotions. “It’s yours,” you admit, your words tumbling out in a rush. “I took it before you moved away. Couldn’t… couldn’t stand the thought of not having you with me, so I… I took it.”

The room feels like it’s holding its breath, the air thick with the weight of your confession. Matthew’s grip on your shoulders tightens slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you’re joking, but all he sees is the raw honesty in your gaze.

“Yeah, it is,” he says, his voice rough. “I thought I lost it.”

His hands tighten on your shoulders, a grounding touch as he steadies himself. He can’t dwell on that now, not with you looking at him like that—soft, bleary-eyed, and so heartbreakingly vulnerable.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he helps you finish pulling the shirt over your head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Your arms flop uselessly as he tugs the shirt down, your drunken limbs not cooperating, but Matthew’s hands are steady, guiding you with a gentleness that makes your heart swell.

“Matty…” you mumble, your voice trailing off as he helps you stand, one arm wrapped securely around your waist. The world tilts slightly, and you grip his shirt, your fingers curling into the soft fabric as you try to steady yourself.

“I’ve got you,” he reassures, his voice a steady murmur against your ear. He’s so close, so solid, and you can feel the warmth radiating off him in waves, soothing the edges of your spinning thoughts.

He leads you to the bathroom, each step slow and careful as he supports your weight. The cool tiles under your bare feet send a shiver up your spine, and you lean more heavily into him, your head lolling against his shoulder. His scent wraps around you like a blanket, and you close your eyes, savoring the comfort of his presence.

Matthew lifts you up onto the counter with ease, standing between your legs. His fingers brush your cheek, tilting your face up so you can meet his gaze, and even through the fog in your mind, you can see the worry etched in the lines of his face.

“I’m just going to help you clean up, okay?” he says softly, his thumb stroking your cheek in a soothing rhythm. “Then you can get some sleep.”

You nod, the motion making your head spin, but you don’t care. All you want is to be close to him, to feel his hands on you, gentle and caring. You let your eyes flutter closed as he reaches for a makeup wipe, the cool cloth sliding over your skin as he carefully removes the remnants of the night. “God, why do you even wear all this gunk anyway?” he mutters, more to himself than anything.

Matthew’s fingers move with such tenderness, tracing over your skin with the makeup wipe, and you can’t help but giggle softly as the cool cloth sweeps across your cheek. The sensation is oddly comforting, like he’s erasing more than just makeup—he’s wiping away the stress, the insecurities, the fear that’s been knotted in your chest for far too long.

You blink up at him, watching through half-lidded eyes as his brows furrow in concentration. His touch is so delicate, so reverent, like you’re something fragile that he needs to take care of. The thought makes warmth bloom in your chest, spreading through your veins until it tingles in your fingertips. You can’t resist reaching out, your hand finding his on your face, and you let your thumb rub along the edge of his wrist. The soft, steady thrum of his pulse under your fingertips makes you sigh, content and drowsy.

"You're so... nice," you slur, even though you’ve said it about a million times tonight. "Like, really nice. And strong. And... you smell good."

Matthew doesn’t say anything, just hums softly in acknowledgment as he moves on to brushing your teeth. He grabs your toothbrush, carefully squeezing the toothpaste onto it like he’s done this a thousand times before. The bristles hit your teeth, and you wrinkle your nose, the minty taste sharp against your tongue. You attempt to brush, but your hand is wobbly, barely cooperating, and soon enough, Matthew’s hand covers yours, guiding the motion in slow, methodical circles.

You close your eyes, letting him take over, and your mind drifts again, this time to all the little things you’ve never said, all the feelings you’ve buried because they’re too big, too scary to voice. But now, with him here, being so sweet and careful, the words come tumbling out before you can stop them.

“I think about you all the time, you know,” you confess, your voice muffled by the toothbrush still in your mouth. “Like, all the time. It’s... it’s stupid. But I do.”

He pauses, his hand stilling for just a moment, and you blink up at him, your gaze fuzzy but earnest. His eyes meet yours, and even through the haze of alcohol, you can see the way his expression softens, something tender and raw flickering across his face.

“I know,” he says quietly, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place. “I think about you too.”

The admission settles over you like a warm blanket, comforting and soft, and you can’t help the dopey smile that stretches across your face. “Good,” you mumble, your words slurring together as the toothbrush is finally taken from your mouth. “’Cause I’m crazy about you, Matty. Like, really crazy. Like... I wanna marry you, crazy.”

Matthew’s breath catches in his throat as your words hang in the air, the room suddenly feeling too small, too warm, like the very walls are leaning in to listen. “I wanna marry you, crazy,” you’ve just said, and the words are like a punch to his gut—equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

He forces himself to focus, to stay grounded in the moment, because you’re here, drunk and vulnerable, and he can’t afford to lose his head, even if his heart is racing like it’s trying to break free from his chest.

You’re still smiling up at him, your eyes droopy but sparkling with the kind of affection that only comes when the alcohol strips away every last ounce of inhibition. He can’t help but smile back, his heart squeezing at how utterly adorable you look, all soft and pliant, just a little messy around the edges.

“Marry me, huh?” he teases, trying to keep his voice light as he puts away the toothbrush and reaches for the hairbrush. “Didn’t know you were planning on proposing tonight.”

You giggle, a sound so sweet it sends a shiver down his spine. “Mmmm, maybe…” you mumble, swaying slightly as you lean forward, your hands finding purchase on his chest. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, and you let out a contented sigh. “You’d say yes, right? You… you love me, right?”

The question is so simple, so innocent, and yet it carries the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. Matthew swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry, and he’s thankful you’re too drunk to notice the way his hands tremble slightly as he starts to brush your hair.

He feels like his heart might burst from the sheer force of how much he adores you, and he has to blink back the sudden sting of tears that threaten to well up. You’re so open, so honest in this state, and it’s both a blessing and a curse. He doesn’t deserve this—doesn’t deserve you—but God, he wants you so badly it hurts.

The brush catches on a small tangle, and you whimper, the sound so pitiful that it pulls him out of his thoughts. “Sorry, sorry,” he murmurs, quickly working the knot out with his fingers before continuing. He can feel you relaxing more and more with each stroke, your body leaning into his as if you’re trying to meld into him.

You’re so beautiful to him, even like this—especially like this. Hair tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy from the alcohol. You’re vulnerable, open in a way that makes Matthew’s throat tighten. He’s never seen you like this, not really, and he’s terrified that if he blinks, you’ll disappear, or worse, that this version of you will be gone by morning.

He’s trying so hard to keep things platonic, to not let his feelings slip through, but every brush of your fingers against his skin, every slurred word of affection, makes it harder to keep the walls up.

His thumb brushes against your cheek again, and he can’t help but smile at the way you nuzzle into his hand, like a cat seeking warmth. “You’re gonna feel so embarrassed in the morning,” he murmurs, voice low and fond. “But you’re lucky I’m such a good friend, huh?”

You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in a way that makes his chest tighten. “I’m not embarrassed,” you say, words slurred but insistent. “I’m just being honest. You’re amazing, Matty. The best friend ever.”

He chuckles, a soft sound that rumbles in his chest, and he can’t help but shake his head. “Yeah, well, I try,” he says lightly, though his heart is heavy. “Let’s get you to bed, alright?”

You whine, a soft sound that tugs at his heartstrings. “Don’t wanna sleep yet,” you mumble, your hands fisting in his shirt. “Wanna stay with you. Wanna… talk.”

Matthew sighs, but it’s more fond exasperation than anything else. “You can talk to me all you want tomorrow,” he says gently. “Right now, you need to rest.”

But you’re not having it. Your grip on his shirt tightens, and you look up at him with those big, glassy eyes that make his resolve waver. “Please, Matty,” you whisper, voice so soft and pleading it makes his heart clench painfully. “Just… stay with me a little longer. Please?”

And damn it, how can he say no to that? How can he say no to you, when you’re looking at him like that, like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded in the spinning world around you?

“Alright,” he relents, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just for a little bit, okay? Then you really need to sleep.”

You nod eagerly, a bright smile spreading across your face, and he can’t help but mirror it, his own smile soft and adoring. He guides you back to the bed, helping you sit down gently, and you tug him down beside you, your hands still clutching his shirt like a lifeline.

You can feel the world spinning in slow, lazy circles as you nuzzle into Matthew’s shoulder, your hands weaving through his messy curls. They’re soft and unruly, just like you imagined. You’ve always wanted to do this, to run your fingers through his hair and tell him he looks like some sort of Disney prince that got lost on his way to a ball.

“I love your hair,” you mumble into his shoulder, your words slurring slightly as the alcohol works its magic. “’S..so fluffy, like a… like a golden retriever.”

Matthew laughs, the sound vibrating against your cheek where it rests on his shoulder, and you smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the sound. You’ve always loved his laugh—how it’s deep and rich, like dark chocolate, and makes your heart do weird, fluttery things that you’re definitely not thinking about right now. Nope, not at all.

“You’re crazy,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words. If anything, he sounds amused, fond even, like he’s secretly enjoying this, watching you unravel and spill your guts like you’re auditioning for some tragic role in a romance movie.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers still tangled in his hair as you turn your head slightly to look up at him. He’s so close, his face just inches from yours, and you can see every detail—the flecks of gold in his blue eyes, the way his lips quirk up at the corners, and that stupid little dimple that only shows up when he’s genuinely smiling. It’s not fair how pretty he is. It’s not fair that he gets to be your best friend and also make your heart do that weird, fluttery thing you’re definitely not thinking about.

“Why are you so pretty?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not fair. You should be illegal.”

Matthew’s eyes widen slightly, and you can see the faintest hint of pink creeping up his neck. “Pretty?” he repeats, his voice a little strained, like he’s not sure if you’re serious or just really, really drunk. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me pretty before.”

“Well, they should,” you insist, your fingers curling tighter in his hair as if to emphasize your point. “You’re like… like a prince or something. A really hot prince who’s also really nice and sweet and—”

Matthew clears his throat, his face turning a deeper shade of red, and you giggle, the sound light and airy. You don’t know why he’s so embarrassed. It’s not like you’re saying anything that isn’t true. He is pretty. And nice. And sweet. And also really, really hot, which you’re definitely not thinking about right now. Nope, not at all.

“Okay, okay,” he says, cutting you off before you can go on another drunken tangent. “I think that’s enough compliments for one night.”

You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in a way that you know drives him crazy because he’s always telling you to stop doing it. “But I’m not done,” you protest, your voice whiny and petulant. “You’re… you’re the best, Matty. The best friend ever. And I just… I just love you so much.”

The words are out before you can stop them, and you immediately feel a flush creeping up your cheeks, hot and mortifying. Did you really just say that? Did you really just blurt out your deepest, darkest secret like it’s no big deal? God, you’re an idiot. A drunk, stupid idiot who can’t keep her mouth shut.

Matthew is silent, his gaze soft as he watches you, and you can feel your heart racing in your chest, the thump-thump-thump almost deafening in the quiet room. You want to crawl under a rock and die, or maybe just pass out and pretend this never happened. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.

But before you can make your escape, Matthew reaches up, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he tilts your head up to look at him. His thumb brushes against your skin, soft and warm, and you shiver at the touch, your breath catching in your throat.

“I love you too,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know that, right? You’re my best friend, and I… I care about you a lot.”

You blink up at him, your vision swimming slightly as you try to process his words. He loves you. He cares about you. But… does he love you like you love him? Does he feel that weird, fluttery thing in his chest when you’re around, or is that just a you problem?

Before you can ask, Matthew is guiding you back down onto the bed, his touch gentle as he tucks you in, pulling the covers up around your shoulders. You’re too tired to protest, your eyelids suddenly feeling heavy, and you let out a soft sigh, your head sinking into the pillow.

“Sleep, okay?” Matthew murmurs, his hand brushing a stray piece of hair out of your face. “We can talk more in the morning.”

You want to argue, to tell him that you’re not done, that there’s so much more you need to say, but your body has other plans, and before you know it, you’re drifting off, the sound of Matthew’s steady breathing lulling you to sleep.

As you drift off, you can feel his hand resting on your head, his thumb brushing softly against your temple. The last thing you hear before sleep pulls you under is his voice, quiet and filled with something you can’t quite place.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, crazy girl,” he whispers, and then everything fades into darkness, his touch the only thing anchoring you to the world.

[writingdisposal]

Vying (Alastor x Gn!Reader x Vox)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

cw: mentions of violence, drugs and vulgar language (minor stuff, nothing extreme)

wc: 3,750

Part 2

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Hell's latest arrival is fascinating indeed. They have already accumulated a vast amount of souls in an alarmingly short period of time. It has even the Vees in a mild panic as they discuss the matter in the conference room of Vox Tech Interprise.

"How come no one has even seen 'em?" Vox groaned, leaning back in his chair. Valentino was playing around with a few pills. "I don't know, but some of my whores have gone missing," he crushes a pill in frustration as he spat out, "I don't enjoy some new-comer threatening my business." However Velvet seemed the least bothered by it. She scrolled on her phone, whilst the guys kept discussing how to move forward. According to the web forums, imps and sinners alike have been attacked. "And none of your fancy cameras caught them?" Valentino asked, a snicker escaping his lips, "Looks like they weren't worth all that money..." Vox shot him a glare. White noise quietly filled the room before dying down again.

Sighing Vox replied, "That's why I'm so fucking confused! No matter who, I was able to track 'em..." "Heh, sounds like the whole Radio Demon thing all over again," Velvet remarked, still scrolling away on her phone. Vox clenched his fists. Valentino noticed and whistled lowly, "Carefule sweetheart, you're breaking the TV again." "Why are you even here if you're not bothered by the situation?" Vox snarled. Giggling Velvet answered, "Why shouldn't I watch you two losers panic over some nobody?" "This 'nobody' has killed several sinners and is on track to become a new Overlord if this continues," Vox retorted, standing up to leave the conference room, "it's going to be bad for business." Valentino continued fiddling with the drugs, whilst Velvet just hummed, "Don't get too upset though, darling!" Vox grumbled, leaving as swiftly as possible.

Either this new arrival will pose a threat to the business or become a new ally of the Vees, there is no other way to look at it, at least for Vox. Now that the damn Radio Demon is also back in town, this new-comer could also attract his attention. Sighing deeply, Vox can only hope Alastor won't humour their existence and just ignore it instead of making them sell their soul away. The infamous Radio Demon getting even stronger. Vox couldn't imagine how fucking annoying that would be. He was also expecting the hotel to take priority over the new-comer, at least for a little while.

Typing away on his broad computer, Vox quickly skimed through his camera systems in case they caught something. They caught no attack, however an unfamiliar figure appeared on screen. It was a far leap, that this was the power hungry new-comer, but it was at least something to go off on he supposed. Keeping a close eye on them, Vox continued stalking their moving. They are of a fairly small frame for sinners. Not necessarily petite, but small enough for it to be noteworthy. Their appearance resembles that of a beaver, Vox noted. They picked something up from the ground. A phone perhaps? To be honest, he thought he was wasting time. They were just aimlessly walking around and now seem to be entering an alleyway? Curiosity got the better of him and Vox switched into the right camera.

The scene before him shocked his very core. The one possibility he hoped to not unfold was staring right back at him. Alastor stood before them. His grin was as bright as ever. Both of them were conversing, but the camera was far high up, picking up only little audio. Vox was fuming, slamming his fists on the table. Should he go and interrupt them or just watch them? Alastor didn't notice the camera yet, seeing as how the screen was still clear. In the end, he opted to keep watching them.

In the meantime, Alastor was quite amused by the little copycat in front of him. "My, my! It seems my legacy is still intact on earth," Alastor declared proudly. The other sinner could only cross their arms. "Your 'legacy' is only known because you got caught," they snarled, pointing a thumb to their chest, "I never got caught! Only that wretched heart of mine failed me!" Alastor gripped his staff tighter as his grin started straining. "Carefule now, sweetheart. My death is a touchy subject," he warned, the static noise slightly increasing. They only rolled their eyes, Alastor however heaved a breath to calm down. "Nevertheless, you are just like me! Using the same style and method as I used to," he remarked. Clenching their fists, ready to fight, the other sinner barked, "I'm (Y/n)! I'm more than you! What the fuck is your problem? What do you want from me?" The Overlord twirled his staff as he adjusted his coat and said cheerfully, "Well you see, my dear! I've come with an offer." (Y/n) raised an eyebrow, but ultimately relaxed.

"I've noticed your rapid killing spree, yet again reminding me of the simpler times when I first arrived in hell," Alastor chuckled, a wide smirk etching on his face, "I thought to myself, a talented soul such as yourself would need a good ally to guide them through the furious flames of Hell, so I wanted to offer my services!" "No thanks," (Y/n) curtly answered, "I don't want to keep hearing your yapping." Alastor shrugged, "What a shame, I would have preferred to use no violence." Before the new-comer could react, Alastor pinned them up against the wall with his shadow arms. (Y/n) struggled against the demon's might, while Alastor stepped forward slowly. "I think you misunderstood, dear," he explained, static noise following his voice, "I need your allyship and I believe it to be quite beneficial for you too." "Why? 'Cause you won't kill me? I don't care!" (Y/n) shot back. Alastor snickered, but before his lips let another word leave, white noise fills the air.

Vox slides through the air and finally lands behind Alastor. He adjusted his suit before speaking, "Radio Demon." (Y/n) saw Alastor's grin exceedingly strain. He turned his head before fully facing the other Overlord. "Can't you see we are busy here?" Alastor asked irritated. "What the fuck are doing with the new-comer?" Vox replied. Clicking his tongue, Alastor retorted, "That is none of your business. Now shoo, we still have matters to discuss." "You're not discussing shit without me!" Vox barked, "I want them for myself and for the company." "Oh, piss off!" Alastor hissed, his static noise increasing significantly, "Your little group was too late and now I got to them first." "My Vees are more capable of taking such a soul than your old ass!" "Why you little-" Alastor stopped as he realised (Y/n) left his grip.

"How?" Vox exclaimed. He looked around the alleyway before they both hear a voice from above. "You guys suck!" They yelled from the rooftop, "It's gonna be on my terms if I wanna see you again, so leave me alone!" Swiftly they left, leaving the two Overlords simmering in anger. Vox sighed in defeat, "I guess, I'm taking my leave- Huh?!" The camera which got him here in the first place was now destroyed and hanging by merely a single cable. He looked to his side, seeing Alastor's leaving figure wave dismissivly without another glance. If Vox's internalt cooling system wasn't that effective, he would have steam escaping his frame right now.

After leaving the alleyway, Alastor made his way back to the hotel. How troublesome for Vox to show up. Alastor would have preferred this interest of his to not get noticed by Vox and subsequently by the other Vees. A contract with (Y/n) would certainly have been most ideal, but Alastor was ready to accept just about anything as long as they followed his lead. He viewed them like a little puppy and a very cute one at that. They keep on barking, but sound far too adorable to be threatening. "Maybe," Alastor thought, "we can even expand our relationship to something more proper." It was an indearing image to have them be sweet to him, especially since they have such a feisty personality. He would even graciously offer to be sweet as well. Ah, to get to that point will be difficult, but so thrilling as well!

His thoughts wandered back to the hotel. Charlie went on and on about how wonderful it would be for this 'oh-so' tortured soul to find themself healing in the hotel, so that also could have helped with his relations to her too. Alastor gripped his staff tighter. But of course that won't happen because of that noisy little picture box. The next time he sees that good for nothing demon, he is going to make him remember what it means to get on the Radio Demon's bad side.

Nevertheless Alastor kept his pace brisk and his destination in mind. "After that disaster, whatever chaos is happening in the hotel will probably lighten up the mood," he mused, grinning with far more genuine care. For what it's worth, the hotel has so far always been mildly entertaining at least. "Oh shit," a voice said as soon as Alastor entered. Before him stood (Y/n) who apparently just secured a place in the hotel, assuming by Charlie's big smile. Laughing hysterically, the Overlord couldn't help saying, "I thought you wanted to be left alone? Change of heart, my dear?" (Y/n)'s expression soured at the mocking display, while Charlie looked confused. "Wait do you guys know each other?" she asked, gazing between the both of you. "Yeah, we met. That fucker pinned me up against a wall," (Y/n) explained, frowning at Alastor who had stoped laughing, but still had a shit eating grin on his face.

"Oooh, kinky~," Angeldust remarked. Alastor briefly glanced at him before resuming to look at (Y/n). "So you're also staying at this wonderful establishment?" He asked, loving the way their eyes widened at the revelation. "Not anymore," they answered curtly, making their way out of the door. "Wait! Hold on!" Charlie intervened, placing a hand on their shoulder, "I'm sure we can look past this!" "No, not as long as that guy apologises for stalking me and pining me up against that wall!" (Y/n) stated, crossing their arms. Charlie looked at Alastor. Alastor looked at Charlie. He frowned. "You can't possibly be serious?" "Come on! It is the only way to fix the damage," Charlie expressed, placing her hands on her chest, "I know it's difficult to admit when we were wrong, but it is never too late to start doing the right thing." Alastor rolled his eyes. "Very well, as you wish," he cleared his throat, fixing his gaze upon (Y/n), "I apologise for my rude and improper behaviour. It won't happen again."

(Y/n) relaxes a little. Although she didn't really believe his apology, Charlie being able to keep him in check was good enough for now. "However!" Alastor continued, "I want you to keep in mind, my behaviour was purely made out of good intentions." "That's a lie if I ever heard one...," Husk chimed in dismissivly. Alastor shot him a small glare which made Husk turn away. Charlie was beaming, "See? We can all become good friends!" "I'd be fine with settling for acquaintances," (Y/n) stated, smiling for the first time since arriving in hell. "Just fine by me, darling," Alastor commented, "How about I give you a tour of the hotel? I know my way around here quite well." (Y/n) wanted to decline, however upon seeing Charlie's pleading eyes, they accepted.

"Wonderful! Wonderful!" Alastor clasped his hands together, "Let's start immediately, shall we?" He extended his arm for (Y/n) to interlink it and hesitantly they did. As they are making their way through the hall, (Y/n) hears Angeldust lowly whistle, "Damn, wouldn't have thought creepy eyes to have the hots for someone..." Groaning quietly, (Y/n) tried ignoring that statement. As soon as Charlie was out of sight, (Y/n) stopped holding onto Alastor's arm. He allowed it, continuing to talk about the hotel. They stopped at one particular room. Alastor taped on the door. "This shall be your room! Allow me," he said, opening the door and letting them in first.

The room was definitely spacious. A cushy queen-sized bed accompanied by a cute nightstand. "Sweet!" (Y/n) exclaimed, jumping face first into the bed. Groaning they commented in muffles, "So much comfier than my old bed..." Rolling onto their back, they sat up and looked more around. In the corner there was a closet as well as a nice couch coupled with matching table. A TV stood in front of the bed. However Alastor noticed the TV too and by the snap of his fingers replaced it with an old fashioned radio. It looked as stylish as the man himself, but (Y/n) would have definitely preferred the TV. "Hey! Why did you replace the TV?" "Well, I believe it to be way more entertaining than that picture box!" Alastor explained, adding, "You also know you will never have someone listen in on your conversations." Slumping back onto the bed, (Y/n) groaned obnoxiously loud. Instead of finding it annoying, Alastor merely laughed at the childish display.

"You can be quite cute when you're less feisty," he commented mindlessly. (Y/n) sat up straight. They looked at him. How can he make such a comment after attacking them? "Is this all a game to you or something?" They asked, genuinely confused at the disconnect this Overlord had to their situation. Alastor cleared his throat, adverting his gaze. "I do not view it like that necessarily, but I suppose the analogy might still work," the Demon began, stepping closer and closer to the bed, "The feistier you get, the more interested I become, so I win. You act more docile and you will still have to deal with me, so you continue losing." "But if I become 'docile' as you put it, you will lose interest, won't you?" (Y/n) asked, backing away slightly as Alastor's grin seemed to reach his eyes again.

"If that's what you believe, sure," he chuckled, "I might lose interest." Scowling deeply, (Y/n) hoped for their looks to kill. Sadly Alastor still stood before them and continued, "You know, I only mean well." "Yeah right," they retorted sarcastically, rolling their eyes. "No, no," he replied, taking a seat on the bed, "I'm quite serious, dear." (Y/n) raised an eyebrow, saying, "So that's why you attacked me? You make no sense!" "Alright, allow me to explain my thoughts," Alastor began, placing his staff to the side, "There are many dangers as well as quirks in hell a new-comer such as yourself wouldn't know." He gazed in (Y/n)'s eyes. Their shine reminded him of the stars his mother and he would wish upon. Alastor continued, smiling softly, "I mean, you thought I could kill you for example." (Y/n)'s eyes widened. "You can't?" They asked shocked.

Alastor shook his head, "No, not exactly. I do have ways to eliminate folks, but not to kill them for good. That specialty is reserved for angels only." Giving him a questioning look, (Y/n) silently asked for him to elaborate. Alastor did, explaining how the extermination takes place every year. Well, now it happens every 6 months. "Wow, yeah no," (Y/n) murmered, scratching their head, "I wouldn't have known that..." They scowled, "But wait, that doesn't explain you trying to force me into some allyship?" Chuckling Alastor explained, "That was far too forward, I'll admit. I just couldn't help, but find having my little fan in a contract with me to be most adorable." "I'm still not your fan, or copycat for that matter," (Y/n) pointed out, smiling at his ridiculous behaviour.

Alastor shrugged, "I suppose we will never come to an agreement on that." The Demon stood up before remembering something. "Oh! On that note, you might want to visit the cannibal district," Alastor suggested, loving the way their eyes lit up, "I'll gladly accompany you anytime you wish." (Y/n) nodded, joking that he should pay for their visit as an actual apology. Surprisingly Alastor agreed, calling it a 'rendezvous'. "Sure, as long as you pay, I don't care what you call it," (Y/n) remarked, finally relaxing on their bed. "Then that's settled!" Alastor declared, making his way out of the door after adding, "If you need me, I'll be in my room right across the hall." That made (Y/n) look at his retreating figure with wide eyes. This motherfucker planned this right from the get-go. What clever little asshole...

Ah, whatever! The guy is kind of okay now in (Y/n)'s eyes. I mean, he did give them solid information about this place, so that's good. Pulling out the phone, they stole, the sinner fiddled with the password before opening it. The background wallpaper was some red guy with a wolf? Werewolf? "I guess, I can ask Alastor about the creatures here...," They thought, mindlessly scrolling through the phone and occasionally changing bits and pieces. Their thoughts circled back to what Alastor said with how someone can listen into their conversations. Was he referring to that TV guy? And does this apply to anything electronic like a phone? I mean, a radio is also powered by electricity, but Alastor is fine with those, so maybe it's only TVs.

Chuckling to themself, (Y/n) muttered under their breath, "That TV guy was so lame... Showed up to just bitch..." White noise fills the room after the words leave their lips. Through their phone Vox entered the room. "Hey! That was uncalled for!" He yelled, pointing at (Y/n) who sat up on the bed with a grin. "I figured you were a loser, but you definitly topped expectations," they giggled, finding his flushed face hilarious. Vox was about to retort, but instead he cleared his throat. He lowly chuckled, "I think we met on the wrong foot, let's start fresh." Stepping closer, Vox took the opportunity to take (Y/n)'s hand and give it a quick peck. "The name is Vox," he looked up at them through hooded eyes, "I'm the CEO of VoxTech." (Y/n) retrieved their hand, wiping it on the bedsheets and murmuring a quiet 'ew'.

Vox frowned, but quickly bounced back with a smirk. "I told you, you suck," they reminded him, growling, "And if I wanna get to know you, it would have to be on my terms. Now leave before I show you what I'm capable of." "Oh, I know what you're capable of," Vox smiled devilishly, "my cameras caught a good handful of your attacks. It was truly fascinating to watch you eat those souls up." (Y/n) quirked an eyebrow, "You done?" Vox continued, "So I want you to join my team, the Vees. You will experience great benefits from it, I can assure you." "I don't wanna join some team. Alastor is already enough to deal with for now," (Y/n) explained, turning their back to Vox, so they could continue playing around with the phone.

"Hey!" Vox's voice was a little distorted. He turned (Y/n) to their back, effectively pinning their shoulders. "That old-timey freak is a waste of time. If you go with me, I can open any door you want! Everything will lay beneath our feet! All you have to do is join me," Vox explained, sparks of electricity flying through the air as he tightened his grip. (Y/n) blushed a little due to the closeness, adverting their gaze. Expecting some sort of rebuttal, Vox didn't understand their reaction. As he allowed himself to actually think for a moment longer, he realised the position, he put them in. "Oh wait, shit," Vox immediately backed away, stuttering, "I-I didn't mean to- Fuck, I blew it..." "I make that decision, mind you," (Y/n) reminded him, making Vox's eyes wide. "So you're considering my proposal?" He asked, his voice laced with pure anticipation.

(Y/n) couldn't help, but find the behaviour mildly amusing. If Vox had a tail, it would be walking back and forth right now. "I guess, I'll think about," they replied, noting the huge grin on Vox's face, "But I don't you to be around me and listening into my conversations. Especially those with Alastor's." Pouting Vox groaned in annoyance. "If you don't follow that, I will not only refrain from joining the... your team, I will also make sure to eat your soul up and leave no crumbs," (Y/n) threatened, making Vox chuckle. "Sure, whatever. As long as you consider me, I can follow that small request," Vox said, stretching his arms, "Well! I'm gonna take my leave now." Smiling softly Vox looked into (Y/n)'s eyes, "It was a pleasure speaking to you, sweetheart." And with a snap of his fingers he left as he came, finally leaving (Y/n) alone.

Heaving a big sigh, the sinner relaxed once again. What a weird guy... "He is just like a puppy...," they thought, smiling gently. Hell really is chaotic, as expected, but this certainly tops expectations. (Y/n) can't wait for what Hell has in store for them.