#outside with it on WITH someone he might like it more

[heavenlyhischier]

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

word count: 4.9k

summary: The one where you run into the guy who makes you believe in love all over again.

warnings: kissing, strangers to friends to lovers where they’re both a little oblivious, game mentioned is the game against philly with luke's ot goal

note: no angst?? who am i?? thank you maddy for answering my questions about luke so i could make this as accurate as possible ily

Someone once said that love comes when you least expect it and when you’re not looking for it, but you used to never believe that. You used to think that love was something you always searched for in others, that love was something everyone wanted, but you stopped believing that after it kept leaving you stranded and broken. You stopped looking for romantic love, choosing to believe that maybe it wasn’t meant for you, until one day when you’re quite literally trampled by the boy that made you believe in it all over again.

Walking the path near the water was one of your favorite pastimes since you’ve moved to the unfamiliar city. It was something that always brought you a sense of serenity whenever reality became a little too overbearing, or when you just needed a space to breathe after a particularly straining day at work. It was also your favorite way to start off your day whenever you had the time. Always a coffee in hand as you savored the peacefulness before the day truly began.

Today was one of the fortunate days when the weather wasn’t too cold that you needed more than a light jacket when you stepped outside. There weren't many people out and about as the sun had barely risen, but there were still a handful on their morning jogs or simply relaxing on the benches as they read a book. You had only looked away from the path in front of you for a brief second when you collided with something, or rather someone, and it sent your barely drank coffee to the ground, spilling all over your shoes.

“Shit,” You heard a boyish voice exclaim, his hands grasping at your biceps to keep you upright, “I’m so sorry!”

You knew it wasn’t on purpose, but you couldn’t help but grow a slight annoyance as you stared at the dropped drink. It wasn’t entirely his fault because you weren’t paying attention either and it wasn’t like you had just bought the coffee, you were just slow to drink it. Looking up at the person in front of you, your breath hitched in your throat when you saw one of the cutest guys you’d seen in the city yet. Though he looked slightly familiar, you just couldn’t place where you might have seen him.

He had a sympathetic, small smile on his face as he awkwardly dropped his hands back to his side. He had a beanie covering his hair, but there were a few strands of curls that had managed to poke out from the thick material. You were close enough to him that you can see a small scratch on the bridge of his nose that looked almost fully healed. He was quite a bit taller than you as well, his anxious eyes peering down into your own as you slowly blink at him.

“Are you okay,” He spoke again, gaze briefly filtering down to your shoes.

“Yeah,” You sigh as you step away from him, “I’m fine, but my shoes might not be.”

The both of you let out awkward chuckles before you bend down to grab the cup, slightly frowning to yourself as you bring it to your chest. When you meet his eyes again, he looks as if he was contemplating something by the way he keeps looking all around you. His hands were shoved in the pocket of his hoodie as he shifted his weight on his feet. The air is a little awkward as you think about just walking away, but he speaks before your feet ever move.

“Let me buy you a new drink,” He suggests, his voice slightly quieter than before as if he was nervous, “It’s the least I can do.”

“Oh, no you don’t have to do that,” You shake your head, “It’s no big deal. It’s just a coffee.”

“Please,” He tries, not wanting to press so hard enough he comes off desperate, “It looked almost full based on what I can see on the ground.”

You couldn’t help but notice his shy smile and hesitant eyes as he waited for your response. His cheeks and nose were slightly pink from the wind that refused to stop whipping at any exposed skin it found. He was sporting a nervous half smile as you mulled the option over in your head, trying to gather if there was any plausible reason to not let the cute boy with a crooked smile buy you another coffee.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” You agree, a smile of your own toying on your lips as you keep your gaze on him, “But only if you tell me your name first.”

“Luke,” He lightly chuckled, taking his hand out of his pocket, extending it for you to shake, “Yours?”

You gingerly took his hand in your own as you told him your name, ignoring the way his touch made your cheeks heat up and butterflies fill your stomach. You retracted your hand quickly, moving it to grasp the cup with both hands as you gestured for Luke to lead the way. You catch the way his eyes briefly dart to your cup before he began to walk the direction you had been coming from.

The two of you fell into a bit of an awkward conversation, him asking you if you were from the area and him telling you that he wasn’t either. He told you that he played professional hockey for the Devils and it clicked in your brain that that was why he looked familiar. You had seen him on TV, but you weren’t involved in the sport enough to put a name to his face. You teased him a little and playfully asked if he would get you tickets to a game, but the speed at which he said yes shocked even himself.

When Luke was handing you your new drink, that was when he told you that he was already running a bit late to some sort of meeting with his team and as much as he’d like to stay, he had to leave. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed at the news, but you ended up exchanging phone numbers before he was rushing away, still not entirely looking where he was going. You watched him leave with a smile on your face and a sort of hope filling your chest that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

The two of you had began texting each other so often that people started to ask questions. Though it had only taken three days of you quietly giggling to yourself for your roommate to ask who the guy was. Whereas for Luke, it had only taken Jack until after practice the day he had met you. Jack had never seen his younger brother rush to check his phone while still in full gear before so quickly, and that was how he knew.

You didn’t see Luke for nearly two weeks after you had initially met courtesy of the stars, also known as his games and your work schedule, never aligning in the right way. When Luke had texted you after one of his games asking if you were free the following evening and you finally got to answer with a yes, you grew excited, and also extremely nervous.

He had given you the option to go out and do something, or to come over to his place and the two of you could order food and watch movies; just hangout, he had said. You ultimately decided on the second option since the weather had grown colder and you weren’t necessarily in the mood to join the crowds of people in the city. He subtly mentioned that his brother would be gone so it would just be the two of you, and the thought made your cheeks warm despite knowing he had no underlying intentions.

When you had texted Luke to tell him you had finally found a parking spot and he told you where to go from there, you had to take a small breather in your car to get yourself to stop shaking before finally going into the expensive looking building. You were so focused on taking in all of the little details inside the lobby that you weren’t paying attention to where you were going and ran straight into someone’s chest.

You let out a surprised squeal as you squeeze your eyes closed at the impact, fully prepared to go stumbling backwards, but you never do. You can feel their hands on your hips, the pads of their fingers slightly digging into the skin separated by the material of your shirt. The soft laugh that filtered through your eyes made your eyes snap open to see a familiar face sporting an amused smile.

“At least there’s no coffee this time,” Luke teases, keeping his hands on you a tad longer than necessary before he pulls them back to his own body.

“Shut up,” You mumbled, hoping he didn’t notice the tinge to your cheeks, “I was looking at the stupid fancy decorations. I didn’t know you were going to be down here.”

“I noticed,” He chuckled, “You thought I wouldn’t meet you down here?”

“Well, no. You gave me the apartment number so I expected to meet you there,” You shrugged, forcing your gaze away from him and to your feet.

“You would’ve thought it was weird if I didn’t give you the apartment number,” He raises his eyebrows even though you aren’t looking at him, “Besides, sometimes people have trouble finding the door. It’s a little confusing.”

When you had reached the floor his apartment was on and saw that it was only one big hallway, you couldn’t help but give him a confused look. It wasn’t confusing at all, especially given the fact that his door was only the second one on the left. You could tell he was purposely avoiding looking in your direction as he pushed through the door, holding it open for you to slip inside, and you chose to let it be.

The rest of the night was spent with the two of you talking about anything that possibly came to mind once you got through the brief bout of awkward tension, and you quickly found that Luke could talk forever. He talked about his teammates and family in a way that made you smile because it was clear he truly loved and looked up to them. You told him about your family back home and why you moved and the way he was hanging on to every word made you flustered because no one had ever cared enough to listen to you that way.

By the time the night was winding down, you were close enough to him on the couch that your thighs would brush together and his arm was slung around the cushions behind you, but not touching you. There was a movie playing on the tv in front of you, but you would be lying if you said you were paying attention to it. All you could think about was how things with Luke flowed so naturally and how you hadn’t felt this comfortable around someone in so long that you forgot the feeling even existed.

The two of you began hanging out regularly after that, never doing anything more than something you would do with a friend, but you could feel your feelings for him grow with each passing day. It started off as small notions and things you could brush off, but then you found yourself thinking of him no matter what you were doing. You were always seeing something that reminded you of him or something that made you think ‘oh, Luke would love that. I can’t wait to show him’. However, you were far too scared to let yourself believe that he would ever feel the same, so you swallowed those urges and went on as if nothing had changed.

When Luke had asked if you would be interested in going to one of his games, you thought nothing of it. You had told him that you would gladly go, but you would only need one ticket since your roommate worked most evenings and you didn’t necessarily have anyone else to go with. He told you not to worry about that and he would figure something out for you before he asked for your email to send the ticket. What he meant by that, you weren’t sure, but you didn’t ask questions.

You asked your roommate to help you with your outfit before she left for work that day, wanting to make sure what you wore wasn’t too much but also wasn’t sloppy. Once she had settled on something that adhered to your standards, she managed to leave enough time for her to help with your hair as well. She could tell that you were nervous based on the way your hands were constantly fiddling with each other and by the way your already clumsy habits seemed to increase by the second.

You weren’t entirely sure why you were so nervous. It wasn’t like this was the first time you were hanging out with Luke, and it surely wasn’t going to be the last. For some reason, him inviting you to one of his games felt different, but then it made you queasy because you began to think about how many girls he had invited before. By the time you were on your way to the arena, you had managed to calm yourself down enough that your heart rate was almost back to normal and your self sabotaging thoughts had been long forgotten.

Luke had taken the liberty of reserving parking for you, which you tried to deny but he said he had already done it so there was no room to argue. The parking garage was full of people in various jerseys for both teams as they made their way into the arena with you following suit because you had virtually no idea where you were going. You were so focused on looking at section numbers that you kept bumping into people, quiet apologies tumbling from your lips as you rushed away from their pointed looks.

Eventually, you found the correct section and showed your ticket to the usher at the top of the stairs before following his direction as you walked down. You stopped at the row your seat was in, your eyes falling on a group of women as they talked and laughed with one another, and you suddenly felt a wave of insecurity wash over you. They clearly knew each other, and you were there by yourself, and on top of that, they were absolutely gorgeous.

You took a deep breath before you shuffled down the row and to your seat, trying to ignore the way their voices grew quiet whenever you sat down. You could feel their eyes on you as you kept yours on the rink, watching as they set up the net and as others filed down towards their seats before the game started. It wasn’t until you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder that you turned to look at the one sitting right next to you.

“Hi,” One of them greeted, a bright smile on her face, “I’m Nicole!

You let out a shaky breath as you took her hand, giving her your name before returning her smile. The way her eyes lit up and she briefly glanced at the girls around her with a subtle smirk threw you off, but she was quick to ease your confusion as she moved her focus back to you.

“So you’re the girl Luke won’t stop talking about,” She playfully teases, “He made sure Jesper told me you would be coming and to look out for you so you weren’t alone.”

You can’t stop your face from heating up by being identified as ‘the girl Luke won’t shut about’, and judging by the way the other girls looked at you, it seemed to be a universal experience. They went around and introduced themselves, and their children, to you before they began to ask you questions. They started off with the easy questions such as your career, if you were in school, if you were from the area, if you were a big fan of hockey, but they quickly transferred the topic over to your relationship with Luke.

“We’re just friends,” You meekly said, eyes darting away from them as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“But you like him,” Cat asks as she raises her eyebrows, though her tone hints that she knows the answer to that.

You briefly hesitated, not sure what your response should be, but you were very graciously saved by the music blaring through the speakers followed by the announcer's voice. You hastily turned towards the ice, thanking whatever higher being saved you from the embarrassment of admitting your feelings out loud.

As the game started, you caught yourself really only focusing on Luke rather than the puck itself. If he wasn’t on the ice, you were leaning towards the girls beside you to ask questions about the game you didn’t entirely understand. When he was on the ice, you flinched every time he got hit a little too hard, or when he would trip over seemingly nothing and fall on the ice. Although, you did know to join in on the collective booing whenever he was sent to the penalty box for a bogus call.

The game ended up going into overtime with Luke, his brother, and team captain on the ice as they stood opposite the Flyers players. Your hands were clasped together as you leaned forward, waiting with baited breath as the puck dropped on the ice. You watch as they skate towards their net, hastily trying to get the puck from the other team. You’re not sure who managed to get possession, but the next thing you know Luke is taking a shot that ends up in the net to win the game.

You jump out of your seat as you scream, your eyes not leaving Luke as he learns forward into a celebratory bow that you’re positive he did when he was at Michigan. A fact you knew after you asked him “if he was even good at hockey” and he proceeded to show you his highlight reels for the next hour. His team rushes towards him with giant smiles on their faces as they crowd around him, the arena filling with cheers so loud that it made your ears ring.

By the time things had calmed down, Nicole was the first to tell you that you were supposed to go with them down to the locker room. You walked through the arena with them, only briefly stopping to talk with security because you didn’t have the correct pass. The area outside the locker room was buzzing with life as various friends and family members of the team waited for the guys, their voices meshing with the loud cheers from inside.

The guys slowly began to trickle out of the locker room clad in their fancy and expensive suits, dopey grins on their faces. You stayed tucked between Cat and Nicole as they talked, but you were only halfway listening as you kept an eye out for Luke. Some of the guys you only vaguely remembered from pictures or videos Luke had shown you, but most you knew with confidence because of how often their names popped up in conversation.

When you finally saw a familiar head of curls walking through the doors, it was a bit embarrassing how quickly a smile grew on your face. He wasn’t even looking in your direction, instead animatedly talking to his brother who had seen you, a slight smirk on his face. The girls had stepped away from you, knowing looks on their faces when Luke finally looked in front of him to see you standing there waiting for him.

If they thought Luke was excited before, it was absolutely nothing compared to the look on his face when his eyes landed on you. He quickened his pace, leaving his conversation, and his brother, behind as he only focused on getting to you. You were painfully aware of the multitude of gazes on you, the attention beginning to slightly overwhelm you, but all of the worry disappeared the moment Luke wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him.

“Congratulations on your goal,” You mumble with your head pressed against his chest, your arms draped around the middle of his frame.

“Thank you for coming,” He quietly says, his hold on you subtly tightening as he lets out a deep breath.

You can barely hear the quiet whispers of those around you over the blood pounding in your ears, but you didn’t mind them anyways. Right now, all you wanted to focus on was the way his arms felt around you and the way his entire body seemed to relax under your touch. While physical touch with Luke wasn’t uncommon, it still gave you a small sense of hope that maybe everyone was right and maybe he did like you back after all.

“Jack, you might need somewhere to stay tonight,” You heard one of the other guys tease from behind him, making your face heat up as you stepped away from Luke. Though he doesn’t entirely break away from, keeping his arm slung across your shoulders as he turns to look at his teammates.

“Oh, I planned for it don’t worry,” He laughs as he shakes his head, “You picked a good first game to come to. Luke played his ass off.”

“I always do,” Luke quickly defended himself, his voice slightly raising and his posture straightening the smallest amount.

“Yeah, but you really did tonight,” Dawson pressed with a mischievous smile on his face.

“You guys are annoying,” Luke rolls his eyes, “I’m starving, so we are going to leave. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Your gaze snaps up to Luke as he briefly looks down at you with his usual half smile, but the sound of Jack calling out to him briefly moves his attention back to his brother. You let your eyes fall back to the ground in front of you, your mind running a mile a minute as you try to ignore the way he’s slightly grazing the skin above your collarbone with his fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat, the skin involuntarily raising in wake of his touch as you try to keep yourself outwardly collected.

“Hey,” Luke’s voice breaks through the thin barrier keeping you composed, “You ready? I figured I’ll drive so you can put the chipotle order in and we can pick it up on our way back to my apartment. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” You breathe out, giving him a small smile.

The two of you bid goodbye to the others, but not before they could pass on teasing comments or not so subtle winks as you passed by them. Luke had dropped his arm from your shoulders, a small absent feeling settling over you when he did. He asked you if you ended up having a good time and if the girls were nice to you, which you, of course, told him that you did and the girls were extremely welcoming and kind.

When Luke had climbed into the driver’s seat, he fished his wallet out of his pocket and handed you his credit card with the subtle threat that if he didn’t see a charge on his card for the food that he would buy you the expensive hoodie you had looked at a few days ago. You rolled your eyes as you took his card, not knowing that he had already bought the hoodie anyway and was waiting to give it to you.

By the time the two of you had picked up your food and were back at his apartment, your nerves from earlier had almost entirely disappeared and things felt normal again. Before the two of you started eating, he went into his room to change, and he returned with a random pair of sweatpants you had forgotten you bought last week and a shirt you’re positive was his. He waited for you to come back before he started eating like he always did, but you couldn’t help but feel like the air surrounding you felt slightly off.

You couldn’t tell if you were overthinking things or if something really was wrong because you still felt that way when the two of you moved to the couch. Luke still sat in his usual spot directly next to you, but he was barely focusing on the movie. His eyes kept darting around the room and he was nervously chewing on his bottom lip. You wanted to ask him if he was okay, but you kept your eyes on the TV until he spoke up.

“Can I tell you something,” Luke nearly shouted, slightly startling you out of your spot on the couch, “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just– I need to tell you something.”

Your eyes were wide and full of confusion, and slight panic, as you spoke, “Yeah, of course. You can tell me anything.”

You watched as he took a deep breath, slightly turning his body so he was facing you completely, and you couldn’t help but let an almost painful sense of worry envelope you. You were running over every possible scenario you could conjure in your mind, but they were all so negative that you had convinced yourself what he was going to say was too.

“This might screw everything up and if you never want to talk to me again, that’s fine, but I can’t ignore it anymore,” His voice was serious, yet thick with an emotion you refused to place, “After I scored tonight and all the guys were around me, all I could think about was you. Not even just you being there to see it, but celebrating with you. Seeing your smile. Hugging you. Kissing you.”

He said the last part so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him, but you did. Those two words rang in your ears as you looked at him, your mouth slightly dropped open as the ability to form a semi coherent thought in your mind suddenly fleeing. You wanted to respond, to tell him that it was all you could think about too, but your mouth and brain were far from cooperative.

Your silence was slowly suffocating Luke, and he quickly wishes he never said anything at all. To him, he knew it was a long shot that you felt the same way he did. Early in your friendship, you had let it slip that you weren't looking for a relationship and you wanted to focus on yourself. He knew that, but he couldn’t keep his feelings to himself anymore.

“I’m sorry,” He backtracks, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have said anyth–”

You cut him off by surging forward and slamming your lips on his own, not trusting yourself to accurately say everything you felt. Luke’s reaction was almost instantaneous, his hands grabbing at your hips and pulling you onto his lip as he kisses you back. The metaphorical wall that had been keeping the two of you as friends crumbled beneath you as you pour everything you felt for him into one kiss.

His hands had moved to the small of your back, pulling you so close that there wasn’t even a millimeter of space separating you from him. Your hands were looped around his neck as your mouth moved against his own, and you couldn’t stop yourself from carefully grasping at his curls. Luke groaned against you, and he knew he had to stop before he took things too far on his living room couch.

He pulls away from you, his heavy breathing falling in sync with your own as he drops his head to your shoulder. You can feel his chest rise and fall against you as you attempt to gather your thoughts and tell yourself that this was real. That it actually happened and it wasn’t something you had dreamed up again, but you were suddenly shaken from your thoughts when Luke harshly snapped his head up to look at you.

“Wait, does this mean you like me back,” He asks, feigning a sense of seriousness, but you can see the smile threatening to shine through.

“You’re an idiot,” You playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Maybe, but I’m your idiot, ” He counters before his eyes slightly widen as he hesitantly continues, “Right?”

“Yeah,” You chuckle, a small smile decorating your face, “You are.”

The two of you spend the rest of the night wrapped up in the other, the movie halfway forgotten as you found yourself with your lips on his more often than not. You were selfishly thankful that Jack had been telling the truth when he said he found somewhere else to stay. The uninterrupted time you spent in Luke’s arms allowed you to truly soak it in. To relish in the fact that you had finally found someone who made you believe that love did exist, and you owed it all to one spilled coffee.

[heich0e]

"i won't be able to see you for a while."

the tokyo streets slip past outside your window, but your eyes aren't quite following the scenery. you feel a little dizzy thanks to the wine satoru kept pouring over dinner—filling only your glass, as usual. it was a vintage you could never have dreamed you'd get the chance to taste only a few short months ago; a luxury so distant that you'd never once even thought about what it might be like to try. now it lingers on your tongue, stains your lips slightly, feels familiar in ways you still struggle to reckon with.

you tilt your face towards the man sitting beside you in the back of the car that's taking you home.

"a while?" you ask him curiously, though that's perhaps not the most important query.

satoru hums, smiling a little to himself as his fingers press against the pulse point on your wrist. he's been toying with your hand ever since you left the restaurant, but you've hardly paid it any notice.

satoru's touch used to be limited to the spectacle. his hands only reaching out for you when someone was there to witness it. at one time, satoru would have changed cars before his driver took you home. at one time, he would have dropped your hand the moment the door shut behind you. but he doesn't now.

you've grown strangely used to this, too.

"are you going away for work again?" you ask him when he offers no further elaboration. it's not that you're particularly concerned with where he's going, or why, or for how long. satoru's life always has been, and always will be, solely his own. you're no more his keeper than you are his true fiancée—and the funds that will be deposited into your bank account by the time you make it home this evening are testament to that truth.

but you ask because it feels like the natural thing to do.

though very little about anything you do with satoru ought to be considered natural.

"no," the blonde answers, with that troublesome lilt of mirth in his voice that always seems to precede something unpleasant. you don't ask any more questions in an attempt to ward it off.

soon you reach your destination, the rest of the car ride spent in silence after your brief but relatively benign exchange earlier in the drive. you glance out through the window towards your apartment—a building so utterly unremarkable that the sumptuous interior of the restaurant you visited that evening feels palatial by comparison.

satoru's not allowed to walk you to your door anymore. his harsh, obnoxiously unfiltered criticism of your building—of your home—each time he so much as caught a glimpse of the interior had grown so grating, you'd barred him from entering any further than the entrance to the lobby.

instead, his assistant nanami is the one who silently escorts you to your unit door each night, at satoru's unyielding insistence. he'd been surprisingly terse about it when you'd initially attempted to dissuade him, reminding him (more than once) that you make the walk to your own door every day alone and have thus far lived to tell the tale. but the options he firmly presented in reply—the only two you knew you had to choose from—were either to be escorted by nanami, or let him walk you there himself. you knew that there would be no reasoning with him otherwise, sensed it in the way he held you so fixedly in his stare that day, so you chose nanami.

now each night after satoru accompanies you on the ride home after your engagements, his stoic, well-mannered assistant dips in a polite bow at your door and wishes you goodnight before departing once he knows you've made it safely inside.

behind the wheel up front, nanami slips out from his seat, exiting the vehicle and coming around to your door to open it and let you out. the door cracks open as he pulls the handle, but all of the sudden it comes clacking closed again.

satoru is leaning over you—his weight, his warmth, the sheer breadth of him a little staggering from this close up, especially so unexpectedly—holding the door firmly shut by the handle. he stares at you down the bridge of his nose, unblinking.

"i'll see you... when i see you," you breathe out, surprisingly meek, as you sit frozen in your seat beneath him.

satoru says nothing, just watches you curiously. there's a glimmer of something that swims behind his eyes—that look he gets where you can't help but be reminded of a child playing with a new toy—that makes you shift nervously.

"you really don't want to know?" he asks you, and he's so close you can almost taste the words on his lips.

this is too near, even by his peculiar standards. satoru's hand is still wrapped tightly around the door handle to keep it closed. his body pinning you into the corner of the backseat.

you can't help but feel on edge when you're trapped like this with nowhere else to go.

"know what?" you ask him. your head is still spinning from the wine, but it's almost worse now. maybe it's only just really beginning to hit your bloodstream.

"where i'm going," satoru goads, "how long i'll be gone."

you swallow thickly. "that's none of my business."

"of course it is," satoru replies, feigning hurt. "we're engaged. it's a fiancés right to know where their partner is and what they're doing, any time they'd like."

your brow pinches in confusion. you have no interest in knowing those kinds of things, much less feel any right to know them, given the circumstances. your bewilderment leaves you at a loss for words.

"my rut's coming, you see," satoru explains, his lashes fluttering softly as he says it. it wouldn't feel so strange if his lip weren't curling up in a smirk all the while. "so for the next week or so i'll be... indisposed."

your mouth feels dry.

"oh," you manage to say, though it's not really anything at all.

one of satoru's brows quirks curiously at the sound.

"it wouldn't normally be an issue," he continues, though you didn't ask him to. "but this will be my first rut i've spent alone since i presented, so i'm not sure how long it will last."

your lips part in shock.

"alone?" you sound every bit as astonished—as scandalized—as you feel. an alpha of satoru's rank spending his rut alone is unheard of. "what about the omega servic—"

"i would never pay for those kinds of services."

satoru's tone is uncharacteristically cold as he dismisses the mere notion of it. even as a beta, you know that omega services are perfectly legal, and are strictly regulated nowadays—but upon further reflection, you're not all that surprised by his seeming revulsion towards the idea. a family as powerful as the gojo clan likely has their own reserve of omegas, each one of the highest pedigree, to attend to the needs of their unmated alphas. hell, the most eligible omegas in the country would willingly accompany him if he were to ask. you avert your gaze under his cold stare, you feel a bit silly for even suggesting—

"i have no interest bringing any omega into my bed."

your eyes snap up to meet his.

that little glimmer is still there, behind the impossibly clear blue of his eyes.

"will you take suppressants?" you find yourself asking next. still meek.

satoru's face screws up in disgust.

"that garbage is toxic," he sniffs indignantly. "snake oil like that wouldn't work on me anyway."

you remember learning about this in health class as a teen. remember how shocked you were to learn that the efficacy of suppressants decreases depending on how strongly someone's secondary gender characteristics present. it's always felt a bit backwards to you—shouldn't the strongest, least-controllable members of the population be the ones there's the most interest in subduing?

and an alpha as high ranking, as dominant, as satoru is every bit the example.

"no," he sighs, and suddenly any trace of irritation or sterness dissipates as though he's released it along with his breath. his weary tone is too thickly affected to be sincere. "i'll just have to suffer through it on my own."

from the corner of your eye, you can see nanami shift where he stands and waits outside the door, and all at once you remember where you are.

you turn your body away from satoru, angling yourself (as much as you're able) towards your exit.

"well, good luck," you attempt to sound encouraging, but the words still come out slightly ill-at-ease. you reach for the door handle, hoping satoru will get the message and release it so you can take your leave. "let me know if you need anything."

satoru's hand doesn't move.

"do you really mean that?"

you flinch a little as his lips brush the shell of your ear. he's pressed up against your back now—the planes of his chest firm against your shoulder blades as he drapes himself over you.

you're frozen again, your hand still outstretched towards his at the handle—poised in midair. the lights from outside the car glint tauntingly in the diamond on your ring finger.

his breath is hot as it breaks against your throat.

your chest feels uncomfortably tight.

"would you really help me if i were to ask?"

[leviathanleva]

........................

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader

........................

Request:

This is kind of a weird req and I want to write something for it eventually but-

Fem! Reader who was frozen but eventually escapes and falls for the Ghoul and they fuck a couple times and for some reason she has symptoms of pregnancy and they're like what the fuck but it just turns out that she was pregnant before she was frozen and the Ghoul's reactions and whatever. Angst or fluff I don't really mind :)

........................

[MDNI, Angst, Smut, Fluff]

[ I don't usually do requests, but I wanted to help out a friend who believed they wouldn't be able to do justice to this prompt. It's sloppy, not perfect, but time is limited and I have other projects that need my attention so I hope this suffices. ]

........................

Freedom.

Freedom was sweet.

Freedom was bitter.

Since the moment you’d awoken in that Gods-forsaken cryo pod in that wasting away vault you’d known there was no other path except the path of freedom. Stepping over mummified corpses, fellow vault dwellers you presumed, you’d lead wobbly legs and a pounding heart to the entrance of the vault. It felt like yesterday you’d first set foot in there. In reality, you had no idea how many years had passed, but from the looks of the rusting walls and thick blanket of dust, it had been a while.

You took what you could, stuffing a stray children’s backpack you’d found along your scavenging mission, anything and everything that would be necessary for a journey into a land you used to call home. A small pocket knife was the best you could get and it wasn’t the perfect self-defense tool, but with no other choice there wasn’t much you could do but stuff it in the pocket of your suit and hope for a miracle if you ran into trouble.

And trouble you found.

Since your first step into the bone-dry, scalding hot, merciless wasteland, you’d found trouble in the shape of a deranged group of people hammering at the vault door with makeshift weapons. You might have been able to fight off one of them, you doubted given how dizzy and out-of-touch with reality you were, but there was a slim chance. Three of them though, all large burly men with enough scars to put a military general to shame? No, that was impossible. You ended up a writhing mess on the ground, face pushed into the cracked soil and screaming and kicking as you were being taunted and tied up like a good catch after a successful hunt. Trafficking, cannibalism, organ harvesting, death. A slew of words so vile they made your stomach churn and your eyes bulge out of your skull because who in their right mind said such things to an outnumbered, weak woman who pleaded in a broken voice and had tears staining her cheeks?

Then he appeared, your guardian angel.

A man so grotesque on the outside, so vicious and bitter and terrifying, and yet he was the one who shot your captors down. He was the one who cut your wrists and ankles free and helped you sit up as you heaved and choked and sobbed. He was the one who checked you over despite the visible revulsion on his gaunt face at the sight of your vault suit. He’d dragged you to your feet, forced some sense into you, given you a stern reality check of the world he came from and never really shooed you away when you’d started following him around like a lost pup.

You loved him since that day.

And maybe it wasn’t the good kind of love because he’d used you as a distraction for his enemies more than once and never shared his water with you even if you were on the brink of passing out from dehydration. But he also let you sit close to the fire at night, told you stories of his bounty hunts, taught you how to handle a gun and always kept you in his sights lest someone thought you were up for grabs. He was a cruel man, but he was also a kind man.

You never overstepped. Always following his every order, whether it was to hide, to strip bleeding men of their valuables, or to get him another drink when his feet were kicked high and he couldn’t be bothered to do so himself. Always pliant, always willing, no questions asked because you wanted to live despite the hellhole reality you were thrust in. Maybe that’s why he grew fond of you over time, you didn’t rebel against him and took what he gave you with a whisper of gratitude. A good dog, that’s how he saw you. He slowly softened for you, split your rations evenly when you sat down to eat, thrust the canteen in your hands when he noticed your lips were dry, and smushed his hat over your head when the sun was too awful and you were too delicate to withstand it.

Cooper Howard, that was his name, a man made ghoul by the sheer toxicity of the surface, a man who gave you enough scraps to keep your love for him flourishing but never progressed things beyond a one-sided infatuation.

That is until he was left struggling on the floor of an old abandoned farmhouse, a feral ghoul looming above him and pinning him in place and snapping its jaws at him as foul-smelling, viscous drool dribbled down its chin. His hunting knife was gripped tightly, but between keeping himself from being bitten to shreds and holding one of the ghoul’s hands at bay before it could sink into his side and tear at his gut, he was stuck.

When the shot rang out and the ghoul slumped against him lifelessly, he saw you. Holding his gun as you shook violently, about ready to piss yourself because you’d never killed anything remotely resembling a human in your life, eyes wide and lips trembling and knees buckling. Smoke leisurely rose from the tip of the barrel and as he pushed the corpse off himself you sunk to your arse and burst into a fit of haggard breaths and disturbed whines.

You didn’t resist when he picked you up with alien tenderness, didn’t protest when he stuffed you in an old rickety couch and crushed you beneath his weight with a handful of sweet praises. You didn’t pull away in disgust when his tongue pushed past your lips in search of your own, twirling, dancing, letting words spill without ever being spoken. He wasn’t gentle, since the moment you heard his belt unbuckling he was all pawing hands and chopped curses, fiddling with your clothes until his need became too much to bear and he simply ripped them off. He threw a weak promise to get you new ones, but you couldn't care less at that moment. High-pitched mewls and desperate grunts bounced off the walls as he took you on that couch, rutting into you like a man possessed and gripping onto you so firmly as if you’d come to your senses any moment now and run away from him.

A radstorm raged outside, clashing against the boarded-up windows as the pitter-patter of acid rain poured against the tin roof. You never even noticed, too drunk on the sloppy sounds coming from the slick mess of your conjoined bodies, on the verge of a climax so raw it would surely knock you out. Blunt fingernails sank in your supple thighs, scarred hips slammed into yours as he fucked you dumb into the couch. His mouth never left yours, whether it was to keep himself quiet in case too many loving words escaped or because he craved your taste like a rabid dog did blood, you didn’t know. When your ankles locked around his waist he snarled, whatever self-control he’d managed to scrape by completely dissipating as he drove himself deeper. The tip of his cock snapped against the barrier of your squishy cervix so deliciously and you screamed his name in desperation and he couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He released one of your hips to slide a hand between your bodies and drag his rough thumb over your swollen clit. Your back arched, eyes rolled back and mouth agape as you bombarded him with barely coherent sentences that he didn’t deserve. He clutched at your hair when you clamped down on him, milking him for everything he had while he rocked out his release with face stuffed in the crook of your neck.

Something in him changed after that night.

It might have been the unfathomably long time without a caring touch or him finally succumbing to the little voices in his head telling him what he held for you wasn’t simply fondness. He took you every chance he got. In a guest house, against the wall of a bar after one too many drinks, bent over on a chewed-up fence after scavenging another farmhouse. He was relentless and you loved that about him. You loved everything about him. Always needy and ready and he couldn’t ask for more because this was the closest he could get to expressing himself when it came to you.

Life was good.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You wince as the needle prickles your skin before retracting back in the Pip-boy. The green screen whirls, loading up and analyzing your blood sample for a full body scan. You give the damn thing a few smacks when it freezes and stutters.

Now really wasn’t the time for technical difficulties.

“You okay?”

Apparently, no matter how hard you had tried to hide your bubbling panic, it was still evident enough for Cooper to notice. He’s looking at you with a hint of suspicion, attention averted from the steaming can of cram he’d been stuffing in his mouth.

“I’m good, no worries.” you muster up a weary smile and instinctively tuck the Pip-boy closer to your stomach.

When the Vault Boy pops up on the screen with all the information available regarding your condition, you tense up. Your fingers hesitate to turn the cog to the main body scan as doubts and confusion and raw, untamable fear chew at your sensitive stomach and tug you slowly towards the gates of insanity.

“Don’t look okay to me.” Cooper straightens from his slouched-over position over the measly fire and sets aside his food before clasping a hand over one of his thighs. “Was wrong? Was I too rough again?” there’s a teasing scowl brightening his usually stoic expression, he scoffs and shakes his head. “I told you t’ smack my shoulder when I get too loose, woman. You never listen.”

You want to cry and laugh, but you do neither.

“That’s not it, Cooper.”

“Then speak for fuck’s sake!” he grumbles and gestures to you with slight agitation.

You pay him no mind, having delved too deep in the premises of your mind on what you were supposed to do if you read that single life-changing word on the scan. With a huff and a mental pat on your back, you turned the cog and opened the main body scan.

“Pregnant.”

It made sense. It explained the morning sickness that you hid, being forced out of your sleep while Cooper snored lightly next to you, and carefully pulling away before rushing to a safe spot where you could empty your stomach without being seen. You never told him, just jammed RadAway after RadAway, hoping it was poisoning or maybe some sort of flu. When the cravings came, you started second-guessing. You never gave into them, throwing caps left and right for a slice of some nearly impossible-to-get delicacy was unthinkable, you had to survive and there was no room for luxury.

You failed to spot the rugged ghoul as he left his seat and crept closer, spurred by your awkward demeanor, until he was kneeling right next to you and silently sharing the sight of the green graph.

“What in the hell…”

You recoiled at his words, at his realization, and tried to cover the Pip-boy with your hand and hide the thunderous revelation of your condition.

He was having none of it.

He smacked your hand away and gripped your forearm so tight you shuddered, bringing it closer to his eyes as his face contorted.

“What the fuck does this mean?” he spits and looks at you with something vile in those whiskey-colored eyes you loved so much.

“I don’t – ” you swallow thickly, crumbling under his gaze and snuffing out the need to rip away from him and run. You meet his stare for a split second before turning away. “ – I haven’t…Not with anyone except you.”

Lightning strikes into his core and he pulls away like bitten by a snake.

“The hell you mean you haven’t fucked anyone ‘cept me?” he stands, intimidating and cold, berating you with just his visage and nothing more. “How the fuck did you get pregnant then?”

“I’ve been with you since the day I left the vault, you know this.” you reach out for him, desperate for some sort of comfort, desperate for him to calm down because you couldn’t mentally take on both him and the news. “Cooper, please.”

He shoots you down with a snarl and a spine-chilling glare.

“Don’t fucken’ touch me.”

He’s pacing, trotting around like a cornered animal, the spurs on his boots clinking, a sickening cacophony that roots you in place and keeps your mouth shut. You don’t know what to say, you’re not a liar, yet you wish this was some twisted joke and you could laugh it off and confirm it wasn’t real.

A hand is rubbing vigorously at his chin as he tries to think, but there’s nothing in his head except that one single word that means so much and makes absolutely no sense.

He knew you weren’t lying, he’d always kept you within arm’s length, there was no way for you to even sneak past him without being noticed.

It still hurt though, the image of you leaving because he was a rotten man who’d struck gold by finding you. He was no good for you, never would be, and it tore him to shreds because he knew all of this and still he kept you by his side and cocked his gun at anyone who tried to step too close.

Why wouldn’t you bed another man when he looked like a walking corpse and acted even worse? Why wouldn’t you ditch him to be with a nice bartender or a good-mannered farmboy who would treat you like a lady should be treated?

Why wouldn’t you cheat him out of the only happiness he had?

“Is not fucking possible, sweetheart.” he finally speaks, faltering at your audible sobs. The idea of you slipping past his fingers to sleep with someone else is pushed to the side by the absolutely pathetic sight of you curled up on the floor and crying.

Ghouls were sterile, all of them, 100%, there was no way for him to knock you up even if he wanted to. But the Pip-boy said otherwise and now he was left questioning the very foundation of his existence.

“I know that.” you sputter through choppy hiccups. “But you’re the only man I’ve been with...It doesn’t make fucking sense.” you clutch at your sides, waterfalls streaming down your cheeks and pooling under your chin, eyes distant and jittery. “What if it’s deformed because of the radiation? Or if it’s not even alive? Or – What am I supposed to do…”

His body moves despite his protests.

He kneels in front of you, encasing you between his thighs, his fingers twitching and rising as he drowns in the long-forgotten feeling of being presented with such news. His hands are shaking and he rests them over your shoulders and pretends he can’t feel his pulse rampaging in his throat.

“What do you wanna do?”

It’s such a simple question, but coming from him under such a premise makes your head spin and your heart stop.

“I – ” you press your forehead against the center of his collarbones, arms protectively curling over your belly because despite not showing there was someone in there. Someone precious. “ – I don’t know…I’d like to – I don’t know.”

You stop and start, cutting off words that you weren’t ready to tell him yet and he wasn’t ready to hear either. But life didn’t care if you were ready or not, things happened, consent or not, and now you were both stuck in a mess you’d unwittingly made all by yourselves. There was always the easy route – find a settlement, get to the doc, have it removed, done deal, easy peasy.

But did you really want that?

It wasn’t just your kid, it was his too and him not saying a word, not even mentioning discarding it made things so much harder.

No, he gave you a choice, he put everything in your hands and he was holding you while you fought a silent battle that would dictate the entirety of your future.

“I think – ”

“ – I ain’t goin’ fucken’ nowhere.” he slices through your hesitation like butter, body rigid and jaw clenched because for once he was trying to be a man and not a monster.

Maybe even a father.

You shatter in his arms like glass and he presses one of his palms against the back of your head while the other circles your waist and brings you closer.

“You’d stay?” you ask with such horror and disbelief that it clutches at his chest and he struggles to breathe. You’re no coward, despite how heavy the air feels, you look up at him and you’re so vulnerable and angelic that he forgets every setback that would come his way. “If I kept it…you’d stay?”

He can’t answer, the words refuse to form, but he holds your gaze with calm stability, a good masquerade to hide a mind that was racing and a heart that was pounding so heavily he felt his entire body pulsing. Instead, he leaned in and pressed his chapped lips against your forehead in a voiceless promise.

You suck in a breath like it’s your first and cling to the collar of his coat, disappearing in his form, hiding from the world that was so cruel yet gifted you with something so precious.

The Pip-boy is still lit and waiting, the scan bright and piercing. You skim over it absentmindedly, a simple curious flick, then look again and squint your eyes at the tiny text printed under your pregnancy announcement.

“Four months.”

You’d only been out of cryo for three…

He followed your wide-eyed stare, he was no fool, he could do basic math.

You’d been pregnant before meeting him, before leaving the vault, before the bombs.

You want to puke. You want to rip your skin off and bury yourself alive because for the love of God it couldn’t be just perfect, there had to be some sick underlying thing to ruin everything. It wasn’t his, he was right, ghouls couldn’t have children.

It wasn’t his child.

You look disgusted and utterly pained because the realization makes you mourn at the idea of carrying his baby. You wanted to, you’d give anything for it to be his and not some random bloke you couldn’t even remember the face of. You wanted it to be his…

You search his face for anger or disappointment or anything that would prepare you for what was to come. Why would he stay if the damn thing wasn’t even his? He had his own problems, his mission. You were just an obstacle that had nearly made him believe he was going to be a father and maybe it was his second chance at doing it right.

There was nothing though.

He simply blinked at you, lips parted as he formed a sentence that had you pledge yourself to him for as long as you stood and breathed.

“That don’t change a damn thing.”

Tag list: @bountydroid @v3lv3tf0x @silverose365

[macabr3-barbi3]

Nothing I Can't Handle Chapter 3 [Alastor/Reader]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54337009/chapters/140790502

Lucifer comes to visit and Alastor is totally normal about it- and you decide what you want!

Tags: Reader-Insert, Alastor in Rut, Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor, Rough Sex, Possessive Sex, Biting, cunnilingus

Since you asked to be tagged! 💕 @littlecat21 @fairyv-ice and another tag for the lovely @fraugwinska bc she is the literal BEST 💝🔥

Chapter 1 🦌 Chapter 2

You should have seen it coming.

Alastor, while still seeming a bit uncomfortable with the idea of showing you attention outside of the periods of time you would spend in your bedrooms, seemed more subdued. Calmer. He no longer stalked around the hotel like a feral beast; he seemed more willing to be part of little activities and such that Charlie planned; he didn’t avoid you like the plague as he had when he first proposed his deal to you. During his ruts he was possessive and almost doting, making sure to keep you fed with homemade meals and snacks and hydrated so you no longer had to provide those things for yourself. He would drape his silk robe over your shoulders the moment you entered his room, always an admiring glance to the monogrammed ‘A’ settled over your heart.

You did occasionally get to leave his room now- his inner animal apparently sated enough with the idea that you were properly mated to allow you out of his sight for short periods of time. God forbid you spoke with anyone though- you ran into Husk one evening on the way back from the kitchen for a snack and honestly thought Alastor might eat him with the volume of his snarl before teleporting you back to his room, to his bed.

Outside of the ruts he was mostly normal. You thought nothing of the faint static feedback you heard speaking with Angel at the bar, a bit tipsy and hanging off the spider’s shoulder while you laughed. Paid no mind to the disappearance of a sinner you were having a conversation with at a party you attended with the group, turning to find him having vanished and assuming that he just wandered away. Gave Alastor a smile any time that he spooned more jambalaya into your bowl at dinner time, laughing at the way he glared at Husk if he commented on it.

You were having a great time though, still ruminating on what exactly you wanted to get out of the deal. He had stopped pestering you about it after the 3rd rut, but there wasn’t much you wanted or needed for yourself- the Hotel offered you protection and friendship, you were sexually sated, you felt no need to try to bargain for power or money. You’d been considering either asking for something small- just a token, a trifle, something to show that you didn’t really need anything in return from the deal- or something grand. Something like asking for Husk to be released, for him to find a way to end Angel’s contract with Valentino. For him to maybe at least try to see you as someone more than just what his body craves, try to see you like you see him. An object of not merely animalistic lust but affection.

You were decent at keeping your personal and business lives separate, and despite your own feelings you knew that the deal with Alastor was business. You did your best not to let your true emotions known during the times you were sequestered in his room, when he gave you that sly, knowing smile before sliding the robe off your shoulders, when he sank his teeth into your shoulder and mumbled that you were his, his mate, perfect and lovely.

You were absolutely not getting lost in that fantasy. You were helping him- that was all he expected to come of it.

That was what you thought, anyway, until the Devil did what he did best and fell right into the middle of things, fucking everything up for everyone.

Lucifer’s visits to the hotel were few and far between, but you should have anticipated some kind of tension between him and Alastor the first time he visited after you made the deal to help him with his ruts.

Charlie’s father was a sweet guy, for being the king of Hell. A little awkward, a little eccentric, a lot handsy. Not in any way that was disrespectful, of course, but he was quite liberal with his hugs and handshakes and placing of hands on a back or shoulder when standing next to someone or guiding them somewhere. For the most part you were perfectly fine with it; perhaps a blush here or there at the proximity of the man sometimes, but you had no reason to brush him off or ask him to stop. You even had some actual conversations once in a while, discussions about books and art and anything else that seemed to strike his fancy. You never thought you would have anything in common with the literal Devil.

He was making his way down the line greeting everyone, pulling you into a tight hug when you offered him your hand. “Always great to see everyone, beautiful, but especially you!” He pulls back to look at you at arms length for a moment, his eyes traveling your face. “Ya know, I’ve been meaning to ask-”

“Ah, his Majesty has seen fit to join us for an evening!” At the sound of Alastor’s voice Lucifer stiffens, pulls away from you- his question forgotten in favor of fucking with the Radio Demon. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Surely you have more pressing matters to attend to.” He gives a pointed glance to the head of a rubber duck that pokes out from the front of Lucifer’s jacket pocket.

“Well, Alastor , I’m the King of Hell and I do what I want.” He sneers the other demon’s name, shoving the duck deeper into his pocket. “If I want to join my daughter and her lovely friends for a night I’m going to do just that.”

Alastor slides an arm behind you, the warmth of his hand making a home on your lower back. “By all means, then, join us! This way, my dear,” and he guides you away from Lucifer with gentle pressure, leaving the monarch behind to greet the rest of the hotel inhabitants as Niffty climbs him like a tree.

You shoot Alastor a sideways look. His last rut had ended weeks ago, the next not meant to happen for another couple months at least. He was testy like he sometimes got right before the rut happened, where the animal instincts and unfamiliar hormones were flooding his body in preparation. Antagonizing, a little possessive.

He leads you to a lobby couch, everyone else filing in behind the two of you and finding their seats. Lucifer sits in one nearest to Charlie and gestures frantically at you to take the cushion next to him- before you can even decide, Alastor has shifted his shadow to fill the vacant seat.

“How thoughtful of you!” He crosses his legs, settling back into the softness of the sofa. “I must say, sire, I never imagined you would wish to be seated beside me but of course-”

“I wasn’t fucking talking to you,” Lucifer snarls, but Alastor has already patted the cushion next to himself for you to occupy. Once you sit, the shorter demon leans forward, trying to catch your eye. “I wanted to ask if ya still wanted to come see the library at the manor!”

“Oh gosh, I totally forgot about that.” One of your more recent conversations, a discussion of literature and lost texts, had led to Lucifer offering to show you his manor sometime, the vast library a mere portal away. “I’m absolutely still interested!”

Alastor stiffens beside you, his neck snapping with the speed he turns to look at you.

Charlie lights up with excitement. “Oh you will absolutely love it,” she exclaims, leaning so far forward in her chair you think she might fall out of it, Vaggie placing a supportive hand on her back to prevent exactly that. “Dad, can we all make a trip of it? I think everyone in the group could benefit- I can’t believe I never thought to invite everybody-”

“Whoa, Char, slow down!” He chuckles, reaching across the space between their seats to clasp her hand. “I’m not opposed to the rest of your little friends coming to visit sometime too! But I was really hoping for a little one on one time with this one here.” He shoots you a wink across the Radio Demon’s lap. “Whaddya think?”

Husk notices before you do, a muttered “ah, fuck” before surreptitiously shifting himself slightly in front of Angel Dust, who poked his head up over the feline’s shoulder to watch anyway. 

Actually, everyone notices before you do, even the oblivious King. There’s a whining feedback noise that permeates the air, Vaggie and Charlie are settled back into their seats, and Lucifer is staring in horror at Alastor, who, when you actually turn to look at him, is staring at Lucifer like he means to dismember him. His claws are dug into the fabric of his pants, his smile sharp and dangerous , occult symbols hovering in the air around him.

You feel like you should speak before Alastor does something stupid like trying to murder the king. “I-”

Just like that the moment has ended- the feedback stops, the lights return to normal, occult symbols disappearing in a wisp of smoke. Alastor stands in a fluid movement, turning on his heel and bending at the waist to get eye level with Lucifer. “What a delightful offer. I’m afraid I will be in need of our darling inhabitant’s help at that time.” His smile is tense, words forced between them.

Not one to be put off by a razor tipped grin, Lucifer grimaces at Alastor. “We haven’t even set a date yet!”

“A shame, truly.” He straightens up, holds a hand out to you that you don’t even think about not taking. “I’m afraid we have much to discuss before any other plans are made, dear.”

“There have been no plans made!”

“Farewell, everyone!” He pulls you to stand beside him and with a swirl of darkness you’ve vanished, rematerializing in his bedroom. He crowds you against the door, tall body caging yours with arms on either side of your head and leaning into the space between your shoulder and neck. “You need to choose what you want from our deal,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there. “You’ve been putting it off for whatever silly reason you have, and I demand that it ends. Pick something.”

You close your eyes against the sensation of him and feel the hammering of his heart where he’s pressed against you. “It’s not- not time for your rut,” you say. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

“The rut be damned. If your half of the deal is unfulfilled, if I can’t give you something that you want, then the deal is void.” He nearly snarls the words into your shoulder, the frustration apparent in his words. “You can decide to end this at any time and I can do nothing about it.”

Your hands come up to his chest, meaning to push him back, but you pause. “Alastor-”

“I have no power over this deal until your benefit is claimed. Should you have decided to entertain that kingly oaf I would have to sit idly by knowing that you are in his domain instead of mine, where you belong.”

“I didn’t know that,” you tell him, and then your brain catches up with what he’s said. “And what do you mean, ‘where I belong?’ This was just meant to be- you know, your ruts. I wouldn’t just fuck off and leave you messed up if you can’t accept anyone else but I didn’t think you wanted anything more than that.”

“I didn’t.” Alastor hisses the word into your skin, like it’s your fault you’re in this situation. “I was content to simply let these cursed ruts run through with your assistance with none of the pesky interference that feelings would bring. But you’re just so… good.” He laughs and the sound seems painful to him, vibrating against you. “You’ve thrown yourself into it with such gusto and enthusiasm, you offer me no complaints, you indulge my every whim even when we aren’t isolated from the world together, and you aren’t even getting anything out of it.”

Everything clicks into place- for you, at least. His actions towards you, his behavior towards Lucifer this evening, how possessive he’s been during the ruts and between them. Something had changed over the course of your deal; he wanted it set in stone to tie you to him, to make sure that you wouldn’t end your arrangement and run off with someone like Lucifer. To make sure you wouldn’t leave him, that you were bound to him and the deal you had made.

It should have been alarming. It wasn’t- the knowledge that he craved more, as you did, made a pulse of heat run through your body. 

“Okay,” you agree. “I see the problem, I understand- and I know what I want.” He raises his head from your shoulder finally, eyes narrowed at how agreeable you seem to be and his grin tense. You give him a sweet smile. “A kiss.”

Alastor says nothing, watching you with his suspicious gaze before he takes a deep breath. “You’ll waste the benefit of such a deal on a mere kiss? Don’t joke with me-”

“Who’s joking? I would ask for nothing if I thought you would let me. If this is what will give you the reassurance that I don’t plan on going anywhere then I’ll give it to you.” You let your eyes trail down his chest, lower your voice to a whisper. “Don’t forget to ask me where I would like my kiss to be.”

His breath catches in his throat and his gaze goes dark, raking down your frame like his claws have done so many times. “Do you know how many sinners in the hordes of Hell would have taken the opportunity to bring me to my knees with the deal that I offered you?” He brings an arm down from its position bracketing you to trail his fingers along your neck, over your breast, down your side and rest possessively on your hip. “Is that what you would ask of me as well?”

“Only temporarily.”

He chuckles low, the sound rumbling in his chest. “As you wish,” he says, and in a flash of movement he is sinking before you to his knees, hands running carefully over your body as he descends. He hooks his fingers in the top of your skirt, drags it to the floor along with your panties and then wraps a hand around your calf to prop your leg over his shoulder, bringing the heat of your wetness closer to his mouth. 

He rests his head against your thigh, hooded gaze moving from your desperately slick folds to your face, blushing and nervous despite having asked for exactly this. You had done this before, splayed in his bed with his face buried between your legs, but the angle was different- he could still see you, he wasn’t lost in the throes of his rut and mindless in his hunger for you. What if he didn’t like it when he wasn’t at the mercy of his instincts? What if he-

Alastor’s tongue, long and deft, comes out of his mouth to lick at the skin of your thigh, making you jolt and look back down, not realizing that your gaze had drifted. “You’d best pay attention, darling,” he mutters. “I might take offense should your attention wander.” 

Then he’s angling himself, slotting his mouth against you, and you would make a thousand ill-advised deals to feel this forever. His tongue slips in easily with the arousal that drips from you, the strong line of his nose brushing against your clit with every subtle shift of his head to get deeper, taste more. He pulls back enough to press a finger into you gently, sucks at the nub of your clit before sliding his tongue back into you beside his finger. The movement makes you moan, hands finally coming away from where they’ve been scrambling against the wood of the door to twist between the locks of his hair.

Accustomed to what he likes during his ruts, you run a finger up the tines of his antlers and he groans into you, low and sinful and fucking perfect. “ You,” he mumbles against you, between kisses to your slick lips and presses of his tongue to your sensitive spot, “will simply be the death of me. Look at me.”

You hadn’t realized your eyes had closed again, and they fly open; the sight that greets you threatens to be your undoing. His eyes are glazed where he watches you, antlers having branched out beyond his ears, tongue pressed flush to your slick folds. His free hand comes up to lift your other leg onto his unoccupied shoulder, the motion putting you into an awkward lean against the door as he drags you closer to his hungry mouth.

“Wait- Alastor-” You try to use your grip on his antlers to pull him away to reposition but only succeed in making him grip your thigh tighter with the hand that doesn’t have fingers inside you- with the position change he’s added another, tongue still twisting dexterously alongside.

You start to move from the door and you panic a moment, thinking you’re falling, before there’s a firm pressure at your back and hands coming to rest in your hips. When you turn your head to look you’re greeted with the dark wisp of Alastor’s shadow, glowing grin unaffected by the words that follow your sharp intake of breath. “No need to fear, darling,” says Alastor’s voice from the shadow. “It’s merely here to keep you steady.”

You let your head fall back onto the shadow’s shoulder as Alastor continues to take you apart, hands fisted in his hair and on the base of his antlers, thumb gently stroking when you can manage the mental capacity necessary to not just be at his mercy. A particularly harsh suck to your clit has your legs clenching around his head, inner walls spasming on his fingers and tongue as he pulls you towards the edge of orgasm. “Fuck, Alastor-”

The moan that responds comes from the shadow but vibrates through your body starting between your legs. “Let me hear you, my dear,” comes his hot whisper next to your ear. “We don't often focus on you like this, do we? Just that one time during my rut. An egregious error- one I mean to rectify immediately.”

He angles your hips again, pulls his tongue from the clench of your body to focus on your bundle of nerves. “To have you during my periods of need is no longer enough- I wish to have you beneath me, around me, always. The thought of losing you to that regal imbecile drives me to madness that claws at my very soul. I’ll have to be sure to lay my claim in a way that is… indisputable.” His voice rasps next to your ear, the shadow a perfect transmitter of his thoughts and words while his mouth is occupied.

“Alastor-” You mean to warn him of your impending release, the coil of tension that threatens to snap with the briefest of pressure. “Please, I need-”

“Go on, dearest,” his shadow purrs while his tongue circles your clit in hard, fast swipes. “Come in my mouth, show me how beautiful you are in your pleasure-”

Your body shakes in the hold of Alastor and his shadow, voice leaving you in a strangled cry as you obey, your release making your entire body tensing wherever it can- your hands in Alastor’s hair, legs around his head, cunt around his fingers. He licks you gently through it before he pulls back slowly, expression satisfied looking up at you before he lowers your legs to the ground, standing and making sure he has a solid hold on you when his shadow vanishes. “How are your legs, darling, can you stand?” He walks you over to the bed and lays you on the mattress, an admiring glance cast across your frame. “I’ll never grow tired of seeing you splayed across my sheets.”

“I’ll never be tired of being splayed across them; looks like our interests align, how handy is that?” He meets your smile with his customary one, and you hold a hand out to him and pull him closer, quickly working the buttons of his shirt and letting him slide the garment off his body. “Do you know why I agreed to the deal with you?” You wait for his bemused nod before you undo the button of his trousers. “It wasn’t anything to do with your power or what you could offer me in return. Or even the orgasms, as wonderful as they’ve been. So do you know why?”

“I’m sure you’ll enlighten me,” he murmurs as you shimmy his pants down his legs, hissing when you drag his undergarments down as well and his erection springs free. 

“I said yes,” you say, pulling him down so he kneels on the edge of the bed, “because I wanted a chance to be closer to you. That’s what I’ve been getting the whole time- I didn’t need anything else. Though the kiss was great,” you say with a wink, wrapping a hand around him and guiding the head of him into your slick heat.

“Fuck-” Alastor cuts himself off with a hiss as he sinks into you, fucking into your pliant body and grinding down when he’s sunk to the hilt. “Delightful woman- you always surprise me. So wet and tight around my cock every time you take me. So lovely and perfect, my-” He stops himself, burying his face in the space between your neck and shoulder, his favorite place to be. 

“Your mate,” you encourage him. “I will be- if you’ll have me. Even without the deal- ahh, fuck -” You interrupt yourself with a moan when he angles his hips, hitting the sweet spot inside your body. “I’m not going anywhere- I would have helped you regardless of the deal, regardless of the favor you asked of me.” You rock your hips up into him, let him reach further inside. “Whatever you will give me I’ll take, Alastor. Let me be yours- always. That’s what I want.”

“It’s yours,” he groans, “I would give you anything , darling. Anything.” He fucks himself into you harder, growling into your skin. “Let me give it to you.”

“Please,” you beg him, your second release a hair trigger away. “Fuck, Alastor please- I’m yours, your mate, please-”

“You’re mine, fucking- mine, always, fuck-” He spends himself with a snarl in the tight heat of your body and you follow shortly behind, a cry of Alastor’s name on your lips as you let yourself fall apart in his embrace. His teeth pierce the skin of your neck where they always do- and really, you should ask him about that, find out if it's a cannibal thing or a deer thing so you can decide if you’re less okay with it, even as hot as it is.

The only sounds for a bit are harsh exhales as you both try to catch your breath, tracing your fingers up and down the exposed skin of his back, pausing every now and then when you come across a scar. “This was… different,” he says quietly. “From the times during the rut, I mean. The ache, the need for you still burning but not through every fiber of my being in a way that cannot be ignored. I feel more in control of myself with you now, without it.”

“Which you like?”

“Very much so. My ruts are enjoyable with you, darling, but the feeling of being so lost in my baser instincts can be overwhelming at times.” He pulls back from your shoulder to watch your face as he speaks. “You being so accommodating to it helped and of course I don’t wish to stop, but I do believe I prefer us like this.”

“I do too. Speaking of baser instincts though, are you going to turn into some jealous beast again if I want to visit Lucifer’s library with everyone else?”

He heaves a deep sigh. “I suppose despite his obvious interest in what belongs to me I won’t stop you. A proper chaperone should get the message across to his royal idiocy, as should my mark on your neck.” He brings a hand up to run his fingers over the pulsing bite he’s left, and you shiver at the feeling.

“You should really be nicer to him.” You tilt your head up to press against his chest and listen to the steady thumping of his heart. “I have no interest in the King of Hell; you demand enough of my time.”

“As it should be- I did tell you I would take offense if your attention wandered.” Silence again for a few minutes until the demon atop you speaks, his voice rumbling pleasantly where he’s pressed against you. “You know, I can feel in our bond that the ‘kiss’ you requested doesn't count for our deal” When you shoot him a confused look he rubs his thumb against your hip bone. “I do believe it needs to be something tangible, as much fun as we had. Have you any other ideas?”

You sigh. “Dammit. Okay, just- something small then. I really don’t need anything else out of this.” You think for a moment, still tracing the scars on his back when an idea comes to you. “What about something like a bracelet? Or a ring or something- a piece of jewelry I can wear that will alert me if you’re hurt somehow.”

Alastor turns his head to watch you with a raised eyebrow. “What would you want with such a thing?”

“The whole point of this deal was to make sure that you were in peak, ‘not-sexually-frustrated’ form to take on the Vees, right? And that hasn’t happened yet so when it does I want to make sure you’re safe,” you tell him, and he hides his face in your neck again. “I meant it, Alastor- I care about you, I want to know that you’re okay. Always. That’s what a good mate does, right? I brushed up on my ‘deer mating habits’ knowledge.”

You can feel his smile. “Yes, I suppose that is true. Consider it done- for real this time.” He snaps his fingers and with a pulse of green magic there’s a silver band on your right pinky finger, an etched design that looks like Alastor’s antlers on them. “Should I ever find myself in danger or injured, the ring will alert you. I’m not sure what you expect to be able to do with that but regardless- our deal is officially set.”

You admire it for a few moments before humming an affirmative and letting your arm wrap back around him, fingers resuming their journey across the expanse of his back muscles.

“This deal could span decades,” Alastor finally mumbles into your neck, pressing a gentle kiss there. “You truly think that your feelings on the matter- your feelings about me- won’t change in that time?”

You sigh into his chest, allowing him to maneuver the two of you so you lay in the bed normally. “They won’t. And even if they did, the deal is done- I collected on my benefit,” you say in a sing-song tone, with a wink and a wave of your ringed hand. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Yes, well. I’m sure that’s nothing I can’t handle,” he says, tightening his grip around your waist, and you muffle your laughter into his chest, having finally gotten what you wanted all along.

[ldrfanatic]

Slytherin Boys as 1989 Songs

+ bonus! the slytherin boys as romance tropes

I decided to shake this one up a bit and do all happy love songs

here's 1989 (tv ofc); which taylor swift album should i do next?

(mattheo riddle, draco malfoy, theo nott, lorenzo berkshire)

slytherin boys masterlist nav

mattheo riddle as I Know Places

best lyric(s) - "let them say what they want we won't here it" + "love's a fragile little flame it could burn out" + "just grab my hand and don't ever drop it"

trope - enemies to lovers :)

mattheo w a crush - in love, mattheo is somewhere in the middle between being sappy and just straight up insulting you. not like calling you ugly or anything but like "damn i didn't know it was possible to mess up such an easy spell" like kind of teasing. he's one of those guys that will be mean at first and then be like playfully mean and then finally, will start being nice to you but only sometimes. he just thinks you're adorable when you're angry.

mattheo as a boyfriend - now as a boyfriend, mattheo still teases the hell out of you but god forbid literally anyone else does bc he'll kill them. like actually. also the pair of you go through a little bit of a rough patch during the war and he keeps telling you that you have to stay way from him but secretly, he's really happy that you never actually listen to him because he doesn't know what he would do without you. he just kind of ignores all the whispers and hogwarts becomes your guys' like safe little happy love bubble.

draco malfoy as Out of the Woods

best lyric(s) - "the rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming color" + "when you started crying baby i did too, when the sun came up i was looking at you" + "I walked out I said 'i'm setting you free' but the monsters turned out to be just trees"

trope - everyone can see it except for you

draco w a crush - I think draco would be the kind of guy that actively avoided his crush. like if you were sitting in the very front of transfigurations, he was sitting in the absolute furthers corner in the back. If you were going on the hogsmeade trip, he was begging his friends would leave him to simmer in his affections for you. he's just so nervous and so certain you'll dislike him that he'd rather not talk to you at all. when he finally does work up the courage, he's extremely happy and like eternally grateful that you'd give him a chance.

draco as a boyfriend - i do think though that draco is not always the best at communicating just because he always wants everything to be so perfect and he doesn't want there to be anything that he says that could make you resent him so he'd rather not say anything at all. obv, this doesn't work out well for him cause like... communicating w you is so essential. y'all get into arguments fairly regularly but you always end up making up because he's always just creating those demons in his head and it's almost never that serious.

theodore nott as Suburban Legends

best lyric(s) - "you were so magnetic it was almost obnoxious" + "when you hold me, it holds me together and you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever" + "you'd be more than a chapter in my old diaries with the pages ripped out"

trope - hopeless romantic

theo w a crush - I think with a crush theo would be the kind of guy that just simps like a mf. like you need someone to carry your books, he's there, why would you even try to carry them yourself? just let him take care of it. or like, when you're not feeling well and you might need to spend a few days in the hospital wing, while you're sleeping theo sneaks in and leaves the notes for the classes you missed as well as your favorite sweets and flowers. (one time when michael corner made you cry, he beat the snot out of him and then the next day left this huge teddy bear outside your door with the note "y/n, that douchebag sucks. -tn")

theo as a boyfriend - theo's simp nature carries over when he's a bf so he's super freaking caring. he does literally everything for you. he'll brush your hair when you get out of the shower if you ask. or if you're like me and you have like thicker ethnic hair, he'll ask you to show him how to do your hair so that he can do it for you. he's also one of those guys that's like casually dominant. like hand on your lower back in a crowd, opening your doors, reaching up and grabbing things from the top shelf for you. naturally protective in the sense of like he always wants to sleep closest to the door in case something happens and like is also always making sure you eat and get enough water.

lorenzo berkshire as "Slut!"

lyric(s) - "and if i'm gonna be drunk, i might as well be drunk in love" + "and i break down then he's pulling me in. in a world of boys he's a gentleman" + "got love struck went straight to my head"

trope - friends to lovers

enzo w a crush - enzo is the kind of guy who's not afraid to be in love. he actually loves it. he loves having someone to compliment and shower in gifts and win over. where mattheo would tease you, draco would avoid you, and theo would lose himself in you, enzo is the guy who would bring you inexplicable joy and make sure you knew that it was him that was bringing you joy. not to say that he wouldn't do sweet gestures and such but he's the sort of guy that will make you his best friend and then make you fall in love with him.

enzo as a boyfriend - because of this, you and enzo are like those like childhood friends turned lovers type of thing. he just knows you so well and the love between you two comes so easily. he makes it his personal mission to make you smile at least once a day. as your boyfriend, he's just really playful. things like pillow fights and tickle fights. he's also that boyfriend that will do all those little stupid tiktok trends with you but like really energetically and not just like half-assed bc if it's gonna make you smile, he's going all in.

---

4.25.24

wc 1k

taglist @moonlightreader649 @svt-dk97 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess

[wren-kitchens]

so shiver, but shiver with a friend

1034 words

the boat is creaking. that's not even remotely abnormal; the boat spends more time creaking than it does staying silent—gem built it so it would do that. sure, it took a lil' getting used to, but it didn’t take long for the rhythmic rocking and gentle creaking to become conducive to sleep, and now gem finds it far more difficult to sleep in silence. after all, silence means something is wrong—the engine rumbles if it's working, the waves splash against the sides of the boat if it's still afloat. a creaky boat means gem is still alive, and the boat is still running. but this isn’t your average ambient creaking. like she said, gem knows the noises of her little fishing boat like the back of her hand, and this is not a normal creak. this is a suspicious creak. and- sure, that might sound silly, but have you memorised every sound this boat can make? didn’t think so. 

this fic exists for two reasons, which are stiff stiffyck's love for qpr elven duo (gem and scar) and also me overthinking scar's wheelchair worldbuilding in the hermitcraft world

this could be a lot better but alas I have been consumed by depression writers block, so honestly i'm just proud this ended up as a finished fic

btw this is one of my first times writing wheelchairs, and whilst it is fantasy so things are gonna be a little different, I would appreciate if someone could tell me if I did something wrong/insensitively!

the boat is creaking.

that's not even remotely abnormal; the boat spends more time creaking than it does staying silent—gem built it so it would do that. sure, it took a lil' getting used to, but it didn’t take long for the rhythmic rocking and gentle creaking to become conducive to sleep, and now gem finds it far more difficult to sleep in silence. after all, silence means something is wrong—the engine rumbles if it's working, the waves splash against the sides of the boat if it's still afloat. a creaky boat means gem is still alive, and the boat is still running.

but this isn’t your average ambient creaking. like she said, gem knows the noises of her little fishing boat like the back of her hand, and this is not a normal creak. this is a suspicious creak. and- sure, that might sound silly, but have you memorised every sound this boat can make? didn’t think so.

anyway, all of this to say that gem is pretty sure someone is on her boat at the middle of the night for what she deeply hopes are not nefarious reasons. although, she cannot think of any reason someone would be sneaking onto her boat at two in the morning—nefarious or otherwise. maybe it's grian trying to lag some things out of her chests? but why on earth he wouldn't do that in the day when she wasn't on board, gem has no clue.

there's a new noise now, one that suggests against the idea of nefarious deeds, but only confuses gem more: a kind of squeaking, like a rubber ring being taken off, or an air mattress being slept on. okay, that doesn’t rule anything out at all, and only serves to make everything far more complicated. who is bringing a rubber something onto her boat at 2am? what is happening here?

overtaken by an amounting curiosity to whatever the hell is actually going on, gem climbs out of bed and pads softly along the floorboards in her slippers to her door. she regrets not installing one of those peepholes, because now she actually has to engage with the something that's happening outside in order to investigate. gem is sure there isn’t anything especially dangerous that could be going on, but she pulls out her sword preemptively as she opens the door slowly to find-

to find..

well, she's not sure what she's found.

"gem!" says a cheery scar, who is. on her boat? how is he on her boat- he uses a wheelchair, and the boat is in the middle of the river.

except- no, hang on, his wheelchair seems to be completely lacking wheels, which gem would argue is the main point of a wheelchair. where the wheels should otherwise be, there are floatation devices—seemingly rubber, which explains the noises gem was hearing earlier—in patented hotguy colours, so she assumes that's intentional. okay, that's- that sure is something.

"you-" gem scrambles for any words to express how bizarre this situation is and fails miserably. "you’re on my boat." is all she manages. void, it is way too late (early?) to be trying to figure this out.

"I am on your boat!" scar says, looking rather proud of himself. it's kind of sweet, to be fair—even as it only adds to the crazy situation. "y’know, I didn't think i’d actually manage it. last time I tried, I sunk."

gem blinks, giving up on making sense of the situation now and letting herself just go with the bizarre. "yeah, I can imagine why scar." she gestures at the rubber wheels (they look a bit like wheels, anyway). "how did you get those?"

"cub helped me!" scar smiles, as if this was a normal conversation to be having. does he even realise how strange this situation is, or is this just normal for him now? "see- you know how my chair has an elytra mode?"

"uh huh."

"well, now it has a swimming mode!" scar says, and he clicks a button on the underside of the seat. within an instant, the floatation devices deflate, replaced swiftly by the regular wheels. "ta da!"

"that- I mean, that's very cool." gem says, and she means it, despite how unenthusiastic she knows she must sound. in her defence, it is the middle of the night. "I just- why are you here?"

something changes in scar's expression immediately, and gem panics a little until scar says meekly, "it- okay, well. now it sounds silly."

gem snorts. "because showing off your inflatable wheelchair at two in the morning is normal?" she tilts her head, and her voice is fond when she says, "you know you can tell me anything, right?"

a smile tugs at the corners of scar's lips, and gem feels something warm in her chest to see it. "I know, I know." he hesitates for a second, before giving a huff of exasperation. "I wanted a hug." scar admits, glancing at the floor.

"wh- scar." gem finds herself beginning to smile. "do you really think I would ever turn down a hug from you?"

scars grin is almost shy as he opens his arms, and gem practically falls into them, burying her face in his jacket. man, she has missed hugs from scar; she loves the way they fit together so well, like pieces of a puzzle, perfectly matched to one another. there are very few places where gem feels entirely at home—she's been pretty much everywhere, so she knows what home feels like—and scar is closer to home than any place has ever felt to her.

before she knows it, scar has scooted forward just enough to unbalance her, and she lands on top of him. gem scoffs playfully as scar laughs to himself, holding her closer.

"I can't hug you properly if you’re stood up, y’know." scar mumbles into her hair.

gem rolls her eyes, fond as anything. "well, i’m not complaining." she's quiet for a moment, letting herself appreciate the moment—breathing it all in. "I love you." gem murmurs.

scar squeezes her, and gem can almost hear his smile when he says, "I love you too."

[rendy-a]

Here it is! The winner of the reverse trope poll: Accidentially kidnapping a mafia boss! I had a lot of fun writing it and hope you enjoy it as well!

An Accidental Deal

'Think of the puppies and kittens,' you tell yourself sternly. You stand outside of Ramshackle Shelter and try to psych yourself up for this confrontation. Countless affirmations run through your head. You can do this! The question still remains in your head; when they arrive, will you be able to do it?

The news has been tremendously shocking to all the volunteers: Ramshackle Shelter was all but sold to an entrepreneur to build a branch of a popular ocean-themed cafe. You'd heard of Mostro Lounge but never dared go to such a place. Not because the cafe wasn't nice sounding, no, it was due to the owner. It was an open secret among the residents of your city that the sly restaurateur Azul Ashengrotto was, in fact, mafia boss Don Azul. And now that scummy bastard was this close to shutting down your shelter.

You'd protested at city hall to block the zoning (failure), written to the paper to get the community to object (failure) and tried to raise funds to buy the place yourself (failure). Now, you were down to extreme measures only. So, this was it; you were really going to kidnap someone. You pat the pocket of your jacket where you have a cloth soaked in chemicals to knock someone out. Just one small thing stands in your way, abject fear.

Don Azul was terrifying. You'd expected an aura of danger and power, but when you saw the teal-haired gentleman step from the limo and adjust his hat, you realized you'd grossly underestimated him. He looks like he could bite your arm off... and would probably enjoy it. By contrast, the silver-haired fellow who emerges next in plain shirt sleeves seems far more kidnappable. 'Why can't you be Don Azul?' you think sadly. You watch from your alley hiding spot as the formidable Don and his secretary(?) head inside to inspect the building.

You hurriedly cross the street and slip into the side entrance. You had all the access codes from your years of volunteering, so it was easy for you to navigate the halls quietly and arrive behind the little inspection party. The two men were talking, and the secretary was gesturing in a way that made you feel like they were discussing how to set up the space. After they threw you and the animals out. You grit your teeth and scowl silently at the figure of Don Azul and pat your pocket again; he'd get what was coming to him soon enough.

Then, in a moment that takes your breath away, Don Azul looks up and into a mirror on the wall. For a moment, you think you meet his mis-matched eyes. You feel your heartbeat race as you enter panic mode. Then the Don sneezes, which breaks the illusion. You back your way down the hall and into a storeroom. Maybe you couldn't do this after all. There was no way you could face down that man when you couldn't even stand to meet his gaze.

You need a Plan B. Fast. The adrenaline causes you to shake and you rest your shivering form against a wall to think.  What can you still do in this moment? You tap your pocket with the cloth, all set up to abduct someone. Well, that's a waste. Or was it? Your mind strays from the intimidating Don Azul to his companion, the secretary. Was a mafia secretary worth anything as a hostage? You consider the possibility that he might know a great deal of Don Azul's secrets.  Maybe that was enough to negotiate for them to leave this place alone?

You hear barking from beyond the hall and guess they've opened the door leading to the dog kennels. In this moment you are decided; for the animals, you can do this. You were kidnapping that little secretary of Don Azul’s. The barking intensifies and then fades to a dull drum. You figure they've gone in back and closed the separating door. It's the perfect time for you to get into some sort of position out front for an ambush. You creep into the entrance room and jump back when you nearly bump into Mr. Secretary. He seems as surprised to see you as you are to see him. His light blue eyes flicker to the door where the frightening Don had disappeared.

"Didn't go in with the boss?" you mutter softly. "The boss?" he questions quietly before his eyes return to the door, and he puts it together. "Ah, yes. I'm sensitive to the dirty, ah, I mean, delightful animals." You scowl at him, "They aren't dirty. And they are a lot more charming than you."  The mild man gives a shrug of his eyebrows as though to say, ‘If you say so.’  He seems tired as he sighs heavily and gives you a once over.  You’d guess he’s done this any number of times while by the Don’s side.  He is experienced and appears to have sized you up in one simple glance.  “I take it you were affiliated with the location’s prior business?”  This rubs you the wrong way and you whisper shout back, “Its not ‘the location,’ its Ramshackle Shelter and I’m not so sure it’s a prior business either!  I’ve got some points to talk over with your boss!” 

The man gives you a pitying smirk and another sizing glance.  You appear to have been found wanting as he replies, “Is that so?” in a condescending tone.  You frown hard, both angry and embarrassed at the interaction.  “Anyway, it’s not up to you.  I’m not here to make deals with some nobody secretary,” you tell him mockingly.  His eyes widen for a moment and then you see the visible effort he makes to hold in his laughter.  Ok, this has gone on far enough.  Plus, you need to make sure you leave before the evil Don returns.  You approach him in what you hope is a decent appearance of menace, “You better just come along quietly.”  Finally, he appears to take you seriously as you see his chest expand to take in a large breath before a shout.  Unfortunately for Mr. Secretary, you prove faster and thrust the cloth from your pocket over his mouth before he can sound the alarm. 

It works like a charm and the small man is very easily knocked out.  You run to the storage room and drag out a flat-bed cart used to haul animal kennels back and forth between the entry and back.  On the cart is a large and empty kennel big enough to hold a great dane, so you figure one skinny secretary will fit pretty well too.  Except, passed out mafia secretaries are significantly more difficult to shove in a kennel than a dog.  You heave and shove his limp form until you mentally decide he isn’t so small after all.  Fortunately, you manage to get him marginally concealed in the kennel and out the back before you hear the barking of dogs that signals the Don’s return.  Time to hustle this cart down the back alley and into the waiting warehouse. 

After getting your (not so little) secretary back to the warehouse, you look at him laying limp in the kennel and decide that’s a little too cruel for your taste.  So, again, you take the effort to haul his limp form from the kennel and get him settled in what appears to be a reasonably comfortable position on a chair.  Then you take a seat in another chair to wait for him to regain consciousness.  Plus, you need the time to plan.  Before, all your ideas had stemmed from having Don Azul as your hostage.  Now that you only had his secretary, you were no longer sure how to even let him know that.  Can you just call up the mafia and ask to speak to the Don?  That…didn’t feel like a real thing. 

You were pondering your options when a groan brings your attention to your hostage.  You wait for him to open his eyes, place a tentative hand to his head and groggily ask you what happened.  “I kidnapped you, of course,” you cockily reply.  He holds up his unbound hands in front of him, “Shouldn’t you have at least tied me up then?”  You feel your mouth fall open as you look forlornly at the hands held out for you to see.  “Are you going to keep gaping like that?  I might mistake you for a guppie,” he states in a cold tone.  You slam your hand against a crate and shout, “Better watch that language or I’ll have you singing with the fishes!” 

He gives you a startled look and then starts to laugh, “Singing?  I think you mean sleeping.”  Ok, this could be going better, but you can’t back down now!  “I said singing!  Maybe I want to hear you sing me a little song, beautiful.  I’ve got to get the most out of my little captive princess before I turn her back over to her family,” you finish with a mocking leer.  The barest hint of ‘beautiful?’ can be heard coming from the secretary’s mouth.  You point at him and declare, “You’ve got two options; stay over there and start talking or walk your pretty little self over here and sing me a song.  What’s it going to be, Princess?” 

The man gives you a look from deep beneath his long lashes and says, “Those are quite the options.”  Then he flushes and gives you another one of those sizing up looks.  This time, it takes him several minutes to make up his mind, which you suppose is an improvement.  Finally, he narrows his eyes in challenge and says, “Very well, if that’s how you’d like it,” and stands.  You don’t quite know what to do when he marches over and sits in your lap.  Then he looks at you coyly and whispers, “Did you have any requests?”  This certainly wasn’t in your plan.  You shrug helplessly and finally from the depths of your throat you hear, “Row, Row, Row your Boat?” emerge from your mouth.  The corner of his lips curl up momentarily before he schools his expression, “Of course, as you wish.”  Then he begins singing. 

You feel silly for having requested such a childish song but, to his credit, he gives it a serious effort.  And he sings amazingly.  You listen attentively and when he finishes, you apologize, “I’d clap but I’m afraid that would knock you from my lap.”  He smiles for a moment before replying in a serious tone, “That is an important point to consider.  Perhaps you could join me in a verse instead.”  Then he runs his thumb along your bottom lip with a coy gaze and breathlessly starts another round of Row, Row, Row your Boat.  You feel a bit silly, but it would be rude to refuse after all that, so you timidly join him.  When you finish, he smiles, “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”  You suddenly remember that he is The Enemy and frown sternly.  “Come now,” he chides playfully, “I’m just pointing out that I’m not that difficult to work with, Angelfish.” 

“If you lot were so reasonable to work with, then why is my shelter being closed down!” you shout with tears forming in your eyes.  You hate this feeling, like you are the vulnerable one when he is the one who is kidnapped.  He looks deeply into your wavering eyes and finally sighs, “That place is really important to you, isn’t it?”  You look up at him and answer passionately, “Not just for me but for all the animals.  They have nowhere else to go.  No one to look after them.  If we turn them away, what will happen to them?”  You can’t stand to look at his sympathetic gaze and turn to look at the floor instead, “Your boss’s café could go anywhere.  Why take this from me?  From them?” 

The man, who you decide is far more gentle than you originally thought, appears to genuinely be considering your argument.  For the first time since you met him, you give him one of your friendly smiles, “I know it isn’t your fault.  You aren’t the boss.”  Then you pat him gently on the back.  “Don’t worry about it too much.  I’m going to fix this somehow.”  His breath catches and he whispers, “You just might at that.”  You give him a grateful look, “At least someone has confidence in me.  I feel like I’ve done nothing but mess up all day.”  The gently man is having none of this, “I don’t know what you mean, Angelfish, you seem to be doing quite well from my perspective.”  You laugh and give him a grateful smile, “Well thanks for that.  I think I needed some cheering up.” 

The kind (you’ve upgraded him to kind) man gives you a small caress on the cheek, “Is there anything I can do to help?”  You look deep into his beautiful eyes and remark, “I wouldn’t mind another song.”  He brushes a stray hair from your forehead and begins to sing again. 

And that is when they find you.  An amused chuckle from the door alerts you to his presence and you stop your duet immediately to turn, horrified, to face Don Azul.  You fearfully meet the eyes of the lovely man in your lap and stammer, “It..its Don Azul, he found us.”  Your statement causes the intimidating man to open his mis-matched eyes wide.  Then, he bursts out into an unhinged laugh.  Your fear compounds exponentially when you hear another voice emerge from the unguarded back entrance, “What’s so funny?  Go ahead, I’m in the mood for a joke.”  You turn your head and can’t help but blurt out, “Holy shit, there’s two of them!”

Your companion gives a resigned sigh and stands up, “Jade, Floyd.  Come along.  We’re leaving now.”  You look up at him, entirely overwhelmed.  He meets your eye and then smiles sadly, “In case you aren’t quite finished with me yet.”  Then he reaches into his breast pocket, retrieves a small case and extracts a business card.  He slips it gently into your hand and then walks confidently past the intimidating man (Jade?  Floyd?) and out the door.  The frightening twins give you amused (and terrifying) smiles as they silently turn and follow him out the door.  It is several minutes before you regain your senses enough to turn over the card in your hand.  It reads in flowing script: Azul Ashengrotto, CEO of Mostro Lounge.

-Several months later-

You sit at your desk and page through another document.  In the background, the sound of barking dogs is almost soothing to your ears.  Then, a nervous volunteer practically runs into your office, “Director!  Someone is here.  I…I think he might mean to tear up the place!”  You calmly look up from your desk, “And then serve you tea afterward or burn the place down?”  The volunteer looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.  A moment later, a fearful comprehension crosses their face as they mutter, “Oh my god, there are two of them!”  You nod, so, it’s both. 

 When the pair of twins saunter into your office, you smile welcomingly, “Jade, Floyd.  How nice it is to see you today.”  Floyd comes around the desk to drape an arm over your shoulders, “Hey Shrimpy, bossman sent us to pick you up.”  You nod agreeably, “That’s right.  Its opening night.”  Jade places a palm to his chest, “The newest branch of Mostro Lounge will be most delighted to have the Director’s patronage for this special occasion.”  You nod and direct them to wait out front as you finish things up back here. 

When they leave, the fear struck volunteer questions you, “Who were they?  They look like the mafia!”  You shrug, “As far as I know, they are just employees of Mostro Lounge.  As far as I know.”  They give you a look, “Isn’t that the place that nearly shut us down a few months ago?”  You grab your long purple jacket and give them a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “Yeah but we’ve come to an agreement since then.”  The volunteer gives you a considering look and backs a half-step away, as though suddenly wondering if they’d misjudged the familiar Director of Ramshackle Shelter.

You understand, you’d been there before, so you pay them no mind.  Brushing past the volunteer to flick off the light, letting them hide in the darkness of your office.  Then you head out and wave to your waiting escort, “Come on boys.  I’ve got a date with the princess.  Time to make him sing for me.”  Your inside joke never fails to amuse them, and they laugh appreciatively. Your relationship was a complicated thing.  You weren’t sure who was supposed to be the hero or the villain in the whole story but, you supposed, you didn’t really care.  Floyd held the door of the long black limo for you, and you stepped inside.  You could ponder the morality of the whole thing later; you had your Princess waiting for you tonight.  And, if you were lucky, you’d have Azul sing your song for you again.  Ah, life was but a dream.

[decepti-thots]

something that is very interesting rereading early MTMTE is that the comic is actually very much written with the assumption a ton of its readership are specifically pre-existing IDW comics readers, which can sometimes be difficult to remember because of the fact that a lot of people wound up coming onboard to MTMTE from outside the fandom in the end and now it has a reputation as an entry point as a result. this manifests in a couple ways throughout the first couple major arcs. one obvious one is that the Overlord stuff functionally makes it a sequel of sorts to Last Stand of the Wreckers, at a time no direct sequel was planned. but my favourite is that there's a kind of narrative trick the comic pulls with the leadup to the payoff Remain in Light gives us for Magnus.

the Magnus we get in early MTMTE is not the Magnus we get in earlier IDW comics. he's very exaggerated; where phase one Magnus is a by-the-books stickler for not so much as bending rules and someone we see struggling to maintain that sense of moral uprightness in the face of the war and the people around him being far less dedicated to staying on the straight and narrow like him, it's completely turned up to eleven in early MTMTE. phase one Magnus would not be doing endless doorframe audits, or throwing people in the literal brig for crooked badges. but this doesn't necessarily register as a change in character so much as a change in genre. MTMTE is also a dramedy with heavy emphasis on the comedy side of that in a way no other IDW comic is, and the shift in Magnus' characterisation therefore feels like 'well in THIS genre, that's what that archetype is like', rather than a diagetic shift in character. even if you come to MTMTE straight off those prior comics, it is very much a 'roll with the genre shift' thing rather than a 'hm. Magnus is acting… weird' thing. you let it go.

there are a couple indications this might not be the case early on. Rodimus especially seems to be under the impression that Magnus is acting uptight even for him, with his insistence on waving it off like 'he needs to relax, Swerve can you get him to chill on Hedonia because my guy is REAL stressed' and the like. (this makes sense- Rodimus is the person on the ship who has actually been directly interacting with Magnus regularly pre-MTMTE.) but it's not super obvious and not heavily emphasised.

which makes the eventual post-Overlord and RiL reveal, which is that Magnus has in fact been acting weird because he's having a breakdown that has largely gone unremarked upon by his shipmates, really really good. Magnus has not been doing doorframe audits because he's the comically uptight second in command acting as straight man for genre purposes; Magnus has been sending Rodimus a million memos a day and losing his shit over nothing because as someone whose entire identity as 'Magnus' is rooted in a wartime role he escaped into, he's been having an existential crisis now the war is over and he has no purpose and doesn't know what to do because he never expected to have to play that part in peacetime. the entire time the genre shift was somewhat obfuscating the fact this characterisation was a thing that is in-universe relevant, which also then reflects back on the fact Rodimus is like. hm. probably should have noticed that, now I feel like an asshole for not realising. (the scene where he and Rung discuss those unread memos, post-Overlord.)

it's a small thing, but it's a really effective misdirect for the payoff Magnus gets in RiL that reads a hell of a lot more clearly on reread and rewards that chance to revisit the early issues with that knowledge. of course that wasn't just a gag, of course he's actually slowly losing his shit slightly, he cannot go five seconds without making it clear he is Stressed As Hell. but until you get to that actual reveal, there's just enough room for the comic to let a reader assume it's, you know, we're in a comedy now, we need a hilarious straight man, and Magnus is it. it's great! all the stuff MTMTE pulls to simultaneously obfuscate the Magnus/Minimus reveal while also making it feel completely reasonable on reread is great. really good use of reader bias there.

[amoromniaodium]

I hate angst, but Clegan has been making me feel horribly sad. I wanted to see if any of you are interest in an extremely angst fic. I am posting for the first time this is my first full on prompt I hope you guys like it. This is probably horrible but here you go:

---

Gale Cleven was born unloved. His father despised him, beat him, and screamed at him. His mother was coldly indifferent to her husband's treatment of their only son. This harsh upbringing forced Gale to adapt to any environment, learning to read people so effectively that he could almost predict their words and reactions. However, sometimes his gift didn't work properly he does not see it coming; his scars and bruises from his father were telltale.

Gale Cleven grew up feeling cold and unloved, so detached that it seemed something within him had broken; he had never felt warmth in his life.

Gale Cleven grew up in profound loneliness, constantly questioning if things would ever improve.

He didn’t have friends because he moved so often. His shyness and disinterest in typical boyhood activities meant that no one approached him.

Gale Cleven was always pretty—not handsome but beautiful—and that beauty frightened him.

That is why, when he entered flying school and met the men who made him feel warmth for the first time, Gale Cleven became Buck Cleven—a person with friends and love.

Buck Cleven was born, but Gale Cleven still lurked in the background, waiting for the warmth to fade and the cold to return.

Gale Cleven loved Bucky Egan deeply and loyally; he was the only one for him. This obsession or loyalty might seem abnormal to the average person, but Gale had grown up cold, alone, and unloved, and when he finally felt warmth, he clung to it.

Bucky Egan was the hottest and brightest being out there, the sun that kept him warm on the coldest days.

However, what Gale felt for Bucky Egan was not reciprocated, and it only took one evening outside the pub for him to realize this.

It was at that moment that Buck Cleven broke in half, and Gale Cleven re-emerged. It was then Buck realized that, like the sun, Bucky had many orbiting him. Gale was just one of many, the farthest from the warmth, not even a planet—a dwarf planet like Pluto, forgotten and cast aside.

When Buck Cleven saw Bucky kiss someone he knew, so deeply and lovingly, he realized he meant nothing.

Isn’t it funny how naive he was to think that someone like Bucky would ever love him or be there for him? Buck had given his whole self, his broken soul, only to be cast aside and destroyed again. Perhaps it was better that it happened now.

Buck Cleven ceased to exist. Why should he be kind and present when he was not valued? He cast aside the name Buck, a name given to him by the man he loved, and decided this was it.

No more touches, no idle chatter, no more loving glances, no more following and waiting to be acknowledged.

He would be Major Gale Cleven, performing his duties well, but he would no longer yearn for John Egan. It was over.

Like his father, John Egan had taken a piece of his soul, destroyed it for laughs, and handed it back.

Gale Cleven realized that there was no such thing as emotion, love, or peace—there was only living.

[five-rivers]

rings of power

@nephmoreau

Metal clattered against stone and servos strained as the boy in the enchanted armor struggled to force Pariah Dark into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.  The sounds of the battle outside the keep were faint, but present.  Every so often, the cry of someone who could not die being fatally wounded rose up above the din.

The boy pushed again, harder, and the spikes of the Crown of Fire struck the edge of the Sarcophagus.

That was all the excuse it needed to topple from Pariah’s head.  

There were things it could do and things it could not do.  Bound to an object, constrained by ancient law and contract, its actions had to be plausible.  Plausible, not necessarily likely.  It had had enough of Pariah Dark, and it had no desire to be locked in the Sarcophagus with him again.  

It might be an immortal entity bound in an inanimate object, and therefore not terribly susceptible to the various ills related to the passage of time, such as boredom, etcetera, but it still had standards.  Pariah Dark may have controlled it and the Ring of Range the past several centuries, but getting beaten by a teenager that had no idea what he was doing, and demonstrating such a loss of authority, well… Did someone not able to control a teenager really deserve to wear a crown?

The Crown of Fire didn’t think so.  

Now, it wasn’t fond of the idea of leaving the Ring of Rage behind, but there wasn’t much the crown could do.  The ring was firmly on Pariah Dark’s finger.  There wasn’t much wiggle room there, literally or figuratively.  

But the crown could hurry their reunion along, one way or another.  They always got back together.  

It rolled away from the continuing struggle, ringing.  Its tines chimed against the floor, and the flames singed the stones.  Strictly speaking, it should not have rolled.  It could float.  But, again, plausibility.  It wanted to be noticed, so it called out with the only voice it really had.  

The Sarcophagus slammed closed, the boy practically sagging against it, but there was no key.  The crown watched with interest.  If the boy was successful, well, it was free of Pariah.  If he failed, at least it was with the ring.  

Then, Plasmius, the one who had freed them, flew into the keep, bearing the Skeleton Key.  The crown wouldn’t call the key a friend, but it was an old acquaintance, and they acknowledged each other in the only way they could.  

Plasmius inserted the key into the keyhole and turned it, locking Pariah Dark and the Ring of Rage away.  At least, until the crown convinced someone strong enough to open the Sarcophagus and properly defeat Pariah.  

That would take some time, though, if Plasmius was an example of what was on offer.  THe boy might be better, but, no, it could smell weakness on him.  The armor, as cleverly enchanted as it was, fed on him and his strength.  He would not be nearly as strong without it, and with it, well…

The boy collapsed.  

There.  That was exactly what the crown was talking about.  

Plasmius pulled the boy from the armor, checking him for a pulse of all things.  Nonsense.  The crown stopped rolling and fell with a clatter.  

Plasmius looked up, eyes falling directly on the crown, as planned.  He split a duplicate off himself, then another, and another, until one was holding the boy, one was holding the crown, and the others were lifting up the armor.  

But that armor… hmm.  

It had been a while, a long, long while, since it had moved.  

Item spirits, like the crown of fire, were far more akin to hermit crabs than anything else among the living.  They grew very slowly, but sometimes… sometimes, they got a little crowded in their shells.  So to speak.  

As Plasmius gathered himself together to fly to wherever he called home, the spirit of the crown slowly, slowly pulled itself free.  Invisibly, it stretched feelers out to the armor and sunk in, testing it.  

Oh, yes, this would do nicely.  

It only half paid attention as Fright Knight approached and Plasmius held up the crown’s old body like some kind of trophy.  Fright Knight’s flames rippled in the ghostly version of a sigh.  Well, he could keep his exasperation to himself.  The crown could do what it wanted.  It didn’t need a babysitter.  

.

The crown was having fun being a suit of armor.  Of course, being a crown, it wouldn’t stay a suit of armor for long, but it would be fun while it lasted.  Running around with the ghost boy’s human sister was exciting.  More than it’d had in ages.  The fake fighting wasn’t really it’s style, but, well.  

The sister wasn’t Pariah Dark, and, really, what more could it ask for?

But then the ghost boy was taking his sister, and setting off a self destruct, which, truly, was ridiculous.  Why would anyone put that in something they were going to wear?  

The crown tried to stop it, of course.  It should have been able to stop it.  But modern enchantments were so strange to it, so unfamiliar.  It still didn’t understand how they worked.  

So, instead, it reached out, searching for anything it could slip into, no matter how small…

… and it found something, many microscopic somethings, swimming through the girl’s blood.  

Nanites, they had been called.  Tiny enchanted things, small enough to hide dozens in a drop of blood.  They were enough to hold the crown.  They had to be.  

It made the jump. Then, it paced restlessly back and forth in its new home.  Better this than being blown up, but still.  How tight.  How unpleasant.  

It would make it work.  

.

Jazz put her hand to her head as Danny flew her away from Vlad’s stupid football-themed death arena.  

“Are you okay?” he asked.  “Vlad mentioned something about nanobots or nanites or something?”

“I’m fine,” she said.  “Just a headache.  You didn’t mention how loud that thing was.”

“Loud?”  

“Yeah, like something was squealing the whole time.”  She shook her head.  “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” asked Danny.  

“I’m sure,” said Jazz, smiling.  She rubbed the base of her ring finger.  It felt like… something… something should be there. 

[roxxie-wolf]

𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒪𝓇𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒

Chapter 1 🌸 Chapter 2 🌸 Chapter 3 🌸 Chapter 4

Pairing: Human!Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your parents want you to marry someone of their choice, but you already have eyes on someone else. Will you follow what your parents think is best for you or will you go with what your heart desires.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: human!alastor x fem!reader, slow burn, this story may contain mature sexual content. Your in your late 20's, Alastor is in his early 30's, you still live with your parents idk. If I forgot anything else please let me know.

Note: Next chapter will be out on Friday ^^ unless I decide to post early again.

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟦

Your father’s return from work filled the house with a sense of familiarity. As he stepped out of the car he made his way to the front porch and entered the house, his voice echoed through the hallway: “I’m home.” You emerged from your bedroom, descending the stairs to join your mother, who had also come out to greet him.

“Welcome home, hun,” wrapping her arms around your father in a warm embrace. The love between them was palpable, a quiet reassurance that life continued its steady rhythm.

You followed suit, hugging your father. “Welcome home, Dad,” your voice echoing your mother’s sentiment. The three of you stood there, a family reunited, the walls of the house absorbing the shared affection.

“Are we ready to go?” your father asked, glancing at both of you. The question hung in the air, a bridge between the comfort of home and the adventures that awaited beyond its threshold.

“Yes, we are ready” your mother’s voice sounded excited. "Yeah," you murmured, your reluctance a low counterpoint to her enthusiasm. You trailed behind your parents, the click of the door latch a definitive sound marking your departure from the sanctuary of home.

The car's engine hummed to life, a soft purr that seemed to signal the start of an inevitable journey. Your mother's excitement was a bright note in the otherwise mundane trip, her voice filled with the kind of hope only a parent can have.

As the car rolled down the street, the world outside the window passed in a blur of colors and shapes. Your thoughts, however, were anchored firmly on Alastor—his enigmatic smile, the way his presence had seemed to shift the very air around you.

"Sweetie, give Brian a chance," your mother's voice cut through your reverie, a gentle chiding that pulled you back to the present. Her words were well-meaning, but they landed with a weight you weren't ready to carry.

You didn't want to give Brian a chance, not when your mind was filled with Alastor. He had opened a door to something new, something that felt like it could be significant, and the thought of stepping away from that, even for an evening, was unappealing.

But as the car turned onto the road leading to Richard’s house, you realized that sometimes life required you to walk down paths you hadn't chosen, to meet people who might not stir your soul the way a stranger had with just one smile. Perhaps this was one of those times.

With a quiet sigh, you resolved to face the evening with an open mind. Who knew? Maybe Brian would surprise you. Maybe the evening would unfold in ways you couldn't predict.

————————————

You could see Richard who stood on his porch, a figure of affluence and influence, his posture radiating the confidence of a man who knew the power of his wealth. As you observed him, a flicker of unease danced in your stomach at the thought that such a man could, if he so desired, attempt to wield his wealth in personal matters. Yet, you trusted in your parents' integrity, in their love for you that was worth more than any fortune.

Your father's actions were swift, a testament to his gentlemanly ways, as he moved to open the door for your mother. Not wanting to be coddled, you stepped out of the car independently, your feet firm on the ground as you prepared to face the evening ahead.

Richard's approach was measured, his greeting to your father, "Hello there Alec," a blend of formality and familiarity. The handshake between the two men was a silent exchange of respect, an acknowledgment of their relationship that went beyond mere acquaintance.

Your mother received her greeting with grace, her poise unshaken by the grandeur of Richard's presence. You watched the pleasantries, a spectator to the social dance that was as much a part of these visits as the conversations that would follow.

Richard moved toward you, his greeting smooth and practiced. “Hello, Y/N, how are you?” he asked, his eyes locking onto yours. You smiled, a polite response that masked the whirlwind of thoughts beneath the surface. “I’m good, thank you for asking. And you, sir?” His return smile held a hint of something more, a glimmer of charm that seemed to dance on the edge of familiarity. “I’m doing just fine,” his voice a velvet undertone. “Well, come on.”

As you made your way to the house, your father and Richard engaged in conversation, walking side by side. Their words were lost to you, drowned out by the internal monologue that had taken root. Your mother, sensing your hesitation, came close. “Please give Brian a chance,” she implored, her eyes pleading. “Talk to him and get to know him. I believe he’s the right man for you.”

You stayed quiet, the annoyance simmering within you. *Was this about you, or was it about Richard’s wealth?* The question hung in the air, a shadow over the evening that threatened to eclipse any chance of genuine connection. As you stepped into the house, you wondered if the path laid out before you was truly your own or if it was a carefully orchestrated dance to a tune you hadn’t chosen.

————————————

Richard called his son Brian to come downstairs to greet you. Brian’s hurried footsteps signaled his approach. As you reluctantly turned your gaze from the window, urged by your mother’s insistent nudge, you took in the sight of Brian. He was the epitome of well-groomed, his black hair neatly swept back, bright blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with a different kind of intensity, and a slim build. He was tall but not as tall as Alastor.

You offered a polite smile, the kind that was expected in such situations, and exchanged greetings. Brian’s presence filled the room differently; where Alastor’s was enigmatic and intriguing, Brian’s carried an air of self-assuredness that bordered on arrogance. It was an impression that set you on edge, a silent alarm that whispered caution.

Despite this, you knew the evening was set, a stage upon which you were expected to play your part. The challenge now was to navigate the waters of social expectation while holding onto the thread of curiosity that Alastor had sparked within you.

“Hungry? My wife is cooking,” Richard's offer of a meal momentarily grounded you back to the present. The aroma of home-cooking began to fill the air, a subtle reminder of the domestic scene unfolding around you. "Ah yes I am, thank you," your father responded with a note of appreciation that seemed to resonate with Richard's hospitable gesture.

Your mother's nudge was a silent communication, her widened eyes conveying a message louder than words. You returned her look with an expression of mild exasperation, a silent conversation that only the two of you could fully understand.

"No, I'm not hungry, thank you," your appetite absent amidst the swirl of emotions and thoughts that had occupied your mind. The idea of food was far from appealing when weighed against the introspection that had become your companion of late.

"Well, why don't you go for a walk with Brian, he can show you around, you know," your mother suggested, her voice a crescendo of excitement. The prospect, however, did little to stir any enthusiasm within you. The thought of spending time with Brian, especially when your thoughts were still entwined with Alastor, was less than appealing.

Yet, the suggestion hung in the air, an expectation that was hard to dismiss. With a resigned breath, you nodded. "Alright, a walk sounds nice," you conceded, mustering a smile that you hoped appeared genuine. It was a compromise, a small concession to the evening's agenda.

———————————

The walk had taken an uncomfortable turn, the silence between you and Brian now filled with the unspoken acknowledgment that this was not going to be the match your parents had hoped for. His question about your favorite hobby seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things, especially when your thoughts were elsewhere.

"Uh-um sorry, what was the question?" you repeated, trying to salvage the conversation out of politeness more than genuine interest. Brian's response, a mix of impatience and resignation, only confirmed the disconnect.

"I said what is your fav-ah never mind," he said, waving off his own question. It was clear that the walk was merely a formality, a box to be checked in a list of social expectations. The realization that neither of you was invested in this encounter was oddly freeing.

The evening turned to night, and the moon emerged from behind a thick blanket of clouds. As you both turned back towards the house, Brian spoke again “I do find you very attractive,” His words hung awkwardly in the air, a compliment that felt more like a transaction than a genuine expression of admiration. The silence stretching between you both like the shadows cast by the moonlight.

You winced inwardly, the idea of being ‘bought’ by someone like Brian—a notion that seemed all too plausible given his demeanor—left a bitter taste. Yet, you cling to the hope that your parents would never reduce you to a transaction, that their love for you transcends societal norms. But doubts creep in—*what if duty outweighs love? What if their expectations bind you more tightly than any contract?*

As the house loomed into view, the evening’s events solidified a resolve within you. You wanted more than the superficial exchanges and the roles assigned by wealth and expectation. You sought a connection that was genuine, a partnership of equals where respect and understanding were the foundations.

With a polite nod, you acknowledged Brian’s comment, choosing to keep the conversation civil. “Thank you, Brian,” the words measured and devoid of the warmth he might have been expecting.

As you stepped back into the house, the door closing with a soft click behind you, the weight of the evening's expectations seemed to fall away.

Inside, the sounds of dinner preparations and your parents' soft conversation provided a backdrop to your thoughts. You excused yourself, claiming a need for a moment alone, and made your way to the small garden at the back of the house.

The garden was a quiet sanctuary, the moon casting silver shadows over the blooming flowers and lush greenery. You took a deep breath, the fragrant air mingling with the scent of the earth, grounding you. Here, away from the expectations and the judgments, you could think.

You thought of Alastor, of the way he had looked at you, as if he truly saw you. You thought of yourself, of the life you wanted to lead—one filled with passion, with adventure, and with love that was genuine and true.

The sound of footsteps on the gravel path pulled you from your reverie. You turned to see your mother approaching, a gentle smile on her face.

"Y/N, are you alright?" her voice soft with concern.

You nodded, offering her a small smile. "I'm fine, Mom. Just needed some air."

She joined you, looking out over the garden. Together, you shared the silence, each lost in thoughts as the garden's beauty enveloped you in its peaceful embrace.

Time, however, continued its inexorable march, and soon your mother stood, her voice soft but resolute. "We should be heading home now, sweetie. C'mon, let's go inside and say our goodbyes."

You rose, feeling the solidity of the earth beneath your feet, a grounding force as you prepared to reenter the house. The farewells were brief, a polite exchange of words that marked the end of a evening that had unfolded in unexpected ways. You left Richard's house behind, the car's gentle hum a comforting sound in the quiet night.

PS: Alastor will be making an appearance next chapter.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so you be updated every time.^^

Also I sometimes tend to make minor changes to the chapters.

Thank you! For reading I hope you enjoyed it.💖

TAGLIST: @magictoebean @little-slyvixen

[damagedintellect]

ADA Dazai x Reader

💌Obligatory sex pollen fic I guess?? chapter 2💌

Summary: Certain abilities Dazai can dispel outright without touching the user. This has always confused the brunette greatly where the technical line was drawn. During Q's apocalypse, he couldn't bring individuals back to their senses but with Shiwabusa's fog he could prevent Chuuya’s ability from manifesting. Apparently this “Sex pollen” ability was more like the former example. Which left Dazai the only one conscious of their actions as everyone fucked like rabbits.

Notes: Based on a dream I had a few nights ago....This chapter is shorter because I started waking up once I realized it was THAT DREAM, I'm literally crying it got a second chapter some one help😭

Contains: sex pollen, dubcon, pregnancy, mpreg, pregnant Fyodor, Fyodor being painfully religious, 🍋 in chapter 1

💌 Wordcount 1,971 💌 Chapter 2 of ?? [If I have another dream I am obligated to update this] <= Previous chapter

Just like that for a few weeks everything was back to some semblance of normalcy. Out of sight out of mind you guess. Once you stopped feeling sick all the time you could hardly tell you were pregnant at all. You were still confined to the office since it would take anywhere from 3 to 6 months to fully heal from your injuries but that was fine with you. Honestly you don’t understand how Dazai does it. You've been pampered by Yosano's ability. It didn't even occur to you that you'd still have to have some sort of physical therapy afterwards either. Meanwhile Dazai gets shot and stabbed all the goddamn time and he takes it like a champ. Just one more reason to like him you guess.

Dazai looked up to catch you staring. You didn’t look away but your face did start to feel warm. You hadn’t really sat down and talked about it in depth yet. That night or about the child and honestly no one in the office has really tried to bring it up either. Although you still don't know what to say, sooner or later someone has to say something and hopefully it won't have to be you. Unfortunately you have a feeling it's going to be you.

Dazai glanced at the door and frowned. He's been trying to avoid any meaningful confrontation but judging from the sounds outside he swallowed. He knew those footsteps better than anyone and it was only a matter of time before “he” showed up. This might as well be happening today. Without warning Chuuya emerged from the doorway looking annoyed. 

“Okay, which one of you is the weretiger!”

Atsushi hesitantly raised his hand. You raised an eyebrow at the exchange. What was the mafia executive doing looking for Atsushi? Dazai sighed and rose to his feet, putting an arm around Atsushi as Chuuya approached the two. 

“Why Chuuya, what brings you out to our domain! I almost didn't see you there, have you gotten shorter?” He smiles cheerfully. You swear you could see flowers and sparkles surrounding him.

Chuuya crossed his arms “Go to hell and wait your turn. I have a bone to pick with you after I square away business with the tiger boy.” He glared at Atsushi, sizing him up. “And you, my boy Akutagawa hasn't been the same since your guy's little rescue operation. Mind telling me why that is?” It was surprisingly less threatening and more of a genuine question.

Atsushi’s face flushed a few shades darker “Why don't you ask him! He's the one who-” He stopped mid sentence, groaning. He figured Akutagawa wouldn't talk about it to anyone either but being asked directly because Akutagawa was out of sorts was insulting. How did he think Atsushi felt? “You know what, the bottom line is I'm pregnant and it's his fault he used his stupid ability like that. If anything I should be the one who's traumatized!” 

Chuuya hummed, putting his hand under his chin as he thought about an earlier encounter. “Oh so that's why he was muttering about being bound to the weretiger. He was saying something about not even holding hands yet and having to marry you. Guess that makes me the godfather for two babies then.” the redhead shrugged like this conversation was an everyday occurrence.

Atsushi slouched, was this karma for trying to suggest that Fyodor and Nikolai should get married? 

“Don’t tell me Akutagawa is religious too.”

Chuuya furrowed his eyebrows. “What? No listen kid, this is about stepping up to responsibilities. Raising a kid's a big deal.” He looked over at Dazai with a smirk about to add one more thing but Dazai interjected, flicking the brim of Chuuya's hat.

He continued to wave his hand in the other's face. “Who said you were the godfather? I don't remember calling you.” Both of their expressions went flat for a moment as they glared at each other passively.

“You should have, it would have been better to hear the news from you than from Mori.” He huffed “Why didn't you? It's not like you to go back on your word. What happened too, I wouldn't lie about something like this.” He mocked in a Dazai like fashion.

“I thought you were too drunk to remember that!” Dazai whined.

“Yeah well I also remember promising to be your best man if you ever lived long enough to find someone.” Chuuya leaned back into his hip “So?” the redhead crossed his arms, waiting.

“So what?” Dazai said matter of factly. As the two stared back at each other, Atsushi finally sat down. Why did they have to do this at his desk?

“So what? You're not even going to introduce me!”

Dazai rolled his eyes. Is that really what Chuuya came here for? When Chuuya walked in you had gotten up from your desk to make tea. As you brought the cups over Dazai walked around you and put his hand on your shoulder “(Y/N), Chuuya, Chuuya, (Y/N). There, you happy?”

“Wait (Y/N)? You mean your-” Dazai cut him off but Chuuya looked surprised. You wonder what he was going to say. It sounded important.

Dazai pankicked and grabbed the other from behind covering his mouth as he dragged him out into the hallway. “Nope that's it you overstayed your welcome.” 

Once the door shut Ranpo pouted “I'm pregnant too ya know. I wouldn't mind Mr. Fancy hat being the godfather.” He puffed out his cheeks.

Atsushi rolled his eyes. “That's all you got from that!”

Ranpo sighed “No, I also got the image of Akutagawa tying you up so thanks for that.” 

Atsushi stood up so fast his chair nearly fell over. “How can everybody speak about it so casually!” 

He looked over to you with pleading eyes. Atsushi was probably hoping you'd back him up. Instead you laughed, handing him the disregarded tea. 

“Well for starters only the adults are here today and the more you talk about it the less power it has.” You handed the detective another cup. “Although instead of putting you on the spot Ranpo should have asked if you wanted to talk about it first or at least opened up about his experience.”

He took a sip of tea before shrugging. Ranpo didn't mind sharing at all in fact he’s glad someone asked about it. “Not much to say really. Poe hugged me from behind and by the time I realized he wasn't doing it to be cute I just kinda went with it.” Ranpo shrugged with a smile on his face. “I'm more curious what happened with Kunikida!”

The blonde tensed as you set the last cup down in front of him. He had stopped his typing as a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. “Do I have too?” Out of everyone in the office Kunikida had been the one trying the hardest to skirt around the conversations. He wanted to forget it ever happened. It was bad enough that Dazai would tease him about it whenever they were alone.

Ranpo hummed “Akiko's really careful because she could never give up drinking for that long, so since you're not forced into being a dad, dealer's choice?” You all nodded in agreement, it only seemed fair since you were putting him on the spot.

Kunikida pushed up his glasses. You assume he probably doesn't want to share. Instead he turns to address you. “Which reminds me, I thought Yosano gave you a contraceptive too?”

“I was so exhausted I forgot it was in my pocket and never took it.” You frowned. It didn't feel like a priority in the moment but like most of them you were out of it. “But forced parenting aside, right now this is about sexual trauma.”

 Kunikida cleared his throat “I wouldn't know what to share. I turned to look at Yosano and the next thing I know we're kissing in a passionate manner.” He paused wondering if he should say something about the elephant in the room. “Also this should go without saying, but no one is forcing you to be a parent. Ranpo and Atsushi might not have a choice but there's still plenty of time for you to think it over. No one would stop you if you decided you're not ready to be a mother.” This was true but your mind was already made up. 

Somehow only Ranpo knew of your crush? You thought it was fairly obvious. Had it been anyone else you probably would have gotten rid of it by now. 

Ranpo laughed before you could answer, sharing his two cents. “Who said I don't have a choice? I'm choosing to have this little munchkin! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to see what me and Poe create. Besides, I've always wanted a mini me!” He patted his stomach proudly.

Atsushi sipped on his tea “That's true. So in a weird way it kind of worked out for you and Poe huh. At least one of us lucked out.” He’s been avoiding Akutagawa as much as possible ever since that night.

Ranpo snickered, “I would say two of us lucked out.” He draped one around your shoulder opening his eyes to give you a smug look. “Well you care to share with the class? This was your idea after all.” 

So that’s why he bothered to bring all of this up. You sighed in defeat. “Lucked out my ass!” Your cheeks were red as Atsushi and Kunikida gave you incredulous looks “Keep in mind Dazai was fully conscious of his actions. He kind of just let me get it out of my system in hope that I would eventually snap out of it,” You groaned hiding your face in your hands “and yes, apparently I was begging him to fuck a baby into me. Is that what you wanted to hear, Ranpo!”

Ranpo blinked a few times “You didn't have to go that far but yeah I was just trying to get you to mention your crush on Dazai.”

“You have a crush on Dazai?!” Both Atsushi and Kunikida shouted. Kunikida nearly spat out his tea. You groaned “That’s why I was planning on keeping the child but I feel like I'd be baby trapping him.”

“It’s not baby trapping if you decide to keep the child, it's your body. I already told you that you have the final say.”

Everyone slowly turned their heads back to see Dazai coming back into the office. You swallowed “How much of that did you hear?”

“Not much but you already told me your reason for wanting to keep the kid.” He shrugged nonchalantly and everyone wiped their heads back to you.

Atsushi was dumbfounded. “Wait a second, let me get this straight. He knows that you-”

Dazai spoke over him. “-Always wanted kids, it's not that big of a deal. Unless that's not what we're talking about?” He tilted his head to the side. Did he miss something? It took a lot out of him to turn Chuuya away especially after the stupid slug made his own revelations about the situation. 

You released the breath you were holding. Everyone else understood Dazai was just as oblivious to your feelings as always. Eventually you would have to tell him but it was still early enough in the process to figure that out. At least everyone else in the office knew why you’ve been acting weird since that night.

Kunikida groaned at the realization. “I don't know if I can handle a mini Ranpo running around, let alone a mini Dazai.” He went back to his work. “It’s bad enough having to work with Dazai as is.”

You laughed as the two tried to defend themselves.

[meidui]

pre-serum steve fic recs

this rec list is a fill for the "pre-serum steve" square on my @steverogersbingo - it got long so the fics are below the cut ♡

the categories: *drumroll please...*

what steve's packing

modern non-powered AUs

historical AUs

steve isn't cap but tony is iron man

tony time-traveling to the forties and sexing up steve

medkink

omegaverse

❤️ what steve's packing:

Good Things, Small Packages by @ashes0909

Steve had a small cock and Tony was absolutely mad for it.

Packing Heat by @kandisheek

Tony always notices Steve Rogers, even when he's all but disappearing into the wallpaper at a party. It's time he does something about that.

Such a Softer Sin by @gotthesilver

Tony gets to his feet and steps between Steve’s legs. Running a hand up Steve’s neck, along his sharp jawline, Tony leans down and kisses him deeply, pouring all his feelings into the kiss until he can feel Steve relaxing. “I am so gone on you,” Tony says when he breaks away. “Whatever people have said to you before, whatever idiots made you feel this way, they’re not me. And I’m a goddamn genius, Steve, so trust me when I say, you’re gorgeous.”

❤️ modern non-powered AUs:

Your Reputation Precedes You by @vanilla-shoes

Tony agrees to watch the desk for the salon next door to his garage as a favor -- but when he meets the salon owner's fiery best friend Steve, maybe the favor is for Tony after all...

and you look so divine by @elcorhamletlive

Tony blinks a few times, seeming startled. “That’s – I mean, don’t me wrong, that’s great to hear. But, uh – Steve? That.... Kind of sounds like you think I’m dating you despite your looks.”

Steve just stares.

Tony’s eyes are wider than ever when he opens his mouth to talk: “Holy shit."

In Hindsight by @elcorhamletlive

Tony Stark knows very well how he screwed things up with Steve Rogers. He remembers it. Perfectly.

...Doesn't he?

sweet like honey by @elcorhamletlive

Steve wakes up in his boyfriend's Malibu mansion. However, Tony is nowhere to be found.

A fair match by @elcorhamletlive

Of course, Steve thinks. Of all the people in the world to get in trouble with, Steve had to do it with Tony Stark’s friend.

-

Steve gets himself in trouble - nothing new. He ends up arm wrestling with the most famous guy on campus, Tony Stark. That's definitely new, and it doesn't go exactly as he expects it.

i'll take care of you by @elcorhamletlive

“Hi.”

Steve blinks. The sound of loud thunder roars outside, but he doesn’t jolt, too focused on the image in front of him to be startled by the noise. 

He has no idea what to say, and he isn’t sure if the shock is because of Tony’s absolutely sodden state – his hair glued to his forehead, his clothes dripping with water, forming a small puddle in front of Steve’s door – or because he wasn’t expecting to see Tony for at least three more days.

“Hi?” he says, a little tentative, before his brain catches up to reality. In his defense, he was getting ready to sleep when Tony knocked. He looks at what Tony is holding – a wet mess that seems to have been a flower bouquet at some point. “What are you doing here?”

❤️ historical AUs:

A Pirate's Life For Me by @bladeofthenebula27

When Steve joined the Avenger as the Cabin Boy, he knew being a pirate would be tough. He just never expected his duties would include warming the Captain's bed.

might be something by @stardating

Mingling with the upper class was not something one just did. Good thing Steve had no intention of just ‘mingling’. Not if he had anything to say about it.

a smudge of charcoal by @stardating

It was alright. It wasn’t like he didn’t need the stability. It wasn’t like he didn’t pour his heart and soul and last pennies into those paintings. Then Steve ran into someone and it was like the day wanted to get worse.

❤️ steve isn't cap but tony is iron man (from the series Art is Long and Life is Short):

Throw a Little Hot Rod Red in There by @festiveferret @sirsapling

Tony Stark was pretty sure that the absolute worst time to get asked out by an incredibly talented, good-looking artist, who likes to paint - and defend - Iron Man, is when he's dying of palladium poisoning.

Patience by @festiveferret @sirsapling

Try as he might, Steve just couldn't seem to paint the arc reactor quite right. And it was driving him crazy.

Some Form of Electricity by @festiveferret @sirsapling

Steve doesn’t know what he’d do without Tony, and thank god he has him, because after getting the phone call that Bucky’s alive, everything is a blur. But Tony gets him there, all the way to Germany. It isn’t until he’s watching his friend lie motionless in a hospital bed that it really hits him.

Bucky is coming home, and he’s coming home broken.

❤️ tony time-traveling to the forties and sexing up steve:

some days, you're the only thing i know by starkaspbrak

“He was right.” Tony whispers as he stares at Steve with what he could describe as affectionate.

“Who was?”

“My fiancé.”

“About what?”

There's a sparkle in his eyes as he responds, a soft smile on his lips, “That you’d still love me no matter what.”

Transient by @royal-chandler

There’s a 1A classification sitting on Steve’s bureau in his bedroom and he’s been so sick in his life, sick of many things; he’d like to no longer be sick of not having sex.

Like Whiskey on Cold Mornings by greyduckgreygoose

Tony/skinny!Steve porn

❤️ medkink:

ART for - Fever, Breathe Your Love on Me commissioned by Right_in_the_feels

I commissioned the wonderful Buukkin to create art for blue_jack's wonderful medical kink story Fever, Breathe Your Love on Me

A Cure for Every Ailment by @kandisheek

Doctor Stark is testing his new experimental treatment for erectile dysfunction on a group of volunteers. It works very well on Steve Rogers. Just not for the reason Tony thinks.

Or: Tony doesn't realize that sounding is a kink, and Steve never knew he had it.

Throckmorton Sign by MusicalKestrel

Steve has been having some very worrisome symptoms, even for someone with as many medical problems as he has. When he visits the ED, he finally gets some answers and the help he didn't even know he was looking for.

Delusion by LenkaVittoriaElisse16

Steve is scheduled for his annual PE, and the physician in charge is his boyfriend: the handsome Dr. Anthony Stark.

❤️ omegaverse:

Once or Twice by @festiveferret

It'd been flattering, at first, when Tony Stark - Iron Man, of all people - had shown Steve some attention, but it had become obvious pretty quickly that Tony was teasing him like all the other alphas at SHIELD did. Tony always pestered him every time he came to the SHIELD offices, harassing him for not having work done for ops that hadn't even been fully debriefed yet. He hung around Steve's desk and wanted to go over every tiny detail on every report which just meant that Steve's next reports were even later.

It was hard enough working his way up to Senior Strategy Analysis as an omega, and it was hard enough being around the unbonded alphas in the office who liked towering over his tiny frame, sneaking sniffs and smacking his ass as he walked through the breakroom. But Tony's relentless campaign of driving him crazy had made things even harder. Steve had even considered being transferred off the Avengers Initiative team, but he'd worked so hard to get there and he wouldn't let some knot-head bug him into quitting. 

Two-Point Perspective by @festiveferret

Dear omega,

Congratulations! You've been selected. Alpha #95847872 has been assigned as your pre-bondee. A group bonding ceremony will take place on the 14th, unless other arrangements have been made by your alpha or their family. A valid bonding license must be submitted to Omega Services within 45 days of this letter or all services will be cancelled and any transferable benefits will not be applied to your alpha's package.

If there is some reason why you cannot be bonded on this date, please apply for an extension by calling 1-800-555-6827 within 7 days of receiving this letter.

Sincerely, National Omega Services

Stealing Your Heart by @bladeofthenebula27

Steve's had his eye on the Alpha he wants for a long time and tonight's the night he finally gets to go out and take him for his own.

Slut Era by @bladeofthenebula27

Tony never meant to become the campus bicycle but since that was apparently what was expected of him he figured it was easier just to lean into it.

He just never expected Steve Rogers would ever want to take a ride.

Peep Show by @bladeofthenebula27

“Alright there, Sugar?” A voice came from behind him and he whipped around to see an omega with a little box of tokens. “You know you got to put one in to start right?”

Steve felt his face heat. “Yes ma’am. I was just uhh—“

“First timer?” He nodded and she gave him an encouraging smile. “Well, don’t worry, there’s glass behind the curtain, so the omegas can’t bite.” Then she winked. “That costs extra.”

Steve’s face got even hotter. He certainly wasn’t doing that.

Steve knew he wasn't any omega's first choice, or hell, even third. But what starts as a visit to a seedy Peep Show in Manhattan ends up changing his life for good.

Marked You Mine by @avengersnewb

Omega!Steve and Alpha!Tony go undercover as a bonded couple for a mission. As it turns out faking a bond has some unexpected (mostly pleasant) side effects.

Clothes Make the Man by @fiftyshadesofstony

When Tony's status as the alpha in Steve's life is challenged, Steve sets out to show him how much he likes the idea of being Tony's omega. (PWP featuring Brock Rumlow being an asshole and some sexy shirts!)

In Tribute by @ms-meredith-milton

Tony Stark is an Alpha and Crown Prince of Manottan.

Steven--son of Roger, son of Grant--is a sickly omega and a nobody, even in his home of Brooklyne castle. He just wants to serve his country.

Things kind of go from there.

Small by My_Soul_and_Perfume

It had only taken him until the age of five to begin believing his father’s words, and he has repeated this mantra to himself for years in this very same spot. Yet, he had never grown desensitized to them. Words weren’t like the colors of sweaters. They wouldn’t fade away.

[rebelliousstories]

Ten Thousand Candles

Kiss Me You Animal

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Zylia “The Freak” Shelley

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Strong Language, Mentions of Death and Killing

Word Count: 711

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

//Chapter Two//

Kiss Me You Animal Masterlist: Here

Summary: Cooper is not too sure if he is impressed or fed up with this new girl. Probably both.

Have you ever seen someone who just looks like if you say the wrong thing, no matter how small, they would hurt you and everyone in the immediate vicinity? That was Cooper Howard right now. He was tearing through the town faster than a bat out of hell, trailing after a girl. Why was he following this girl? Because just a few minutes ago they met, as she stole his bounty that she was now cashing in on.

Walking into town, he just caught the trail of the unearthly colored hair disappearing into the shop where the bounty originated. He gritted his teeth, and waited outside until she was to return. Cooper found a rocking chair, and waited. He was a patient man, and that was being put to the test as he sat there. Most people passed by him without so much as a glance, but others took one look at him and scurried away. It did not much matter to him anymore. He had two hundred years to come to terms with his new state.

Seeing her white hair come through the door, he took note and noticed her shoving something in her bag. He stood up slowly, marching his way up to her while she was distracted.

“Well, gotta say, sure as shit been a long time since someone stole my bounty from right under me.” Howard drawled, almost jovial in his speech. The woman’s head whipped up to see The Ghoul in front of her once more.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so slow then, Ghoulie.” She teased, finding joy in annoying him.

“I wasn’t slow,” he growled, “you were just a sneaky little minx who can’t keep her sticky fingers away from what’s not hers.” Cooper stepped closer to the woman, assessing whether or not he needed to draw his gun. But she just laughed.

“That ain’t how I remember it.” The still unknown woman got even closer to Cooper, and toyed with the edge of his jacket. He snatched it away, and stepped away with a flourish.

“Now, only time Imma tell you. Give me the caps that you got paid for my bounty, and we’ll be on our way.” His hand rested on his pistol while the other was outstretched.

“And if I don’t give you my caps for my bounty?” She replied, brushing a hand through her hair nonchalantly.

“I’d hate to kill someone as pretty as you now darlin’.” Cooper smiled, and hoped she would do the right thing. As she stood there, contemplating, The Ghoul was steadily losing his patience. She came closer and closer to his outstretched gloved hand, until it was resting right against her stomach. Sifting through her bag, she placed a singular bottle cap in his hand and closed his fingers around it.

“For you troubles. Name’s Zylia, by the way. Next time don’t be so slow.” The now named woman patted Cooper on the shoulder, and began to walk away from him. However, he had different plans. Howard stood there with the cap in his hand, and a million thoughts running through his head. Pocketing the cap, he turned to where Zylia was walking away.

“Do you have a death wish?” He called, making her stop for a brief moment. Even from all this distance, the pink eyes she held pierced his very soul.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?” Zylia responded, toying with a strand of hair.

“Do you know who I am?” Cooper questioned again, fully turning his body to face her.

“No. Should I?” Once more, his patience was being tested. Cooper moved his duster out of the way and rested a hand on his pistol that was still holstered.

“Little girl, I’m really not in the mood for this. Give me the caps.” He repeated, fully ready for a shoot out.

“Little girl? Well, I might be little, but not young enough to be a girl. I’m just gonna be on my way if that’s alright with you, Ghoul.” Again, Zylia turned around and began to walk away from the man. He chuckled softly, before drawing his pistol and aiming it at the girl.

It all happened in a flash, but the sound was one that was an everyday occurrence in the Wastelands.

Bang!

[preservationofnormalcy]

A family moved in down the street last month. This sounds normal, but they're suspiciously close to one in a story I'm writing. I made a character last year with the exact family. Did I somehow predict this family's arrival, or have there been any past cases of peoples' fictional creations coming to life?

We call this "parafictional" manifestation, and you can learn more by clicking on the parafiction tag my intern Jenny will append to this post. The short version is that this does happen but we have to be careful. The vast majority of the times this happens, especially with a fictional property only one person know about (like this personal project you have) these aren't truly self-aware entities that have manifested - these are lures.

Some entities like Outsider behavior patterns feed on the human capacity for creativity (has a lot to do with emotions involved with creative expression being particularly attractive to psychophagics) and to harvest that, they'll exploit your own thoughts and creations. Either to feed on you psychically, or literally.

Be careful. You obviously don't want to assume these new neighbors are automatically harmful in this way - it could just be a big coincidence - but there's a few things you can do.

Ask another creative neighbor about them. These things will be a mirror, typically. They'll reflect what the viewer already has in mind. You might see these folks as Mr and Mrs Smith from your book, but your neighbor might see them as Mr and Mrs Takahashi from the manga he's working on.

You could also very gently ask them some nonsense questions. If this is a lure, it'll also be a "chinese room" - an entity that is able to mimic human conversations simply by examining textual data en masse and regurgitating what the response is likely or expected to be without actually understanding it. You might feel silly, but try asking a nonsense question, like if the sky feels glarble or if nods yon today. If they just raise an eyebrow, green flag. If they try and respond without breaking stride, red flag.

If you get a couple red flags that way, send us another message. We'll send someone out.

[mogai-headcanons]

May i ask, why do you support endo-systems? (Coming from someone with did themself)

i've talked about this before (can't remember which blog it was on) but can't find it so i'll just run down my reasons again:

above all else, i do not have the right to tell anyone what is actually going on in their own brain. the only time that might be acceptable would be if i was a doctor treating them for a psychological issue, and even then, it's not often a good idea to outright tell someone that their brain is Wrong. this applies both to fakeclaiming endogenic systems and to telling them that they're actually traumagenic but have repressed their trauma; neither is good form.

secondly above all else, we NEED to have solidarity among plural folks. this is coming from a psychology major and a system — there is a large number of psychology practitioners and researchers who straight up do not believe plurality exists in any form. there is also a large number of them who believe systems are far rarer than current diagnoses show, and therefore most diagnosed and suspected systems are not real. i have had to write an essay on why did is fake for a grade before. there are extremely prominent psychologists (ex: allen frances, the literal chair of the team who developed the dsm-iv) who believe did is a fad (allen frances has stated that he wanted to outright remove it from the dsm-iv). if we are fakeclaiming each other in our community, this only makes us more susceptible to the people who want plurality to be seen as entirely fabricated.

on that point, we also need to have solidarity against non-psychologist singlets who fakeclaim systems. things like the r/fakedisordercringe subreddit can be legitimately damaging to the people who are posted, scrutinized, and ridiculed, and we should be protecting each other from that, not shoving endogenic systems into the line of fire.

there is scientific evidence of non-traumagenic and non-disordered plurality (there are some interesting studies linked on this page), especially in spiritual communities.

though not all endogenic systems are disordered, they Can be; having experienced trauma is not a diagnostic criteria for did or osdd-1 in the dsm-5 tr or the icd-11. though it's obviously highly common for did/osdd systems to have experienced trauma, a non-insignificant portion of diagnosed disordered systems (something like 4% iirc) are not traumatized.

to go with the above point, many endogenic systems don't claim to have a dissociative disorder or that their system is disordered. if you're worried about people 'appropriating' or 'faking' your disorder, they largely are not, since plurality can and does exist outside of disorders.

as a traumagenic system, i feel unwelcome and threatened by anti-endogenic folks. i've been fakeclaimed by anti-endos before, either because they mistook me for an endogenic system since i support them or because they decided the behaviors i perform on the internet are evidence i'm faking. i'm not the only traumagenic system this has happened to.

i think that's the main points, i may have more idk